Having been to several locations on both the Pacific and Atlantic oceans, I’ve seen a lot of “coast.”
But when my wife, Wendy, and I took a trip last week to Michigan, we often felt like we were on a coast, even though where the west side of the state’s main section meets Lake Michigan is technically a “shoreline,” I guess.
Until last week, I had never set foot in Michigan or stood next to Lake Michigan. Prior to that, I knew the lake was gigantic, but knowing and experiencing are not the same.
I mean, we all know that all five of the Great Lakes are really, really big, but three of them are absolutely immense – including Lake Michigan. This thing is massive. It’s so big you can see nothing but water all the way to the horizon – just like with an ocean. It’s amazing to stand in front of it and try to comprehend that it’s all fresh water.
And consider that fact that much of Lake Michigan’s eastern shore is covered with wide, sandy beaches (consisting of a very fine form of sand that’s pleasant to the feet) or lined with enormous sand dunes. The look and feel is just like that of an ocean beach; about the only thing missing is the familiar smell of saltwater and seaweed.
We were blown away. Almost literally in a couple of instances, as strong westerly winds blew across the great liquid expanse from the Wisconsin side.
While we spent a couple of days exploring northwest Michigan, we witnessed Lake Michigan displaying three distinct personalities.
One I would simply call “standard.” I think we might all expect the contents of such a grand body of water to move about with some vigor, and that’s exactly what we saw in several spots. At the little town of Frankfort, there were small but active waves lapping against the sandy shore, jetties and concrete piers sticking out into the water to protect harbor entrances and a whole lot of gulls flying around and hoping for a snack.
At Frankfort, we got to take in a sunset as beautiful as you could want as the sun went down behind Lake Michigan. The scene was complete with a background featuring a freighter cruising on the horizon in front of the sun and a foreground highlighted by a long concrete pier with people walking on it and a lighthouse at its end.
But we also saw the lake display two other far less standard personality traits. One was highly ocean-like and the other was just the opposite.
When we visited Betsie Point, just south of the majestic and unusual Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore, the lake was pounding the shoreline with big waves that crashed loudly against metal bulkheads and piles of water-smoothed rocks. Maybe the waves weren’t big enough for a surfer to “hang 10,” but they were causing quite a commotion and made for a very coastal set of sites and sounds.
And speaking of the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore, if you ever want to stand on a lookout platform about 300 feet above a sea of fresh water that expands are far as the eye can see and be surrounded by huge sand dunes that seem to belong more in the Sahara Desert that the U.S. Midwest, that’s your place to go. It’s a stunning landscape that you wouldn’t think would exist where it does.
Lastly, we got to see the lake in its calmest and most serene form as we relaxed on a beach at Traverse City on the West Arm of Grand Traverse Bay.
The sun was almost down, the temperature was perfect and the water was as smooth as glass. Kayakers and small boats carrying people fishing went back and forth and we lounged in beach chairs next to an upright metal fire pit with a nice fire going.
A mother duck even brought her ducklings right up to us and the little tykes ate cracker pieces from Wendy’s hand.
It was surreal. This was the same lake that we had seen (on the same day) look and perform like an ocean and play host to a virtual desert. It was as if it was saying, “now you know me better.”
And it’s true. We always knew that lake was something different, but now we know what it really looks, feels and smells like on the Michigan “coast.”
Doug Davison is a writer, photographer and newsroom assistant for the Houston Herald.
Email: ddavison@houstonherald.com.
