Legends of the fall

For starters, let me just say I doubt I’ll ever be able to order an Arnold Palmer again. Or drink one. What a crazy couple of weeks are in store for us, my fellow Americans. Honestly, Tuesday, Nov. 5 can’t come too soon, and not only because my beloved is leaving me home alone for the first time since the last presidential election. Yes, I’ll be “batchin’ it” for two whole weeks next month. As in solo mio time. When the cat’s away, the mice will … reorganize closets, cupboards and junk drawers? Can’t wait.

But I digress.

Last week four of us drove up to Traverse City, driving through Michigan’s northern lower peninsula in Suttons Bay along M-22 toward Glen Arbor and Empire. The fall colors were spectacular on our spontaneous “let’s go see some trees Up North” with our friends Janice and Kelly.

The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. I often say October is my favorite color. Michigan has been known to have some beautiful autumns, and this one was exceptional. The 3.5-hour, 200-mile journey was well worth it. Plus, we got to tool around in a new Cacti Green shaded Chevy Equinox that shall be known fondly as “Sweet Pea.”

The GM crossover wasn’t the only feast for the eyes. Vibrant yellows, vivid oranges and deep reds wallpapered the landscape on our drive up I-75 till we veered west toward cherry country. Even the iPhone pics taken from inside the car were brilliant.

And, I’m pleased to report, there were many more “Harris-Walz 2024” signs than barn-sized “FU Brandon 46” billboards once we arrived in Grand Traverse County.

“How could you think there’s not a God?” Kelly said not really expecting an answer from any of us heathens as we cruised through Leelanau County on our arrival.

She was right. You can’t make up breathtaking beauty. Artificial Intelligence be damned. This was not an AI autumn.

The magic of fall was all around us and held tight onto whatever inner spirituality we may have ever doubted. It was a great time to be alive.

A little history: The area was originally home to the Anishinaabe people, who hunted, fished and traded on the lands of what is now Suttons Bay. In 1854, Harry Chittenden Sutton and his crew established a wooding station to provide fuel to wood-burning steamboats.

Suttons Bay is just about 30 miles north of Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore midway up the eastern shore of the Leelanau Peninsula. Later, from a lookout point near Empire, we could see the North and South Manitou Islands. More on that in a bit.

And don’t get any ideas about running/falling down those towering 450-foot high bluffs, kids. It’ll cost your parents $3,000 for your bad self to be rescued and transported back up.

Day two was another lovely drive toward Glen Arbor, nestled among the Crystal River, the Glen Lakes (so blue!) and Lake Michigan.

And then we ventured south toward small but mighty Empire via the 7.5-mile Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive, which I had never heard of. Our pal Janice opted to stay back from one of the steeper lookout points. “Looks fine from where I’m standing,” she said.

We finished our brief journey with a drive on Old Mission Peninsula, home to 10 wineries and hundreds of acres of vineyards. OMP is about 19 miles long and 3 miles wide at its broadest point. We visited Bonobo Winery, founded by two brothers from Traverse City and named after humankind’s endangered sister species: the Congo Basin’s great ape. (See bonobo.org if you’re feeling charitable.)

After a mini-wine tasting, Rebecca and I took our $27 imprinted wine glasses filled with their best BDX red blend outside on the veranda to witness a spectacular view of the winery’s grounds amid all colors of fall. I swear, it felt as if we were back in the Bordeaux region of France. (See main image atop this post.)

I’ll leave you with a heartwarming story called “The Legend of Sleeping Bear.” It comes from the Anishinaabe Legend of the Manitou Islands and Sleeping Bear Dune.

Aside: While loitering in an ice cream shop in Empire, Rebecca showed the children’s book version of this legend to a woman who was in tears by the story’s end. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.)

Once, long ago, across the great lake in Wisconsin, there was terrible hunger, and many people and animals died. A bear and her two little cubs, desperate for food, left that place to swim the long distance to the other side of the lake.

After a while, the cubs became very tired, and so the bear said: “Try hard, the land is not very far.” But gradually the cubs weakened. Exhausted, once cub sank into the water when they were within sight of land, and soon after the other also drowned.

The bear’s heart was broken, but she could do nothing. She waded ashore and climbed the bluff to lie down looking out on the water where her cubs had died. However, both of them surfaced as two little islands. And so, the bear still lies there now – looking after her children.

You may decide whether the legend is real, but I can assure you it’s definitely not AI.