Our recent trip to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula was a rare just-the-two-of-us vacation that I expect will become more common, as our adult children are establishing their own lives and their own traditions. So off we went, my Gentleman Friend and I, with our trusty teardrop camper in tow up to Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore near Munising, Michigan.
Our campsite turned out to be mere steps from the shore of Lake Superior, and if it weren’t for the 40-degree temps, I would’ve been tempted to wade into the crystalline blues and greens of the water. Instead, we sat as close as we could to the frigid waves that lapped the shore, reading, napping, and occasionally commenting on cloud formations or seagull antics.
For the next four days, we ate fresh whitefish and perch, followed trails dappled with sun that led to rushing waterfalls, and stopped at kitschy gift shops that sold the required “Yooper”-themed magnets, keychains, and shot glasses.
I know many folks would much prefer a nice hotel or Airbnb to the more rugged accommodations of a campground in the middle of a huge forest, but I’ll tell you what I like the most: it’s the fact that we got zero cell service while we were at the campground. Again, that may not sound like such a great asset to many of you, but for me it was a welcome reprieve. After a day or so, I found myself reaching for my phone only to take photos of the sandstone cliffs, which are gloriously “stained” by minerals: iron (causing orange and red), copper (blue and green), manganese (brown and black), and limonite (white).
For the rest of the year, my life is ruled by the clock, but for four glorious days, we woke up when our bodies were rested, ate when we were hungry, and had the pleasure of making an unscheduled stop if we saw something interesting by the roadside. The only real appointment we had to keep was showing up on time to board the tour boat that took us up and down the shoreline for a closeup view of the natural arches and stone spires that resulted from centuries of wind, water, and erosion.
On the boat, we chuckled at a young woman who sat at the center of the back of the boat. As we sailed past the dazzling colors and shapes afforded by nature, she mostly spent her time taking selfies: hair up, hair down, hair tossed wildly by the wind. Smiling, pouting, looking pensive … someday, we joked, we hope she will look at those selfies and get a glimpse of all the scenery she missed. It will be visible in the background, through the filter of her windswept hair.
But I don’t mean to be unkind. I’m not prone to taking lots of selfies, but I would’ve been just as guilty of looking away from the view to check news alerts, texts, and social media notifications that plague my feed. But by this point on the vacation, I was feeling so grateful to be unplugged, to have to wait until we drove into town to find out what was happening in the outside world.
This is not to say I won’t appreciate a vacation someday where I am required to watch the clock: to catch public transportation in a bustling city, or to arrive early to a performance or a game. But this vacation, where time became just an arbitrary number that meant nothing, replenished my soul. For the days following our return, I resisted the clock, not wanting to adhere to the demanding schedule of home and work. My vacation hangover lasted as long as I could make it last, until The Schedule brought me back to reality and forced me to submit. I’m still hanging on to the lingering effects of this restful vacation, trying not to count the minutes, the days, the weeks…until time will stand still again.
