Saturday, June 4, 2016
Last week I did something I've never done before. PH had to go to Michigan's Upper Peninsula for work and since I've never been there...REALLY been into the U.P., and he was going to be gone for a week, I went along for the ride and the sights. It's a long way from here, a solid 12-14 hours to get from where we are, down near Grand Rapids, to where we were going, just about where the 'e' is in the word Lake Superior, a place called Copper Harbor.
There are only two ways to cross the straits from the Lower to Upper peninsulas. Boat or bridge. The bridge is at the very tip of the mitten. This bridge thing is a serious commitment on my part. I don't do bridges. Short ones, yes, but not long suspension bridges that arc up so you can't see anything but the sky, and have grates under your tires so you feel like you're sliding all over the place and that are so out there they sway in the wind. Nope.
Now, we in the state are quite proud of this bridge. It IS beautiful, it connects the two peninsulas, it's an iconic image of Michigan. BUT...
This bridge is 5 miles long and I've crossed it four times in my life. The first time was very, very soon after we were married and PH wanted to take me to Mackinac Island, a treasured place for us Michiganders. But he told me the ferry to the island only left from across the bridge. He lied to me. But he learned his lesson because by the time we got to the other side I was a puddle of tears on the floor of the car. And we had to get back so this was times one and two. The next was a couple of summers ago when we went with PH's brother and sister-in-law to visit a couple of spots just over the bridge, one time there, the other time back. On the way over I sat in the backseat with my head in PH's lap so I couldn't see. But coming back, SIL was driving so I had to be in the front. Pillow in lap, I was prepared to bury my face.