an unfamiliar highway...

an unfamiliar highway...

 

 

   I have always thought my wanting to explore new places as being comparable to a pioneer's motivation for going westward.  

  Mountains never before seen, the Pacific Ocean, the adventure of it all.  No roads, no trails, just wilderness.  Each man and woman must have had a lot of faith, courage, imagination and determination.  

  For those who survived, the journey supplied them with enough memories to last the rest of their lives.  I wonder if those early pioneers ever returned to the home they left.  Surely some of them had more family back in Ohio or Maryland.  

  Seeing new places is one thing, but, as I can attest, making a return trip to a previous home after a long period of time can discombobulate even the strongest of memories.

  HUH?  What's up with that? 

  My wife and I decided a trip to Lake Michigan would be perfect in many ways, not the least of which was to escape the extreme heat of last July and August. 

  I lived in northwestern Indiana for four years in the mid 60s and had not returned there until this past summer.  

  It was while hang gliding over Lake Michigan at the age of 21 that I first became acquainted with genuine fear.  Or, maybe it was during my solo parasailing venture.  I don't remember which one caused the most anguish.  

  Following those two harrowing one-time experiences, most of my lake experiences centered on the beach.  Small wonder.  

  Trying to balance myself while learning to water ski became more than just an effort as it was impossible to call upon muscle coordination that just wasn't there.   

  Since I was just starting out on my own, I couldn't afford to rent a jet ski more than a couple times each summer, so that narrowed down my water activities to swimming.  Volleyball and picnics on the beach were SOP.   

  The distance to downtown Chicago from my apartment in Michigan City, Indiana was 42 air miles directly over the third largest of the Great Lakes.  

  So, when Regina and I decided to go to Lake Michigan, it was like turning back the pages to a specific chapter in my life's book.  I wanted to show her the grandeur of a completely different lifestyle and to take her to places she had never seen, including, but not the least of which was an excellent restaurant in South Bend, Indiana. 

  A couple days before we were to leave, she was checking the route we would travel on her phone GPS and I told her it was not necessary to do that because I knew the entire road system in the Hoosier and Wolverine states.  She seemed doubtful of my expertise since I seem to get lost in most new environments.  

  Clearly, an example of my memory skills was required.  

  I explained how we would take I-65 to north of Indianapolis, then Highway 31 straight to South Haven, Michigan.  Along the way, we would go through Kokomo, Peru, Lakeville, Plymouth and South Bend, Indiana.    

  I related how we would see the famed golden dome on Notre Dame's campus as we continued on the same highway.  

  Further, I said,  a few miles north of the Home of the Irish, we could expect to cross state lines and travel through the heart of Niles, Michigan as we trekked north towards our destination.   

  All of these sights were to be a part of our excursion traveling on Highway 31.

  In addition, a South Bend restaurant served the best fried cod sandwich on a french roll on the planet. The possibility of timing our drive to coincide with lunch or dinner was a can't miss deal.  It had been many years since I last crossed their threshold.  I forgot the name of the eatery, but I knew it was on Highway 31.

  My first hint that something was amiss on my self-appointed Yellow Brick Road was the sign 35 miles or so north of Carmel, Indiana that alerted drivers of an imminent turn if Kokomo was the driver's destination.  

  That warning installed by the Hoosier State Highway Department was enough for my co-pilot to question my geographical prowess of central and northern Indiana.  

  I thought you said we never turn off 31, she smiled.

  A small modification to the game plan, I retorted.  It's still 31 north to Michigan and we'll go through South Bend.  You will still see Notre Dame.  

  That would be a perfect place to walk so I can get my steps, she countered. 

  Early pioneers would have been proud of my determination as we kept going. 

   Back in the day, a personal Kokomo landmark had always been the Chrysler plant on the northwest corner of Highway 31 across the road from a Holiday Inn.  On this trip, we never came close to the facility because, as we found out, the highway totally bypassed the City of Firsts.  Kokomo never even showed up in my rearview mirror. 

   It seems Highway 31 now circumvents Kokomo.  

  We were now just a few miles away from Peru, Indiana, the home of songwriter, Cole Porter.  Peru is also known as the Circus Capital of the World because back in the day, more circuses were housed there in winter months than any other place in the world.  

  Going to Peru required traveling east from Highway 31 and we decided to continue north before taking a driving break, so, Peru was off the grid.  

  As we approached Plymouth from the south side, another warning of a bypass was immediately ahead of us.  As the sign promised, Plymouth, Indiana is no longer where it was supposed to be according to my memories.    

  Hmmm, looks like something else has changed since you were here....how many years ago, she asked?

  It seems Highway 31 now circumvents Plymouth, Indiana. 

  But, like the pioneers before us, we persevered.

  As we neared Lakeville, a road sign eerily similar to previous signs served notice that a bypass was the only way to reach the city.

  You know, I think a lot has changed since you were last here, she prophesied.

  Well, I grant you there have been some alterations, I ventured,  

  Uh huh...like a whole new road.  I'll bet this was a corn field at one time and your Highway 31 is now a rural street, she guessed.  

  It seems Highway 31 now circumvents Lakeville, Indiana.   

  Just like the pioneers facing the Grand Tetons and wondering how to proceed, I too questioned whether to take the bypass or continue on Highway 31. 

  Well, I know South Bend is where it's supposed to be because I saw a Notre Dame game last fall and the blimp flew over the golden dome, I bluffed.  

  I took it as a good sign that she had no retort for my confidence as she had already returned to her John Sanford novel.  

  It is a short drive to South Bend from Lakeville and a few minutes later, we were on the southern edge of the city.  And then, quietly and without provocation, my passenger innocently proclaimed, Oh, look, that looks like a sign telling us we will bypass South Bend if we stay on this road. 

  It seems Highway 31 now circumvents South Bend, Indiana.  

  Just like the pioneers trusted in a power above, I too trusted in another power, so, we called upon Miss GPS to help us find Notre Dame and the restaurant I fondly remembered.  Eight minutes later we were on the campus once home to the great Knute Rockne.  

   Notre Dame must be one of the most graceful and stunning college campuses in America.  We walked the blueprint of the campus and the time was memorable.  The two of us left after a couple hours and continued north on Highway 31 with South Haven as our destination.  

  Niles, Michigan is just a few miles north of South Bend.  At one time, Highway 31 went straight through the town and onward north.  Not any more.  

  It seems Highway 31 now circumvents Niles, Michigan.  

  It must have been indescribable when early pioneers first saw the Pacific Ocean and knew they had reached their destination.  I can't say our arrival was that dramatic, but we were glad to finally see a road sign that said,  South Haven, two miles.  

  We arrived in the late afternoon and decided to check out the downtown area first. The day was a perfect 80 degrees.  

  South Haven has seven beaches, all open to the public.  We visited two beaches recommended by townsfolk in a day and a half spent there.  

  Homes along the entire fresh water coastline are spectacular.  All of the ones we could see appeared to have very large windows facing the lake and most of them were made of wood.  

  By the time we arrived at the South Pier Lighthouse on South Beach, which was built in 1903, our glorious day had turned into a rainy, windy, chilly afternoon.  We were told a storm was on the way.  It was no longer feasible to walk towards the lighthouse as giant waves crashed into and over the boardwalk.  We walked on the pier as far as allowed, then turned around and sought warmth and comfort in our car. 

  Hotels in the area ranged from $300-$500 a night.  We continued driving because I have an aversion to expensive hotels in resort areas.  

  Our ultimate goal was to visit South Haven, Saugutuck, and Holland, all within 40 miles of each other.  Grand Rapids is about 35 miles east of Holland and that's where we landed.  A Holiday Inn was our home base for the next four days at a cost of $115 per night plus taxes.

   We were walking in downtown South Haven the next day when we met some locals who shared some earlier history.  One resident told us huge lumber mills were the town's main income during the early 20th Century and many people became millionaires during that time.  Some of the grander homes we saw the day before were built by some of the early 20th century tycoons.  

  Another local told us the last vestige of any lumber mill was torn down in the 1950s.  Tourism has been the main money stream for South Haven since the 1960s.    

    Between the two beach resort communities of South Haven and Saugutuck,  I preferred Saugutuck. The shoreline is post card perfect and homes were breathtaking in size and beauty, plus, Saugutuck had a Yacht Club and a super long pier housing dozens of expensive boats and cruisers.  

  The Singapore Yacht Club in Saugutuck was grandiose and elegant.  We walked the length of the main pier and along the way we met a man who is a national sales manager for a financial investment firm.  After explaining where we were from and our purpose on the pier (to ogle boats and cruisers), he guided us on a boat tour of those docked immediately around where we were standing (he was waiting for his wife to join him and they were going on a dinner cruise).   

  That 45 foot Sea Ray over there is named the Janitor's Closet, he said.  The owner lives in Chicago and sells janitor supplies.  

   How about that blue one two docks over, I asked.  The one that says, The Office. 

  That's also a 45 foot Sea Ray, he responded.  The guy that owns that one lives on it six months out of the year.  He only goes to his office in Chicago in the winter time.  

  There's another one, he pointed.  See that big Chris Craft over there about four docks down?  

  You can't miss it, it's huge, I replied.  The one that's named, Yes Dear?  

  That's it, he laughed.  It's a 75 foot Chris Craft Cabin Cruiser.  That man is on his fourth wife and he says he has finally learned how to answer his wife, so, he named his boat, Yes Dear, as a reminder.  He also lives in Chicago (I imagined the owner of that cruiser to be a tycoon like Tom Hanks' dad in You've Got Mail).   

  After a few more minutes of small talk, we thanked him and continued strolling the pier. 

  We had spent a day and a half in each resort community of Saugutuck and South Haven and the last two days of our trip were spent in Holland.    

  Holland, Michigan has to be one of the most beautiful, small cities in America.  Streets are pristine, store fronts have been beautifully restored, and, the city has an amazingly clean environment.  Crime is so low it would glide with ease under the limbo bar.  

  The city, founded by the Dutch, is actually that striking, or, we had inadvertently stepped into a Sheila Fink landscape painting. 

  Holland's thriving downtown is several blocks long and highlights busy shop after busy shop and no empty stores.  The Dutch influence is seen from the cleanliness of the city to its architecture. 

  The first day in Holland we had lunch at Bowerman's Bakery and Cafe, then repeated the experience the next day.  The corner eatery had a glass and stone facade and seats about 150 people.  The dining area was packed both days we were there.  I recommend the Grilled Chicken Club.  

  Our return trip home didn't hold any surprises as we already knew everything I had remembered about Highway 31 had been adjusted.  

  It was an unfamiliar highway.

  As we drove north to Holland, and, then south to come back to Louisville, I couldn't escape the feeling that few memories are as remembered.  It was the same feeling I had a while back when I saw the back yard where I spent my youth.  I thought it was huge and never ending when I was hiding in the playhouse my dad had built for me and my three brothers.  

  Coming up:  another job$ somebody's gotta do; more POS (people over 60) stories; even more oddities, observations, and omg's, and; what's up with all these telephones on speakers in public places?   

  And, finally.  The restaurant I remembered having such a wonderful cod sandwich was no longer there.  The space is now a parking lot.  Come to think of it, how many restaurants are still in the same place 55 years later, especially on Highway 31?

  HUH?  What's up with that?