Mackinac / Mackinaw / Whack-a-mole...(Bethany)

Well, friends, I am sitting here still in Michigan, exhausted and exhilarated, and thanking my lucky stars that we're not embarking for the marathon haul to South Dakota right now, as was originally the plan - we'll save that particular pain for the morning. After endless hours driving through the Michigan countryside (a particular highlight was the "Prison Area - Do Not Pick Up Hitchhikers" signs that sprang up periodically) last night,

we had an excellent sleep, woke to waffles and amiable Nordic-looking folk circling the buffet, and after an all-American dip in the chlorine, we packed up and caught the ferry to Mackinac Island, possibly the sweetest little tourist trap in the world - just hokey enough (Fudge was Invented Here!), historical enough (the rather stunning Fort Mackinac), and surprisingly inexpensive - the fort, which could certainly occupy most families for a whole day, was only about $10 a head - free for me, of course, since I am a poverty-stricken fellow museum professional. Most exciting for me was the total lack of motorized transport on the island. Everyone is either on a bike or in a carriage or on horseback. First of all, I watch horses like teenage boys watch girls in bikinis. I think they are fascinating and want to hang out with all of them. They also want to hang out with me, and turn their massive heads and give me the once-over when they walk past.

It was the silence that got me. Take cars off an island, walk into the woods, and despite throngs of cheerful Midwestern tourists, it is quiet - really and truly quiet. I realized as I listened to a porcupine climb down a tree somewhere in the woods that I haven't been in a truly silent place since one night in the mountains of Hungary, and before that, those many years in British Columbia. It is like nothing else - relaxing and energizing and amazing. I may need to find it again soon, but it's hard to come by - highways cut across so much of this country and my ears are so sharp that I hear them buzzing practically everywhere. Kind readers, your tips for total quiet would be most welcome.

Of course nowhere where Jed is will be silent for long, and we formed a happy snaking line down a long forest trail, Jed running up ahead and then crouching in the middle of the trail while Meg tried her best to keep up, her pink dress flying out behind her, elbows pumping. Adam and I brought up the rear, confident for once that our little monkeys would be alright if they got out of sight. We wound up at Arch Rock, a limestone hoop with a breathtaking view of the lake, and Skull Cave, which turned out to be a rather dumpy pile of limestone, despite its terror-inducing name. Jed was non-plussed. So back we came on the freezing ferry, back for another couple hours of chlorinated fun before bed. They are all tucked in now, even Adam, and I should join them. In a moment of weakness, Adam agreed to take Meg into a haunted house display on the island and so it falls to me to dodge her kicking feet all night so I can comfort her in case of bad dreams. It will be my pleasure.

Quote of the day, from Jed on the ferry: "My goose-bumps are so big they look like small-pox"!

And by an automaton soldier in the fort: "De Indians, deyr gonna attayk!"

Sweet dreams, friends...