06-13-04 @ 10:56 am EDT

A little while back I told Ma, "We're going to have to go somewhere outside this summer. I hate that we just about wasted last summer and hardly went anywhere. I don't even care where we go. I'll take anything."

The day after that she suggested we visit Ocqueoc Falls, and then the Forty Mile Point Lighthouse, neither of which I've ever even heard of. When she brought it up to Dad he laughed and said there's nothing even there. The next day he offered to drive us. There was a bit of squabbling, then yesterday we ended up going.

It took about an hour to get there, and though I always bring books and such in case I get bored, I spent the entire ride looking out the window. We had to pass out through Alverno, I think it's called; it's very hilly and rolling and full of beautiful grassy rises and fields and hollows and trees. I would love so much to be able to walk out there, if only it were not so far from home. And of course all the woods surrounding the road were gorgeous. (If you have a thing for green trees, which I do.) At one point we passed the old church and home of Michelle T., a friend from high school (her dad used to be the minister--although Michelle was funny and quite friendly, we vastly differed in our religious views and I made it a point not to discuss the topic with her very much), we came upon a junction and a low-set house and I frowned. "A long time ago, did I hang out here...?" I asked.

Ma said, "At Michelle's."

"No, not Michelle's." I've never even been inside her old house or church; I think I'd remember that. "Somewhere nearby, in somebody's yard; it was evening and there were mosquitoes, and a lot of people were just hanging out, and you guys were there..."

In response Dad pointed at the low house right in front of us. "Your uncle Jimmy used to live there," he said. "That's what you're thinking of."

Weird how I suddenly remembered something so vague right at the spot where it happened, when I had no idea, aside from Michelle's old home, where we even were. Hm. At least it wasn't just my mind making up things.

Eventually we came to Onaway, the city near where my dad works, at the UAW. (The LAST place I took a slew of pictures at, last autumn, only to end up accidentally erasing every single one of them without saving a single one.) And it was all farmland. We passed farm after farm after farm, it seems, and when I stated this Dad said, "That's pretty much all Onaway is."

http://www.multimag.com/city/mi/onaway/
http://www.onawayarea.com/
http://www.onawayarea.com/cityhall/

We continued passing fields and cows and horses of all kinds, and giant barns and silos, just like out of old pictures. We passed the place of a guy who specializes in making GIANT METAL THINGS, and saw his giant metal eagle's head, and his giant metal butterfly, and his giant metal head of George Washington, which, frankly, was rather scary. (Imagine a giant silver president's head just sticking out of the ground like some buried ancient monument. Eegh.) This guy is well known in the area for his artistry, and later on in this trip I even spotted a postcard with the giant George Washington head pictured on it. The postcard, of course, was for Onaway.

We passed through Onaway and continued until we reached Ocqueoc Falls.

http://www.fishweb.com/maps/presqueisle/ocqueoc/falls/
http://www.michigan.gov/mdot/0,1607,7-151-9620_11154_11188-29196--,00.html
http://www.wmghs.com/trip/trip1/falls.html
http://abandonedlandscapes.com/bw_landscapes/ocqueoc/

There's this little bitty parking area with two outhouses fronting it, surrounded by trees; several other cars were already parked here, to my surprise. Based on what Dad had said, I figured Ocqueoc Falls would be just a dinky little trickle, like a spring on Mackinac Island. Why would anyone else want to visit it unless they were incredibly bored and usually housebound like me? One of the cars was a cute little red convertible with the top down. It had been overcast the entire trip. As we got out Dad pointed at it and said, "Somebody sure is confident."

We used the outhouses (they were okay, more spacious than usual, but outhouses just creep me out...you can...see other people's contributions if you look (I CAN'T HELP IT!)...and the green roofs gave everything a weird tinge. Plus it smelled like stale cigarettes; I think I'd prefer the OTHER smell. Then we went walking down this little trail into the woods. I was admiring the trees already. We passed an old-fashioned handpump which Ma had to take pictures of, though I wasn't as interested. (She had brought the Canon, I the Polaroid. As much as I wanted a new digital camera, that Canon is just too much trouble. Whatever happened to point and click? With the Canon you have to point, click, hold, wait, not move the slightest bit, stop breathing, and finally if you're lucky the picture MIGHT turn out relatively unblurry. If you don't get a light warning you about camera shake first. *rolls eyes*)

The mosquitoes were already starting to flock to us. When I first came out of the outhouse Ma offered me a dryer sheet and even Dad agreed that they're "proven to work." I was skeptical but the bugs were really annoying me and I'd forgotten to use Cutter, plus, who can just spray Cutter in their face? I rubbed it on me but it didn't seem to make too much of a difference.

Anyway, as we started down the trail a rushing sound met my ears and I frowned again. "Is that the falls?" When they nodded I was just more confused. "I thought it was a trickle...?"

It turns out Ocqueoc Falls is not a Tahquamenon (as I had expected it not to be), but it's not a trickle either. It's more like a very small rapids, river water stained the color of rust rushing really fast over this rocky area. The bank leads steeply down to it and there are various paths broken down to the edge, some of them steeper than others, some of them rocky, some relatively smooth. Some people were already there, splashing and swimming in the water; others sat on the higher lawn and picnicked. Dad murmured about a couple of people who had brought a pair of coolers, "They must be hungry! Imagine how much those things hold!"

There was some difficulty involved in actually reaching the water, since, as I said, there was this steep bank to deal with...and you all know my terror of heights. Remember the fabled Crabwalk Down From Sugar Loaf? That was a dinky little PATH around the thing and I STILL could not make it all the way, and couldn't return to level ground without CRABWALKING on hands and feet. When I reached the bottom...only then did I realize, for the first time ever in all my trips to Mackinac Island, that there is a lookout point directly looking over the rock way above and of course there were people up there, watching me. >_< Humiliating. I can't even climb a ladder without getting stuck like a cat in a tree. I can't even climb up onto a washer or dryer, or onto the toilet, without trembling and feeling as if I'm going to fall. So now hopefully you know how bad it is. This slope must have been about ten feet, though my figuring of distance is always woefully off; suffice it to say it was at LEAST ten feet down, and that should be more accurate.

And it was steep.

And these were DIRT paths, laced with treacherous rocks. *shudder*

Dad pointed out one path, but it was way too steep!! Was he crazy?? I located another and wound my way down that instead. I was still afraid, and had to sit down on a jutting rock and lower myself over it to the bottom. *sigh* When I reached the river (I'm saying river, though I can't be sure what it was) I commenced taking pictures. The water is a rich brown (from rust, as Dad said) and rushes past, and to my surprise I noticed that the entire bed of the river was made of flat stone. Like it had been laid there by landscapers or something. Ma had wandered off elsewhere with the Canon and I grew engrossed in this water. I was wearing my cloth sandals (the same ones I got in 2000 and used to walk across the Walnut Street Bridge in Georgia...and all around Mackinac Island, at least twice...and down to the tracks and back...they don't give me blisters anymore *pout*) so I tentatively stuck my foot in the water. Then set it down. Then put my weight on it. Then stuck my other foot in. I stood in the middle of the water with it rushing past my ankles. There wasn't even any pressure! I walked around in the shallow water and marveled over the flat stones. I've never seen anything like that. I'm so used to muck and mud and sand and gravel and crap. There were "rapids" to my left and right (people splashing in them to the right), and Dad pointed out a bridge we had just driven over down to the left. I hadn't noticed it. I walked under some trees and took pictures of the water, trying to capture the look of the rocks beneath it. I loved walking around and getting my feet wet.

Well, then I had to find a way back UP the slope... -_- The first trail Dad suggested was of course too steep. So I wandered up a sideways trail running parallel to the water and he pointed out a second, which was even STEEPER yet had no rocks. NO WAY! Rocks are good to hold ON to! He really tried to get me to go up that one but I shook my head adamantly and refused. I went back to the one I'd first come down and pulled my way up again. We walked down a ways and then down again to come out just by the base of the bridge. Dad pointed out some graffiti which read, "ONAWAY SUCKS."

I went walking under the bridge itself and took more photos. I was very surprised to be able to walk in rushing water without any fear of getting washed away. Dad pointed out that the only danger was in slipping and falling; the rapids aren't really that powerful. I just figured that if water is foaming white and makes a lot of noise, that means it's dangerous. Shows how naive I was.

I passed under the bridge and out the other side. I believe there were some rocky formation things in the water next. (At least judging by the order of my pictures.) From here I could get a view of the bridge in the distance, and Ma came walking out atop it. We stopped and snapped photos of each other snapping photos of each other, then I continued on my way. I was surprised again to see trees growing vertically from the side of a wall of rocks! How was that even possible?? Dad stated that the rocks had been placed there loosely to form the wall and the trees simply grew out of the sand and soil that had gathered between them, but still, it was very strange to see them defy gravity like that. Sideways trees! Well, sort of. Very strange. I took pictures.

Now we had to walk back up another trail to reach the bridge itself. But there were no good-looking trails in sight. *cries* Dad nudged and nudged me to follow him up one; I grasped at weeds and earth the entire way. I am no Charmian. -_- He held out his hand and I took it though that didn't help my phobia in the least. At least I made it up, and we reached the road (I hadn't even known that was where we were heading) and walked along it a bit until we came out over the falls themselves. Well crap! I hadn't even known that's what we were doing. I thought it was just an old footbridge, not the road itself. There was a very good view from up here, though the Polaroid tends to blur things somewhat. (But it doesn't have an annoying camera shake function, at least.)

Then we had to find Ma. We had to descend back to the river and the only trail available NOW was covered in loose gravel! *cries* I leaned on Dad's hand this time and felt like an idiot the entire way. It's not so much a fear of heights, I realize, as a fear of losing my balance, losing my footing--I literally always feel as if I will topple over, or my feet will not cling to the ground the way they should, or the ground or whatever will just give way beneath me. I have no trouble whatsoever in high spots when there is absolutely NO chance of falling or losing your balance of losing the ground beneath your feet whatsoever. (Oh yes, FAIR RIDES do not count as there is always a chance of falling OUT of them. So offer no arguments on that, I know what I'm talking about. You will never, ever, EVER catch me on a rollercoaster.)

Along the way we had to pass over this little tree-lined trail which gave me two of the BEST photos I took all day! Trees! :D The entire area was festooned with POISON IVY >:/ but my legs are still intact so I think I avoided it all. We went back down to the place where people were still swimming and looked for her but couldn't see her. As we walked across the grassy area I felt something hit my shoulder. Then something else. I glanced at my jacket, puzzled. These huge, HUGE fat drops of rain started to fall, and before we even reached the bank it was pouring! I had no problem with this until I remembered...water and humidity...on this hair...*whimper* -_- But there was nothing I could do. We reached the water as everyone else was bailing out and scurrying off and Dad headed off down a trail. He came back and said it was all poison ivy, but I hadn't planned on taking it anyway. I stuck my feet in the water again but it was just about useless trying to take more pictures in this rain. I put the camera in my pocket and we made our way back up the slope toward the parking lot. We were already soaked. Dad commented, "They sure hauled out fast." Personally, if you ask me, if I were confident enough and didn't care about my hair enough to put on a bathing suit and go wallowing around in the water, I wouldn't let some RAIN scare me off! I mean, come on! When you're in the water, rain is just water in stereo! If you're already dunking your head in it, then what harm is some rain going to do?? I've always thought it would be so nice to wade around in the water when the rain is falling. I like how it pitters against the surface. Thunder and lighting, yeah, go running then, but this was just plain old rain. Big babies.

We still hadn't found Ma, though I spotted her as we made our way back, and waited for her to catch up. "Did you get the camera wet?" she asked.

"I protected it as much as I could," I said. "It got a few drops, but oh well." (Not any worse than the time she dropped it on the floor and permanently broke its little LCD screen function. :P )

I took a couple more photos of the trees around us before we reached the lot. I made sure to touch one, just in case they can spread messages to each other...I like to think they do. *shrug* The parking lot was nearly empty by now. Ma and I used the outhouse again (still smelled like cigarettes, ugh), and then got in the vehicle and left.

I was getting tired by now. The rain let up somewhat and then died as we drove, though I could see waves of it descending to hit Lake Huron in the distance; I thought it was descending clouds at first, and was very surprised that the rain was that visible. It just looked like sheets of blue coming out of the sky in patches, far far off; I readied the camera to take a shot through the window but missed my chance when trees came into view. :/ We went through Rogers City this time, and eventually ended up at the Forty Mile Point Lighthouse.

http://www.nightbeacon.com/zlighthouses/lakehuron/individuallights/Forty_Mile_Point_Lighthouse.htm
http://www.geocities.com/Yosemite/4278/fortymile.html
http://www.midwestconnection.com/Lighthouses/lk_huronLT/FortyMilePointLT.htm
http://www.terrypepper.com/lights/huron/fortymile/fortymile.htm
http://lighthouse.boatnerd.com/gallery/Huron/fortymilepoint.htm (out of date--it is now open to the public, apparently!)

I've never been big on lighthouses, since I loathe our own, the Crib Light, with a passion (IT made it onto my hometown's logo and yet MY winning logo was never seen ONCE!), but at least it was going somewhere. Ma has always been the lighthouse aficionado. It's this big square red and white building with a white...um...light tower, or whatever you call it...and it was open until four. It cost a small donation to get inside but that was all. As soon as we set foot inside there was a friendly lady there to greet us. The tiny room we first passed through, she stated, was being renovated to become the lighthouse's replica kitchen. Most of the lighthouse had been refurnished. She told us what we could find in the different rooms, and suggested that we not go up to see the light until the other people who were up there came down, since it was very cramped. There were some rooms on the ground level, then two sets of steps. The giftshop was on the ground floor. We went up the first set of steps and explored the rooms there. There were various things that had been salvaged from various shipwrecks in the Great Lakes, many of them encrusted with rust and such. Ma wondered what a "deadeye" was, and though I could describe it (after which she pointed out a pair of them lying on the floor), I had to admit I had no idea what they were FOR. *shrug* There was a giant lumber clamp, and other things I can't describe or remember well, since I'm horrid with nautical items...there were also numerous displays set up about shipwrecks and lighthouses, including a room full of pictures and information about the best-known wrecks in the area, a large made-from-scratch model of one such ship, and lighthouse schematics. The Edmund Fitzgerald was featured, of course, but surprisingly enough it didn't receive the most attention here. That went to other ships I've never even heard of so I'm afraid I can't tell you their names. There was a very dramatic drawing of a Norwegian ship or some such--I remember it began with T and ended with fjord--running right into a Great Lakes ship, with the Mackinac Bridge looming in the background. They had an artist's rendering of what the sunken Great Lakes ship looks like now lying on the lake bottom. This was the ship that received the most attention in the display, and I feel a bit cross that I can't remember its name.

Wait, we got flyers...maybe one of them mentions something...

*deep breath*...WELL, I could not locate it in the flyers, and I had a HELL of a time finally locating it at Google...all I remembered was the T...fjord name of the other ship, the letter C in the Great Lakes ship, and the fact that it obviously happened in the Straits of Mackinac, in the '60s (after the construction of the Bridge). Numerous search terms finally led me to the Cedarville, which was run into by the Topdalsfjord in 1965. *panthuffgasp* At least I remembered somehow that the other ship was Norwegian. Anyway, much attention was given to the Cedarville. I was mesmerized by that creepy drawing with the Mackinac Bridge rising behind the colliding ships out of the fog. When I think of shipwrecks, I always think of old things, not recent things.

Here...

http://main.blclinks.net/~sshort/shipwrecked/grtlakes/mackinac/cedrvlle.htm
http://www.edmundfitzgerald.com/videos.php?video=sscedarville
http://www.greatlakesdivecenter.com/DiveSites/LocalDiveSites/Cedarville.shtml
http://www.ddc.com/miunder/cedarville.html

I believe it was this same ship of which underwater photos had been taken and filled an album...all eerie blue.

We at last got the chance to go upstairs. Dad declined and went outside to wait. It's probably best he did, considering. We went up the second set of steps and entered a room in which stood a spiraling metal staircase leading into the ceiling. There was a big sign warning people with health problems not to ascend, and stating that there were 55 steps. 55 doesn't seem so bad...when you're not climbing them.

Ma and I went up and came to another landing where an old man awaited us. He started explaining the history of the light and such while I looked around and attempted a picture out the narrow window, which was full at the bottom with little pathetic ladybug corpses. :/ It turned out there was another set of steps...these ones VERY tiny...and VERY narrow. o_o;;; But that was the only way to reach the light itself. Ma made sure it was all right to take photos before we started up. I clung to those handrails so hard. I've climbed steps like that only in my NIGHTMARES.

I nearly panicked on reaching the top as there was this BIG metal door partially blocking the way up into the very top room, and I had to kind of squeeze around it, WHILE still holding onto the bars and getting off of the last steps! Hideous!! The "light room," or whatever they call it...sorry again that I don't know squat about nautical things...was VERY small--the light itself took up the bulk of the room. Ma and I had a great view of Lake Huron from up here. An iron railing or some such surrounded the room and there was a little walkway around the whole thing. I pointed this out and Ma wondered how people got out there--then noticed tiny doors set into the walls. "Oh, did they have to get out through THESE?" she wondered.

The man below evidently could still hear us as he answered, "Yes." :O As I told her, I would never envy a lighthouse keeper's job!!

I started taking pictures of the view and the lake. Taking pictures of the light itself was another matter entirely. Since one could step away from it maybe two feet before running into a wall, it was impossible to snap a shot of the whole thing. I finally settled on catching the side of it, with the lake in the background; "I never thought of that," Ma mused. The only problem was this very modern, very yellow flyswatter hanging on the wall right behind it.

"Could you move that?" I asked, waving at it.

Ma frowned in puzzlement, then turned to look at the swatter. She let out a laugh. "Whatever you say, Monk!"

She removed the flyswatter and I snapped a shot, then she put it back. I noticed somebody walking on the beach far below and took a shot of them for perspective. It was then time to exit. I was TERRIFIED of making my way down those tiny steps! Down is even WORSE than up! I gave her the camera just in case and cringed as I edged myself around the big metal door and onto the first tiny step, clinging onto the rails for dear life. "I'm afraid of heights," I murmured to the old man as I slithered my way down.

"I understand," he said. He sounded as if he had heard this line a million times before, from a million other visitors. If the Forty Mile Point Lighthouse has ever had a million visitors. Well, at least I didn't have a bunch of tourists standing up there staring at me the entire time. >_<

Ma just had to say to one of the women guides in the place, "You should've seen her at Castle Rock." >_<;;; DON'T BRING UP CASTLE ROCK!! There was this CRACK all the way across that thing--how was I supposed to know it would hold?? *grar*

We then headed back outside. Upstairs, we had seen from one of the displays that the pilot house of the Calcite had been removed and converted into an outside display. Well, that very pilot house was sitting out on the lawn nearby. Just as if a ship had sunken completely into the ground but for that.

http://www.lightstations.com/mi/mi023.html

A rotted piece of wooden ship's hull sat even closer, and then a lifeboat of the Calcite itself. More photos were taken; when Ma told me to move so she could get a shot of the piece of hull I exclaimed, "First come first served!" and another photographer nearby said to Ma, "You can always push her out of the way." We went into the pilot house to look around and the man there explained how everything worked to Ma, though I'm afraid I must admit I was not much interested. The only thing that really caught my eye was two familiar objects I have seen on display in our local Big Boy restaurant (which has a nautical theme)...then I stepped outside, and my attention was promptly arrested by a lonely, interesting tree located over on the beach. It was flowering, and a wooden bench half buried in sand sat beneath it. I pondered over how to reach the beach as there were no paths, then decided to just walk across the sand itself. (This part was a mixture of loose sand and grass and weeds.) I spotted other prints so I guessed it was okay to do so; those other people had to have reached the beach SOMEHOW!

I snapped lots of pictures of this odd little flowering tree, and the half-buried bench beneath it. From here I could see the rain still sweeping down onto the lake in the distance and managed to catch that too. As I stood beneath the tree framing a shot, the wind picked up, and started blowing FLOWER PETALS in my face! :D Wonderful! I left the tree and the bench in peace and headed for the beach. It was cloudy once again (my photos turned out unusually dark :/ ) and I attempted to get good shots of the waves breaking on the SANDY shore--a Great Lakes shore which was not totally ROCK! I didn't know such a thing existed. It was very nice smooth sand. I stuck my feet in Lake Huron. O_O Yipes, that was NOWHERE near like it was at Ocqueoc Falls!! *shudder* Still, it was tolerable...I just wouldn't WADE in it. As I walked along I came across this lonely rock standing out in the water and took some shots, and nearly sank into the sand when I realized this was more like a sandbar of a sort, with murky mucky scummy water just beside my foot--and the sand I was on was threatening to break away and sink like some iceberg. I had to watch my step. The lake must have been much higher and closer to the lighthouse in the recent past; the Great Lakes have been receding lately. :/

Ma re-joined me, and we wandered along the beach, locating a twisted tree root sitting near the treeline; she begged me to sit on it for a portrait but I refused. (NO photos of me ever turn out good!) She went to sit on it instead and I used the Canon to take shots of her, and the Polaroid to get shots of the root itself.

At last we came across the remains of the wreck of the Joseph S. Fay.

http://www.40milepointlighthouse.org/fay.htm

It looked like something from Normandy or something. o_o Just this big ugly mess of rotted wood and metal spikes, lining the beach as if they have been purposefully placed there. I can't even imagine it ever having been part of a boat. I walked atop it and Ma said, "You're walking on the souls of dead men!"

I replied, "I like to think they'd be out in the water somewhere." On looking at the info, I see she would have been more accurate in saying dead man. We made our way back...my hair was just going ALL over the place in this wind...and as I made my way up the slope Ma mentioned something about the lighthouse, and I exclaimed, "OH CRAP! The lighthouse!!" Sheesh, I'd forgotten to take a good shot of the frigging lighthouse itself. She continued up the slope while I went back a bit to get a few shots...most of them dark. Oh well, like I said I've never been big on lighthouses.

When I started up the slope again I noticed two small somethings sitting on a bench. I picked them up in puzzlement. I think they are rough Petoskey stones! :O They couldn't have ended up there on their own! Somebody must have forgotten them. They aren't polished or anything. I don't think I've ever seen a rough Petoskey stone, except for this huge one that was sliced in half with a rough side and a smooth side. I completely forgot about those until now; I'll have to show them to Ma. Very interesting.

On the way out of Rogers City Dad stopped at an old-time hearse so Ma could get a photo, and she also took photos of the avenue of flags. (I don't know if that should be capitalized or not. Hm.) Most of them are nautical flags but as I pointed out to Dad, I spotted an Irish and a German one, and then he spotted a Union Jack. He was quite miffed as they were all completely raised while the American flags were still at halfmast. Dad is a stickler with the American flag and knows all the rules regarding its proper display. The flags of NO other country should ever be displayed higher than the American flag, so the fact that all these other flags were fully raised was annoying to him. I wasn't exactly annoyed, but eh, why have rules if they don't know how to follow them? People should know how to display flags before displaying them.

By now I was exhausted and just wanted to go home, but Ma wanted to eat at this Italian place; this was why she had wanted Dad to stay home at first, as he's not big on eating out. But it turns out the Italian place opened at eight PM and closed at one AM, and it was now around three. Ma was peeved. She's always trying to visit this Italian restaurant every time we go to Petoskey yet it's always open and closed at weird hours! What is it with the hours of Italian restaurants? O_o This put her in a bit of a bad mood since I didn't want to eat, so when Dad asked she finally groused, "Arby's." She was quite adamant about what she wanted. "A such-and-such sandwich. And a baked potato. With lots of sour cream and butter! And a SMALL JAMOCHA SHAKE!"

As we drove back toward Cheboygan, a song came on the radio which made Dad and I start exclaiming, "This is what they call synchronicity! Can you say irony?" Can you guess which song that was? Oh come on, guess. I know you want to. C'mon c'mon, guess. ^_^





...It was Gordon Lightfoot's "The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald!" *LMAO* Can you believe it??

http://home.europa.com/~random7/fitz.htm

Ma and Dad continued blithering but I paused and really listened to the lyrics of the song this time. This is the first time I ever really paid attention to them, in all the times I've heard that song. I even remember learning the words in elementary school but of course they didn't mean much to me back then. Really hearing them for the first time almost made me cry. Go ahead, take a look at that page and see what the lyrics actually mean. The Edmund Fitzgerald sank in Lake Superior, that most treacherous of the Great Lakes, so it isn't directly connected to the Forty Mile Point Lighthouse, but after seeing things about it on display among all the other shipwreck memorabilia, I found it rather odd that the oldies radio station decided to play that particular song just then.

WELL...we reached home around four PM. I hurried to hug the cat and get off to bed since I had at least a few hours left. My sandals were full of...sand! I brought part of Lake Huron home with me! ^_^ My feet felt a little bit "fuzzy" from being submerged in fresh water; I can't really explain the feeling, but it's a nice one. But UGH my hair was hideous!! I got my bed ready and climbed into it and lay down. I said to myself, "The only thing I hate about trips like this is that just as soon as you're home, it feels like you took them AGES ago!" And it's true...every time I return from a good time, it already always feels so distant. :/

Anyway, I fell asleep. And had this odd little dream that Ma and I were in some fancy place surrounded by big glass windows overlooking the water, and it was overcast or rainy outside. We were eating, and I had a cookie, but I was too full to finish it. We decided to leave. As we did so I spotted a couple of people eating cookies filled with some rich jelly-like substance and moaned, "I wish I hadn't thrown my cookie away!" as I was suddenly hungry again. Leaving this place entailed descending a steep series of metal bars, and of course it was VERY far down to the bottom, and there were only a few bars near the top and I was so terrified of even setting foot on them. Then that guy who sang "Beauty School Dropout" from Grease (the soundtrack of which I purchased on CD this past Friday), Frankie Avalon, appeared below me and held up his hand to help me down. And that was when I awoke. Thank God. ^_^

Later on that night when I dozed on the couch I could almost swear I was walking back up that slope toward the Forty Mile Point Lighthouse...but it was just my imagination.

Well...so that's what we did yesterday. And this took me a VERY long time to type up, and it will doubtless take you an even longer time to read. Except you don't have to go looking for the name of the Cedarville when all you have to go on is "T*fjord, C, 1960s, Straits of Mackinac, shipwreck." So feel very lucky, I have not in the least proofed this, and tar.