Wanderlust II

My lust will be wandering (my wander shall not lust) about every two months or so? The period of time since my last Wanderlust post is probably more accurately described in weeks. "My lust will be wandering every 9 weeks or so" is a quotation I am more comfortable with. For my audience members scratching their heads/closing out this tab (STAY ON THIS TAB!!!), I am referring to my second blog post, chronologically, Wanderlust. This post is the second portion of Travis and Kate's Road Trip 2011 chronicles. The chronicles are of course, brought to you chronologically. But spaced out mysteriously to create chronological suspense. For those of you that have been holding your breath for Wanderlust II, I am remorseful about your blog-related death. But thank you for being a devoted blog follower. In any event, hopefully this post is a mere pleasant surprise. Previously on Wanderlust, our protagonists had just finished gallivanting around the crumbling upper-Midwestern metropolis of Detroit and were heading north on I-75 in pursuit of geographical fantasy indulgence. This indulgence was the "Upper Peninsula" of Michigan. 

I-75 Northbound through Michigan's "Lower Peninsula" wasn't without the proverbial bump in the interstate (an officer admiring our motor vehicle's velocity along the way). Nonetheless, it was a charming jaunt into uncharted territory. The first genuine hint of the West came over us during this stretch. 

(Footnote on "West:" throughout these chronicles, when I refer to "the West," I am not necessarily referring to the geographical western half of the United States. I am referring to what defines a road trip: exploration and a sense of openness. The incredible feeling of completeness that comes with confronting landscapes and cultural idiosyncrasies completely unfamiliar. Feel free to reference this footnote anytime.)    

The Mackinac Bridge was the first symbol of the West; a majestic suspension bridge connecting the two peninsulas of Michigan and flanked by two Great Lakes. An item on the Great Lakes: they look like fucking oceans. They are incredible. Enormous deposits of fresh water formed by glaciers. A magnificent wonder of the natural world. The moment we hit the Mackinac Bridge was the moment I felt far from home. 

Looking east over the green guardrail at Lake Huron.

The Mackinac Bridge from the gift shop balcony in the Upper Peninsula.

 With landfall we were aboard the Upper Peninsula. We quickly learned that the locals referred to their lands as "the U.P.", say nonsensical things and have weird accents? (According to the extensive and "quirky" gift shop we patronized, from which the above photo was taken.) Our own observations said that we were in the Midwestern version of Cape Cod, Massachusetts; a gorgeous study in peninsula vacationland. The U.P. seemed a lot more obscure (for lack of an un-hipster term) and undisturbed than Cape Cod. We traveled along Michigan's Route 2 and were essentially driving down the beach for a significant portion of our day. To reiterate a passage from Wanderlust, the planned detour into the U.P. was the only premeditated inefficient travel plan of the entire Road Trip 2011. I have needed to know what went on in the weird section of Michigan devoid of major cities ever since I began map-reading. And it still caught me off guard. I will be back to tame you, Upper Peninsula.

Cape Cod vs. U.P. dunes?

Kate/window/road/beach/Lake Michigan.

Traversing the woodsy and quaint area on a two-lane road in late afternoon alongside a lake (ocean) was quintessentially summer and surely one of the signature stretches of Road Trip 2011. By dusk we had crossed into the Central Time Zone and were courteously alerted of this by signage. My flip phone immediately jumped back an hour; Kate and I were now experiencing a 25 hour day. Shortly after the time changed we crossed state lines and pulled into a Marinette, Wisconsin Super 8 to lodge. It was run by a delightful dweeb who was extremely generous with towels. And so it went: the first day devoted entirely to travel. 

JOURNAL ENTRY: Day two devoted entirely to travel. I am quickly growing fond of days devoted entirely to travel. Stagnation avoidance is becoming a huge part of my core values. 

We departed Marinette due Southwest, crusing through eastern Wisconsin. As far as I could tell, the landscape seemed to be a slight extension of the U.P. (in greenery) but much more farm oriented. In essence, a more enchanting Ohio. By midday we suddenly arrived in Madison, the capital city. And when I say suddenly I mean that we glanced up while at a stoplight on Wisconsin Route 151 and saw this: 

The capital building of Wisconsin was beckoning us for a friendly embrace. 

We proceeded to make a couple loops around this structure in an effort to remain Southwest-bound in our travels. I'm glad we got sidetracked, however; we learned that Madison is unheralded hipster territory. With windows rolled down on this late spring day we were able to make some generalizations. Everyone was riding bikes and seemed extremely friendly. We noticed food trucks, farmer's markets and coffee shops. There was a dog park. There were frisbees flying around a college campus. And if we looked hard enough, I'm sure we would have encountered dive bars with $1 Pabst Blue Ribbons. To top it off, our way out of Madison included driving along a tiny isthmus (a piece of land flanked by water on two sides, Geography ed.) between two beautiful lakes. 

A footnote on capital cities: Did you know that capital cities of states were/are chosen based on a strong city geographically centralized within the state, in the name of statewide convenience?  

Through western Wisconsin we traveled; the farms started to become more sparse and the terrain became slightly more hilly and rocky. Hardly an indication of what was to come; it was more like a Red Herring. We then crossed the Mississippi River, the historically symbolic gateway to "the West." I tried to psych myself up but the Wisconsin/Iowa border passage was underwhelming. A formidable waterway, for sure, but almost Connecticut River-esque (river snob). 

Iowa is probably regarded my most casual U.S. citizens as one of the most boring states they could think of. Not that the casual U.S. citizen knows a great deal about Iowa. But that very sentiment gave the state substantial intrigue to me. We learned on this day that Iowa is a state of many, many large farms. Sort of hilly land but generally pretty flat. But the state maintains a curious, small-town charm throughout. Maybe because of the abundance of cows? This photo is exemplary of Iowa:

 We did manage to have an extremely interesting time in Iowa, however. Our intent for traversing Iowa was to ride Route 151 all the way to I-380, which would take us back to I-80, the featured interstate on our trip west. However, Iowa's green farm roads got the best of us on this day. Shortly after crossing state lines, we missed an important turn. Before we knew it the road was narrowing and "151" signs were gone. We were coasting our way through rolling green hills and huge family farms. Daylight was becoming scant. We were listening to Man Man's Life Fantastic; any other album title would be inappropriate. We eventually reached a small town (for my blogging money: Tipton). But the damage was done; we will always cherish the Iowan underbelly experience. We reconvened with I-80 shortly thereafter and rode it out to Urbandale to lodge. A longer day of travel on day two. 

Visit this website soon for a Nebraskan adventure. But don't hold your breath (recurring joke?). 

Listening...Vampire Weekend- Unbelievers