Probably my favorite place in the world. As a child, it was an adventure. It was often the culmination of a lot of preparation, and then, anticipation. Getting packed and "ready" was always an exciting time. We have pulled an old Trotwood Trailer, a few times, the Jessidean, a ouple of times, my boat, The Dood, but the early ones are etched in my memory.
It was 500 plus miles, but in those days in the 30's, a two-day trip. The first stop, was always a grocery store, somewhere in Ohio. Ring bologna, saltine crackers, cheese, cut out from that big circle of cheese on the counter, Fig Newtons and milk. Then a short drive to a roadside stop, picnic tables, out in the country, and we would sit and eat our "goodies" from that country store. Still my favorite meal.
Then, that night, we would have crossed in to Michigan. In those days, there were "guards" of some kind, at almost each state border. There were some things that they didn't want taken into the state. "Do you have any fruit?" Generally the question. I forget the exact spot, but we would stay in a motel, which consisted of about 20 small log cabins. The entire driveway was lined with softball sized white stones, lake stones, rounded. There was a bench and flagpole out in front, and after settling in, sit on those benches out front and talk with the other guests, it was heaven to me. That cedar and pike aroma in the air ... Michigan air, vacation time, heaven to me.
Then, the last of the trip. Anticipation, goose bumps, getting close ..... the scenery is changing, all spruce and pine trees, Michigan air. And then, Indian River, we finally were in ..... Northern Michigan. Indian River was our last stop, get fishing licenses, last minute tackle. There was a large stone fountain near a community parking lot, loaded with fish, Perch, Walleye's and others. The odor in the stores, Michigandish, more of that Cedar and Pine, Indian items, sold, by Indians. Their stores had their own exclusive aroma from the leather and other things.
Then, on the road, a short distance ............ to ............. Topinabee, a bustling little town then. A grand Summer hotel, trains coming North loaded with vacationers, a left, across from the hotel, up a little rise, a fork in the road, a little church, behind it, a little cemetery, and then, a short drive that seemed endless, a left at the intersection, the last leg of the trip. Finally, at the top of a rise in the road, there it was, we could see ...... off in the distance .......... Burt Lake ..... an elation that cannot be explained, there it was, heaven on earth, to me.
Finally, I forget their names, they lived across the road from John Greenman's stone house, they rented horses and did odd jobs, they John's store, make a left and a short drive down that sandy road, to one of Pauline's cabins, which Dad had rented. The air, the water, the lake, the stones in the lake ... I actually have a few of them with me, right here, Burl Lakes rocks .... they are special .... I can look at them and a flood of memories comes to mind ..... one of our "car songs" .... "Oh how I wish again, I was in Michigan, down on Burt lake."
