The hub, my shingles and I went up north for a long weekend.
Woke up Wednesday morning with a raised rash on the back of my neck. I couldn’t see it but I could feel it. Thought maybe I brushed against a poison ivy leaf when I was picking raspberries. But it wasn’t itchy.
The hub noticed it while I was making dinner, said it was pretty red. It was starting to itch a little.
I wouldn’t normally go to Urgent Care for a red, mildly-itchy rash, but I had been pretty tired and a little off for a couple of days and we were heading out of town in the morning.
I didn’t want to take something contagious with me.
The doc said it was shingles and that it isn’t contagious. I could, however, give chicken pox to anyone who hasn’t had them, but only if they come in direct contact with the rash.
So I packed the antiviral he prescribed, some Benadryl, in case it got really itchy and Motrin in case it started to hurt. Doc said he’d give me Norco if it got real bad.
Norco if it gets real bad?
God, I hope not.
I’ve heard stories, I’ve seen fear-mongering commercials.
We headed north Thursday morning as scheduled. First stop: Harbor Springs.
We walked the pier at twilight. Felt like a date.
Next morning we snubbed the hotel’s complimentary breakfast and went into town in search of something good. No offense to the lovely, hospitable hotel.
High atop a hill sat Small Batch at the Cupola, with its welcoming porch.
Oh. Linen tablecloths. This is going to be expensive.
But the little cow creamer was cute.
Flash-fried spinach is my new favorite thing.
The hub ordered a Hansel and Gretel Waffle – gingerbread waffle topped with a maple and peach syrup and a cinnamon cream. He gave me a bite. Oh. My.
I had to snag this photo from their Facebook page to show you because his didn’t last long enough…
After breakfast we headed to Mackinac Island, taking the long, coast-hugging way so we could see the property on which my sister’s retirement dream house will soon be built; the final resting place for her ashes.
Men arrived and began clearing trees.
Arriving at the Island never loses its thrill.
You (meaning me) can’t visit Mackinac Island without saying “hi” to John.
John is the extraordinary father of my delightful niece, Mary.
He’s also the Senior Vice President of the Grand Hotel. If you don’t know the Grand, click here. It’s quite special. If you’ve been reading my blog from the start you’ve been there before.
One of these days I’m going to interview John and tell you all about him. In the meantime, this is his bike.
It’s the coolest thing I’ve seen in a long time.
Many who visit Mackinac Island never venture beyond the town, except to rent bikes and ride around the entire perimeter of the island.
I prefer the interior.
I like to hike to Arch Rock.
And check out the view.
If you know anything about Mackinac Island, you know there are NO motorized vehicles (except an ambulance).
It’s all horses, feet and bicycles.
After lunch we strolled along the boardwalk, strolled past John’s house.
Browsed some shops. Bought some fudge.
And caught the 5:30 ferry back to the mainland. That’s the Mighty Mac in the distance.
The hub wanted to show me something so we took another short detour on the way back to Harbor Springs.
In a beautiful park-like setting behind a Catholic church in the middle of nowhere waits a magnificent bronze sculpture.
It weighs 7 tons and is 28 feet tall from head to toe.
Truly a site to behold. Love the glow of the late-day sun on the tip of the cross.
Back in Harbor Springs we prowled the streets looking for somewhere not-fancy for dinner.
There was a bar on the corner, down by the water, with a note taped to its door: “Friday Fish Fry $10.99.”
As we stood inside waiting to be seated, the hostess asked if we were there for the fish. The hub nodded. “I’ll save you one,” she said, “there are only 3 left.”
In the morning I took my complimentary envelope of oatmeal to go as we checked out of the hotel and went forth.
Early morning coffee in Charlevoix.
Lunch in Leland.
I make friends with beagles wherever I go.
This is Bella. And her mom.
You (meaning me) can’t be on the Leelanau Peninsula without stopping at Karl’s aka Brisling Pottery.
Who am I to disobey?
Treasures in tow, we headed to the hub’s favorite Leelanau wineries.
I lost a round of miniature golf. Only because I’m sick.
And then over to the Mission Peninsula to check into our B & B.
Dinner was pizza at a picnic table at the old State Hospital grounds.
Those are pickled pears julienned on that pizza. A little tangy and very tasty.
Yes, we did go back for breakfast the next day. I mean, look at that stuff.
The final day of our get-away began with fruit, yogurt, peach and lavender jam on english muffins, pleasant conversation and a goodbye to our B & B hosts.
It was another weather-blessed day so why not head to the tip of the peninsula, to the lighthouse and climb to the top?
On no-more-than-four-inch steps.
While I climbed and took photos, the hub struck up an over-the-fence conversation with a stranger. It was all about fishing Lake Charlevoix.
Hey, why not stop at a couple more wineries on the way back down the peninsula?
The vines were pregnant, ready to deliver.
Harvest is this week.
With the warm weather we’ve had, Chateau Chantal says 2016 is going to be a very good year. Keep that in mind when you buy Michigan wine.
I can’t have any because I seem to have developed an allergy to sulfites.
But you go ahead. I’m going back to the Pleasanton Bakery. Yes, I did already have breakfast. So what?
Some coffee shops charge $5 for a cafe miel and I pay it. But at Higher Grounds I buy a $2.75 cup of their daily brew and add the honey, cinnamon and cream myself. And it’s really good.
As you know from a recent post, I love it when old things are re-purposed. That’s why I love the old State Hospital. The old asylum.
I wonder what this building will be.
The hub isn’t going to read this post. He’s going to think it’s way too long. But he wanted to show me one more thing as we headed home.
He ignored the “Private Property, No Tresspassing” signs like he owned the place and drove me through the woods and onto the grounds of the Pere Marquette Rod and Gun Club. He’s been there fly fishing a couple of times with my brother-in-law, Mike. He’s going back again in a couple of weeks. He wanted to show me and that’s okay. I like show and tell.
Stopping for lunch in Clare on the way home is kind of a tradition. A tradition we haven’t kept in several years. Lunch at Bob’s Broasted Chicken in the Saturday Evening Post Bar.
Back when the rooster was white, you could feed a family of four for $20.
Now that he has a new paint job, it’s $14 for 2.
This photo-bombing patron ought to be in church.
I don’t know if it was the broasted chicken or all the ground we covered, but the rest of the ride home was kinda’ rough.
Might have been a little too much fun for an old gray mare with shingles.
Rainy day today.