Of Repose and Solitude

Our flurry of visitors has passed, and we’ve been relaxing, enjoying the summer doldrums. We haven’t spent all our hours lazing on the couch (though I did read books four and five in the Harry Potter series in about four days), but we have definitely been taking it easy. Strolls around our acres, evening walks around the (four-mile) block, trips to isolated stretches of beach.

From a beach trip last Sunday (Click for large versions linked via Flickr)

Activity followed by inactivity; life is marked by balance. After a long (for us) stretch of not doing much, we rode up to the Tip of the Mitt yesterday. On our way we stopped along Walloon Lake, because like so many things up here, we had heard/read about its beauty, but never witnessed it. I didn’t take pictures, because the views – spectacular though they were – were largely found only in smidgens over rooftops or tightly squished between vacation homes. Walloon definitely lived up to the hype, though, and if we lived closer, we’d stop by frequently.

We spent much of our afternoon yesterday turning around. Apparently I left all my map-reading skills at home. We went the wrong way – a good ten miles each time – at least three times yesterday. That’s what I get for glancing at a map and then assuming I’d remember.

We eventually arrived at our destination: the International Dark Sky Park in Emmet County. The park offers a wide-open view of the sky along with some long benches presumably for group programming. Tony and I picked our way along the rocky shore, eventually settling on a concrete slab with our toes in the lake.

Having thoroughly checked out the shore, we headed back inland to see what the park’s trails were like. I carried my camera on this excursion, hoping to catch a good view from the advertised overlook. I’ll have to go back in the winter. The overlook provided smaller glimpses of the lake than the crowded homes along Walloon. Sections of the trail were picturesque at least:

We had a chance of Aurora, so we had kinda-sorta planned to stay for nightfall, but the sky was hazy so that even if we had solar activity, viewing conditions would be poor. Instead, we began the journey home. We stopped at a beach on the west side of the Mackinac Bridge – a nostalgic place for us, since we found it by chance on our pre-move road trip up here in 2008 – but it was full of people, so we left. And by full of people, I mean there were a couple of well-behaved families awaiting the sunset. But I was feeling incredibly people averse…so we left. For the nth time, we unwittingly took a wrong turn (or didn’t turn when we should have?), and ended up on an empty beach.

Contentment. I must need a few more days of solitude before returning to peopledom 😉

The one below can be embiggened 🙂

A Quiet Moment at Sand Lakes

Summer seems to be on a faster time stream than the other seasons. We won’t talk about how much remains, because really it depends on what September chooses to do, but I just feel like the days are flying by. It could also just be that I’m getting older. Either way – faster time stream…aging blogger – we’re trying to squeeze in as many summer activities as possible.

Tonight after dinner, we relaxed under clear skies in the backyard for a while discussing what to do with the remaining daylight. Inspiration struck, and off we bounded for the Sand Lakes Quiet Area – a place we haven’t visited since…well, I don’t know when. Over weekends in the summer, Sand Lakes is a popular camping destination, but tonight the trailhead held only one other vehicle.

We spritzed on some bug spray and headed down the trail – an easy half-mile descent on a smooth, wide path. As an added bonus, the woods on either side of the trail is littered with wild blueberries. Though most of the low bushes had already been stripped of their fruit, I found a few lingering berries to enjoy.

As part of the North Country Trail, the path continues, but we stopped at the first of the lakes. We were in good company on the shore, surrounded by reeds, wildflowers, and dragonflies. And mosquitoes.

We wandered near the water’s edge, enjoying the evening quiet. Even the water sat still in the hush. As we lingered, I swear I felt time slow down for just a moment – a moment I’m holding onto in case I need in future seasons.

I recommend opening for a larger view 🙂