The Midwest
A week of facts from the Upper Peninsula
The woods were full of flies. The woods were full of deer. Driving on a backcountry road, only as wide as a truck, two black bear cubs ran out in front of us, followed by a young, skinny momma bear.
“Now there’s a teenage pregnancy if I ever saw one,” one of the women in the truck said.
I spent last week in Michigan, the Upper Peninsula, aka the U.P., reporting a story for a forthcoming issue of Travel + Leisure. The story will be mainly about food and I ate really well—gourmet creations sourced from the woods, lakes, and rivers—but it’s also about the setting more broadly, the forests and their people.
To a degree, these are my people: I was born in Chicago, both of my parents are from Chicago, and I grew up going occasionally to my grandparents’ camp in Ontario in the summers. But I hadn’t been in the UP since I was a child, and any memories were dim, so most of my impressions last week felt fresh.
First of all, I stayed several nights in the middle of the woods, far off-grid, and the forest seemed fungal: humid, hot and cold, smelling like wet wool. Some stands of trees were so dense, it was practically nightfall in the middle of the day. There were milkweed plants and ferns, blueberries and raspberries. Also chanterelles and oyster mushrooms, lobster mushrooms, too, so-called for the their orange tint and shellfish-like musk.
With no lights around, night skies were full of stars and meteor showers.
The lakes were black at night and the rivers brown.
The food was very good. One morning I ate quiche with whitefish hash. One night I ate pan-fried walleye with mustard remoulade. At a fish shop on Lake Superior, I bought a tub of smoked whitefish dip to share with other people, along with some Triscuits, and I ate nearly the whole thing myself (and the Triscuits).
Wintergreen ice cream drizzled with plum syrup.
I do not stop for a ButterBurger, but I almost did.
What are the smells of the U.P.? Smoke from a wood fire heating a backcountry sauna. Engine oil from boats and the Super Duties towing them. What are the sights? There seemed to be no need for Trump signs, it was a foregone conclusion, but there was one sign in a yard that said Conceal Carry Classes, Inquire Within.
In a general store selling tackle, jerky, breakfast burritos and local cider, a middle-aged woman asked the cashier, “Hey hon, you guys have a koozie big enough for a wine bottle?”
And in the parking lot outside, a female biker in full leathers and an American flag bandanna—It’s my fucking time embroidered on the back of her vest—asked another female biker about her motorcycle, then said, “Well, hon, it’s a beaut.”
Trees I identified were sugar maple, yellow birch, paper birch, and aspen. Birds I identified were northern cardinals, northern flickers, blue jays, and red-eyed Vireos. There was the call of the whipporwhil. There was the taste of moose. Overall, looking over my notes, there were a lot of primeval forests and lots of white people on vacation. People manning farmer markets, selling black raspberries and summer squash, and a young couple smoking cigarettes, pushing a baby carriage along the side of the road.
I’m not sure I’ve experienced better customer service than what I witnessed at a Tractor Supply store. I drank the best mushroom tea of my life—albeit, the only mushroom tea, but the best.
Several times, the skies poured rain, and mosquitoes bit me through my jeans.
May the Midwest live forever in its fungal Christmas sweater.
𓀠 Tomorrow’s 3+ things for members:
Answering a reader’s inquiry about walking shoes that are actually stylish
The best field pants I’ve tried—for camp days, manual labor, gardening
An espionage novel for fans of Slow Horses
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What the what
“Meditations in an Emergency” is a weekly essay from author Rosecrans Baldwin about something beautiful. Paying subscribers receive a Sunday supplement with three-plus things to love, plus a monthly travel-lust ballyhoo.
Rosecrans is a correspondent for GQ, a contributor at Travel + Leisure, and the bestselling author of Everything Now, winner of the California Book Award. Other books include The Last Kid Left and Paris, I Love You but You’re Bringing Me Down. His debut novel, You Lost Me There, was a New York Times Book Review Editors’ Choice.
For magazine articles, bio, contact info: rosecransbaldwin.com.
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A beautiful snapshot of my beloved home state
Wonderful. Brought me right back to my days growing up in Michigan, albeit the LP.