From Chicago, we raced north for the tip of the mitten that is Michigan---Mackinaw City!
We had reserved a lake view room at a little motel on the south side of town. Unfortunately, the day was was gray and windy with occasional drizzle.
We would have braved it, but the minute we stepped out of the car we were beset by clouds of large and aggressive mosquitos. We stayed in our room behind the screens while squadrons of bloodsuckers nearly the size of hummingbirds waited for us to emerge.
We made our escape the next morning when the cool air kept the mosquitos sluggish.
The Mackinaw Bridge that connects the tip of the mitten to the upper peninsula was still wreathed in fog.
We drove south and west along the shore of Lake Michigan. The country is mostly flat and heavily wooded with occasional glimpses of the huge, brooding lake. Another amazing landscape among the many we have encountered on this trip.
Our destination du jour was Wausau, Wisconsin, the town where my dad was born in 1910.
We were lucky enough to find a one-of-a-kind B&B. The Stewart Inn was built as a private residence in 1905 by a local timber baron. The house has remained untouched since then except for electrical and plumbing upgrades.
It is truly a beautiful old house.
The original fireplace.
We're a little sorry that we're only here for one night.
O was still feeling under the weather, so I walked around town on my own. There were several cool pieces of street art.
There's a lovely walk by the Wisconsin River.
Though my father was born here, his family moved to southern California when he was four, so he had no real memories of the place.
It's a beautiful little city of about 40,000, hardly bigger than the 17,000 that were here in 1910. The streets are green and lined with mature trees. The houses are old, but well-maintained. There's a cute historical downtown with thriving restaurants and shops, an art museum, and a municipal theater.
As I walked around I was struck by the calm, bucolic energy of the place. It's reminiscent of the energy I remember my dad had.
Wausau also apparently has a significant Hmong population. Wisconsin winters must have been a major readjustment.
Bob and Ray still run the Grill and Swill.
Later, I made my way to the aptly named Isle of Ferns Park. The small island in the middle of the Wisconsin River is part of Wausau's extensive park system.
Other than a few dirt trails, the island has been left mostly in its natural state.
Very peaceful.
And now, here's your moment of zen.
P.
No comments:
Post a Comment