MLive says: “There is perhaps no more iconic view in Michigan than the view from the tip of the mitten in Mackinaw City, looking out at the Mackinac Bridge. A few weeks ago, that view was really special, as blue ice piled up on the shore of the Straights of Mackinac. Even sans blue ice, you just have to stop and take a photo here. You can see the bridge from several other spots in Michigan, so it was hard to decide the county to which we would award this view. It landed in Cheboygan County, where you can say you are visiting the tip of the mitten.”
June 30, 2019
Apparently, every single time I’ve ever crossed the Mackinac Bridge in my life, I’ve been in Cheboygan County. All of those summer trips heading up to Cedarville, St. Ignace, and Sault St. Marie took me through Mackinaw City and Cheboygan County. Stopping there for an evening was a first in my memory, though.
I was headed into the U.P. for the week and decided to carve up my trip by driving to Mackinaw City to camp my first night. I stayed in a massive campground called Mackinaw City Mill Campground; I got lost twice trying to find my campsite. It was the kind of campground with a huge camp store, an arcade, regularly cleaned bath houses, and fresh pizza on site. Not usually my cup of tea, but when looking for a last minute camping reservation for that night, this was the most financially feasible option. When I finally did find my campsite, I got my tent popped up and then drove over to a park to watch the sunset behind the bridge.
While I watched the sunset, I wandered along the beach looking at stones washed up on the shore, thinking about where they might have been before they made it here. Many of them had imprints of macroinvertebrates and lake plants on them, preserving them as fossils. I dipped my toes into the water and enjoyed the cold shock the water sent through my feet and ankles.
An older couple sitting on a bench called out to me, “That water has got to be freezing! What are you doing in there?” And I laughed in response, made some stupid comment to be polite. The reason bouncing around in my brain though, was that I was standing in freezing cold water in the Straits of Mackinac because for now, I could.
I was thinking of the pair of twin pipelines that run parallel to the Bridge, below the Straits, aged well past their due date for decommissioning. I was thinking about the protests and the news articles and the floatillas of indigenous people bringing attention to the threat being posed against our water.
I was thinking of this beach being covered in light crude oil, and the gorgeous waters dividing our two peninsulas being slicked with a rainbow of fossil fuels, choking our fish and our people and our livelihoods.
I was thinking about AG Dana Nessel filing a lawsuit against Enbridge in Ingham County, which is progress, but will likely tie up further negotiations to decommission the line in legal proceedings for a long time, much longer than we can really afford. I am hoping she will act quickly to prevent that.
I was thinking about the Straits freezing over in a few months, and the line being trapped below multiple feet of ice, while we played another round of water pollution roulette for yet another long winter.
I thought about people not caring enough that we are in the midst of a global climate crisis, and that we can’t afford to argue over possible risks to our fresh water, because we’re running out of it whether anyone wants to acknowledge that or not.
While trying to enjoy a gorgeous sunset, and a rocky beach, and a beautiful lakefront Michigan town; I thought about all of these things. I thought about how there seems to be both a sense of urgency and a lack of urgency in protecting our water, and how that is very confusing and upsetting to me.
I wanted to wait until the sun went down all of the way; to watch the Bridge light up over the water. However, the wind coming off of the Straits was cold, and the thoughts in my head were exhausting, and I was worried if I tried to find my campsite in the dark I would get lost again. I called it a night at 9:30 pm, after whispering a solemn “Chi Miigwetch” to the place where the lakes meet (because I believe that speaking to the lakes in the languages they’ve grown up hearing is respectful and intentional), and made my way back to my tent for a night of good sleep before my sojourn north.
