Mackinac Island Day Two

 
August 19, 2025

We left our hotel this morning around 8:30.  It was cool, overcast and rainy.  After a short bus ride we pulled onto a single lane highway that led us through pine forests lining the high banks of Lake Michigan. With long straight stretches interrupted by sharp curves and gentle hills it looked like camping paradise.  Or maybe a scene from a Stephen King novel.  Trees slapped the top of the bus and as far as the eye could see there was nothing but pine trees.  My imagination vacillated between idyllic scenes of roasting food over a campfire to wondering when Bigfoot was going to appear from the deep gloom of the pines.

Photo by Carolyn

After awhile we reached Stutsmanville Road.  Since our bus trips all started with the Stutzman Family and their annual vacation adventures, Stutsmanville held some interest to the five original Stutzman cousins still on the bus.  Stutsmanville, we learned, got its name from some settlers of the same name who moved to the area years ago and contributed much to its development.

We found an old church where the original settlers supposedly worshiped.  Pictures were taken and our journey commenced. 

We found our way to Petoskey State Park.  Supposedly there is a walkway to the beach nearby but since the misting rain continued and there was nowhere suitable to park the bus we opted out of that adventure and continued onward to Charlevoix, Michigan. Another roadside area presented us with the opportunity to hike down many steps to see some waterfalls.  Since it was still rainy and the many steps down would also need to be climbed back up my knees and I decided to catch a glimpse of the rushing water through the tops of the trees and call it good.

Charlevoix is a beautiful town situated on an isthmus between Lake Michigan and Lake Charlevoix, and bisected by the Pine River. It has somehow maintained a quaint, inviting atmosphere with many high-end shops interspersed with pubs, bbq’s, candy establishments, and bistros.  With tree-lined streets fronting the riverbank, tables and chairs scattered about in the shade, and the unhurried atmosphere of various and sundry canines leading their humans on leashes, it was altogether pleasant in spite of the persistent cloudiness and mist.

Photo by Carolyn

Paul and I ate with several of our fellow travelers at The Villager Pub.  The fish chowder and BLT I ordered were excellent.  The coffee was served in a clear glass mug and it was pretty much see-through.  Dear friends Anna and Sarah would have loved it since they prefer their Java on the light side.  I found it wanting but in view of all the other perfection around me I didn’t complain.

We crossed the Mackinac Bridge in the early afternoon.  Rising 552 feet, or 55 stories above the straits of Mackinac this engineering marvel spans five miles of waterway where Lakes Michigan and Huron meet.  Also known as the Mighty Mac it’s easy to see why it is world famous.  Our destination, Mackinac Island was visible in the distance, the Grand Hotel sitting like royalty waiting to greet her visitors.

The ferry ride to the Island was rather thrilling the swells providing gasps of exhilaration and  much laughter as we surfed our way to the shoreline of a place still reminiscent of times gone by.  I tried my best to take pictures of the lighthouses en route but the ride was so bumpy I had limited success.  Paul was busy trying not to turn green and he managed to keep his lunch and maintain his cool during the sixteen minute journey.  I think he was pretty thankful it wasn’t longer though.

We are staying at the Bicycle Street Inn for the night. Two friendly ladies holding “Welcome Green Country Tours” signs met us at the dock. We walked to our hotel just a few feet away and our bags were delivered to our rooms a short time later.  Our hosts reminded us to watch for horses and bikes (no vehicles are allowed on the island) and we picked our way around some road apples as well.

Supper was to be at the Grand Hotel and one of our friendly hotel greeters told us it was an eleven minute walk from our current location.  I daresay it would have taken an Olympic sprinter to make it in that amount of time.  At a very brisk pace it was more than twenty minutes and mostly uphill.  Most of us were fine but there were several among our group that should not have been expected to make the trek on foot.  We all survived though, and once inside the incredibly beautiful hotel we found our tables and gratefully sank into our chairs.

The papers we had been given prior to leaving home had warned us that there is a dress code at the Grand Hotel.  Dinner jackets and ties for the men, dresses for the ladies. Paul dug out the suit he had worn only once to our daughter’s wedding fourteen years ago.  Since he lost 25 lbs after his heart attack it still fit – in fact it looked a tad too big.  I, on the other hand, ransacked my closet for a suitable evening dress tolerant of my current state and finally found one that would work in a pinch.  After surveying myself in the only possible choice, as unflattering as it was, I resigned myself to making the best of it and prayed for renewed determination to get in shape as soon as this trip is over.

Our five course dinner was served by a waiter from somewhere overseas, I guessed, from his lovely accent.  He carried loaded trays of food on his head, no hands required.  Calling us women at the table everything from Nice Lady to Mama as he took our orders, he was pleasant, efficient, and gave no indication that he could tell we were all from the country and had no clue which of the four forks, two knives, or four spoons we should use first.

The breads were delicious, as were most of the other dishes, from appetizers, salads, soups, and entrées to finally the beautiful desserts.  And the dishes less palatable made up for it by being interesting and attractive. 

Photo by Carolyn

Before leaving we gathered for our group photo on a set of stairs in the lobby.  The décor was overwhelmingly beautiful and reminded me of the movie Dirty Dancing, except this hotel was much more grand than the one in the movie.  From furnishings to carpets to chandeliers and tiled floors, it was clear that each detail had been carefully thought out and no expense had been spared.  Our tour guide, Lori, told us the cost of a room for the night would be over $900.00. I wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink knowing the amount of money I’d be hemorrhaging during the night.

Lori ordered horse drawn carriages for us to return to our own humble-by-comparison hotel but Paul and I opted to walk.  Feeling stuffed from our overindulgence at the table some exercise would not be amiss.  The weather had cleared, the town was picturesque and pleasant, and after all it was downhill the whole way back. As we walked down lamp-lit sidewalks Paul mused about the emptiness of excess and his belief that experiencing it once was interesting but quite sufficient for him.  I had to agree.  The exotic foods and luxurious surroundings were amazing and fun.  But living this way all the time would be like Christmas everyday - nothing special and no good for anyone. Though I suspect some of Paul’s musings might be inspired by his aversion to dressing up in general and to neckties in particular.