Eclectic! Offbeat! Those were the words I hoped would describe our Great Lakes Road Trip.
Another highlight: secluded serenity at The Ridges Sanctuary, a 1200 acre nature preserve in Bailey’s Harbor. Sandals clomped down the wooden boardwalk that stretched through the dense forest, past the dainty white clapboard lighthouse, to the shining sea of Lake Michigan. Spying yellow Lady Slippers nestled in the woods I felt privy to a secret treasure shared by few.
Hang on! We’re tired but one last stop: the Whitefish Dunes State Park. Dead Whitefish lined the shore, eyes rotted out, gills gaping - just the memorable photo op I’d been seeking. What sticks in my memory now: the carpet of white seagulls dining along the tall rocks and rushes. Lifting en masse as we neared, they squawked, fluttered, then settled back down to earth, claiming the rocky shoreline as their own.
Exhausted and satisfied, we jostled our tribe back to the lovely Bay Shore Inn of Sturgeon Bay. Grandpa cast stones into the sunset-tinged water, my daughter nestled into her own spot on the all-seashell beach, while son created Rock-Man, a mosaic sculpture, from flat, wave washed stones. I’ll remember the surf bubbling up on the rocks, each nook and bend of the shoreline beckoning me to claim it as my own for just that one moment.
Another highlight: secluded serenity at The Ridges Sanctuary, a 1200 acre nature preserve in Bailey’s Harbor. Sandals clomped down the wooden boardwalk that stretched through the dense forest, past the dainty white clapboard lighthouse, to the shining sea of Lake Michigan. Spying yellow Lady Slippers nestled in the woods I felt privy to a secret treasure shared by few.
Hang on! We’re tired but one last stop: the Whitefish Dunes State Park. Dead Whitefish lined the shore, eyes rotted out, gills gaping - just the memorable photo op I’d been seeking. What sticks in my memory now: the carpet of white seagulls dining along the tall rocks and rushes. Lifting en masse as we neared, they squawked, fluttered, then settled back down to earth, claiming the rocky shoreline as their own.
Exhausted and satisfied, we jostled our tribe back to the lovely Bay Shore Inn of Sturgeon Bay. Grandpa cast stones into the sunset-tinged water, my daughter nestled into her own spot on the all-seashell beach, while son created Rock-Man, a mosaic sculpture, from flat, wave washed stones. I’ll remember the surf bubbling up on the rocks, each nook and bend of the shoreline beckoning me to claim it as my own for just that one moment.
