Happy New Year!

 

Here are a few of my favorite New Year’s resolutions written by famous people. Following these inspiring resolutions are my wishes for both you and me for the new year of 2024. (written before midnight on 123123.)

 

“New Year`s is a harmless annual institution, of no particular use to anybody save as a scapegoat for promiscuous drunks, friendly calls, and humbug resolutions” – Mark Twain

“Last Year’s resolution was to lose 20 pounds – Only 30 pounds to go.”-Anonymous

“If you want an interesting party, combine cocktails and a fresh box of crayons for everybody.” -Robert Fulghum

“Come gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all unkindness.” William Shakespeare

“Every New Year’s I have the same question, ` How did I get home?” - Melanie White

“This New Year`s I was going to make a resolution never to be late again, but I didn’t wake up until Jan. 2” -Melanie White

“Out with the old, in with the new” is a fitting expression for a holiday that is based on vomiting.” – Andy Borowitz

“I was going to quit all my bad habits, but then I remembered that nobody likes a quitter.” –Anonymous

Now, here are my personal resolutions:                    

To my Silver Sneaker Friends – “I promise not to let you do stupid stuff all by yourselves.”

I think New Year’s resolutions often fail because people aim too high. Here is a suggestion for an achievable resolution –“I promise not to eat the entire ‘family sized pizza` myself.”

“This year I resolve to remember where I sat my coffee cup and my pickleball bag.”

“My wish for 2024 is that we have a year filled with happiness, laughter and love.”

 

Bill

 

Bill

 

 

 

Celebrating Christmas 2023

I may not have mentioned that Marjorie and I regularly attend Roscommon’s Good Shepherd United Methodist Church of the North. (Ours may not be the largest church in the area but we certainly have the largest name.) The church, like many others, has an annual decline in attendance about this time of year when our snowbirds decide to vacate the area for warmer climes. The temporary decline in attendance means that additional participation from the membership is needed during the Service to assure that all the religious ceremonies associated can be managed.

Accordingly, it was not a surprise when Marjorie mentioned to me that the church leadership had asked if we would manage the ritual of lighting the candles for the fourth and last step in celebrating the Advent Season. Of course, we said yes. Subsequently, a note appeared on our computer files that listed a two-paragraph text to accompany the lighting of the candles and an additional text for a thoughtful prayer to follow the readings. Marjorie was willing to read the prayer, leaving the aforementioned text and the lighting of the candles to me.

Our church has moved into the 20^th century with the use of pretend flames and/or an automatic fire starter for such things as lighting candles. The devices commonly used in our church for such things are the everyday butane igniters. The church must purchase them in gross since I’ve watched the minister countless times casually using the igniters for numerous candle-fired ceremonies.

I don’t mean to brag, but I have lengthy experience in using the butane-filled plastic guns that serve as our modern-day fire igniters. Mostly, they don’t work for me. At least, the ones I use daily to light the fire in our wood stove are not reliable as they routinely require three or four clicks and a swear word to function properly. I decided to expect the worst in my part of the candle- lighting ceremony for Advent.

I have told you in the past that Marjorie and I are also dedicated participants in our Silver Sneakers exercise class where we have developed several friendships. Some weeks ago, one of the new friends confided that she was looking for a church that could satisfy her religious longings. I quickly put two and two together and invited her to our Methodist Church. A potential new member to our church, I speculated. She attended one time and then missed the next several Sundays without further comment. Last week, and just before my starring role in the Advent ceremony, she told me that she had finished wrestling with the decision to discontinue her earlier church association and commit to Good Shepherd. It must have been during this explanation that she asked about attending church with us, and by the way, ‘what time do the Services begin?’

I thought no more about it until this past Sunday when our assignment about Advent was to occur. We arrived early and sat in the pew directly in front of the minister’s customary position when giving his sermon – a spot closest to the table with the candles and adjacent to the two microphones used to broadcast the sermon or other important announcements, like the Advent ceremony.

The service began with the normal introductory announcements by the minister that I followed closely, expecting him to urge us forward at any moment for our part of the service. Suddenly, I felt a substantial nudge against my shoulder. It was the Silver Sneakers friend who had just arrived at the church and, spotting us on the front row, had made her way down one of the two aisles to the front of the church where we were nervously awaiting our turn in the spotlight. In all likelihood, the entire congregation had watched the lady arrive and make her way to the front of the church.

I turned to look at the intruder now standing beside me. She made a whispered, but forceful comment. “You told me church started at 10:30, not 10:00 AM.” I must have looked stunned as I searched my memory for recall about a time announcement. Nothing arose. Just then, the minister signaled to us, and Marjorie and I made our way to the raised platform to face the expectant congregation.

Marjorie and I each had our own paper containing the script for the Advent readings. We had decided that I would go first, reading the first piece, followed by lighting of the candles, then the second piece, before I would introduce Marjorie and her prayer duty. We each clutched our paper as we moved slowly and stiffly to the Dias with the speed and gravity that I thought appropriate to the ceremony.

As I stepped behind the table with the candles, I must have been thinking about the reluctant igniter. I grabbed it for a practice firing as I was accustomed to doing at home. To my surprise, the igniter sent a burst of blue flame at the business end. The candles stood in front of me. There was nothing for it, as it seemed a natural movement to light the first candle, then its neighbor and suddenly I had a nice fire going as all four candles were ablaze. As I laid the igniter aside, I noticed the piece of paper that I was to read from. Words started coming from my mouth and I completed the first paragraph without incident … and then the second paragraph erupted almost magically from my mouth. I had concluded my part of the ceremony but not in the order expected.

It was then that I noticed the white space in the script where I was to pause while I ignited the candles. I had forgotten that lighting the candles was supposed to be an integral part of the text. With that realization it suddenly occurred to me that maybe I HAD ALSO given the wrong church starting time to my friend and maybe I had thoughtlessly given the first and second part of my speech AFTER lighting the candles instead of the sequence speak, light the fire, speak again, introduce Marjorie.

I remember turning to the audience. “Now I will ignite the candles,” I announced as I made a show of laying my paper aside. I was rewarded by a few smiles from the audience members who were listening and recognized my screw up. At this point, I remembered Marjorie and the prayer. I announced her part then she walked to the microphones just as I should have also done.

I stood my ground, hoping that my place next to the candles was the pre-ordained place for me while she reverently broadcast her prayer. She finished and I slunk behind her to our seats in front, next to the lady who had endured the stares of the congregation as she walked in to join us.

During the remainder of the church service, I tried to think of something positive about my part of the Advent ceremony. And then it hit me; I decided that one good thing about my first Christmas Advent reading was that I probably wouldn’t be asked to volunteer for another reading for quite some while.

I hope you had a Merry Christmas and it was just as joyous as mine and maybe with fewer mistakes in the religious arena.

 

Bad News for Michigan and a Xmas Gift to Enbridge

 

The battle for clean air and the reduction of the pollutant, carbon dioxide, took a step backward this month when the Michigan Public Service Commission announced their decision concerning the Canadian oil company giant Enbridge and their pipeline known as Line 5. (See my previous blog “Saving the Great Lakes” Nov 2, 2023.

The nominal decision-maker in this circumstance is Michigan’s public authority, the Public Service Commission. The Commission is charged by law with making decisions in the public interest that energy companies (think Consumer’s Power, Detroit Edison, and myriad others) must abide by to do business in Michigan. (The Commissioners of the three-member Public Service Commission are named by Michigan’s Governor with new members being named on a regular basis.)

This controversary that the Public Service Commission has weighed into is Enbridge’s refusal to follow the rules concerning Michigan’s authority over leases that involve placing Michigan citizens in harm’s way or, more specifically, refusing to follow direction from Michigan’s Governor when she decided that Line 5 should be shut down given its risk to the Great Lakes and Michigan citizenry. The Governor must have thought she settled the controversary when she told Enbridge that the authority to operate Line 5 had expired 20 years earlier and she would not extend the lease. Enbridge quickly responded by refusing to recognize the Governor’s authority and replied that an obscure treaty between Canada and United States overrode the Governor’s authority. This extraordinary claim provoked legal wrangling between the two parties with suits and counter suits that seem to this author as a means of allowing the status quo to exist which Enbridge very much favors.

It was into this cauldron of competing claims that the (PSC) Public Service Commission stepped as their authority would seem to dictate. On December 10, after months of debates and public pronouncements, the PSC announced their decision. They said that Enbridge could continue to use Line 5 in its current form until a new design for the line could be completed and installed. Enbridge claims that this new pipeline design, which involves building a tunnel under the Staits of Mackinaw, would lower the risk of daily pumping several million gallons of oil and gas into the Great Lakes waterway. It is not a foregone conclusion that this would solve the dilemma – the tunnel is expected to take several years to design and build AFTER the designs are finalized and APPROVED by the US Army Corp of Engineers. It seems more like kicking the can down the road in deference to Enbridge and their powerful legal team.

I read about the PSC announcement that included a report. The Commission’s decision was by majority vote – 2 to 1 in favor of the status quo for the next five years or more until the tunnel issue is settled. The abstaining member remained silent on her rationale, but the other two members seemingly used a staff report as the rationale for their decision.

I decided to read the staff report. (It was unsigned by the way). I had some trouble reading it.

Make that a lot of trouble since the report was not written in English, nor was it intended to explain anything as nearly as I could tell. I began on page one, intending to read every word in search of something that made sense to me. After 40 pages of what appeared to be a legal brief and history of Line 5, I decided to give up on reading every word. Instead, I decided to skim the report and search for anything that sounded like an excuse for the incomprehensible decision. This change in approach didn’t help. The text was written using rare English words that were presumably useful for 3^rd year law students but just as certainly not suitable for ordinary readers despite my love for current and past American literature.

By page 50, I was turning page after page with little comprehension of anything that had to do with tunnels, pipelines, or legal authority for contrary action. Yet the report continued. I was reduced to turning pages as fast as possible until the end. I checked the last page number; 350 pages had been filled.

I suspect the PSC members did not read the report but merely weighed the completed copy and congratulated the staff writers for its voluminous nature that must have seemed appropriate as a testimony to the importance of legal briefs when common sense is denied.

Let me know what you think.

 

 

First Snowfall

 

 

*Today, November 27, 2023, a Monday that will live in infamy, since this day saw the first substantial snowfall that came to Roscommon, MI. Of course, we have had earlier ‘teaser snowfalls’ [those that my neighbor said delivered merely a skiff of snow – the type that comes one day and departs the next.]

Today’s snowfall was nothing like that. This was an honest-to-God snowfall that toyed with us in the morning and then continued in the afternoon. It was clear that snowblower season had arrived. Unfortunately, I had an early appointment demanding my attention most of the morning. When I arrived home at lunch time, I knew immediately that a snow emergency had arisen. I had fallen prey to a white accumulation and by early afternoon I saw the dreaded tracks that had already shown themselves by dint of the morning motoring over the expansive white, cementing the snow into two clearly discernable tracks on the driveway, never to be removed unless I took immediate and decisive action.

It was time to retrieve my snowblower from the dark recesses of the barn. Unfortunately, by the time I reached this decision the wind was blowing somewhere in the vicinity of 30 to 60 miles an hour. At least, that it what it felt like when I made my way to the barn and wrenched the machine from the darkest corner where I had left it last spring.

*As noted, I began this blog on Monday. It snowed again on Tuesday morning, thus provoking the need for a revision. By Wednesday it was apparent that the entire text needed revision, so I did. See more below.

**Last year’s failure to remove the snow before tracks appeared led to a season long strip of ice on the driveway, never to be removed. Not only was the ice hazardous, it also revealed to my neighbors my ineptitude in dealing with a common nuisance for those of us who live in the north woods.

Today, November 28, 2023, a Tuesday that will live in infamy, since this day saw a sequential two-day snowfall that came to Roscommon, MI. The snow had covered the driveway for a second time overnight. Unfortunately, Tuesday was the day that I was forced to leave home early to attend our regular exercise class in the village. In other words, I was forced to drive on the freshly deposited snow, no doubt creating fresh tracks that would stand out for all the neighbors to see, especially my next-door neighbor who always shoveled his driveway by hand and NEVER, EVER drove his car on fresh snow. His driveway always looked pristine. What I dreaded most was him commenting on my work with the flat bladed shovel. But he did.

“Looks like you’re having a hard time removing the ice, Bill. The best thing to do is don’t drive on fresh snow,” he offered. I muttered an unmentionable reply as he drove off.

I was confident in my ability to remove the snow this year since I now owned a new snowblower, a two--stage humdinger that could throw the snow an easy 20-30 feet distance from the driveway. Unfortunately, I had forgotten one of the details of elementary physics that demanded the snow must be thrown several feet high to allow it to be thrown several feet distant. Normally, this was an inconsequential detail – a common sense speck of knowledge of no particular consequence – unless the wind is blowing at 30 to 60 miles per hour, in which case the airborne snow has an equal probability to circle back and blow directly into the face of the snowblower. That was me. I quickly deduced that I had insufficient clothing and no means of peering through a wall of snow.

I retreated to the house for a better hat, artic type gloves, and a rain-proof outer jacket allowing a make-shift shroud over my face. Thus prepared, I began anew. In ten-minutes I was covered in snow, indistinguishable from the adjacent trees and shrubs which had endured the snowfall far longer than me. Regardless, I completed the plowing job in record time, notwithstanding the two strips of packed snow that stood out like jewelry on a bride’s neck.

I put the snowblower away and broke out the other new tool from last year – a long handed spade-like device with a single eight-inch flat blade designed for removing flattened snow that is rapidly becoming ice. Scraping the concrete to remove the strip was hard work. It took as long as the snow blowing job to remove only a fraction of the square footage of the driveway. I persisted. Finally, the job was finished.

Today, November 29, 2023, a Wednesday that will live in infamy, since this day saw another snowfall, albeit with only a small accumulation. Wednesday’s schedule included a slew of errands in the village, thus creating more tracks and, once again, no time to scrape them. Given the new circumstances, I decided the Monday and Tuesday blog needed a revision. This provoked a complete re-write and the decision to forego all other activities until the driveway was scraped clean. It turned out to be totally unnecessary.

By noon, Wednesday’s temperature increased and passed the freezing point. The new snow and the new ice melted. The driveway looked pristine, my earlier efforts were found to be totally unnecessary. As I finished admiring the driveway and the blog re-write, I decided the whole thing was just one more brick in the wall.

Bill

 

 

Stones and Windshields

 

 

What is it about stones and the big trucks carrying them that demands the two always end up to no good while I am on the road? Surely, operators and/or owners of gravel trucks must understand that loads of gravel must be covered and the covers must be secured to prevent loose stones damaging my windshield. Perhaps I am overconfident in my assessment of the businessmen who demand over--full loads of gravel and undersized covers that are securely in place.

Whatever. I only know that this week I was struck again with a golf-ball sized stone that came barreling at me from a large gravel truck. My poor windshield didn’t stand a chance.

Here is my windshield today.

I just learned that broken or damaged windshields are the number one insurance claim in the US with 30 % of all insurance claims going for repair of broken or damaged windshields. 

 The windshield manufacturers own a share of the problem. The largest share of claims (70 to 80%) for broken windshields comes from damage at the edge of the glass that results in a crack that grows from the edge to a central part of the windshield. This kind of damage is preventable and easily fixed with low-cost remedies. This damage is caused by residual stress in the glass when it is manufactured and installed. [The manufacturers do not like talking about this so there is little more that I can tell you. The best information on this topic comes from the Insurance Journal .com.]

I am now waiting for a new windshield to be installed at my expense. Why – because the insurance company that I send monthly checks to reminded me that sometime in the distant past I opted for a $500 deductible clause to my policy – an amount only slightly higher than my cost for installation of a new windshield. Happy Birthday, Bill.

 

 

SAVING THE GREAT LAKES*

 

 

One of the many issues facing Michigan’s Governor comes to her from a Canadian business. This firm is Enbridge, a Canadian multinational pipeline and energy company headquartered in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Enbridge owns and operates pipelines throughout Canada and the United States, transporting crude oil, natural gas, and natural gas liquids from the far west of Canada to and through the United States. Founded in 1949, more recently the company has also entered the newly-found business of generating renewable energy as they seek to improve their profit margins and increase their presence in creating energy as well as just moving it.

Enbridge's pipeline system is the longest in North America and the largest oil export pipeline network in the world (See map on a following page), thus affording them considerable influence in both Canadian and U.S. politics. Recently, President Biden and Prime Minister Trudeau were involved in talks but Biden declined to discuss Enbridge’s unwelcome legal challenges to Michigan’s Governor Gretchen Witmer.

Enbridge pipelines for crude oil are 17,809 miles long while Its 23,800 miles of natural gas pipelines connects multiple Canadian provinces, several US states, and the Gulf of Mexico. Enbridge has evolved a naming and or numbering system for each of its major pipelines. Their ‘line five’ pipeline is the object of this paper as it runs from Superior Wisconsin across Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and then under water at the Straits of Mackinaw, thence overland to its refinery in Sarnia, Canada.

The bane of petroleum pipelines are leaks (often called spills by the industry). The poisonous gases and oils pumped through pipelines quickly spread from ruptured pipelines to the surrounding substrata causing contamination of soils and water from the toxic oils and gases.

 

*Much of this article was prepared by Traverse City writer BARBARA STAMIRIS on MAY 6, 2023

 

The effluent can be responsible for killing wildlife, fouling beaches, and poisoning water tables that are often the source of drinking water.

Enbridge has been responsible for several oil spills, including spills on their lines 3, 5 and 6. A leak occurred on their line 3 on March 3 1991 when operators failed to shut down the pipeline for three hours after the pressure drop was first noticed. This spill was the largest ever in the history of the U.S. The Line 3 pipeline was also the origin of a 1.3 million-gallon oil spill in 1973, the second worst in Minnesota history.

 

Major pipelines in North America

Another Enbridge spill known as the ‘Kalamazoo River oil spill’ occurred in July 2010 when Enbridge’s Line 6B burst and flowed into a tributary of the Kalamazoo River near Marshall, Michigan. This pipeline carried heavy crude oil known as diluted bitumen. Following the spill, the volatile diluents evaporated, leaving the heavier bitumen to sink in the water. Thirty-five miles of the Kalamazoo River were closed for clean-up until June 2012, when portions of the river were re-opened. On March 14, 2013, the EPA ordered Enbridge to return to dredge portions of the river to remove submerged oil and oil-contaminated sediment.

Line 5 is an Enbridge pipeline that originates in Superior Wisconsin (just south of Duluth). The line traverses Michigan’s Upper Peninsula reaching the Straits of Mackinaw on its southeastern course. At the Straits, the builders of the line sent the line underwater at the Straits. The line then resumed its cross-country direction back toward Canada until it terminated in Sarnia where Enbridge has a refinery operation. Line 5 has leaked 33 times in Michigan lands and waterways as it carries oil to Sarnia. See the following map.

 

The upper reaches of Line 5 cross the Bad River tribal land. The Indians complained to the firm that the risk of leaks on their land had increased over the years, and besides, they said, the agreement to cross reservation lands ended in 2013: Enbridge continued to flow petroleum through the pipeline anyway The Indians sued and the judge ruled in favor of the Indians.

 

MADISON, Wis. -- A federal judge has given Enbridge three years to shut down parts of an oil pipeline that crosses reservation land and ordered the energy company to pay a Native American tribe more than $5 million for trespassing.

When Michigan Gov. Whitmer ordered Line 5 shut down in 2020 to protect the Great Lakes, she gave the company and the State of Michigan six months — until May 12, 2021— to develop a prudent decommissioning plan. Enbridge has announced it will defy her shutdown order, instead suing to keep Line 5. operating until a tunnel is completed that Enbridge says will help prevent leaks. — a project estimated to take 5–10 years. Enbridge sued to keep it operating, claiming that a 1977 treaty with the United States allowed them to continue pumping oil through the critical waterways. That lawsuit is still being litigated. While Enbridge lawsuits drag on, Line 5—well beyond its 50-year design life—continues to bring in billions by operating in defiance of the state order.

Now 70 years old, Line 5 is the world’s most dangerous pipeline due to its degraded condition and its position among our unique Great Lakes.

Michigan Senator Gary Peters supported the Governor’s action and conducted a hearing on the topic. Experts who testified at the hearing called the Mackinac Straits “the worst location in the U.S. for an oil pipeline.” Its condition in this sensitive location makes Line 5 the most dangerous pipeline in the U.S. and in the world. No other pipeline endangers 20 percent of Earth’s freshwater, 700 miles of shoreline, and the drinking water of 40 million. Yet Enbridge chooses the 70-year-old Great Lakes route instead of its seven-year-old land-based route to Sarnia.

Why is Line 5 so dangerous? In a busy shipping lane, anchor strikes are inevitable. The many freighters that traverse the Straits are the cause of anchor strikes that can and do, pull the pipeline from its moorings. Warnings are ineffective, since dropping an anchor is an emergency measure. In 2018, an anchor struck Line 5 pulling the pipeline off its moorings for several feet.

But anchor strikes are not the only risk to the pipeline. The Straits’ water currents, 10 times stronger than Niagara Falls, scoured away Line 5’s bottomland support on several locations. As a result, Line 5 requires 219 remedial supports which suspend it, causing new problems. Line 5 now sways in the currents, causing bending and vibrational stress. A suspended pipeline represents a completely new design, requiring engineering review and approval that it never got. Keep in mind that the pipeline was never designed to move and bend when it was originally designed over 70 years ago.

When the pipeline rubbed against the supports, its safety coatings were scraped off—damage Enbridge failed to report for three years. In 2020, extensive damage to one of the supports led to months of shutdown. Enbridge said its own vessel caused the isolated incident, yet forceful currents from record-high lake levels could have caused the displacement and affected other supports.
An Enbridge pipeline around the lakes, rebuilt and expanded after the Kalamazoo spill, reopened in 2015 with excess capacity, but Enbridge chooses to continue using the line through the Straits where it is positioned directly under the Big Mac Bridge.

Another strategy that keeps Line open is Enbridge’s insistence that building a tunnel under the water will make Line 5 safer to operate. Knowing that Line 5 is obsolete, Enbridge said a tunnel would replace it by 2024. In late 2023, the US Army Corps has announced a delay in its review of a tunnel proposal which pushed tunnel completion to 2030. If a tunnel is built, Line 5 would be nearing 80 years old. If the tunnel is not approved, Enbridge has said it will continue to operate old Line 5..

Enbridge publicly promotes a tunnel as the solution for Line 5, but its internal plans differ. In the 2018 tunnel agreement with outgoing Gov. Snyder, Enbridge made sure it could back out without penalty—a wise move since an oil tunnel is not a safe investment today. This may explain why Enbridge’s Board of Directors has not approved the tunnel and no money is allocated for a tunnel in its annual Security & Exchange Commission Reports meant to inform shareholders of upcoming projects. Enbridge has no plan or date for decommissioning Line 5. They appear to believe that they can operated the old line forever

While Enbridge avoids risk, taxpayers must fund years of state and federal review for a tunnel that is unlikely to be built.

In Ottawa this past March, Biden told Trudeau we’re “two countries with one heart.” If the Great Lakes are that heart, warnings of a deteriorated and anchor-struck pipeline, like warnings of a heart attack, cannot be ignored. And yet mention of Line 5 was politely avoided.

Biden remained silent about Trudeau siding with Enbridge and opening court case based on a 1977 treaty. The treaty asserts that Line 5 can’t be shut down by Michigan, that the U.S. must transport Canada’s oil against our own environmental and economic interests.

National Geographic says the Great Lakes are “the irreplaceable fragile ecosystem…that our planet needs to survive.” An oil spill here would have global implications; yet, unlike other climate threats, this one can be solved by turning off a valve. While the fix itself is easy, the politics are not. One thing is certain, Enbridge should not get to decide on a risk that endangers the citizens of Michigan and the fisheries in the Great Lakes.

From a planetary perspective, it’s a no-brainer. If the world’s most dangerous pipeline has an easy solution, get the oil out of the water. Now.

Barbara Stamiris is an environmental activist living in Traverse City

 

 

Last Camping Trip

 

 

 

Marjorie and I just finished our last camping trip of the year and it was a doozy, making the two of us all tuckered out. The trip began innocently enough – we wanted to help celebrate our Granddaughter’s introduction to college after her first six weeks away from home. The school where she now resides happily complied for a family visit by means of their Homecoming celebration.

The Granddaughter is at her new college, now known at Michigan Tech, or, more properly, Michigan Technological University, but formerly, Michigan College of Mining and Technology. I think the former name is most appropriate since it began as a school for engineers who were charged with the responsibility of operating copper and/or iron ore mines for the riches that lay underground in Michigan’s far reaches of the Upper Peninsula. In the case of Mich Tech, the school is in the town of Houghton, sister city to Hancock which lays on the north shore of the Portage River which bisects the Keweenaw Peninsula.

(For those of us who are Michiganders, the Keweenaw Peninsula looks like the dorsal fin of a fish whose outline is the northernmost portion of Upper Peninsula. Its location is as far north as you can go and still be in Michigan). The fish fin is an apt representation of the area since the Keweenaw juts north from Michigan into Lake Superior. The big lake washes the shores of the Keweenaw on three sides making the land form a favorite for those outdoorsy types.

Indians who lived in the area and paddled their canoes along the southern shore of Lake Superior sought out a short cut (as anyone would, given the cold water and frequent brisk winds) and they found a lake and several Keweenaw rivers that allowed a shortcut that bisected the entire peninsula, hence the name Keweenaw, meaning ‘the crossing place or portage.’ The name stuck - the river that bisects and separates the two towns of Hancock and Houghton is now known as the Portage River. Houghton took its name from Douglas Houghton, he who was Michigan’s first state Geologist who made important contributions in locating copper deposits in the Keweenaw. Douglas became a martyr for that work, unfortunately drowning in the turbulent waters as he searched the Keweenaw for copper.

I am furnishing this geography lesson to explain about being tuckered out via the travel needed to arrive at Michigan Tech. The school is 550 miles from Detroit, (about 10 hours travel time), about 480 miles from Chicago, 260 miles from Mackinaw, and about equidistant from Milwaukee and Roscommon at 300 plus miles or six hours travel time during good weather with good traffic conditions, neither of which we had during our last camping trip.

The towns of Houghton and Hancock are situated on the Portage River in the approximate center of the peninsula where a ridge of mountains decorate each side of the river. There is no flat land in either Houghton or Hancock. Both towns were first located on the tiny portion of flat land that serves as the flood plain for the river. Beyond this scarce spot the earth protrudes upward at a fearsome angle for walkers, bicyclists (most need to walk their bikes), and motorcyclists and pity those who leave the flat lands on skates, skate boards, one wheels, or other mechanical people movers that are common in most colleges. Accordingly, walking is the only practical means of transport throughout the villages. It is a good thing that students are young.

In case you are wondering, the answer is yes, Michigan does have some flat areas that are entirely suitable for cities. Only God knows why the earliest citizens of Houghton and Hancock decided to build their homes and a sizable university in the midst of the hills on either side of the river. The ridiculous nature of the sites for homes, businesses, and college buildings clinging perilously to the sides of the hills became even more obvious with the advent of automobiles and the consequent demand for roads running upward at ridiculous angles. Driving on any of the streets in the towns requires both good brakes and powerful engines.

Our camping place was 10 miles distant from Houghton/Hancock since all other camping sites and hotels and motels were sold out due to the popularity of the Homecoming events. The 10 mile distant McLean State Park was a pleasant campground with unsurpassed views of the lake and river. The road taking us to the campground followed the river to its conclusion on the northwest shore of the Keweenaw. The river has a lot of curves that the road follows, making the trip slower than expected. For the three days that we camped, this necessitated a twice daily trip to the campus to visit with and/or return our Granddaughter to her dorm. Of course, we did the camping thing in the evenings as we tended our sore muscles in front of a brisk campfire that helped a little in warding off the cool breezes.

After three days of visiting and sight-seeing and eating marshmallows our trip to the college came to an end and we were ready for a quiet and uneventful trip home. It didn’t quite work out that way. We expected the trip home to be a duplicate to the arrival trip – about eight hours in length when we included two stops for diesel fuel to refill our tank, and three stops to load and then unload food and drinks for the two of us. The trip to the college was mostly uneventful with clear weather and fast traffic. The trip home was not so much of that since a steady rain began spreading over much of northern Michigan just as we were ready to leave. I slowed down to accommodate the now hazardous roadway since I was pulling a 10,000 pound trailer.

Things began looking up when the weather cleared as we came nearer St. Ignace and the Big Mac bridge. By this time, we had added an extra hour to the homeward trip with the slower travel occasioned by the rain. But, our spirits were high when we began reaching familiar territory around the straits. And then the unthinkable happened. About five miles west of St. Ignace on highway 2, traffic began to slow. Within five minutes it stopped. Dead flat stopped. We were in the middle of nowhere with several thousand cars ahead of us and a few hundred behind us, all wondering what had happened.

The traffic started moving again. My estimate was that we were now traveling at the speed of 2 miles an hour and I was forced to move only inches before stopping. The idle speed of the vehicle was too fast. I had to brake every moment or two. After 20 minutes of this travel, we finally could see what we thought was the end of the congestion at an exit that must have been at least two miles ahead. We were wrong – it wasn’t the end of the congestion; it was the beginning of additional congestion as the road veered toward St. Ignace and the bridge. In the haze of the distant bridge entryway, we could see the most hated thing ever for motorists like me - road construction barrels.

Highway 2 was a two lane road at this point and drivers began to jockey for position with some opting to stay in the right lane while others of us pretended to see advantages in the left lane. In the distance was the exit from highway 2 on the right side of the road. Only one lane was available on the entrance to the bridge forcing us left hand drivers to begin sizing up the drivers on our right and whether they would allow us into their lane. It was like a low speed game of chicken where the left hand land drivers would measure the length of their vehicles against the quickly shifting openings on the right. I had a stroke of good luck when automobile drivers gave a wide birth to the huge semi-truck and trailer on my right. It seemed a natural move for me to squeeze my truck and 38 foot trailer into the vacuum the semi had left in its wake. It was probably a risky move but the reward was that we could now see the bridge, less than another mile ahead. My watch said we had been in the line up nearly 1 and ½ hours.

“This isn’t supposed to happen,” I said aloud in another of my understatements. As we inched toward the bridge the problem became apparent: there were too many cars and trucks trying to negotiate the bridge entry way that now had fewer lanes since the construction of new lanes was underway with work trucks, tools, and construction barrels now being stored on the roadway. Presumably, someone in the Road Commission had made the judgement that beginning work on a new lane to the bridge entryway would be an acceptable change after the conclusion of the Labor Day.

It wasn’t acceptable to the several thousand of us who were trying to use the bridge.

We made it home after a ten-hour trip with no dinner and bulging bladders. We decided that this would be our last camping trip of the season. In retrospect, it wasn’t all that bad; it was just one more brick on the wall.

Stay happy,

Uncle Bill