Brocation 2022, Pt. III (and Epilogue)

(and now for the thrilling conclusion. . .)

It was a slower morning for the group, taking into consideration everything that went down throughout previous day's excursion to Mackinac Island.  Yours Truly was in pretty good shape, but several in our group weren't faring so well.  After getting around, I decided to walk out to see where those that had managed to get themselves together were hanging out.

I took this walkway from the back of the casino out to the lake beyond.  At first I almost walked right up to the figure on the bench, by this arch-thingy, but at the last minute turned aside, as that dude was definitely not one of our group.

Another gorgeous morning.  Todays' weather was going to be spot-on as well.

Spotted by the lakeside. . .

Erik and Collier.   Ryan was in rough shape, but he had at least put on his big boy pants and had gotten himself a coffee.

No issues with Big Johnson.

We hung out on the shores of the lake (not sure which one - Huron, maybe?) discussing the battle plans for the day.

Heading back up towards the casino to rally the troops.

Erik and Ryan make a friend.

The back patio area that we didn't utilize at all over the course of the weekend.

Friday night had been a rager for everyone at the casino, apparently.  This young kid in his early 20s had passed out on the lobby couch the previous night and had slept there all night.  In the morning, as we gathered our forces in the lobby, we saw the hotel/casino staff repeatedly walk over to him and try to wake him up, but to no avail, it was pretty hilarious.  When he did finally get up, just as we were leaving, he was disoriented and didn't know where he was.  He had no room, no cell phone, and was desperately trying to figure out where his friends were.  Serves the dumbass right. 

Hitting the road, once again.  This time, we were heading north, towards Sault Ste Marie to kick off a driving, bar tour of the eastern reaches of the Upper Peninsula. . .

Approaching the Canadian border.

Bridge to Canada

Downtown Sault Ste Marie

We found some parking spot around the corner from the Soo Locks observation deck, and figured we'd hit that place up first before grabbing some breakfast - as a hungry as we were -  as a freighter was currently - but slowly - making its way through the Locks.

Mitch calculates the meter fee.

Erik and Morgan and the Battle Wagon.

(We didn't go into this place.  F*** the Germans.)

Walking over to the Locks. . .

I'm not really sure what building this is, but I'd wager its some kind of administrative facility overseeing the locks.

Passing a security checkpoint to gain access to the observation area.

The multi-level observation platform.  Which, oddly enough, was pretty packed for this early in the morning.

In the distance, the bridge to Canada.

Part of the freighter passing through the locks.

That's one big-ass boat.  It was the size of a frickin' building.

A boat of tourists passes by the freighter in a neighboring channel.

Some other random building sitting on the locks.

Seriously.  The fuel costs for these ships must be astronomical.

The crew, watching the freighter pass by.

The park outside the observation area.

Some nautical stuff for ya.  You know, 'cause there are ships nearby.

Another shot of the observation platform as we left.

Murals of famous freighters on a souvenir store on the main drag (the one on the far left was the one we saw passing through the locks this morning.)

Time for breakfast.  Well, lunch at this point.

Erik, Morgan and Mitch, waiting for service.

We put our name down for  table and had to wait, like, fifteen minutes.  Not too bad.

Tom and I, patiently waiting for a table.  Tom was not in good shape this morning.

Mitch, probably spouting off dumb shit.

Seated and waiting for food.

I ordered a whitefish wrap with fries on the side.  It was unbelievably good.

Devouring a much-needed lunch.

I had eaten at this place before, back when my family vacationed in the Upper Peninsula with Rita and Smitty back in 2018.

Heading back to the Battle Wagon.

Morgan goes Sasquatchin'.

Back outside the Nazi House.

After an hour or so drive, in which Collier tried to catch up on some sleep, we arrived in a small-ass town in the middle of nowhere called Barbeau (about the size of Loomis), our first bar stop of the day.

Hugging a wide river dividing the eastern Upper Peninsula from Canada, frequented by freighters headed for the Soo Locks, sits the Cozy Corners Bar.

Like everything else we've been seeing lately, this bar, too, was nautical-themed.

The Lions were on, so that was cool.

Erik and Morgan at the bar.

This bartender was pretty cool - she would've fit right in at Ruckle's back home.

Got this notification on my phone while we were sitting there - our phones were practically useless this far out in the boonies.

Checking out the decor of the place.

I'm assuming this is old.

Tom and Mitch try gathering their strength for the day.

After an hour or so at Cozy Corners, we loaded back up into the Battle Wagon and once again hit the road.  Along the way to our next stop, most of the guys fell asleep on the drive, being a bunch of lily-wristed sissies that they are.  So they deserved to have their lameness well-documented.  Here's Mitch.

Tom.

With Ryan, too.

At least Morgan and Erik (and I) still have testicles.

Pulling into the remote, lakeside community of Raber Bay. . .

This townie bar was our next stop.

Some woodshop student with Downs Syndrome likely made this sign.

The dining area of the bar, which we didn't go in to.

Wood paneling is all the rage at this place.

We stayed for a couple beers at this place, trying to rally those members who were dragging serious ass at this point.

As we were leaving, some old guy - it's always an old guy - pulled up in a pretty bad-ass old muscle car, so Erik had to go check it out.

Mitch and the Battle Wagon

Still creeping on the car.

Our next stop was Drummond Island.  The road we were on hugged the river like this most of the way down (that's Canada on the other side.)

Pulling into Detour Village, where we had to wait to take a car ferry across the river to the island.

Queued up for the car ferry, which ran every twenty minutes across the river.

Massive freighters, bound for the Soo Locks, passed by as we waited.  We had to wait for like a half an hour, as traffic was pretty backed up at this point and they can only take so many cars across at a time.  Most of us used this time to run over and use a nearby bathroom while the Battle Wagon was parked at a standstill.

Finally pulling on to the car ferry. . .

This was my first time ever being in a vehicle on a ferry like this, it was weird.  They just have everyone pull forward all the way and remain in their vehicles for the duration of the cruise over to the island.

We'd be hard-pressed to escape the van and jump overboard in the event the car ferry started to sink. . .

After a (thankfully) safe crossing, we arrived on Drummond Island and followed the signs to Chuck's Place - the easternmost bar in the entire state.

They could definitely spring for some new signage up in here, that's for damn sure. . .

Nearly all the roads on the island looked like this.

You can tell a lot about a place's clientele by looking at the vehicles in the parking lot.

Random.

This is the crowd they cater to.

Pulling up to the bar, we ordered some drinks from the bartender, who looked like an elderly, budget-version of Stevie Nicks.

The service here was abysmal, despite the fact that there was practically no one else in the entire frickin' bar.  She was almost purposely giving us shitty service because we weren't locals, which obviously didn't jive well with our crew.

Some interior shots of this notable, but otherwise shitty, bar. . .

Morgan tries, in vain, to get the bartender's attention.  After one, measly round, we paid our tab - plus a dismal tip, rightfully deserved - and got the hell out of there.

Up the road there was a golf course with an adjacent, well-reviewed bar/restaurant that we decided to check out instead. 

Seated and waiting for food and drinks. . .

Eventually the guys ordered themselves a pizza and we ended up knocking out a few more rounds at this place.

Spacious place, the decor was just meh but they had various games set up on the far wall.  Basically had the place to ourselves, too - only a few other families passed through the whole time we were there.

Some ring on a string game that they had set up - way more difficult than it looked at first glance. . .

Played this sexy bitch for awhile.  50 cents is kind of a rip-off, but. . . that's inflation for you.

After our stop, we cruised up the road to check out this rustic, lakefront park, which apparently had some scenic trails you could walk down. . .

This place was a far-cry from Jellystone - no shower houses, electricity, or RV hookups - just a communal outhouse (which we did not utilize.)  Still, the view was pretty awesome.

Not at all creepy to see all these painted rocks lying around in an abandoned fire pit. . .

Some lake.  Not sure which one.

We left the van parked at an abandoned campsite for the time being and trek into the nearby woods to hike the trails. 

Morgan and Erik consult a map online. . . which was truly a miracle because most of us didn't have any signal up in this part of the UP at all. . .

The land was strewn with moss-covered boulders. . .

We hiked about a quarter-mile (if that) in and realized the trail markers were too far degraded to figure out where the hell we were going, so we just made a beeline for the shoreline to check out the lake instead.

A random, forested island in the middle of the lake.  Safe to assume a witch lives there.

A family staying at the nearby state park was trying to take a boat out onto the lake.  We couldn't help but wonder, who the f*** takes little-ass kids to a bathroom-less, shower house-less state park like this one? 

Gorgeous weather, though - no complaints.

The rocky shoreline wasn't the most fun to walk over, sure enough, but it was great for skipping stones. . .

Someone suggested we get another group pic, so I ran off towards the treeline to position my SLR on a dead tree.

One more group pic for the books.

Mitch and Erik in the woods. After checking out the lake, we got back onto the 'trail' and made our way back to the Battle Wagon.  We were officially funned out with Drummond Island, and decided to head back to the mainland.

A historical marker near the car ferry port.

We barely had to wait at all for the return trip back to the mainland.

Loading up

Leaving Drummond Island.

The Upper Peninsula.

Impromptu 'hull protectors,' I assume.

That's gotta be one, dilapidated old shack, there.

The guys were getting hungry again (surprise, surprise), and it was starting to get a little late, so we stopped off at the Les Cheneaux Distillery on our way back to St. Ignace.

An old sign I saw on the wall while waiting for the restroom.

It was slammed when we got there so we had to wait about twenty minutes for a table to free up.

Look, more nautical decor. . .

Still waiting.

They seated us pretty close to the bar, which as fine, and we all ordered these pina coladas that were on special - and were some of the best we'd ever had.  Really, really good.

This place was decent - pretty bare-bones as far as atmosphere goes, but that's not a deal breaker.  Menu and drink choices/prices weren't bad, but not great, either.  

What was by far the worst apart about this palce was the service.  It took forever to get our server to return to our table, let alone order food.  That didn't bode well.

We didn't sample a lot of these.  FOlks were tired, and the lackluster service dampened everyone's moods.

Booze drums.

I ordered a gin and tonic instead of a meal, which was good on my part, because an hour or so later - once everyone's food arrived - it was terrible.  Nearly every, single guy complained about his meal, and Erik and Ryan took to Google and Yelp immediately, destroying the establishment in the review sections.  For the second time throughout the course of they day, we were forced to leave abysmal tips.

After arriving back in St. Ignace and to our casino/hotel, Mitch and Tom immediately went to bed.  Morgan, Erik, Ryan, and I mixed up a few drinks and went back out onto the casino floor to do some last-minute gambling, not ready to call it a night quite yet.

This is about all I won throughout the course of the evening, but I didn't lose anythig either, so I'd consider that a win, folks.

After an uneventful evening, we woke up early and got our things around for the return drive back to Midland.  Once up and around, I walked out behind the casino again to see who had gathered back down by the water's edge.

Ryan, Morgan and Erik.  Tom and Mitch were still on the struggle bus.

We checked out of the hotel, loaded up the Battle Wagon once last time, and hit the road.  In order to get back to the Lower Peninsula, of course, we had to cross this f***ing bridge one, last time. . .

Some big ships out on the water this morning. . .

A freighter and an island ferry, by the looks of it.

We stopped off in Mackinac City before continuing southwards, as we figured it'd be a solid move to pick up a bunch of fudge for our kids before we returned to Midland. You know, 'cause parenting.

The best fudge in the Straits.  I'll fight you if you say otherwise.

Fudge prices, like everything else anymore, have gone up, but not as bad as you'd think.

I texted back and forth with Kris and the girls FOREVER, trying to figure out what kind of fudge they all wanted me to grab for them.  The entire ordeal was waaaay more complicated than it needed to be.

This is what Alayna settled on.

Their combo one (Kris, like me, had no interest in fudge.)

And Abby's choice.

Our familial good deeds done, and with fudge finally in hand, we got back onto the road and drove the rest of the way home, arriving back in Midland by early afternoon.  Thus ends this year's installment of Brocation - Dadkind's greatest annual undertaking.  See ya next year, Internet.

- Fin -