Hi all,

How do you like the weather? Someone told me once that hell freezes over at 500 degrees below zero; schools in Northern Wisconsin open on a 2-hour delay.

Well, there’s no question we’re back into regular winters again. Perfect. Along with the sucky economy, we just sit in front of the woodstove, bitch, drink cheap beer and dream about summer vacation.

Last week I received an email from Dave, one of my co-workers from the summer of ’79 when I lived and worked on Michigan’s Mackinac Island. He just got around to reading my blog from last July where I recounted my summer reunion at Fort Mackinac.

A star is born

Dave thanked me for recapturing our youth and stirring a lot of memories from the days when we were all young and skinny. He loved the stories from the summer we shared the Island with the cast of the movie Somewhere in Time. It was being filmed on “The Rock” that summer and it wasn’t uncommon to bump into its stars: the late Christopher Reeves, the still living Christopher Plummer and mega-babe, Jane Seymour. You may not believe this, but I too was counted among its stars, although my “extra” role most likely ended up on the cutting room floor.

There seems to be some regional affection for a place just a little quirky, a little behind the times and where horses have replaced the automobile. Whenever I blog about Mackinac Island, I get the most emails from readers eager for more. So I thought I’d give you folks pondering a trip to the rocky dot just off the coast of St. Ignace a few insider tips from someone who once lived there.

The fudgies

First of all, ALL visitors to Mackinac Island are called “fudgies.” It’s not really a term of endearment but accurately describes the island’s leading export and the people who shovel it into their faces in half-pound lots.

Secondly, when you visit, no matter what anyone living or working on the island tells you, the freaking Mackinac Bridge does not lift off its trestles and swing over to the island when the summer season is over. That’s just another way the stagnant, working class have a little fun at your expense while you wolf down a slab of Snicker-doodle fudge and ask stupid questions.

Other than four emergency vehicles, there are no other cars on Mackinac Island. Never has been, never will be. Everyone rides one-speed bikes with big baskets between the handlebars. Except the law enforcement, who ride “tricked-out" 10-speeds.

Law enforcement on the island are affectionately known as “Barneys,” as in Barney Fife from Andy of Mayberry fame. Those lucky enough to pull law enforcement duty on Mackinac Island fill their days with missing bike reports, open intoxicant violations and the most severe of all summer crimes: excessive display of miss-matched pastel colors and knee high white socks.

Not the Grand but grand enough

If you’re looking for a place to stay and you missed my July blog, your first instinct is to recite, “The Grand.” The Grand Hotel has become synonymous with Mackinac Island accommodations. The Grand, in my opinion, has thrived on pretentious travelers for over 100 years, offering their unique brand of snobbery with those God-awful, crushed velvet, violet-colored carpets.

On our visit last June, we opted for the traveler-friendly Murray Hotel. It’s centrally located on the Main drag (all three blocks!), a few steps away from half a dozen pubs, loaded with period antiques, and for those of you destined to play the "fudgie," has its own fudge shop right inside the front door. Its rates are a third of the Grand’s and you don’t get the attitude or the pomposity of the joint on the hill. Don’t expect spacious digs; you will be staying in a historic inn and if your idea of vacation is sitting in a hotel room watching CNN when you could be out exploring history, then Mackinac Island is not the stop for you.

Coming home to The Chuckwagon

Sooner or later, you’re going to want to eat. And you should be forewarned that the dining experience on Mackinac Island is over-rated and quite expensive. Remember, your dinner has to be shipped across the Straits of Lake Huron by ferry, where it will be met at the docks by a horse-drawn dray and then dragged back to your hotel. Yes it’s expensive. If you don’t mind paying $32 for an eight-ounce sliver of grilled Great lakes Whitefish, you’re going to love dining on Mackinac Island. You won’t have to travel far to find a $12 hamburger or a $7 Margarita either.

There are times in life when I judge a restaurant by quantity, not quality. Thirty years ago, I found a little gem tucked away on the main drag. Located in a neighborhood dominated by fudge shops and T-shirt boutiques, The Chuckwagon is one of those places you won’t see a long line of tourists waiting to get in. Actually, when I lived on the island, it was the only restaurant the island workers would eat at. I was glad to find The Chuckwagon was still in its same old, unpretentious spot and still serving large portions at fairly affordable prices.

Thomas Wolf was wrong when he said you can’t go home again. You can still visit The Chuckwagon, and for about eight bucks get a plate filled with mounds of hash browns, crunchy eggs dripping with bacon grease and slabs of Texas toast to sop up all the greasy-goodness left on your face and plate. Now that’s good eating. There’s no purple linen face towels at The Chuckwagon. Thank God for that.

Buster and Barney

You can bring your bike and explore the eight-mile round island, or you can rent one from one of the many vendors along the main corridor. Eventually, you’re going to want to act like a tourist and join the scores of other pastel-wearing visitors for a horse-drawn carriage ride

Most of the 100 or so carriages on the island are pulled by massive Belgium draft horses. The terrain is hilly along the carriage route and those horses get a good work-out. If you’re a member of PETA and feel compelled to visit the island to make a fuss, there’s something you should know about this special breed of horse. They love to pull. Let me tell you about Buster and Barney.

The summer I lived on the island playing dress-up soldier, a part of our job was manning the North Gate of the Fort, along the Avenue of Flags. A horse-drawn carriage stuffed with tourists would pull up in front of Fort Mackinac as the last stop of the tour before continuing down the hill to Main Street. On the days assigned to the North Gate, it would be our job to greet each carriage and try to entice the complacent lot of each carriage to step off for a tour of the Fort.

Although we worked for different employers, those of us in The Fort got to know the carriage operators pretty well. After work, we’d meet up in the “fishbowl” window table in Horn’s Bar for a cold beer or six. We’d make fun of the tourists and talk shop. Invariably the conversation would turn to the beasts of burden who provided their livelihood.

Most of these drivers loved their horses. They would tell us how these animals would have to work nearly every day or they weren’t happy. The stars of the show were two Belgiums named Buster and Barney. They had worked together for nearly 30 years (pretty old for horses) and when the stable hands went to the barn to hitch up the teams, Buster and Barney were waiting at the door, eager to hit the streets.

Whenever a carriage pulled up to the Avenue of Flags and we greeted the visitors, I always made a point of drawing their attention to the large bold letters painted on the back of each row of seats: “NO TIPPING.”

I’d grab the posts supporting the carriage roof and give the wagon a violent shove. Then I’d repeat my usual line: “You know, folks, Greg here, is one of the best drivers on the island. Despite the rough and bumpy ride, you can rest assured these solid carriages will not tip.” I’d give the carriage another shake before I’d continue. “In fact, they guarantee it by painting the No Tipping sign on the seat in front of you. Remember Greg kindly when he gets you safely down the hill.”

At the fishbowl later that day, drinks were free, thanks to Greg and his pocket full of tips. It was a sweet deal and one I’d almost forgotten. I guess that’s enough reminiscing for today. I hope you enjoy your visit to “the rock.” Until next time, I’ll remain,

Red Beans and Ricely yours.

Jeff