As Falls Tahquamenon, So Falls Tahquamenon Falls, Pt. II

(contd.)

Tahquamenon Falls - Day Two

The girls and womenfolk all slept in until about 9am or so - the previous day's long car ride, insane humidity, hike to the Falls, and drawn-out site set-up process had worn everyone out.  I, however, am an early riser, regardless of what time I go to bed, so I was up at 6:30am or so (five-hour nights of sleep are pretty commonplace for me while camping.)  While everyone else slept in, I brewed a pot of coffee (yes, we also brought our very own coffee maker this year), and got to reading my current novel of choice, Caldwell's Pillar of Iron.

Abby was the second up in the morning, and made a bee line straight for the powdered donuts.  As you can see here.

Photo courtesy of the Cannonball.

Like last year, we once again utilized the trunk of a vehicle for a 'pantry,' and this year used Smitty and Rita's, since we'd be driving around Kris' van throughout the week (it seats more people than the Smitties' SUV.)

A couple of lazy girls - and not their dad - enjoying a peaceful morning in the hammock.

Professional Photobomber.

I tried to enjoy this, but with kids. . . you just don't enjoy much in the morning.

Back at the Lower Falls, later in the morning.  Killing time before Smitty woke up from his hibernation.

Not sure which of my photographically-impaired children took this.  I was done with taking pictures from such a crappy vantage point - we were planning on getting closer on Day Three, when we'd be to hiking from the Lower to the Upper Falls.

Portrait cutouts.  Never gets old.

Both girls really wanted souvenir novelty pennies from the souvenir store.  50 cents apiece?  Done.

Our seating arrangement, whenever we drove anywhere, usually looked like this.  Sometimes the girls were in the backseat, sometimes Rita and Kris were in the back, and other times they were staggered like this.  Regardless, Smitty drove and I rode shotgun. . . except instead of carrying a shotgun, I equipped an SLR.

Smitty and Lake Superior.

This year, we devised a pretty good plan for scheduling our activities.  We knew what we wanted to do in the area before heading up there - we had planned it all out after the girls' combo party early in June - we just didn't have any dates set for these activities.  We kept everything 'weather dependent' - sunny day activities, rainy day activities, humid day activities, etc. - and was therefore able to remain flexible and un-stressed about seeing everything we wanted to.  The previously-mentioned hike, for example, would take up an entire day, and we settled on tomorrow for that activity because it'll be in the mid-70s and brightly sunny (we didn't want to spend hours and hours hiking if it was too hot, or rainy.)  Since today was going to be rainy, we selected our 'rainy day' activity:  shopping in Sault Ste Marie.

Smitty and Rita, like me, are die-hard thrift shoppers, and they have a cool tradition of whenever they travel somewhere they swing by the local Goodwill or Salvation Army in order to score some plunder.  As fortune would have it, there just so happened to be a Goodwill in the Sault.  As always, I picked up a some records - a few LPs and four super-hokey German 45s - along with a large Ghanaian fertility statue, a couple t-shirts (since I had packed for slightly cooler weather, and it was hot as hell up here), and some bandanas.  Spent $11.  I love thrift shopping.

The Tower of History.  Looks like some shitty Lego tower one of my nephews would build.

Some boat thing.

The Sault Locks - for those of you not in the know - connect Lakes Superior and Huron, and provides major shipping lanes to access the Midwest and interior Canada.  Tons of freighters pass through the Locks on a regular basis, and since shipping is such a large part of this town's livelihood, there's a lot of boat-related what-have-you to be found throughout town.  Like, for example, floating ship museums.

Some fort we didn't stop at - we were driving around looking for a place to park.

We had to pay a meter, which always sucks, but we found a good spot nestled square in the middle of the Sault's touristy stretch of souvenir stores, fudge shops, and assorted eateries.

Not much in this town has changed since the '60s/'70s by the looks of things. . . 

It was nearing lunch time, so we ducked into this nautically themed diner for some grindage.

The girls check out the kids menu while we wait for a table to open up.

We were eventually seated upstairs, overlooking the touristy street and the Locks, which was pretty cool. 

I had eaten a protein bar shortly before we left our campsite, so I wasn't necessarily hungry.  A Bloody Mary, however, was just my cup o' tea.

Some painting I came across, just outside the Men's Room.  I imagine this is what I'll probably look like at 60.  Or 50.

Abby makes a friend.

While waiting for Smitty to get out of the bathroom, following our meal, Kris took this picture of an imaginary family.

Smitty gets some local attraction insight from a quirky store owner, while the womenfolk poke around yet another souvenir shop.

After shopping for an hour or two, Smitty wanted some ice cream. . .  and the girls unsurprisingly backed him up.

Mustachios.

Back in the car after our ice cream break, we made one last stop in Sault Ste Marie before heading back to our campsite:  Meijer.  We had to buy a few more food items, some more beer, and a few other odds and ends that had been overlooked or used up prematurely.

Smitty more or less serves as a one-man entertainment committee for our girls whenever we go camping.  They're drawn to him like moths to a flame.

Smitty and I wanted to take a different route back to our site, which would add about 15 minutes to our trip, but would be broken up by multiple (historic) stops.  From Tahquamenon State Park to the Sault, it's a looooong stretch of boring highway.  For the way back, we wanted a quieter, more-forested route that was littered with spots of interest.

Like this, for example.

The Point Iroquois Lighthouse.  We stopped off here and were fortunate enough to have the place practically to ourselves - there was one other car in the parking lot, and we never saw the people.

Some totally f***cked up stuff happened on the beach behind this lighthouse back in the 17th century.  You should seriously read up on it.

All hail the Butt Bucket.

Abby sprints off for the beach behind the lighthouse. . .

(From Abby's camera.)

Checking out Lake Superior

Smoke break while the kids toe along the shoreline.

Back of the lighthouse, from the beach.

The Smitties.

The Houghs.

Comforting the Cannonball, who saw a bug.  Seriously.

These piles of stones (sometimes, and usually incorrectly, referred to as cairns) are ancient symbols utilized in cultures around the world, dating back to the dawn of mankind, that indicate a spot of importance.  Often times they indicate a person passed by here, and purposely left behind the stones to mark a trail for people who would come by later.  Like the bow and arrow, domestication of the dog, and the utilization of fire, this is one of those skills that man must have possessed before spreading out of Africa, hundreds of thousands of years ago, and that survived in various civilizations for ages.  

Yours Truly in front of a tower I didn't climb up.

Here.  Educate yourself.

I love it when properties feel the need to break it down for the masses like this.

The beginning of the Sinister Stairs. . .

Smitty ascends.  Rita and I stayed at the bottom of this nonsense:  it was a tight stairwell that went up and up for a long, long way, and was about 30 degrees warmer (and more humid) than the fresh, outside air.  No thanks, lighthouse.

Kris and the girls, however, are more masculine than I, and were able to enjoy the view from the top.

What an adorable family.

Coming back down to ground-level.

This bird feeder is ridiculous.

There was a 'museum' in the main building of the station, adjoining the lighthouse, that was still open, so we decided to waltz through their before heading back to the van.

I guess this is what the living room in the lighthouse station looked like back in the 1950s.  I'm not sure if the people who run this place know what a 'museum' is. . .

Some people in frames.  I'm assuming they had something to do with the lighthouse station, but since there weren't any informational placards to be found (See: Running a Museum for Dummies), I wasn't sure.

And here's a kitchen.  Just go ahead and put the ironing board right there in the middle of everything, guys, it's cool.

I bet that pie is expired.  I'd toss it out.

Back outside, we saw this dude putzing along the shoreline.  You can't really tell, but this thing was HUGE - it was a ways off the shoreline, and I'm using a telephoto lens in this pic.

Another gratuitous lighthouse station picture, this time with a different lighting setting.

Leaving Point Iroquois, we continued along our rural drive along the shoreline, passing by a ton of creepy run-down buildings, shacks, trailers, and - on occasion - railcars.

The rain, which had been foretold to us by meteorologists and weather apps days before, had yet to appear all day.  Our day in the Sault - while occasionally cloudy - was dry as a bone.  On our way back to the campsite, however, things began to look perilous in the skies.  As we stopped off to check out this overlook on the side of the road, we began to hear rumblings in the distance.

Trouble brewing over Lake Superior. . .

Safe bet that all Hell's about to break loose. . .

By the time we hit Paradise, we were getting slammed with rain.  We stopped off to pick up more firewood and ice, and one of the girls snapped a picture of some asshole getting soaked while picking out hardwood.

Miraculously, the rain passed us by in less than twenty minutes.  All those clouds throughout the day, all that build-up, for a mere twenty-minute downpour.  We totally lucked out.  The sun even came out (a little bit) in the evening, and we were able to enjoy our campsite in peace for the rest of the night.

A super-serious Kris picks out a hamburger bun.

We stocked up on a few of these bad boys before the trip, you bet your ass.  The mosquitos and black flies up here are ruthless, and so we kept a constant candlelight vigil throughout the evenings.

. . . .aaaaand, in closing, here's the Cannonball.  Doing what she does best.

- Brian