jumpingfish

My cousin’s directions were clear and quite explicit, as they usually are. I asked several follow-ups that revealed my ignorance, as I often do. He clarified, and that was that.

I plugged their yellow extension cord into an outlet on the side of the cottage and ran it halfway to their trailer. I connected their black 30-amp cord to the yellow cord, covering the connection with an upside down red bucket in case of rain. (The bucket had a note affixed to it about being Bette’s special cleaning bucket, but as it had been lying outside next to the wood pile, I figured repurposing it would be no flagrant violation of the rules. But I digress.) Finally I screwed the black cord into the outlet on the side of my cousin’s trailer.

Mission Accomplished, I thought as I went to turn on the interior lights. Click. Nothing. Click on another switch. Nothing. Click click. Nothing and nothing. 

The yellow extension cord was glowing, so the power was certainly on. I looked around a bit more and flipped other switches but got no closer to the desired result. So I set off to get my brother. Certainly he would know what to do. They have a bigger trailer that probably has a similar boot-up sequence.

He came over to our cousin’s trailer and clicked the switches. Nothing. I showed him the breaker/fuse panel under the bed — nothing obvious there. We were puzzled. (I just know we both also lamented how hard it was for us to screw our bodies into that small space to see the breakers only to find that our eyes were not up to the task. But I digress.) We walked around the outside of the trailer, looking for an on/off switch. He took me over to their trailer and showed me the switch on the outside, and we walked back looking for something similar.

There on the tongue of our cousin’s trailer was a big bright silver switch with the words ON and an arrow pointing one way and OFF with an arrow pointing the other way. We rejoiced. I flipped the switch. Nothing. Then we looked down at the switch on the tongue of the trailer. It was on a completely disconnected piece of metal that wasn’t attached to the trailer at all. (I could have tossed it into the woods. Oh the shame of such cluelessness. But I digress.)

We went back inside to look around again. Nothing new. All still dark. Night time was approaching. My brother stepped outside and turned around.

“What is that?” he asked, pointing at a covered outlet near the floor.

I bent way over and pulled my head way back so that I could focus my way-old eyes on the outlet cover. It had a lightning bolt on it. We flipped the cover open to reveal a switch that said ON in one direction and OFF in the other. My brother flipped the switch.

And then there was light.

The Tahquamenon River upstream

and downstream

By the shores of Gitchi Gumi.

By the shining Big-Sea-Water.

The fair and industrious Trudy has a special place in her heart for rocks.

We turned north, leaving Lake Gogebic behind us. Two years ago, David camped there, leaving Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State park for another trip. This was that trip.

The temperatures got cooler and cooler. There were fewer and fewer cars on the road, which amazingly enough got smoother and smoother. The sun sank lower and lower into the west, throwing longer and longer shadows further and further across the road.

We followed Michigan 64 straight north through the forest until it went north no more. A yellow sign indicated our only options. The highway continued to the right toward Ontonagon. In front of us was Lake Superior. Our destination was to the left.

We turned left, eagerly anticipating four nights in The Porkies with weather in the 50s as Austin baked in the upper 90s. What a difference 17.4 degrees in latitude makes… and the largest freshwater lake in the world (by surface area).