Brocation '25, Pt. III

 (contd.)

The next morning, many of us slept in an hour or so, seeing how we weren't driving any long distances today - we were sticking around the greater Marquette area and didn't have to rally as quickly. As guys finished getting around, they stumbled out of the hotel and across the street to this restaurant for some breakfast and coffee (which you might remember from Brocation '20.)

After breakfast, we whipped up some Bloody Mary's and set off for our first excursion of the day: revisiting Sugarloaf Mountain.

I'm definitely in better shape than I was five years ago when we last did this hike, and it showed - I didn't break a sweat this time around.

Ascending the hill - I don't remember this walkway last time, I think they've installed it recently (over the rocks and exposed roots we had to fight over in 2020.)

I've said it before and I'll say it again: this walk is straight out of The Lord of the Rings. *adjusts nerd glasses* Specifically when the Uruks of Isengard track down the Fellowship east of the Anduin River, before the Falls of Rauros.

The Kings press forward up the mountain. From front to back: Holty, Collier, Yours Truly, Morgan, Lonnie, Mitch, Rob, Tom, and (cameraman) Erik.

Glad they cut paths up this mountain so we didn't have to raw-dog our way up these rocky cliffs. . . we're not that athletic.

Ascending even more stairs (there was a few this morning.)

Stopping off to catch our breath educate ourselves with some informational, State Park placards.

Tom, Collier and Rob, learning all about the local terrain (I assume.)

Approaching the summit.

At long last, we reached the top of Sugarloaf Mountain.

Thanks, Morgan.

Doing what I do best.

Collier's equivalent of my usual rock-lock pose whenever someone takes a pic of me.

The view from atop this outcrop of rocks was insane, you could see a looooong way in nearly every direction.

(Probably lecturing, I don't remember.)

Mitch and Lake Superior.

I don't need to caption every one of these scenic pics, right? You know what you're looking at, I'm sure.

The memorial to some local Boy Scout troop leader that was killed in combat during the final days of World War I, right where we left it last time.

Someone's wide-angle shot of the viewing platform at the top of the mountain.

A full panoramic of the lake.

We hung out here for a few minutes awaiting the arrival of more tourists so we could bother someone to take a group pic of our group.

The Kings of the Hill Mountain.

The Pro and Lonnie Big Balls.

Holty makes some friends with a visiting family. He was talking their ear off about something or other, I wsn't really paying attention.

We stayed up here admiring the view for about twenty minutes - after that climb we endured you wanna make the most of it.

Looking south, in-land towards Marquette.

There were a lot of carvings and graffiti along the railings of the viewing platform, so I took it upon myself to add our group to the accumulated roster of visitors.

Dang straight.

Having got our fill of mountaintop views, we began the not-as-long-as-the-hike-up descent back down the mountain.

Hell of a lot easier going down, I'll say that much.

With our mountain hike successfully completed, we drove back towards Marquette for more nature-based adventure. Along the way, we stopped off - once again - at Phil's 550 Store.

This local institution has been a required stop for us.

I didn't pick anything up this time (last time I got a sticker or two and a beer, I think.)

Yes, they still have the decapitated bear sitting around. Because everyone needs something like this in their life.

White Trash Jesus disapproves of what you do in the bathroom when you think he's not looking.

After the 550, we drove out towards Black Rocks, which is set behind this big park you have to pass through first (on the other side of Marquette's giant Ore Docks.

Some shots of the Ore Docks, after we parked on the far side of the harbor.

Before we continued on to Black Rocks, Erik wanted us to stop off at the seawall that protects the harbor from the sinister Lake Superior. As we parked and headed down the steps to the waterfront, we saw this monument to a few old college students who fell to their deaths a decade or so ago at this very spot. Serves as a grim reminder to respect this lake's murdering-ass waves.

The guys watch the waves bash against the protective breakwater.

Nice job with the sign, guy. Illustration makes sense.

Morgan, Lonnie, Erik, Mitch, Holty, and Rob.

Nobody was quite up for a swim at this spot. 

Dead fish on the 'beach.' Probably killed by getting caught up in a wave and bashed senseless against the concrete. If I had to guess.

Nnnnnnnnope.

Of course we had to get a selfie in front of this murder pit (Morgan again obliging with his twelve-foot arms.)

After loading up in the Battle Wagon we drove farther into the park, stopping only once at this little roadside viewing platform that gave you a cool look at some of the surrounding cliff sides.

We had scoped out this very, same spot on our last trip up here. Pretty cool view, but it's like a five-minute stop-off.

Not a big fan of standing on ledges like this, but I survived.

Continuing on, we finally made it out to Black Rocks, and got a really close parking spot without difficulty (one of those things where we pulled up just as someone with a great spot was leaving.)

Five of the guys, as previously stated, had never been up here to Marquette before, so we made it a point to show them this must-see location this weekend.

The spot where Rob is standing right here is where locals prefer to jump off into the waters below - I've seen dozens of people jump the 20 or so feet down into the frigid waters. 

Today, though, there was nobody jumping in. As you saw earlier at the breakwall, the waves were straight-up treacherous today, and nobody was risking it.

Steven was willing to try, and we had to - literally - talk him off a cliff.

Collier's nuts, and climbed down six feet down the cliff face to a little outcropping of rock to sit and admire the view. No thanks.

Steven walked out to the edge of the Black Rocks, facing Lake Superior, and decided - out of the blue - to start pissing into the water. Not caring at all about the dozens (if not hundreds) of other people - mostly families - that were walking around out on the rocks among us. How he avoided getting arrested doing this, I'll never know. 

A zoomed out pic of the Kings, featuring Collier sitting perilously along the side of the cliff, and Holty inexplicably pissing into Lake Superior. 

Rob is super f***ing strong, gang.

The Black Rocks

After hanging out on the outcropping for awhile, we decided to check out a different area that we didn't get around to seeing last time we were here.

Doubling back towards the entrance, where we had parked (not sure what Mitch and Erik pointing at here.)

Instead of getting back into the car, we veered around the edge of the lot and down a small gravel path towards the water. 

This cove was an area that I had never seen before, and is where folks who dive off the rocks (which you can see in the background, where folks are standing - and where Collier was sitting a few minutes prior) can exit the water.

Collier scoping out the waves.

Lonnie, Erik and Mitch

Reduced shutter speed pic of the water.

Holty was all about getting into this water.

A little too wavy - and chilly - for my taste.

Tom and I were the only two who wanted to check out this cave above the waterline while everyone else watched Holty flounder in the waves.

Glamour pose.

The inside of the cave.

Heading back towards the car, you could see sinkholes from where the waves had eaten away at the shoreline.

We loaded up and headed back into town for some drinks and food, passing back underneath the Ore Docks.

Tom adjusts himself after we parked the Battle Wagon downtown.

Downtown Marquette. . . 

Our first stop: Ore Dock Brewing (my favorite brewery in Marquette.)

I've bought a lot of merch here over the years - glasses, a Stanley stein, a growler, etc. - but this time around I picked up a large, tin sign for behind my bar.

After paying for my sign, Morgan (who had waited for me) and I headed upstairs to meet up with the others.

We were the only ones up here at this time of day.

I'm sure this place fills up in the evening, but at this time in the afternoon it was dead.

The crew assembled at an outdoor table.

My new bar sign - pretty awesome.

We only stayed for one beer before deciding to move on to the next stop for some food.

Collier, going barefoot down the street (not sure why.) His feet could use a tanning session or five.

Marquette's local lodge (Erik and I didn't bother stopping.)

We passed by the old ukulele and music store that I had gotten cornered in by the owner last time we were here. And, like last time, I didn't buy anything.

Some old school theater on the main drag.

I pushed to eat here this evening, as the food at this place - the 906 - is amazing.

It wasn't too busy, so we got a table right away.

Tom, Rob, and Lon Dawg.

I once again ordered the Gladiator, which I remembered being the best sandwich I have EVER HAD. . . and it was just as good as I remembered. Seriously, the ingredients on this wrap are all of my favorites (I wouldn't change a damn thing - it's perfection.)

Waiting for our orders.

Yours Truly, Collier, Holty, and Damn It Tom.

Mankind's greatest achievement, right here.

Digging in to dinner - these are some happy campers.

After dinner we walked back to the van and returned to our hotel for folks to change and load up there golfing gear. Tonight's main event (and the main event for most of the guys this weekend) was eighteen holes at Greywalls, a fancy golf course that was on everyone's bucket list (well, not my bucket list, but I'm the only non-golfer in this group.)

Arriving at Greywalls, everyone having donned their douchiest golf outfits (I think they're douchey at least, the guys probably thought they looked cool.)

Assembling the golf bags to be loaded into the carts.

I was fine with hanging out while everyone else golfed (I'm used to it), but made the stipulation that I wanted my own cart to drive around: because we had so many people in our group, we had to divide into two separate groups of four, and me having my own cart meant I could drive back and forth between the two groups in order to hang out with everyone, take pictures, and move at my own pace.

I was also on music detail, playing our Brocation '25 Playlist at full blast.

Rob and Morgan check over their gear.

While waiting for our scheduled tee time, folks - like Collier and Holty, here - took turns practicing their drives.

Starting out on the course. . .

This course is expensive, but well worth the price due to the striking scenery (which you'll see for yourself as we go on), usually costing something like $180 per golfer for eighteen holes. But, since Mitch is a certified golf pro, he was able to get everyone a 50% discount. Still pretty steep, but everyone felt it was worth it. I didn't have to pay, seeing how I wasn't golfing at all, and Mitch paid my $35 cart fee (despite my protestation.)

We had a random golfer take a couple group pics of us as we started out on the eighteen-hole trek (you can see Lake Superior off in the distance.)

Lonnie and Collier paired up, and Erik and Morgan resumed their years-long partnership.

These bridges are super narrow - the carts barely fit over them.

These tablets serve as maps and probably come in handy for those who pay attention to whatever the hell all those numbers mean.

Broke out a pipe for the first time since last time I was out on a golf course (on last year's Brocation.) I don't smoke anymore, but on the course it's kinda nice to have a bowl or two.

Joy riding around the course.

Mitch (the group's best golfer by a mile) offered to pair up with Holty (the worst golfer in the group) in order to give everyone else a fighting chance.

Mitch hits a drive from atop a cliff (the name Greywalls has to come from all the cliffs and rock faces spread out throughout the course, it's pretty awesome.)

Morgan tees off.

Collier.

LBB.

Erik attempts a long putt.

The two groups bump into each other at the beginning of some random hole.

Watching folks golf. For hours.

Mitch, being inappropriate. This guy is a certified golf pro, folks.

Rob points the way forward.

Holty smacks the hell out of a ball on his tee-off.

An imposing cliff on one of the holes.

I wish we had scenery like this back in Midland. Instead of boring, flat forests and farm fields.

LBB, Baby Driver, Big E, and Collier.

The Colonel, on the precipice.

The group carts.

At another hole, waiting for folks to finish up.

This was like driving through Middle Earth - super cool.

Taking pics of people golfing (I included about a quarter of the pics we took this evening in this post, there were a shitload.)

Ordering some snacks - and some shots - from this concession stand halfway through the course.

Rob and The Pro.

Morgan swings and misses.

Shot time.

Rob teeing off.

Rob's creepy golf club cover. This thing 100% comes alive at night.

Mitch sinks another putt.

Every man is perpetually 15 years old at heart.

Sunset over the Greywalls.

The guys had to rush to complete the eighteen holes, and the last few holes were almost impossible as dusk drew on. We had to drive back through the woods to get back to the lodge, and the carts didn't have headlights so we could barely see. Collier had his phone light out and the only way we got through the forested paths was due to everyone staying close on his heels - it got REALLY dicey at times, but we made it through successfully.

Back at the hotel, later that night, we once again rendezvoused at Erik, Collier, and Lonnie's room, where we drank a bunch of bourbon and some of the guys went down to the hot tub (which was conveniently right outside their room) and made friends with some local ladies.

Invading Lonnie's personal space. We stayed up far later than we probably should have (at our age), and the next morning everyone was (miraculously) able to clear out of their respective rooms and load back up into the van for ours long-ass drive back south towards Midland. Thus concludes yet another epic Brocation with The Kings of the Hill - not sure where we'll end up next year, but the UP is on our shortlist again for sure. We'll see ya next time, kids.

- Brian