Early the next morning we headed across southern Ontario, dismayed by the high-rise apartment tower complexes that were smeared for dozens of miles East and West of Toronto. We re-entered the US in Detroit, encountering a cheery U.S. border guard who cared not a whit about COVID. She did let us know that she was tickled to encounter the first Vermont license plate of her career.
The early start got us to Ann Arbor with enough daylight do a little walking. After a drive packed with bad pavement, billboards, heavy traffic and diesel fumes (everything we had would have avoided if we could have taken the Northern route) we were glad to be strolling around the lovely Nichols Arboretum. It’s a beautiful, peaceful natural space, even though it’s tightly hemmed in by the sprawling University of Michigan. We marveled at the warmth of the season compared to Vermont. Wandering onto the campus we smiled to see roses in bloom.
It was another chain hotel that night, this one called “Even.” It was (sorry for the pun) an odd place. It’s owned by IHG, the same corporation that owns Holiday Inn. Their slogan is “Where wellness is built in.” and they promise “…a strong lifestyle offering for travelers seeking more options to stay healthier and happier away from home…a best-in-class fitness experience, healthier food choices and natural, relaxing spaces.” Some of the amenities were silly (the color changing mood light and eucalyptus linens, whatever the heck that means), but with daily PT exercises to do, I appreciated the yoga mat and blocks in the room.
Eschewing the hotels ‘healthier food choices’ that evening. I hopped back into the car for takeout from a place called “Everest Sherpa Restaurant,” which, like many nominally Indian restaurants in Vermont, is owned by a Nepali family. I was greeted in the entryway by a mannequin wearing a full-on Everest summit suit. Framed newspaper clippings told me about Pem Dorjee Sherpa, one of the restaurant’s owners, and his wife and climbing partner Moni Mulepati. These two had not only climbed the world’s highest mountain but were married at the summit: the first wedding on top of the world. I returned carrying takeout bags and a great story, only to discover that while a “wellness focused” hotel may a wide variety of exotic energy drinks, it offers no beer for sale. I was sent across the parking lot to a sister hotel where we could buy a local brew to enjoy with dinner.
Another early start on Monday, but we wanted to squeeze in a stop at one legendary place before we left Ann Arbor. Zingerman’s started as a small local deli but has morphed into a multi-facility fancy food empire. We picked up pastries at the Zingerman bake shop, then strolled over to the Zingerman roastery for our coffee. I hate eating in the car, but this was worth the awkwardness of balancing a cup of hot coffee and a pastry while avoiding a deadly crash. Worth even the flaky bits of croissants and Palmiers that are now permanently lodged in every seam and crevice of my car.
We crossed due West across Michigan until we hit its eponymous lake. There we broke up the drive with a visit to Warren Dunes State Park. Climbing over giant mountains of sand, pushing against the bitter gusts blowing off Lake Michigan, we were rewarded with a view across endless rows of whitecaps to Illinois. We clambered down to the long, empty beach, and endured the cold wind in our face to enjoy the view of Chicago’s skyline some fifty miles away. The bottoms of the skyscrapers were hidden behind the curve of the earth, making me feel glad to be able to say that I’ve had in-person visual proof that the earth isn’t flat.
It wasn’t Everest, and we weren’t getting married, but clambering over and around the dunes felt like an adventure. It was easy to imagine that we were visiting another planet. With hood of her parka snugged tight against the arctic wind and sunglasses protecting her eyes from blowing sand, Joanna looked like an astronaut.
Heading down the steep sides of the dunes was the best part. A secure footing was impossible, but the inevitable slips and falls were harmless. Each step down tended to turn into more of a jump down, which smoothly transitioned into a gentle slide, half feet-on-the-ground and half butt-on-the-ground. At an age where my doctor keeps asking me serious questions about whether I’d had any falls, this kind of harmless submission to gravity was really a joy. The only consequence was the sand that we carried away in our pockets, shoes, socks, and unmentionables.
Though we were doing our best to skirt Chicago as much as was reasonable, we had an unpleasant billboard-lined semi-dodging drive until we arrived in another hip college town with another arboretum to walk around in.
The University of Wisconsin’s Arboretum is just South of the Capital city. While Anne Arbor’s Arboretum felt like a city park, this one felt a more wild and open. We hiked through wooded trails in what’s called “The Lost City Forest.” In the early 1900s a suburban development was planned for this spot. The development would include grids of hundreds of homes, schools, parks, shops, and a streetcar to downtown. But swampy soil and the depression of the 1920s got in the way, the development company went into bankruptcy, and by the 1930s the University started turning it all into parkland. The sun was setting and it felt like a walk in a dark and wild forest, but scattered bits of concrete poked out of the ground, and a sign pointed out the ghostly remnants of the street grid.
It was dark by the time we got to Madison itself. I wish we had more time to explore this lovely place. I’ll bet that Madison is the only capital city situated on an isthmus. It’s situated on the thin strip of land between Lake Mendota and Lake Monona 1 . The citizens of Madison are clearly proud of this, as is evidenced by what is now my favorite city flag ever.
Weary of chain hotels we booked a room at a funky downtown place called Ruby Marie, “Madison’s oldest operating hotel.” It’s a pretty stone and brick building near the train depot with a corner tower. The check-in desk for the hotel is on the second floor, reachable only by elevator from the parking lot below. The first floor of the old building hosts Up North, what looks like a friendly neighborhood bar. When we checked in to the hotel we were given free drink tickets.
We took a nighttime stroll to the Capitol building, seeing what we could of the town. We reminisced about the 2011 protests in response to Governor Walker’s union-busting there, and we were proud to learn that the lovely place was built of Vermont marble. On the way back we picked up dinner (Chinese this time) and headed back to our room.
Conveniently, the elevator to our room stopped at the bar as well, and cashed in our tickets and rode up to our room with pints of local micro-brews.
The Ruby Marie sounds like a lovely find.