Rolled Up And Eaten In A Pasty

Remember how I said that I'd check and see if there was some kind of deeper meaning to my trip the Upper Peninsula? Yeah, there isn't one.

I drove for a really, really long time. I counted mile markers. I pulled over for gas when my gauge went below 3/4 of a tank remaining - I was very paranoid. I saw huge windmills. I crossed a huge bridge. I got scared when outside of Munising, because there were ice flows in the lake. It was at that exact moment that I realized I was very, very far away from home and that I might be in trouble.

In Houghton, land of trees, I hung with Nate and his roomate Stu. Nice guy, Stu. Reminds me of someone - but Im not sure who. At some point while hanging around I noticed how well me and Nate work off of each other - we were just going back and forth with stories, commentaries, theories and general blather with machine gun speed. A good time, for sure. I have great friends, Im surely quite lucky.

We chitty-chatted late into the night. Very late. I didn't have much sleep in my system while caravanning back from the frozen north, but I did fine. Im told that the distance I traveled north is the same distance midway into Tennessee if applied southward. And to think I did it twice! It was remarkable to see the trees get greener and greener the farther south I went. Since most of the time anyplace you looked at up there seemed to come out of an ecology calendar, the drive was a lot like flipping through a Safari Club publication very quickly.

Im still pretty worn out from the whole thing. But by gum, I enjoyed myself. I take it back, there's some meaning in there somewhere. I'll write a book, and then let the students figure it out.

Here's some pictures:

The Great Northern Transport