Crossing the Mackinac Bridge Up North
First day of a few days up north, and the crossing itself was the event: five miles of the Mackinac Bridge, stuck behind an RV with wood paneling most of the way, the towers coming up out of the clouds ahead. Once you're under them you crane at the cables and then it's over and you're in the Upper Peninsula.
From there, the ferry to Mackinac Island. No cars allowed on the island, so it's bikes and horse carriages from the dock on. We walked past the Grand Hotel — the tulip beds out front were going full red and yellow, and the porch really does run 660 feet, though you can't take it all in from the road. Up the hill, the post cemetery at Fort Mackinac had small flags set out at every headstone, rows of them under the trees behind the white picket fence. The fort itself has been sitting over that harbor since the British built it in 1780.
The ferry back threw a rooster tail of spray you could feel from the stern, and the bridge slid past off to the side, small against a lot of sky.