Journey to Marquette II

  … listened to WBZ out of Boston on my little transistor radio, stared through the elm leaves at the stars while sipping a YooHoo,  falling asleep around 9:30.  continued … 

 Rides were good the next morning.  Mostly families with kids in Chevy Nomads heading north to Traverse City or Tawas to see the Fall colors and swim in the cold waters of lakes Huron or Michigan one more time before school started after Labor Day.

10724By 12:30 I was in Mackinaw City standing on the upper deck of the ferry waiting to be transported across the Straights of Mackinaw, past Mackinaw Island, with its Grand Hotel and the old fort sitting high and white on top of the island,  to St. Ignace.

I picked up one long ride from St. Ignace into the middle of the Hiawatha National Forest where I got stranded for 30 or 40 minutes, bombarded by huge horseflies before a semi truck driver took pity and drove me the final 40 miles to Marquette, on the northern shoreline of Michigan’s upper peninsula where I arrived around five thirty.

I found coach’s house, knocked on the door watched his mouth drop open then tried to think of a logical explanation (other than he was the best coach I ever had) for hitchhiking 400 miles to see him.

I thought he’d welcome me into his home with open arms.  I was wrong.

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