We crossed the Mackinac Bridge in a snowstorm on a day that started rainy in Detroit, turned quickly to ice by the time we passed Auburn Hills and then became firmly snowy by the time we passed Flint. By the time we crossed into the Upper Peninsula, our highway speed topped out at 35 mph.
Slowing down allows for better looking. These are dunes along Lake Michigan on the Upper Peninsula, near St. Ignace.
The stories these cabins could tell.
Sometimes the snow blows in your face and sometimes someone does it for you.
Stopping overnight in Marquette always means three things to me: peeping the icy magnificent navy Big Bay, getting a maple cream latte at Sweet Water and visiting Snowbound Books.
It’s a long wooded drive from Marquette to the Wisconsin line. And once you cross it, you can tell you’re in another state. A more abundantly snowy one, for starters.
Snow so deep that dogs can swim in it in Ashland.
Once we got to Duluth, our ultimate destination, we snuggled into our room in Canal Park, rising the next day for the dawn. It’s easy to catch a winter sunrise up here. This one happened around 8 a.m.
A long-running joke is that Duluth is the San Francisco of the Upper Midwest.
I kind of agree.
It’s hilly and on water. Lake Superior.
We saw ducks swimming in the cold, cold lake. A reminder that cold is relative.
A visit to Duluth is not complete without a visit to the Duluth Grill for their red flannel hash.
The light up north always fills me with joy. The snow reflects and glows. The world seems on the brink of something good. Visiting this hardy place reminds me that we’re at an inflection point. And with that, promise of new experiences and growth. Good bye, 2013. You were sure interesting.
I know nothing about that part of the country and love your little tour — sitting in front of the fireplace glad that I’m not on those snowy roads. But it sure is pretty. Thank you!