Brocation 2026, Pt. II

(cont'd.)

We met down in the Bay Mills Resort and Casino lobby this morning at 9am. Steven had slept in a bit - the previous night had been rough for him - so we got out a little later than we had hoped for.

Took a close up pic of a mayfly on a window while we were waiting around for everybody.

Back in the van, we set off for our first destination for the day: Whitefish Point.

It was about an hour drive from our hotel to the Shipwreck Museum - our first stop of the day - so it to the surprise of no one that Lonnie immediately fell asleep and remained asleep for the duration of the drive up to the end of the peninsula.

Breaking down in a desolate area such as this would suck. There's absolutely nothing to be found up here, it's terrifying.

Arriving at the Shipwreck Museum (which, if you'll recall, I have visited once before with Kris, the girls, and Rita and Smitty back in 2018.)

This Shipwreck Museum is located at the site of an old lighthouse station and rescue post.

First order of business was checking in and buying our museum tickets.

After that, Yours Truly ran to the bathroom to try taking a crap (I block up whenever traveling and since my metabolism is higher than it used to be I'll become backed up and bloated if I don't try to go frequently - it sucks.) By the time I was done, the other guys had all ventured into a nearby building to watch a 20-minute documentary on the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald, the star sinking of this museum (and arguably the most famous shipwreck on the Great Lakes.)

After the documentary, we entered the 'museum,' which consists of one room lined with relics recovered from various wrecks on Lake Superior, all within the vicinity of Whitefish Point. They start you out in the days of French Fur Traders and Native Americans (like these two dudes here - though the guy on the right looks more like an 80's rocker than a French Fur Trader, but whatever.)

Tom and Mitch check out the recovered bell from the Edmund Fitzgerald, the centerpiece of this museum.

(This is famous, folks.)

An old diving suit. Not sure if this was recovered from a wreck or just an old suit they displayed 'cause people used it back in the day to recover wrecks.

A model of the Edmund Fitzgerald. She was a biggun.

Why does this look like a Minion?

This lighthouse beacon looks a lot like my shop fan, just sayin'.

Erik learns himself a few things about shipwrecks.

Once were done with the museum, we went outside to tour the rest of the station. Outside they have this giant rudder-looking thingy standing in the middle of the courtyard, I assume it used to be part of a giant ship of some sort (I'm no shipologist, so I can't swear by this, of course.)

We toured the inside of the lighthouse keeper's house, which - as we saw last time - has each room preserved with period-accurate furnishings.

KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF THE WHITE GIRL, BEAR.

Here's this random kid, just wasting away his day, spinning vinyl. Atta boy.

This hottie right here was keeping herself busy in the kitchen (as a woman should.)

I got bored and animated her with AI. Which, you know, is absolutely horrifying.

Next up was the rescue team building, showing all the tools of the trade used by those poor, unfortunate souls who were paid to row out in heavy storms from this station to attempt to rescue folks off sinking ships in the vicinity. That job would suck.

Mitch and Erik, reading up on the rescue crew's crap.

This guy looks like he could put down a whole case of Icehouse by himself and not feel a damn thing.

Back outside, we decided to check out the beachfront beyond the museum. On our walk over we spotted this memorial set up to honor all the shipwrecks that happened in the vicinity (I assume.)

Lots of driftwood debris scattered this beach, which was beyond cold due to the frigid winds (felt more like March than July this morning, that's for damn sure.)

The remains of an old dock or jetty (I'm not entirely sure what a jetty even is, but it sounded right to use in this sentence.)

Tom and Erik, walking up the beach.

Somebody should really clean up all this shit lying around everywhere. . . .

Erik, contemplating life.

A rickety, old watchtower that we didn't bother climbing up (not sure you can even go up there, now that I think of it.)

The lighthouse.

Here, educate yourself.

One last shot of the station on our way back to the van. On to the next stop. . . 

We stopped off at a party store about twenty minutes later to grab some beers and energy drinks. No idea what this town was called, but it was about the size of Loomis - little more than an intersection of two, tiny-ass country roads.

We ducked inside, grabbed some supplies (and Holty bought another hat), and we loaded back up into the van.

Ah, so the 'town' is called Paradise. Thanks, 2nd Amendment-loving black bear.

A little while later, we were parked at the Upper Falls of Tahquamenon. Since we had been there last time with the girls, they had built this fancy, sloping walkway that zig-zagged all the way down from the parking lot (up by the brewery) to a large viewing platform overlooking the Upper Falls. 

Tahquamenon Falls (Upper Falls)

We had seen this before back in 2018, but from downstream, where the path from the Lower Falls meets the Upper Falls.

Erik got this pic, representing our crew.

A lot of gross foam was collecting at the base of the falls. Looked frickin' disgusting.

After checking out the falls for a bit, we started our long ascent back up to the brewery.

Tom leads the way up the path back towards the entry point.

Kids are the worst.

It was just about lunch time, so we decided to grab food here.

They had food trucks out, but we were looking more for a sit-down sorta meal.

They had a lot of kitschy, touristy 'Up North'/'U.P.' sorta of crap in their merch store - hoodies, magnets, the usual - but no brewery merch, which is what I had been hoping for. I really wanted to find some decor for my bar, but there was nothing to be had at this particular stop. 

Waiting for a table inside the brewery, you could see all the various beer brewing machinery on full display. Smelled like crap, but the beer itself is pretty awesome.

The dining area of the brewery.

Some kinda beer cheese appetizer Erik ordered and shared with the table. It was good, but super rich - I only had one bite of it and was like, 'hard pass.'

Every, single, one of us ordered the whitefish and fries. It was awesome.

Coming back outside, following lunch and a few pints of Tahquamenon craft beers.

Back in the van, we headed out towards our next stop - the famous Two Hearted River.

To get to this incredibly remote location, you have to drive down a dirt road for about an hour, sometimes only eight feet in width, through the middle of nowhere (literally, just look at the view.) No signal, only going about 30mph, it was insane.

After driving for well over an hour, we reached a remote campsite along Lake Superior, where the river empties out into the Great Lake.

Hiking from the parking lot to the river.

Here, educate yourself once again.

This wooden bridge spanned the Two Hearted River (which Bell's super-popular, best-selling IPA beer is named after.)

This wooden bridge is suspended by cables, so it shook like crazy as you walked over it. Mitch, being the asshole that he is - and knowing how I'm squeamish about such things - decided to jump about and shake it uncontrollably in order to freak me out. Mission accomplished, you evil, Dutch bastard.

On the other side of the bridge was a narrow strip of land that separates the river from Lake Superior. . .

This beach was littered with rocks and debris, so not Caribbean in any sense of the word.

Grumpy ol' Pro.

Another view of Lake Superior.

Damn It Tom and Big E

Rocks up here just look cooler. We all grabbed a couple for souvenirs.

Driftwood seems to amass along these Superior shores, that's for sure.

These signs were everywhere. These people definitely get all butt-hurt about sand up in these parts.

A retaining wall of some kind, keeping the dunes intact. #savethedunesfortheloveofgod

KOTH selfie on the rickety bridge.

Oh, Skinner. . .

The Two Hearted River. No we can say we've seen it in person.

Another shot of the bridge on our way back to the van.

Getting one final look at the river before loading back up for the nauseating ride back to civilization.

On our drive back we saw an airfield built into the grass. Why somebody would want to land a plane way out here, in the middle of nowhere, is beyond me.

I mean, how desperate would you have to be to do something like that? The plane would have to be on fire or something.

It was mid-afternoon by the time we got back into civilization (or what passes for civilization in the Upper Peninsula), and the plan was to spend the rest of the day and evening hitting up dive bars on our drive back to Bay Mills. Our first stop - and our favorite of the day, by far - was the Wolf Inn.

Cool-looking wind chime thingy we spotted as walked in to the joint.

You know you're in the U.P. when door handles look like this, folks.

We set up at the bar again - we ended up doing this at nearly every stop of the weekend, it's how we roll - and the servers here were super cool. They had a similar sense of humor so we got on incredibly well.

Every dive bar we went to this weekend, when you went into the bathroom, the mirrors looked like this. Covered in various snow mobile group stickers.

Here's a pool table we never bothered playing on.

We stayed here for a little less than two hours before paying our tab and loading up into the van for our next stop. . .

Entering the metropolis of Newberry, Michigan. Good grief. . .

Erik had pinned this old, dive bar - Timber Charlie's - as a must-stop point on our day's itinerary - it was some place that he and his hunting/trapping buddies frequented like twenty years ago.

Ready to rock and roll. . .

This stuffed black bear met us on our walk into the joint (I ended up swiping that 250th anniversary flag on my way out the door, mainly 'cause our bartender was a huge bitch and maxxed out her snark stats.

Once again, we saddled up to the bar and started barking out orders. Probably why the bartender didn't warm up to us right away.

Mitch, fresh off the shitter.

Michelle, our snarky bartender, giving Erik shit for referring to her place of business as a 'dive.'

I drank a ton of Keewanaw Brewing's Widow Maker (a strong black ale) this weekend, it was my go-to (aside from Miller Lite, obviously.)

Grabbing some apps.

View from the opposite end of the bar.

Erik shows a waitress serving the tables behind us our Brocation spreadsheet, detailing our stops. She, too, took offense to us referring to this place a dive bar (which it most certainly is.)

Erik and I snoop around the merch store, where I ultimately picked up a magnet to commemorate our fiery stop.

While waiting for the others to settle up their tabs, I decided to lay down on a bench by the front door. Michelle asked the others if I had passed out or was dead, with not a drop of concern in her voice. The miserable, crusty shrew.

Back in the van, heading off for our next stop. . .

Mitch and Tom, back in Steerage.

Our next stop was Joshua James, which, without a doubt, was the lamest bar we ducked into all, damn weekend.

I mean, this looks like a crummy, little house you might see in like Sanford or something - not at all a bar.

Again with the window stickers. . .

We only had one round of beers at this place, as the vibe was pretty lame - super quiet, no music, just old people, etc. We had to grab a table away from the bar, which wasn't our favorite by any means.

Slainte

Erik grabs another KOTH selfie.

Holty attempted to liven up the atmosphere by playing a bunch of songs off our Brocation list, but it wasn't enought to boost morale. I paid for everyone's drinks and we got the hell out of Dodge.

After a short drive, we ended up at Strongs Tavern (no idea where the hell that is, either - I'm not from up there, don't ask me.)

Yoopers really, really get into living out here in the wilderness. It's like being around New Yorkers.

This bar was only. . . meh. A couple of us - myself included - had stopped drinking by this point in time, only getting more full and drowsy opposed to more amped up ('hitting the wall,' as we like to say among our group) so it was definitely a more low-key vibe. The writing was definitely on the wall, but we set up shop right at the bar anyway, and our server this time around - thank God - was some nice, college girl who wasn't a raging bitch (like Michelle from Timber Charlie's.)

Erik, Mitch and Lonnie, having one last beer at this place before we threw in the towel. 

We only stayed there about an hour, and after the tab was settled we slogged our way back to the van for our twenty-minute drive back to the casino.

We rolled back into Bay Mills about a quarter past eleven, went up to our respective rooms, and hit the beds hard. We had one more day of adventuring ahead of us, and we wanted to be fresh and rested for the coming day. Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion. . .

- to be concluded. . .