The Big Woods

When I pictured our road trip to Michigan, there were considerably fewer trees. The first few hours on I90 were fine, fueled by initial vacation excitement and the tall coffee I picked up in Austin. Rolling hills and rivers near Trempealeau spiced up Wisconsin before things quieted down. A sleepy highway running past cattle, corn fields and, eventually, tourist towns seemed peaceful and interesting against the dulcet tones of David Sedaris' audio book in our CD player and carried us all the way to Ashland on the coast of Superior.
That was yesterday This morning meant a sweet service at Zion Lutheran Church, an iced Americano with maple pecan croissant and the promise of our final destination - Sault Ste Marie - hanging in the air.
Zig-zagging between stands of forest and views of the mighty Superior gave way to  tiny glimpses of the shimmering greatest lake before being plunged into pines. There was no end. Ottowa National Forest followed by Hiawatha National Forest. Mile after mile of coniferous forests with a smattering of deciduous trees, some already gone aflame in anticipation of fall. This was punctuated only by historic small towns that had seen much better days. At a metropolitan stop, we scarfed down a late lunch, and I accepted driving responsibilities after shirking them all morning. Pulling away from civilization and back into the pines, we had hours left to go. And then it began to rain. Slightly at first, then pelting my windshield with fat drops. Please, please just give me back the trees, I begged. Nope. The storm ushered us into Sault Ste Marie, where we pulled into a town not entirely unlike Duluth with its red and white freighters, its historic bay and artsy shops.

It was late, so we meandered just a little before stopping for Mexican supper. Now we're tucking in, ready to wake early and cross into Canada for a train trip through the wilderness.
I am utterly certain the tree-lined path to Michigan will just be the beginning of a fabulous vacation!