The Camp

Over the long holiday weekend my extended family gathered in Michigan's Upper Peninsula at a cabin that has been in the family for 38 years. It is a simple cabin with three rooms and a front and back porch. There is no electricity or indoor plumbing; water is gotten by means of an old red, iron hand pump that channels the water into the sink. The experience is rustic and uncluttered.

The cabin is situated in the midst of a vast forested swath of the central UP. The nearest town of any decent population is more than an hour's drive from our eighty acres. When you're at the Camp (as we call it), you're at home in the wild. Four wooden walls separate you from the raw power of nature. It is one of my favorite places in the world. It is to me what Walden Pond was to Thoreau. I am extremely blessed to have access to such a beautiful and restorative place.

Out in front of the cabin is a small lake of perhaps fifteen acres. It is ringed by marshy lowlands that vary in width from a few yards to several hundred yards. Beyond the marshes, birch-forested hills strewn with boulders arise and give shape to the lake's natural basin. Our cabin is the only cabin on the lake. At night, stars like you've never seen fill the sky over the water. Sometimes the northern lights dance on the horizon. Wolves howl often.

I love the cabin itself. It suits its surroundings perfectly - it looks like it's always been there. The kitchen is clustered around the old wood-burning stove in one of the back corners. A big iron grate in the middle of the floor lets up heat from the furnace in the basement. Propane lamps hang from the ceiling and cast their soft light over the room at night. Wide picture windows face southeast, making for a dramatic sunlit awakening for whoever sleeps on the pull-out couch. The interior decor is an eclectic affair: numerous deer antlers and old forest-y prints mixed with 1950s paint-by-numbers and an imitation Salvador Dali painting I did my senior year of high school. Bumper stickers are affixed to the fridge (which we use as a cabinet, since there is no electricity to have it function as a fridge).

The fire pit out in front of the cabin is the true center of life at the Camp. One rock for every year of our ownership of the Camp encircles the fire. Two boulders that my dad excavated from the driveway sit there - one is usually a convenient place for sitting my grandpa's trusty old radio. I like that the radio is our only media up there. It makes things less complicated. You get news and entertainment without all of the sensory overload of TV or internet.

Up at the Camp I feel much more energized than I do in Muncie or Grand Rapids. I think it's because we spend most of our time outside. For a good two hours on Saturday I chopped down small trees in front of the cabin that had become overgrown. It's nice to do some physical work without the pressure of necessity or time constraint. I even enjoyed mowing the lawn. I went to bed exhausted every night.

When Germans Come to Town

Well, distinguished readers, it has been awhile since I've written anything, so I want to update everyone as to the recent goings-on this side of the computer. I haven't blogged in a great long time because of a very happy set of circumstances caused chiefly by the visit to the US of my good friend Florian - of Weil am Rhein, Germany. You may recall some of my posts dealing with my grand tour of the Continent that transpired last May. Those wonderful travels grew out of my visit to him, for which I will ever be thankful. So, long story short, he has been staying in Grand Rapids with me and my family since June 10th and will depart for his home on July 5th.

In the time that he has been here, we have attempted to survey as much of the Midwest as possible, for he did not get much opportunity for travel while he was here on exchange (the genesis of our friendship was caused by him attending my high school my senior year). Chief among the places we sampled was the great city of Chicago. It is one of those cities that never really gets old - this, I believe, was my sixth (give or take) visit. Skyscrapers were gazed at, deep-dish pizza was ingested, and a grand time was had by all.

We shifted gears from the epitome of urban to the epitome of rural as we journeyed from Chicago to the humble town of Nappanee, Indiana (probably my sixth or seventh visit there as well). Several readers of this blog are residents of Nappanee and they were gracious hosts to the two of us. Seeing the Amish was a highlight for Florian and provided a nice contrast to the hustle and bustle of the big city. On our return from Nappanee, we stopped off at the University of Notre Dame to enjoy the sights and atmosphere of that august institution.

Since then, we have stayed closer to home, with a weekend visit to the cottage (involving an entire cohort of the Schmalzel-Mitera clan, in addition to my lovely girlfriend), and a trip to Lake Michigan to enjoy the sun and sand. This past Tuesday, a party was held in Florian's honor which brought together many old friends from high school that I have not seen in some time. The jovial company lasted into the wee hours.

The greatest adventure, however, surely lies ahead. Tomorrow, at the shocking hour of 5am, we (my family, plus Florian, plus my sister's boyfriend) depart for a ten day escapade featuring such locations as Niagara Falls, Upstate New York, Boston, Acadia National Park, and the Province of Quebec. Several of the places on the itinerary will be new to all of us (Quebec City, Acadia, and Boston), while Upstate New York is an old family favorite and Montreal featured on my architecture field trip last October.

Keep us in your prayers for safe travels and the maintenance of everyone's sanity as we embark on what will surely be a memorable week. When I return, expect blogs on a number of things that have occurred recently (Pentecost, Corpus Christi) as well as my thoughts on issues as diverse as the Republican Presidential candidates to the necessity of streetcars in urban Grand Rapids. Until then, Arrivederci!