Rural Life in the UP of Michigan Some stories about life on 160 rural acres in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan

In the Fall of 2024, Alice and I embarked on a 25-day vacation trip.  Like last year, we decided to do our traveling via Amtrak.  While last year’s trip was to the Western US, this year we went East.  We drove our car to Milwaukee and booked a hotel that offered to store our car for $8/night.  After a nice supper with my sister Patty, we headed back to the hotel and went to sleep.  We had to be up early to catch our Amtrak train to Chicago, where we were staying for 2 nights.  We got up at 6:00 and I did my exercises in the hotel room.  We were packed and ready early enough to have some room for relaxing.  We headed to the lobby about 10 minutes before the shuttle was due to leave, but only waited a few minutes until our driver came to get us.  She was the same person as last year at this hotel.  A small slightly built woman; very introverted and said only the bare minimum to us.  We had the van to ourselves on the way to the train station.  The radio was on loud and our driver interacted with us zero on the way.  I gave her a couple of bucks mostly because I felt sorry for her, not because of good service.  

The train station by the airport is being renovated.  On last year’s train trip, we observed they were doing mostly concrete work, but by this year there was a lot of iron up in the air.  Still a long way to go, but you can see how it will all work.  There will be a loading/unloading station on both tracks now, with a walkway high over the tracks.  They have several large cranes devoted to the project, which were sitting idle today (Sunday).  The poster in the station said it was due to open in summer 2025.  I’m looking forward to seeing it all come together.  Iron work continues to interest me.  I’m learning how to weld and otherwise shape steel, but still have a lot of learning to do.  

A few minutes before the train was due to arrive, the folks inside the station started moving outside to the loading platform beside the tracks.  A chatty young lady struck up a conversation with us, and it turned out she lives in Mason, Michigan.  I grew up in Holt, Michigan, a few miles away, which was Mason’s sports rival.  I watched many football and basketball games between the two teams.

We boarded and stowed our luggage, then found 2 seats next to each other.  I spent my time between playing spider solitaire on my tablet and looking out the window.  There were lots of interesting things to see, and the train was quiet and smooth.  It was only about 1 ½ hours from our Milwaukee station to Union station in Chicago.  We still had some moments of confusion when we exited the train station, but this time we made it out to the sidewalk and figured out the correct path to the hotel quickly.

I put my smaller suitcase on the handle of Alice’s massive (shipping container) suitcase, backpack on my back, and we started off.  We were looking for Wabash where we knew a restaurant we both liked was located.  It was around a mile.  I kept switching the handle of the roller suitcase between my hands to relieve the weight.  I was interested to note that for several blocks on our walk, they had installed heavy posts between the road and sidewalk.  These posts were about 3′ tall and were spaced so people could easily walk between them.  They were there presumably to keep cars from driving on the sidewalks.  It seemed to be mostly around the newer buildings on our way.  The older structures were built closer to the road, and looked like they didn’t have room for a car.  I’m interested to learn more about these posts.  

We finally made it to our destination, the Pittsfield Cafe.  This place has smallish revolving doors.  Alice navigated the revolver like a pro, but when I tried to get in with the suitcases and backpack, I was squashed in there.  I had to kind of hobble as the door revolved because there was no room to move my legs.  I heaved a sigh of relief when I made it inside.  As the decades have piled up, my agility has piled down.  We found a seat right away and had excellent service.  The portions were a bit small in my opinion, and they were stingy with their hash browns, but the food was hot and good and we left feeling ready for more adventures.   I decided to see if I could figure out another way out of the building after breakfast was done.  After some searching, we did find some conventional doors that were a bit out of our way, but made the exit much easier than the entrance.

Next up was the last few blocks’ walk to the hotel, where we were greeted like long lost friends.  We made it up to the front desk, and even though we were hours ahead of check in time, found that they had a room ready for us.  We gratefully rode the elevator up to our floor and got settled in.

I planned this trip nearly 6 months ago, and hoped I hadn’t made any errors.  I imagined the train conductor scanning our ticket, scowling, and tossing us and our luggage off the train, or the hotel clerk telling us our reservation was for November 28^th, not October 28^th.  This trip has many such segments to it, and as the segments came into play and actually worked, I heaved multiple sighs of relief.  Traveling is a complicated thing.  You’re removed from familiar surroundings into the world of the unknown.  You do your planning and hope for the best.  That is one of the things that makes travel interesting.  

Once we were checked in, we walked across the street to the Chicago Art Institute, where we are members.   We breezed through security and were ready for some art.  Our first stop was the Paula Modersohn-Becker installation.  This was in the same room as the Camille Claudell sculptures installation was last year.  There is a lot of art in the institute, and hers was certainly interesting, especially because we were fresh.  What I find most interesting however is the artist’s work coupled with their life.  She was an artist well ahead of her time that tragically died at age 31 after the birth of her daughter.  But man, did she cram a lot of art into her 31 years.  

After seeing that section, Alice asked “where to,” and I told her I’d hoped to see my favorite piece, “The Seated Ruler.”  With few mistakes, we made our way to the Native American section of the museum, and I got some uninterrupted quality time with the statue.  I can’t explain the attraction I have to that piece, but attracted I am.  I try not to miss an opportunity to see it.  I very much enjoy that section of the institute.  It contains meso-American and African art.  I never know what will grab me, and always come away with ideas.

Another favorite place of mine is the chapel in the Asian art section.  There is usually a bench inside where one can sit and contemplate the art on display.  It is quite dark and usually quiet in there, but today there were hordes of people.  They were mostly interested in a painting called “The Great Wave” by Hokusia.  People were lined up in front of it and as they left, more and more took their place.  The chapel was less contemplative than I’d hoped for, but people interacting with the art is art in itself.  

We also spent time at the Tiffany stained glass installation on the mezzanine at the main hall.  I studied it more closely this time and was able to see several layers of glass by looking closely.  There sure are some talented people in the world.  This massive window spent the first part of its life in a church in Rhode Island.  According to the poster, the church contacted the institute and asked if they’d like to have it donated.  The church folks were concerned they would not be able to take proper care of it.  So the institute experts studied the piece, figured out how to safely dismantle and ship it back to Chicago, and reinstall it for all to see.  It is one of the pieces I’d want to see if I only had a short time at the institute.

After that we looked at each other and saw a couple of tired puppies.  We made our way slowly to the front and out into the street, where a half-dozen guys were beating on plastic pails.  Yes they were talented, but gosh they were loud.  Good-hearted Alice put a couple of bucks in their tip jar while I covered my ears and walked away as soon as I could.

The next day after an early start and a good breakfast, we made our way to the art institute. One of the perks of having a membership at the Chicago Art Institute is you get in an hour early.  The museum opens at 11:00 for the general public, but at 10:00 for members.  Alice and I have been members for some years now, and try to use this perk when possible, because we avoid the larger crowds and have some quality time with the exhibits.  Yesterday, by the time we got off the train, hauled our luggage to the restaurant where we had breakfast, then to the hotel where we checked in, it was past 11:00 by the time we made it inside the institute.  But today was different.  We were at the front doors around 10:00 and were waved inside.  We’d both decided to head for the Jeremy Frey basket installation first, and were among the handful of people there.  It is hard to describe his work.  I have a lot of respect for baskets, and had thought I’d like to learn how to make baskets someday.  Jeremy has developed his skills into an art form.  His baskets are beautiful and have an almost mathematical quality about them.  There was a short movie that showed him working, and a book of his work available.  My approach to making baskets would be more utilitarian I think, but I had tremendous respect for what he accomplishes with dexterous hands and natural materials.

Following the baskets we just wandered around and looked at whatever seemed interesting.  We had a nice lunch in the cafeteria around midday.  There is outside seating in a courtyard in the cafeteria, and, believe it or not, in late October it was warm enough outside for people to enjoy their food outside.  We stayed in to eat.  

I’d noticed there was a tour that was assembling at 1:00, so we headed over and got in with the group.  The leader of the tour was a staff person who did a good job.  Even though we were a large group, he was pretty good at drawing folks out.  There were a few lively discussions, and I think we felt like we’d gained from his lecture.  At the end of his talk, our guide offered to stay behind and answer any questions.  I did not wait, but would have asked a couple of things.  For one, I’m interested in the behind the scenes of the facility.  How many employees are there, and what do they all do?  My second question would have been about the signs of civil war I see in our country.  The institute has some of the finest examples of art that humanity has produced.  Should things deteriorate, does the institute have a plan to secure their work?   

After so much input over the past few days, I think we were both getting a bit overwhelmed.  We went up to the impressionist section on the second floor and enjoyed work by some well known artists.  Around 2:45 we decided we’d had enough and headed back to the hotel to decompress.

I’d hoped to be able to figure out how to ride the “L” train, which runs pretty close to our hotel room.  That thing is LOUD, especially when you’re walking under the tracks.  We’d been hearing it going by our hotel window, but quickly got used to it.  We had to check out of our hotel room the next morning after breakfast, but our train to DC didn’t leave until 6:30 PM.  We thought we’d visit the Field Museum, which is a mile or so away.  I figured it would be a good opportunity to figure out the train.  The hotel stored our luggage until we returned and headed down to the train station later in the afternoon. 

After checking out and stowing our gear at the hotel, we decided to do battle with the Chicago L.  I’d gotten a brochure the day before and thought I understood it.  The information necessary to navigate the city all seems there, but missing one tiny arrow can cause an error that costs.  Granted, the costs aren’t high, and the lessons learned are big.  I was struck over and over by watching the people around us bounding up the steps to the train stations, passing their cards over the turnstiles, and moving over to the waiting area for their train, all without looking up from their phones.  The lessons we were trying to learn had been picked up by these folks years ago, so what was an adventure for us was a yawn for them.

Our goal was to visit the Field Natural History Museum for a few hours.  We bought day passes ($5 each) and attempted to board the correct train.  Getting on the right side of the train station is crucial to going the right direction on your train.  One would think that a 50/50 chance meant you’d be right now and then, and that since we are reasonably smart worldly adults, we could up those odds significantly.  Our first attempt got us going the wrong direction, which we figured out soon enough.  We got off at the next stop, moved to the other side of the platform, and were on our way.  Getting off at the right station also went well.  Unfortunately, once off the train and onto the street, a whole new set of challenges emerged.  Everyone else seemed to know where they were going.  We stepped confidently into the street, walked in what seemed to be a reasonable direction, and got the map app on the phone going just in case.  

The default on the map app is driving mode, which makes sense.  If you are walking, however, the app freaks out and requests numerous U turns.  The day was warm and we were fairly fresh from a good night’s sleep and a satisfying breakfast.  So we did our best to follow the directions, and soon figured out we’d made the wrong turn.  A few words were exchanged, such as “I told you to go the other way.”  The weather was fine and we turned around to go back the way we’d come.  Soon things started making sense, and we saw the museum in the distance.  Seeing it and getting there are two different things, however.  The entrance close to us was closed.  The only one that appeared to be open was on the other side of the building.  My friends, this museum is a BIG building.  Make it we did, got inside, and made it to the great hall.  

The great hall was impressive, and I’m sure we looked like every other tourist in history… craning our necks and attempting to take it all in.  As we looked around, I caught the eye of a gentleman carrying a sign that said 11:30 in big letters.  This man wore a permanent smile and was happy to talk to us.  He was a volunteer docent that was starting a tour at 11:30, which was a few minutes from then.  So we waited for him to start, and followed him on his “highlights” tour.  It was one of the best moves we’ve made so far on this trip.  Tom walked us through some of his favorite exhibits and filled us with stories.  His enthusiasm was infectious, and before we knew it, we were at the end of the tour.  We saw an authentic Archaeopteryx fossil; one of only a few in the world. Our final exhibit was “Sue the T-Rex.”  What a way to finish!  This T-Rex was awesome, and the story behind the find and eventual move to the museum was just so cool.  

We had limited time because our train to Washington DC left later that afternoon.  We could have pushed it, but decided to get back on the L and return to our hotel to retrieve our luggage, then back to the L to get us as close to the Amtrak Station as possible.  This trip went better but not flawlessly.  We did make it, checked in in the Metropolitan Lounge, located some food, and settled in for the wait.

The lounge was very nice and wasn’t too crowded.  In our section of the waiting room there was just us and a solo young woman.  Things went smoothly until this woman got to a song on her playlist that she really liked.  As her headphones were playing the song, her voice could not be silenced.  Her duet was loud and long.  I think she understood she was disturbing us because I caught her eye a couple of times.  If she was concerned about it, she didn’t show it.  I’m thinking alcohol may have played a part in this concert.  Before long we moved to a quieter part of the lounge.

Pretty soon our train was called, and we made our way to the tracks.  We found our car without much difficulty, met our steward, and climbed aboard.  This was not our steward, JB’s, first trip around the block.  He knew his job cold, was personable and capable.  We struck up several conversations with him, and enjoyed traveling with him.  The food was acceptable, the bed was hard but sleepable, and before we knew it, we’d pulled into Washington DC’s Union Station.