Last weekend’s M.U.S.H. (Mid-Union Sled Haulers) dog sled race at Clear Lake State Park, near Atlanta (Michigan), caught me unawares in the adventurous hat department. This musher wore a knitted hat with dog fur spun into the yarn. Siberian Huskie, I believe.  It works for the athletes doing all the pulling, so why not also for the musher?

These Samoyeds donated their hair to be spun and knitted into another warm hat:

Samoyeds go through a massive twice-yearly shed (they “blow hair”) and also basically keep up a steady supply of tufts that a dedicated dog hair spinner put to good use in this hat. Its owner told me that there’s nothing warmer. This hat looks like it’s felted and molded itself to its owner’s head. The Samoyed has longer guard hairs but it’s the shorter, softer undercoat that sheds seasonally.

This musher looked so perky in what might have been a synthetic fur, I thought I’d show off her hat for its inspirational value. It takes a confident woman to pull off this look. (And she does!)

Finally, there’s this gentleman. Yes, for me, at first there’s a strong gross-out factor. But that wears off. Mushers have very strong bonds to their dogs. Since this was an event celebrating dogs, I assumed this was one (and not a coyote, for example). And I’m imagining that this was likely a very special dog. Maybe a team leader. Maybe he had heroic moments somehow. Maybe he spent tons of hours by his master’s campfire. Or I suppose maybe his master just decided he’d make a nice hat. Waste not, want not. Anyway, here they are:

I thought the races would be interesting and they were (see my previous post). But I was surprised that the day also provided some knitting inspiration.

This weekend we saw our first sled dog race. A Mid-Union Sled Haulers (M.U.S.H.) race. It was a perfect day for spectators. 20 degrees and sunny. About 8 inches of snow on the trails. We watched the 5-dog event and the very exciting 7-dog event. We also watched one and two-dog skijoring.  In skijoring, a cross-country skier wears a harness and is connected to dogs by a length of rope. The dogs are also harnessed. The skier skis like crazy and the dogs run like crazy.

Before their races, we walked around and met the dogs.  All of them seemed to be in game day mode. Some paced a bit. Some barked. Many rested calmly. They were well-fed, well-groomed, and well-hydrated as all fine athletes must be.

Every team had its top dog. This alpha, leading a 7-dog team, was howling in wolf-like fashion as the team’s handlers were harnessing the dogs into place. The message?  I imagined: “Team…this is it! This is what we live for! The chance to run full out and show what we’re made of!”

There were many young people tending to the dogs. Feeding and watering them.  Shoveling up LOTS of poop because that’s a M.U.S.H. must. Leave nothing but pawprints behind.

M.U.S.H. allows no whips. Except in the one-dog event, each musher must carry a dog bag. If a dog is hurt, he’ll be picked up by the musher, tucked into the bag (on the sled) and packed out by his buddies. I came away feeling that these folks understand the responsibility that comes with participating in a two-species sport.

Enjoy some scenes from the day. My next post will feature some amazing musher hats–including some knit with yarn spun from dog hair.

The light was perfect on a breezy November Day. This is the view from where the road ends at Lake Huron, in Harrisville. Harrisville is the County seat of Alcona County.

As of the 2010 census, 493 people lived in Harrisville. So, a very small town, in a remote section of Northeastern Michigan. A fine example of what the “sunrise side” offers: big water, tall trees, and a neighborly feel.

Some call ice fog “pogonip.” Pogonip is an adaption of the Shoshone word for cloud (pakenappah). That’s what The Old Farmer’s Almanc is referring to in December when it says: “Beware the pogonip.”

On a perfect spring or summer day, when everything is perky and bright anyway, rainbows are just the frosting on the cake. Very yummy but sort of more than you need. But once fall really gets going, it’s way different. It’s been raining for days and days now. You feel, in your bones, how cold it’s soon going to be. You are checking for cracks in every shell you live in trying to figure out how the cold will get at you.  Through the patio doors.  Through the electrical sockets. Through socks that have sprouted holes. Through a sweater that’s somehow not buttoning right anymore. You are bracing for the winter.

And then a rainbow like this happens. There is nothing better than a rainbow arched in a deep gray fall sky.

In a clearing off Sorenson Road, near Hillman’s Long Lake.  October 27, 2011.

It’s drop dead beautiful here. The science of fall colors doesn’t seem to be much of a science. But wet weather followed by cold weather followed by very wet weather followed by very warm weather must have been the ticket.

This is just a taste of Montmorency County at its showiest. The maples are especially red this year. The birch are especially golden. And the steady green of the pines anchors the scene.

All it took were some thunderstorms that kept us off the water. A few extra hands pitched in. Soon the 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle was completed. In record time. No pieces missing, though there were a few desperate moments at the end until I found some of Holland’s tulips hiding out under the coffee table.

Michigan and Michiganders (yes, that’s the unfortunate name we call ourselves) are hurting a lot. We’re in a heck of a mess these days. We need to put our fine state’s pieces back together for real.

Check out this vintage northern Michigan travel video from 1949. We don’t ride around on our sand dunes wrecking up the fragile native plants anymore. And we don’t entertain visitors by chaining up our bear population. We know who picks our fruit trees clean and what a hard life they lead and we don’t pretend that it’s the local high school cheerleader squad. I watch this video, fascinated that this might really have been Michigan just three years before I was born.

The Plath’s Smoked Meats story goes way back. Way back to 1913 when Emil Plath, Sr, a German immigrant, opened his small butcher shop in Rogers City and began selling sausages. I’m thinking many a homesick sailor out on the Great Lakes, and sailors shipped out of Rogers City in large numbers in those days, daydreamed about Emil’s sausages.

Plath’s is still going strong 98 years later. Their smoked pork is wonderful. We’ve also tried their hot dogs, polish sausage, bratwurst, and salami. Everything has been great. And their bacon tastes like bacon used to.

The third generation of Plaths runs the business now. Maybe it was Emil who bought the cash register. A big, big, bronze-colored, ornate cash register. With keys!  Keys, imagine that. Check out Plath’s website. But really, with a cash register like that, and such a hoot of a hot dog mascot, who needs a website anyway? Go to Rogers City and check out Plath’s in person but, at the very least, order some of their yummy smoked stuff via the web.

From Hillman to Rogers City is a pretty ride. Take your bikes with you and bike the Rogers City bike path along Lake Huron all the way to the 40th Mile Lighthouse. If your bike breaks, visit the Rogers City “BIKE SHOP” on Second Street (closed on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday). You can get your bike fixed, buy a snazzy new one, check out the selection of vintage guitars and water bottles, look through their old books and tons of what-nots, see their fence constructed of bike parts, and enjoy the shop’s special eccentricities. So go even if your bike is in good shape. Don’t miss the vintage, restored VW yellow Beetle in the backyard.

And, once you get to Plath’s, be sure to stop by The Painted Lady next door. They have everything from Polish Pottery (on the first floor) to a stuffed wolf (on the second floor). Toys, jewelry, books on local history, hand-crafts, kitchen stuff, a coffee shop, a framing store. The Painted Lady is one of the best gift shops in northeastern Michigan. Their facebook page has no photos, no discussions, no reviews, and nothing on their wall, but that’s because they are busy tending their really cute shop.

The sunrise side is not a shopping mecca.  But  there are some standouts and Rogers City has corralled a bunch of them.

This is April 3rd on Hillman’s Long Lake. Geez. We checked our logs. Last April 3rd we had just gotten the dock into the water.  Ice out occurred about two weeks earlier. On April 3, 2010 we were paddling in Ghost Bay and I saw a giant pike spring out of the big weed bed. There was a loon near Belly Button Island. And this year? Well, you’re looking at it.

We are crying “uncle” here in Michigan. And it has nothing to do with the fact that about a week and half ago we were paddling in the waters off Cedar Key, Florida.

I drove home today through sleet, freezing rain, and snow. Made it home without incident, but many others were not so fortunate. Cars were in ditches, flipped over in the median, and sitting by the side of the road apparently waiting for the blizzard to pass. I-75 was awash in emergency vehicles and motorists in trouble. There were definitely moments when I wished we had not followed our habit of  swapping out the snow tires in mid-March.

I hope our feathered migrants know not to head here yet. Loons? Stay where you are. And you ruby-throated hummingbirds? I assume you’ve left Costa Rico, but definitely hang out in Tennessee and warmer places awhile longer. Michigan is no place for the delicate ones this early April.

Northeastern Michigan is sinkhole country. It has nothing to do with our economy at present. Geological structures. Shakeholes. Swallowholes. Sinkholes.

A sinkhole is a depression in the earth’s surface caused, here in Michigan, by the chemical dissolution of carbonate rocks–like limestone and dolomite. Groundwater is what mostly causes the rocks to dissolve.There is a gradual removal of these somewhat soluble bedrock deposits and, often suddenly, bedrock is not quite so bedrock anymore. Geologists call northeastern Michigan, especially around Onaway, Lachine and throughout Presque Isle County, a karst landscape. It explains why we mine so much limestone around these parts.  Northeastern Michigan’s karst landscape is shaped by dissolving layers of soluble limestone. The Michigan Karst Conservancy is working hard to preserve some of Michigan’s sinkholes, including “twin” sinkholes in Alpena County. Unfortunately, and sadly, they are under attack by forces that include illegal trash dumping.

You are looking into sinkhole #1 (of 5) at Sinkholes Pathway, near Shoepac Lake. Shoepac Lake is also a sinkhole, but it’s filled with water. You’ll find it at N 45° 14.606, W 084° 10.121. If that doesn’t work for you, it’s about 10 miles South of Onaway. Take M-33 south to Tomahawk Lake Highway. Turn east, following the signs to Shoepac Lake Campground. There are some “sinkhole” signs too.  Small, brown, and easy to miss. (The signs, not the sinkholes.) Parking for the Sinkholes Pathway is about a mile beyond the campground, on the west side of the road by Shoepac Lake. The sinkholes are on the east side of the road.

This is not a heavily attended site. The trails need grooming. And don’t lean very heavily on the handrails. When you see the condition they are in you won’t be tempted to lean at all. But it’s a very cool place:  a 2.4 mile loop of 5 sinkholes.  At sinkhole #1 you can walk those 219 steps down, and take the 438 steps back up.

Here’s the map at the trailhead:

Here’s the FREEP’s report on the area:

Here’s another view of Sinkhole #1:

And here’s the demon in the wizard hat who guards the sinkholes. It saw the formation of three of them. Take heed of the wild-eyed gaze and the tongue frozen mid-scream in a curled back position. Pray you are not present when sinkhole #6 forms.