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"IN MEMORY OF MARY LOGSDON" - IN NOTE SECTION OF CHECK

AUGUST 18, 2006 –  "THEY SAY THAT TIME IS LIKE A RIVER AND STORIES ARE THE KEY TO THE PAST,

BUT NOW I'M STUCK IN BETWEEN

HERE AT MY TYPING MACHINE

TRYING TO COME UP WITH SOME WORDS THAT WILL LAST….." I’ll give you this one – JIMMY BUFFET

The people of Sault Ste. Marie awoke to fog, heavy mists, low flying clouds and the very real chance of rain. While Bob did some cleaning on the bikes, I made time getting my stuff packed and ready to go. We shuttled things right out the window to the bikes, so carrying the gear was not a problem. Bob asked me if I woke up because of his snoring. I told him the pillow marks on his face ought to answer THAT question. The maid knocked on the door before the task was complete. He didn’t wake me up at all, really.  We got our bowl of colon blow eaten and after taking some hard boiled eggs (for me – self defense) and some peanut butter packages for Bob (we looked like little old ladies at Dennys filling purses with condiments) we got on the bikes.

The first order of business was to head for the Locks. When we arrived there was security checking packages. There was an American ship in the locks, making its way east out of Lake Superior. We were wondering what the tonnage was. How much does a company pay to move a freighter through the locks? How much does a sailor make? I could NOT talk Bob into getting the attention of one of them by calling, “HEY SAILOR, WANT TO MAKE SOME MONEY?” He wasn’t doing it.  We bummed around there for a bit. The last time I had been to the Soo Locks was with Mary. We were fortunate enough to see a freighter pass through the locks then too. As we were walking out, I noticed a man sitting on a bench with his duffle bag. When asked if he was off a ship, he said that yes he was, and that he had to be back here at the Soo by Monday afternoon.

Dale Eryion came to be working as a sailor because he had lost his job in Lansing Michigan. A friend of his told him to go to the Coast Guard and get his card for working on commercial shipping. His experience in the Navy and Marine Corps allowed him to obtain his card easily. Once that happened he was getting phone calls from shipping companies left and right. He settled for American Steamship Company out of New York. Apparently there is a drastic shortage of men willing to work the Great Lakes in the shipping industry. Dale is 49 and he is the youngest on the ship. Everyone else is a retiree.

Dale is the lowest paid sailor on the “American Integrity”. Even at that he makes $45,000 a year. He can continually test for higher ranks and receive more pay as a result of successfully passing those tests. They want him to go to school to become a cook on ship. It is an immediate $5.00 per hour raise if he takes the company sponsored schooling. His ship runs between Superior Wisconsin to Detroit and Monroe. The freighter hauls 38,000 tons of coal to the two Detroit Edison plants that are located in these cities. Then the ship, which is one of the largest on the Great Lakes, called a “Thousand footer”, turns around and heads back to Superior Wisconsin to be loaded with coal for its southbound trip to Monroe. Six days are consumed in making the trip one way.

Dale was very interesting to talk to about life on the Great Lakes. His family lives in Lansing, so his wife drives up to pick him up and will deliver him back next week. I asked him how he liked working on ships and his response was “It pays the bills”.  There is a lot to be said about a man who takes his responsibilities so seriously. He makes obvious sacrifices but has it within him to see things through and perhaps find a better way to enjoy his trip around the sun. Just as we were leaving to hug the eastern shore of the Upper Peninsula, he allowed that he and three of his friends from work thought it important to send “THANK YOU” notes to the Human Resources Dept. and to the Supervisor who let them go, thanking them for the opportunity to make more money in their new jobs than either one of those people were making in their jobs. I like that. How sweet that must have felt.

Look for Dale’s photo in my next submission. His story is a microcosm of the kinds of stories that allow this country to maintain itself, regardless of the problems we face. Dale is going the extra mile (no pun intended) to provide for his family in the best manner he can. I applaud that, and wish him well.

Both Harleys fired up and headed south and east. We passed through some towns that we saw as names on the map, and in fact in a couple of cases, that is all they were was names on a map. Barbeau, Pickford, Stalwart, Goetzville and De Tour Village were all found in the morning. De Tour, the sight of the Colleen and William Bowman cottage also had a nice restaurant that provided us with a good meal. I had Turkey noodle soup and an egg salad sandwich. Bob had the same thing, only without the sandwich.

People asked about the bikes and that was my opening to explain what I had been up to these past three months. Everyone I talked to today seemed to be mildly shocked about the trip. We spoke with folks at the motel before we left and they had the same reaction.  We were given some good advice by a gentleman who was on his Gold Wing about getting into St. Ignace. We opted to NOT take I 75, and stayed on the old “Mackinac Trail” road. As we entered St. Ignace, I noticed the Kewadin casino. A friend of the Corps who has driven us many places over the decades works for them as Coach Driver, so I stopped and gave one of the drivers there a card and told him to get it to Walt Dancingburg, an old friend.  He said he would do that.

Other than stops for gasoline we made it to Manistique by dinner time. As anyone who has been reading these entries for any length of time knows, I always try to find a “mom and pop” type place to eat. As we were pulling into town, I noticed a Big Boy restaurant. Well, I figured I needed a Big Boy Combo. And that is what I had.  There was a fellow selling wind toys out at the front of the parking lot. By the way, this place is right on the lake. The only thing between Lake Superior and the parking lot is a three lane road. This guy had set up things like windsocks on long poles, long and narrow flags and these outdoor “whirleygigs” . The wind was pretty powerful, so things were flapping and spinning at an alarming rate.

This caused a flashback to a time about 9 or 10 years ago.  Mary had been out shopping and had purchased one of these whirligig things. It had twin rotating propeller like things that spun on a shaft. This assembly was mounted on a plastic stick that needed to be stuck in the ground.  It was a fairly brisk afternoon and I thought the wind speed was pretty “beefy”. Well, Mary assembled this thing on the kitchen table and took it outside to plant in the ground. It was a festive thing and looked for all the world like a circular double rainbow windmill. As she walked past the family room window I started to get up to see where she was putting it, but by that time it was far too late. What happened next took will take oh, let’s say, 50 times longer to read than it did to actually happen.  Bear with me.

Mary got the stick stuck firmly in the ground (this was to be the biggest error in judgment). Once the device was in the ground, she let go of the windmill things. These began spinning almost immediately at a speed that far exceeded the design speed of the windmill. The axle shaft broke. Mary screamed because the windmill part left the premises at an alarming rate of speed. I did see that part of the action and I have to say that Mary’s scream and the flash of color whizzing past the window were almost simultaneous. She called for me, so I went outside. There was this naked stick in the ground with nothing rotating colorfully on it. Mary was laughing so hard she could barely talk.  I started laughing because of the rather odd sight of seeing that stick and the realization of what it was I saw break the sound barrier on the way past the window.

She wanted me to go find it.

I looked.

I never found it.

I think it was somewhere in Lake St. Clair, some 10 miles east, or perhaps in London Ontario, two hours away. Some pig farmer somewhere n Ontario is thinking, “What the hell is THIS from?” While at the Big Boy two ladies from Ontario heard us talking with the Manager about moving on to Escanaba and they interrupted to tell us that because of the “Upper Peninsula State Fair” going on, there were no rooms available anywhere in that direction. They had driven 80 miles back this way to find a room. Bob and I decided to stay here for the night, then move on in the morning.

The drive here along route 2, the southernmost road along the south part of the Upper Peninsula offered some vistas that were every bit as beautiful as anything I have seen in my travels. A rest stop in St. Ignace at the city park provided a view that could have been in any of a dozen or so more exotic locations on the planet.  This wasn’t the Bahamas. It wasn’t Carmel California, or anywhere along the Outer Banks or the Florida Keys. I was standing on some real estate in Michigan, and the water and the sky were as beautiful as anywhere I had been in this country.  “IF YOU SEEK A PLEASANT PENINSULA, LOOK AROUND YOU” is still the truth. There are photos taken today of coastline that had the schmaltzy look of California as well as the rugged – don’t mess with me – look of Oregon and laceName w:st="on">WashingtonlaceName> laceType w:st="on">StatelaceType>.  Hopefully you too, will see the resemblances.  Tomorrow we head west.