Eight Point Lake '21, Pt. I

Samson, relaxing on the beach.

What's up, folks.

So usually this time of year, the middle of July, would see the Houghs converge on Eight Point Lake for a two-week stint of boating, boozing, feasting and corn holing.  I've mentioned all this before, but due to the fact that we own our own family lakehouse now, and can go up to the lake whenever we want, there's no great gathering of family for days and days at a time.  In fact, we're now to the point where if any family stays up at the cottage, it's a big deal.  The days of nearly week-long adventures on the lake are now distant memories.

So this weekend, folks, was a big deal.  At least by 2021 standards.

Abby and the Larson kid, Sophie.

This weekend was our 'big' annual weekend at the lake:  both my family and my brother Chris' family stayed a couple nights up there, with the Whites driving up every day to visit (they live 20 minutes away, there's no point in crashing at the cottage.)  We allowed both girls to bring up a friend with them, seeing how they're now to that age where hanging out with your parents, sibling, and extended family is no longer cool, and kept them all in the lowest level of the cottage to isolate their noisy asses from my brothers' super-young kids.  Our annual Cornhole Tournament was held Sunday, and we had huge grillouts for dinner all weekend, as well as almost-continuous boating, tubing, kayaking, swimming, and sandbar'ing.

Typical Eight Point Lake business, just on a much smaller scale.

Check it out. . .

We rolled in Friday, late in the morning, with Kris hauling up Abby and her friend, Sophie, and Yours Truly bringing up Alayna and her friend, Cristina, who came up to the cottage a couple years ago.  After arriving and settling in, Alayna and Cristina opted to hang out downstairs in the kid level of the cottage (nice because they have their own bedroom, living room, and bathroom down there), watching frickin' anime, while Abby and Sophie immediately hit the water to kayak.

My new JBL Xtreme 2 bluetooth speaker, supplying the waterfront with jams.  Thing has ridiculously good sound, is waterproof, and is practically indestructible.

Sun wasn't completely out yet, so it was a little too chilly for most other folks to get in the water yet.

Out comes the Lily Pad. . . 

After the kids swam for a bit, they started asking for golf kart rides around the lake.  Kris had to run into town to help out her mom, so Yours Truly was left on solo-parenting detail for awhile.  Fun.  Times.

All four kids wanted to sit in the back (who knows why), so I had to force Alayna and Abby to take turns sitting up front with me.  Kids fight about the stupidest shit.

These things are, admittedly, pretty fun to drive.

A new toy up at the lakehouse this year - we haven't had a jet ski on Eight Point Lake in probably 15 years or so.  This became a HUGE hit with the kids, and because Yours Truly doesn't feel comfortable docking other folks' boats on the dock hoists, this allowed me an opportunity to buzz kids around the lake at a moment's notice, ferry kids to the sandbar and back, etc. without issue.

Cristina and the Cannonball.

Coming back in after doing donuts with Abby and Sophie for a bit.

Back to kayaks.

Now it's the older kids' turn. . .

Getting dangerously close to knocking themselves unconscious on the dock.  Frickin' kids. . .

Snack time with Nana in the kitchen.

Taking a break with some Donkey Kong (Dad set up the Nintendo Classic I got him for a Christmas a few years ago downstairs - it works out well.)

Guess Who.  An Eight Point Lake staple.

Back in the water, later on in the evening.  The sun finally out.

Later on in the evening, Cristina and Alayna watching a sunset on the dock.

Built a fire for the evening so the girls could do s'mores.  We were going to take out the pontoon for a sunset cruise, but dad messed up something on his hoist and the battery that powers the lift was dead - he had to charge it overnight so we could use the pontoon the rest of the weekend.  The girls were disappointed, but the prospect of s'mores cheered 'em up.

'Merica.

Roasting some marshmallows.

Cristina, Abby, and Sophie

Sunset pictures on Eight Point are required by law.

Cindy plays Truth or Dare with the girls.

Sure, let's turn every light on in the Cottage.  F*** the electric bill.

That's it for Day One, folks - stay tuned for more. . .

- Brian

The Houghs' 600th Episode: Mackinaw Smitty, Pt. II

(contd.)

After a long, long walk down the water-logged, shit-ridden road from the Grand Hotel, we finally found ourselves at the gates of Fort Mackinac.

Storming the gates

On the palisade, checking out some musket slots.

Looking down into the fort

In one of the corner watchtowers, you can vaguely make out an old carving that I did in 2003 - 'Kris & Hough.'

Abby grudgingly follows behind her family as we move down the wall towards another building (she was in desperate need of a snack and a break, but Smitty and I being the history nerds we are, were trying to squeeze in as much fort-viewin' as possible before we had to stop.)

Looking out through a musket slot towards one of the corner sentry houses.

21st Century Fort Mackinac (we definitely didn't have this in the '80s.)

Top level of one of the defensive towers.  This floor was ridiculously uneven - I had crazy vertigo just standing up there.

Looking out from the same top level floor, out towards the harbor in the city below.

The girls learn about the Battle of Mackinac Island, where we thoroughly got trounced by the British.

The front gate of the fort, still wet and soggy from the morning downpour.

Cannonballs

Houghs and Smitties, courtesy of a random 11-year-old Boy Scout (his troop was on tourist detail throughout the fort.)

Mackinac Island Harbor and downtown

The Houghs

Along the fort's front wall (Random Hough Fact: in all the times I've visited this fort over the course of the last thirty-plus years, I've never frequented that restaurant with the yellow umbrellas.)

The girls hang out on the lawn to watch a demonstration of period-specific reenactors firing black-powder rifles.

British infantryman, ca. 1810s.

American guard, ca. 1830s.

Ka-BOOM

Who the hell is that 30-year-old looking kid in the glasses?  He looks like that one guy from Roseanne who ended up on The Big Bang Theory.

Here's a shot of the park that lies below Fort Mackinac.  I forget the name of this dude who's portrayed here in statue form.

You think they use the top floor for, like, offices and crap like that, now?  I don't think you can get up there anymore.

Kris, Smitty, Rita and the girls all bought hot dogs and pop from this random vendor in the fort. . . who didn't even have the Goddamn decency of wearing a frickin' tricorn hat for us.

(We'd end up taking our mid-afternoon snack on that veranda, there.)

Chowin' down on some pig lips, hooves, and anuses.

That 'original siding' panel that they have on there building there, to the left, always used to blow my mind as a little kid.  Sure as hell didn't take much in the '80s, folks.

The Cannonball personally requested I take her picture next to this plaque.  Who knows why.

As it turns out, on the one day we visit the fort, this bar was closed.  Had we gotten off our asses and shown up 180 or so years earlier, perhaps Smitty and I could have snagged a beer off this dude.

Trap doors.  Never a dull moment.

The front gate of the fort.

More 21st century, interactive learning.

Morale sure is high in the Union infantry. . .

The girls get down with some serious squaw work. . .

They had this blue screen setup in one of the buildings where you could interact with the fort reenactors and play with guns.  Clearly, it was a big hit with the girls. . .

. . . and with adults, as well.

Random Hough Fact:  this family portrait of ours was taken in the OLDEST known room still in existence in the state of Michigan.  No joke.

Abby and a cannon.

You can never have enough cannon pics in a blog post, folks.

Another guardhouse.  Can't have enough pics of these, either.

More LARPers, doin' what they do.

Once we had toured Fort Mackinac extensively (probably far too much for everyone in our group except Smitty and I, to be honest), we decided to trek across the Island to Arch Rock, which - as you can see from this convenient sign post - was a mere 1/2 mile away.  That couldn't be too difficult to walk, right?

As it turns out, wearing sandals was a really, really stupid move on my part.  This was less of a leisurely stroll through the woods than it was an all-out, forced, Death March.

Compound this with the fact that we hadn't factored in our kids' 12" legs, which get 'tired' after a mere five minutes of walking.  We weren't 200 yards into our walk before Abby began to mutiny.

Local foliage.

Falling behind. . .

Had to stop for a quick restroom break, halfway to Arch Rock.

About half-way out from Fort Mackinac this happened.  And it surprised no one.

Finally, after a much-longer-than-anticipated walk, we came upon the Rock of Archness. . .

This seemingly pleasant portrait was taken seconds before a total sister-on-sister grudge match, which had both kids put into time out and consequently ruined any chance of the Hough family having their picture taken in front of Arch Rock. . .

. . . like, say, the Smitties.

Our tiring trek across Mackinac Island for a mere minutes jostling amongst the crowd in front of Arch Rock over, we had to find our way back to the town.  Fortunately - or not-so-fortunately, depending on how you do with heights (I don't, to be honest) - we found some nearby stairs (some 5,000 or so of them, I'd like to think) that took us back down to the coastline.

Half-way down, taking a much-needed breather.

. . . but at least we weren't climbing UP the stairs.

You'd think they'd have an elevator service here.  It'd sure as hell clean up with tourists.

Filing away some of Abby's Instax pictures into her photo album (we brought the girls' Polaroid-ish cameras with us, as well as the photo albums to house them so the prints wouldn't get ruined.)

(Not sure which Great Lake this is. . .)

Yes, I was dumb enough to drink straight from this thing.

Starting the long, looooong walk back towards downtown Mackinac Island. . .

When I put on sandals this morning - against the consensus of all the other adults at our campsite - I surely didn't imagine I'd be doing so much damn walking around the island.  And that I wouldn't be doing half of it with a frickin' kid strapped onto my back.

Some time later, coming across signs of Civilization (finally.)

Smitty and I decided to check out this old New England-ish looking church along the way. . . mostly because it had a Historic Site marker out front (and we're suckers for that sorta thing.)

Smitty droppeth the Good Word.

The womenfolk, waiting outside.  Not at all interested in historic buildings.

Hey, look America - it's Chandler from Friends.

Another block, another historic church (we didn't end up going into this one. . .)

Sooooo glad cleaning this stuff up isn't my job. . .

Anchors aweigh

Fort Mackinac, a few miles of walking in sandals later.

(. . . I think this is plagiarism.)

Abby takes a moment of pensive reflection.

By the time we made it back down to the Strip (I don't know if they call it that, but that's what we're going with), we were all to that stage of exhaustion and hunger where we weren't talking with one another, and instead were grumbling and snarling at one another.  We needed chairs, we needed food, and we needed a couple beers. 

We had to duck between a few teams of these dudes running back and forth across the street in order to find a restaurant that had a decent menu (with decent prices), but eventually we settled on a place. . .

Another interesting tidbit we learned today:  this Horn's Gaslight Bar was the first place in America to nab their liquor license after the repeal of Prohibition.

Abby holds court.  As always.

Everyone devoured the holy hell out of their food.  I ended up not ordering anything aside from a couple beers, knowing full well that I could eat plenty once the girls were 'done eating' (they never come close to finishing their meals at restaurants, so this I always get full eating what's left of their meals.)

Happy couple

After dinner, we spent some more time popping in and out of stores and doing some souvenir shopping.  The girls each picked up a couple of those fold-up, Asian-styled fans (which Smitty was definitely cool with.)  

No pictures.

We lost track of how many times this happened. . .

Much like the yellow umbrella'd cafe in Fort Mackinac, I've never once set foot inside this place, despite having come to Mackinac Island countless times over the last thirty-plus years.  Maybe next time. . .

Abby buys yet another one of these frickin' things.  'Cause she doesn't have enough already at home.

We departed Mackinac Island in the evening, and made it back to our campsite before it got dark out.  Despite the somewhat chilly weather we decided to have a fire and make s'mores.

Mill Creek had a strict rule against bringing in your own firewood (something about contaminating the trees or something, who knows), so they made you buy their firewood from them, instead.  They sold bundles of pine wood for $5, and while that's pretty cheap for wood, it burns ridiculously fast - for a single night of campfiring, you went through four or five bundles, at least.  Kind of a shakedown, when you come to think of it.

Firemaster Smitty, setting up shop.

It was getting pretty cold out, but our kids wanted ice cream anyway.  Because they're insane.

This was a grand choice for the evening.  Would've been better had a little higher ABV, but it definitely complimented the fire and my sore, sore feet after a day of hiking around 19th century Michigan.  

And this blend seemed somewhat appropriate as well.

Abby was put in charge of the s'more station, as she overly excited about her recent sweatshirt purchase.

Takin' care of business.

- Brian