I’m just saying it.  2019 sucked.  It sucked big time.  We originally planned to ring in 2019 on Mackinac Island, but Ken lost his stepfather on December 30, 2018.  The Lilac Tree graciously moved our reservations to the following NYE and we thought 2019 couldn’t be worse than 2018.  But it was.  Oh it was.  I lost my dad on April 30, 2019.  Needless to say, the 365 days between when we were originally supposed to celebrate on The Island and when we actually did just plain sucked.

But 2019 did end and I could not think of a better place to bring a horrible year to end while looking forward to a brand new year with new possibilities (we had no idea at that time that 2020 would bring the Covid 19 and a whole new type of hell–but that’s a story for another day).

My Happy Place

As many Michiganders do, I love Mackinac Island.  Love it.  From the moment I can see it out the right side of the car’s window as we cross the Mackinac Bridge, I feel like I’m home.  I feel like I’m where I am supposed to be.  This could be because the first time I ever went to the island.  My mom was pregnant with me.  Perhaps the smells of fudge, horses, fresh lake air, and pine that my mom breathed in mingled with my blood and came a part of my very DNA.  Growing up, we went as a family numerous times.  From the 1970’s until now, very little has changed–other than you used to be able to climb on Skull Cave.  Sure, some shops and restaurants have come and gone, but the island has remained largely the same as it was that first visit. So every time I step off the ferry and onto the dock, it’s like stepping back into my favorite childhood memory.

Ferry Rides

To get to the island, you have to take a ferry.  Ken and I always opt to leave from St. Ignace because it is quieter and friendlier than the ultra-busy Mackinaw City side.  We go 2-3 times a season and have crossed in sun and  in rain, on the first ferry and on the last ferry, in the spring, summer, and fall, but we have never crossed in December.  And what a trip that was.  During tourist season, the ferries run every half hour and from both St. Ignace to Mackinaw City.  But during December, it only runs twice a day to and  from St. Ignace….unless the ice has already formed and then you have to fly over (which

we have yet to do).  On December 30th, the wind and waves on Lake Huron were high and an advisory was out.  According to a post on Facebook, the first ferry was the “[w]orst ferry ride of my life!  We made it through!  Not sure if the second ferry will run, it was really bad.”  I have to admit, I was starting to get nervous.  I should have  just stopped reading the posts during our 3 1/2 hour drive north.  By the time we got to the ferry dock in St. Ignace, the wind and waves had died down a bit and the icy rain was no longer coming directly at your face.  Instead of the smaller passenger ferries we have taken previously, only the Huron cargo ferry was running.  It did have some outside seating, but no one felt the need to prove how Michigan-weather tough they were by sitting outside.  We all crammed into the no-frills interior where the windows soon became opaque due to our breath.  At first the body heat was a welcomed comfort after the icy northern Michigan wind and rain, but slowly the cabin began to heat up and layers were coming off as we prepared to make the 40 minute trip.  As we waited in a boat that bobbed and buffeted against the dock, weary looks between family members turned into nervous chatter between passengers, and soon developed into a spirit of camaraderie of “do or die.” I thought I was doing fine, until we started to push back from the dock and I looked over to see a dog with his paws on the bench, face pressed to the wall praying.  They say animals can sense things before they happen.  This was not a good sign and I, too, said a little prayer.  There were a few big dips and lolls, but about half way through the trip, I finally let go of the death grip I had on Ken’s arm and began to enjoy the ride as the island came into sight.  There,through fogged up windows that I had to keep wiping off, was my happy place.  We had made it.

 

All I Want For Christmas…

To say that we go to the island a bit is an understatement.  I have seen it when buds were just forming in the May, when the lilacs fill Marquette Park in June, watched fireworks over the lake in July, rode round the island in the September sun, and walked beneath leaves that glow golden in October.  I have seen the driving rain wash clean Main Street and the wind whipping through Windemere Park.  I have watched the sun rise from Arch Rock and the sun set over the Mighty Mac.  But I had never seen the island blanketed in snow.  I had yet to see the famed Christmas Tree lit up on Main Street or the Great Turtle Drop at midnight on New Year’s Eve.  And I was about to check them off my bucket list.  However, when we first arrived, there wasn’t any snow…just slush, mud puddles, horse poop, and snowmobiles.  I was a bit disappointed, but would not last for long.

Ken and I are experts of the ins and outs of the island during the regular season, but this was all new to us.  Gone were the porters waiting to take your bags.  Gone were the waiting horse-drawn taxis.  Gone was the organized chaos of summer on the docks.  There was a rhythm all to its own and we did not know the tune.  So we employed the “divided and conquer” strategy.  Ken waited for our bags to be unloaded and I went to the Lilac Tree Hotel to check in.  The hotel manager was out on the street greeting the quests….some were still a bit green from the ferry ride.  I mentioned, as I was returning to dock to help with the luggage, my disappointment in not seeing snow.  He said not to worry, the island would get about four inches over night.  I was skeptical, but soon learned to trust the islanders’ sense of weather.  By the time I woke early in the morning to see the sunrise, the entire place had been transformed.  It was glorious and I could not wait to get out into it!

Life in Hallmark Movie

Soft snow falling in large fluffy flakes.  Shop windows decked with lights and bobbles.  People bundled in hats, scarfs, and mittens with rosy cheeks.  Sounds of horses clopping along streets.  Jack Frost nipping at your nose.  The feeling of holiday cheer.  Walking gloved hand-in-hand with your love. It’s not just for the Hallmark Channel.  It’s real and it’s alive on Mackinac Island.  I felt like I was living a real-live Hallmark movie.  We bundled up and headed out for a walk in our own personal winter wonderland.  We headed down toward Mission Point and around to Arch Rock as the snow fell.  We watched the waves crash along Highway 185.  We strolled along Huron Road.  We secretively stole onto the Grand Hotel’s Porch and down Cadotte Avenue.  With each step, the sorrows of the past year floated like a flake caught on the wind.  Happy and cold, we headed back to the hotel where they had grilled burgers and brats and hot chocolate waiting in the open-air lobby.  Brats have never tasted so good.  There’s something about eating them with mittens watching the snow drift downwards.

New Year’s Eve

Full disclosure: I’m not a big fan of NYE and all the hoopla that goes along with it.  I’ve celebrated in bars, in friend’s homes, at parties, and on my couch.  Each one is what it is, but this NYE, I was actually looking forward to…especially when it starts with a clear blue sky and white sparkling snow and ends with a large turtle being dropped from our hotel at midnight.  I started the day with a long, solo walk along Pontiac Trail and West Bluff.  It was just what my hurting soul needed.  Even in the summer months, once you get away from the crowds, the island is quiet and feels like it’s your own private paradise.  But this day, I felt like I was the only one on this island as I made fresh tracks in the snow and watched the lake from high above.

Later in the afternoon, we joined others on a horse-drawn hayride through the middle of the island.  I thought I had seen the splendor of winter on Mackinac Island during my morning walk, but it was nothing compared to what waited along Annex and Garrison Roads.  Other than bicycles, horse and carriage is one of the main sources of transportation.  These horses are built for this and are treated well when not working.  And as any one who has taken a carriage up Cadotte Avenue knows, the horses stop halfway up the steep hill for a break.  Maybe it was because this was the 3rd or 4th trip the horses had made or because we were overloaded, but I felt bad for the horses. Our driver asked that a number of us get off and walk the rest of the way up the hill to lighten the load.  You could see their coats shiny with sweat and steam coming off their large bodies.  But they did a great job and took us through tunnels of snow-covered trees.  It’s a ride I will never forget.

By the time we were back at the hotel, they were rigging up Newton the Turtle for the Great Turtle Drop at midnight.  Though he didn’t draw as big as of a crowd as he would in a few short hours, many stood in the streets watching him be hoisted to the top of the Lilac Tree Hotel.  The air was laced with the excitement of something ending and something new beginning.  The rest of the day passed with naps, dinner at the Mustang Tavern, and walks around downtown looking at the Christmas lights.

 

As midnight drew closer, the crowd outside our patio grew from 2 or 3 to about 100.  We donned our winter gear and joined in the festivities.  And it was infectious.  People were laughing, blowing noise-makers, drinking and toasting one another.  The lights on Main Street glowed softly as the excitement grew.  We no longer felt the cold as the minutes of 2019 ticked away.  As Newton began his descent, I felt myself tearing up.  As midnight struck, it felt like I had been holding my breath for months and was finally able to breathe again.  The worst year of my life was over.  I had survived.  It wasn’t until that moment standing there in the snow with a flashing turtle did I realize I wasn’t sure I was going to make it.  But I did.  I said a final “fuck you” to 2019 and was ready to embrace 2020.

A Brand New Decade

A brand new day.  A brand new year.  A brand new decade.  All starting in my favorite place with my favorite person.  The sun was bright, the sky clear, and the snow clean.  I didn’t want to waste one minute of the day inside.  So off we were.  Together, Ken and I set out to Robison’s Folly, a bluff at the far East end of the island right above Mission Point Resort. It is one of my favorite views and is rarely visited by tourists.  From there we walked to Arch Rock and spent several peaceful minutes marveling at the beauty of  the winter shoreline from above.  We continued on Rifle Range Road to Fort Holmes.  The trees were ladened with snow and they bowed and bent to the ground with the weight.  Ken saved a number young saplings by shacking off the heavy wet snow creating a snow-globe effect.  We were the only ones and the world was bright and new and it was ours.  The trek to Fort Holmes is steep and even in summer, I find

myself out of breath.  Layered with winter garb and heavy boots, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it.  But, as always, the view is worth the effort.  I found my sitting rock looking out over the straights and listened to the frozen birch tree branches tinkling in the winter wind.  It was the perfect healing space. We enjoyed our time together for the holiday so much, that we reserved for next year.  I know we may never have a winter weekend like that again–the good travel days, the beautiful snow falls, and the sun shining in the crystal blue skies as we had this time.  But no matter what it brings, it will be perfect.  I just hope by that time this horrid COVID 19 pandemic is over, our love ones are safe and heathy, and the island is opened again.  2021 can’t be worse than 2020, can it?