Hydrodynamic | Part 4, America's Emerald Isle

Friday, May 12: Goodbye, Cherry Capital

Daybreak, Traverse City, my final morning in Michigan. Like Phineas and Ferb, I started the day by contemplating my plans. Before leaving New York, I wrote up an entire wish list of people I wanted to see, places I wanted to explore, and airports that I wanted to visit. There was no realistic way to tackle the entire list and, with an unplanned extra day of seaplane flying, I had to narrow my goals even further.

As it was, my high school friend Ross expected me in Muskegon, MI around 3:30 pm that afternoon. I did not want to risk being late by straying too far north and chose Beaver Island as the best destination to keep me on schedule.

Goodbye Cherry Capital! So long and thanks for the Moomers!

The Lion Bear Sleeps Tonight

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hrs)	Total (hrs)
12 May 2023	N21481	TVC (Traverse City, MI) - SJX (Beaver Island, MI) - CVX (Charlevoix, MI) - MKG (Muskegon, MI) - AZO (Kalamazoo, MI)	3.9	2640.3

Aloft, I turned westbound toward the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore for sightseeing. It was my first time over the dunes since 2012.

Silver Lake with Duck and Green Lakes in the background.

Along the way, I flew over my new favorite "runway", Silver Lake. The distinctive round island in the lake is inhabited and every approach I made there was done with careful consideration of nearly invisible power lines supplying electricity to the island.

Below, I caught sight of Tom's Super Cruiser waiting patiently for her next pupil. What a great airplane! What a great instructor!

Minutes later, I reached the sandy Lake Michigan shore and turned north toward the Sleeping Bear Dunes.

Sleeping Bear Dunes.

The quality of light that morning was not well suited to photographing a west-facing dune, but I spotted the same "erosion phenomenon" that initially puzzled us in 2012. People obviously still can't read signs.

Sleeping Bear Dunes photographed in better light on 18 August 2012.

At their highest, the impressive dunes tower 400 feet over the surface of Lake Michigan. Sleeping Bear is no mere sandbox.

From Sleeping Bear, I followed the shoreline northeast toward Charlevoix, MI where I would make the jump across part of Lake Michigan to Beaver Island. Charlevoix is the mainland port city where passengers depart for the island by boat and aircraft.

Watercolors

I turned eastbound across the Leelanau Peninsula to cross the twin arms of Grand Traverse Bay and the Old Mission Peninsula that divides them. As on the previous morning, the color of the water was absolutely stunning.

Old Mission Peninsula.

Old Mission Point.

Over Old Mission Peninsula and about to cross the east branch of Grand Traverse Bay.

I overflew the all-turf Torchport Airport (59M). As a new aircraft owner in 2004, I attended my first fly-in pancake breakfast there. That day also marked my first time flying cross country over the clouds and featured some close formation work with Dave near Sleeping Bear. Torchport represents a memorable destination from an early, memorable aviation adventure.

Shoreline of Torch Lake.

Cherry blossom time.

Lake Charlevoix.

Charlevoix, MI with the airport visible near top of frame.

Downtown Charlevoix, Round Lake, and the Pine River channel leading out to Lake Michigan.

The Madness of King James

Beaver Island is 20 nautical miles north-northwest of Charlevoix. Air service from Charlevoix to the island's two airports is provided by Fresh Air Aviation to the Beaver Island Airport and Island Airways to the Welke Airport. 

Beaver Island.

I arrived over the island trailing an Island Airways commuter inbound for Welke. That day, the Emerald Isle failed to live up to its reputation for verdigris. An overcast sapped much of the color that was present and still-bare deciduous trees gave the island a brownish-violet cast. Surrounded by cold Lake Michigan water, Beaver Island was trapped in a delayed spring relative to the rest of the northern Mitten.

The island is the largest in Lake Michigan, measuring 13 miles long and 6 miles wide. From above, the island is visibly ringed by sandy beaches. Densely wooded, it is nonetheless home to the town of St James, two airports, and 600 year-round residents.

Near the north end of the island, Welke Airport came into view as well as the town of St James arranged around Paradise Bay.

St James is named for James Strang (1813-1856), controversial rival of Brigham Young for control of the Mormon church after assassination of founder Joseph Smith in 1844. Strang ultimately failed to capture the hearts and minds of the Mormon flock. Instead, he and his followers (Strangites) came to Beaver Island in 1848 where Strang established a theocratic monarchy and declared himself king. The history of Beaver Island under Strang is fascinatingly convoluted. It involves coerced tithes collected from non-Mormon island residents under threat of violence, accusations of Strangite piracy in the shipping lanes, and the so-called War of Whiskey Point where Strang repelled foes bent on his ouster with canon fire. Initially an outspoken critic of polygamy, Strang changed his tune when he met 19 year old Elvira Field and ultimately collected a coterie of five wives that collectively birthed enough children to staff a smartphone factory. Strang was assassinated in 1856 by disaffected former followers and the Strangites were forcibly expelled from Beaver Island shortly thereafter. It’s good to be the king...until it gets you shot in the back. The Strangite branch of the Mormon church still exists with its epicenter in Voree, Wisconsin.

St James arranged around Paradise Bay.

Today, St James seems a bit more idyllic than its turbulent 1850s history would suggest with place names being the most significant remnants of that time.

Rounding the north end of Beaver Island, I spotted Beaver Island Airport, the larger of the two island airfields.

Beaver Island Airport (SJX).

Base to final turn, runway 27, Beaver Island Airport.

Final approach, runway 27, Beaver Island.

On final approach, I saw something that puzzled me. The parking lot for the airport was filled with a multitude of cars! On further consideration, it stands to reason that island residents flying out to the mainland would need to leave their cars somewhere.

Generosity and Trust

Beaver Island Airport seemed to be entirely deserted when I arrived on that gloomy morning. A nice looking terminal building invited exploration.

Inside, the terminal building was cozy and well-outfitted, its walls covered with vintage photographs of aircraft operating from Beaver Island.

The place had a rustic decor with a modern sensibility.

When I was done exploring the small building, I introduced myself to Lisa, the sole staffer on site that morning. It was my understanding that the airport was generous with courtesy cars for visitors to explore the island or run into St James for a meal. But when I asked Lisa about a car, she made a face and explained that they did not have any available at the moment.

After a pause while she sized me up, she asked how long I needed a car. Keeping my meeting with Ross firmly in mind, I replied that I needed to be on my way by lunchtime.

"Oh! Well, in that case, just take my car." She pointed outside at a Jeep SUV. "Door is unlocked, keys are in it. Just don't wreck it!" I was struck by the same bewilderment that I experienced with the honor system aviation fuel in Boyne City. After a few rounds of "are you sure?", I was at the wheel and negotiating narrow dirt roads through a dense forest in the borrowed SUV.

Beacon for the Ancient Mariner

I decided to investigate the Beaver Head Lighthouse, reportedly the third oldest tower on the Great Lakes. Although the original light was operating by 1851, that tower collapsed in 1858 and needed to be rebuilt.

It is a misplaced lighthouse and should have been sited two miles farther west. It took 103 years and the direct intervention of President Eisenhower to finally resolve the property ownership issue.

A set of steep wooden stairs led to a beautiful beach on the south side of the island. Had the sky been clear and the trees of a different variety, it could have easily been mistaken for a tropical paradise. The conifers suggested otherwise.

From there, I journeyed north to St James. After so much time on narrow dirt roads, I enjoyed the wide smooth pavement of King's Highway, another surviving vestige of King Strang's reign.

I noticed that the driver of every oncoming vehicle waved at me. I was not quite sure if this was island custom or if Lisa was just super popular and everyone I passed thought I was her. Either way, I reflexively waved at every vehicle I encountered and found myself surprisingly annoyed at the one driver who did not wave back.

There are multiple museums in St James, including the Mormon Print Shop. It was built by Strang's followers to print the Northern Islander, one of the first newspapers in northern Michigan. In reality, the publication was little more than a propaganda vehicle for King Strang. There was also the Marine Museum and the Feodar Protar Cabin. The latter is a vintage log cabin that was home to an Estonian immigrant who practiced medicine on the island as a self-taught and unlicensed doctor until his death in 1925. If I had more time, these places would have been well worth investigating

The Ruby Ann clearly needs some work.

A decommissioned 1933 tugboat, the Shamrock, complete with peace-sign life preserver.

Small World Moments

I returned to the airport and assured Lisa that I neither hit anything with her car, nor got it stuck on a beach, nor drove it off a pier. She balked at the gas money I offered, but when she mentioned that island gas prices were over $5/gal, I insisted that she accept some compensation for her generosity and trust.

I commented on the delayed spring. She agreed, noting that blooming occurred two months earlier where she grew up in southern Indiana.

"Oh!" I said. "Where in southern Indiana? I went to school in Bloomington."

She looked stunned for a moment. "Bloomington," she answered disbelievingly.

She asked if I climbed inside the lighthouse tower. I did not realize that was an option and she offered her car a second time so that I could return. "You're already here and I won't need it for a while yet." It was a compelling offer, but time was getting short and after waffling a moment, I declined.

Clearly, I need to return to Beaver Island someday to explore the lighthouse and the other museums. Nevertheless, I enjoyed my cursory exploration.

Express Flight to the Mainland

Departing Beaver Island with High Island visible to the left.

I launched to the west and proceeded counter clockwise around Beaver Island. By ADS-B, I could see that another Island Airways aircraft was Charlevoix-bound from Welke and I made an effort to stay out of its way as we both proceeded south from opposite sides of the island.

Is that a shipwreck (or maybe two) that I see in the clear water?

Beaver Head Lighthouse.

Beaver Head Lighthouse.

I always enjoy revisiting lighthouses from a couple of thousand feet up.

A final look at Beaver Island.

After one final look at Beaver Island, I turned southbound and followed Island Airways to Charlevoix. Witnessing multiple north-south flights between east-west runways in the two locations, I noticed that the Island Airways aircraft eschewed traditional traffic patterns for crosswind departures and base entries. No time or distance was wasted on any hop.

Named for Some French Guy

From over Lake Michigan, looking south at Charlevoix, Round Lake, and Lake Charlevoix.

Ship access to inland Lake Charlevoix from Lake Michigan is granted via a channel (the Pine River) that passes through downtown Charlevoix (complete with drawbridge) to Round Lake and ultimately to the massive Lake Charlevoix that terminates at Boyne City and East Jordan.

A huge, ugly cement plant dominates a portion of the Lake Michigan shore in otherwise charming Charlevoix. 

Someone dug a huge freaking hole next to the Charlevoix Municipal Airport (#256)! Charlevoix is a good place to avoid landing short. Somehow, I managed to avoid smacking into the fantail of Charlevoix's "aircraft carrier".

Hosting two ferry operations to Beaver Island, the Charlevoix terminal building had a much more commercial feel to it than the average municipal airport. I was immediately greeted and offered assistance. I declared that I was heading into town for lunch and was offered a list of worthy destinations. Based on reviews, I had already chosen the Weathervane as a destination, about a mile walk down US-31 from the airport. The helpful staffer offered a loaner bicycle, but I declined it because I really needed the walk.

I had good sidewalks the entire way and found the downtown area to be charming. My Traverse City hotel was also on US-31, so the highway formed something of a through line during my northern Michigan stay. Where it passes through downtown Charlevoix, it is known as Bridge Street, named for the drawbridge over the Pine River.

Looking north from the west side of the drawbridge, the Pine River serves as a channel between Lake Michigan and the inland lakes. Charlevoix's red pierhead lighthouse is visible in the distance. Immediately across the channel was my destination, Stafford's Weathervane.

Entering the Weathervane, my first impression was of a place a little past its prime. The decor was a bit dated and reminded me of the type of place my stodgy paternal grandparents would have favored. But large picture windows gave a beautiful view of Pine River and boat traffic outside the restaurant. I even saw the drawbridge operate once to pass a sailboat through the channel. The staff were friendly and my lunch was as delicious as it was well-portioned.

Unexpected Nostalgia

Great Lakes whitefish is a staple in this part of the world and I ordered beer battered fish and chips. My maternal grandmother, who emigrated from a Scottish fishing community to Detroit as a teenager, was a lifelong fish and chips adherent. Mom would take her to fancy restaurants only to become exasperated when grandma would only order fish and chips. My grandmother passed on to me a passion for science fiction, deep recognition of the meditative benefits of a walk in the woods, and an affinity for fish and chips. As I ate, all I could think about was how much she would have loved the Weathervane's fish and chips! I also devoured a cup of "Great Lakes chowder" that was aptly described as being like New England clam chowder with whitefish substituted for the clams. Because fish shreds so easily, the chowder had a uniformly thick texture with delicate filaments of whitefish suspended throughout. It was delicious. Two thumbs up for the Weathervane, not only for an excellent meal, but for conjuring fond memories of my wonderful grandmother.

And to think, I actually believed that I had seen my last fudge shop for the trip when I left Mackinac Island!

More Reunions

For the second time that week, I set a heading for Muskegon. This flight was more pleasant and lacked the rough air, near midair, and ruminations on recent failure that plagued the previous flight to Muskegon.

More watercolors.

Cherry Capital Airport.

Proceeding south, the sky became progressively more overcast. I flew through rain, but it was never heavy enough to require transitioning from VFR to instruments. Minneapolis Center provided flight following until I reached the lower half of the Mitten where Great Lakes Approach took over.

Muskegon Lake.

Arriving during a light rain shower, I was directed to enter a left base for runway 14 at Muskegon. The last time I landed on Muskegon's runway 14, I was a student pilot at the helm of a two seat Cessna on a solo cross country flight. I had less than 30 hours in my logbook and found the water near the runway threshold to be a novel sight. That was a long time ago.

I shut down on Executive Air's ramp right on time, 3:30 pm. Somehow, despite a somewhat meandering visit to Beaver Island and a longish walk to and from downtown Charlevoix for a sit-down lunch, I managed to hit my promised arrival time to the minute. Inside the Executive Air building, I found Ross talking animatedly with a line boy and aspiring pilot who had played football with his son.

Ross and me. Why can I never figure out where to look when taking a selfie? I know where the camera objective is!

In high school, my friendship with Ross kind of snuck up on me. I had known him for years. He was always bright and we had many classes together. He was also gregarious (far more than I ever was) and loved sports (in ways I never did). The more time we spent together, the more of a connection I felt with him and, by the time we were high school seniors, I was spending a lot of time with him and Alex (whom Kristy and I visited in Maine last summer). All these years later, he is the same guy in many ways. Enthusiastic, friendly, optimistic, and funny. He led me on a tour of his adopted home town and introduced me to two of his three kids (the third was out of town) and his significant other. It was Ross' daughter's birthday and the family happily received me into their home as part of a low-key birthday dinner. Beforehand, I worried about intruding on their celebration, but everyone was open and welcoming. There are few things that make me happier than seeing my favorite people thriving and it was terrific to see Ross doing so well and surrounded by the wonderful people who meant the most to him.

Returning Home

(Oh, were you thinking I meant NY? Nope!)

Grand Haven, MI

I launched into the gloom with light rain dampening western Michigan and steered for Kalamazoo, my final stop for the day. By now, Warrior 481 was filthy, covered in yellow Traverse City pollen that was made blotchy by multiple light rain showers. 

A sunbeam reflects off of Lake Michigan as the overcast breaks up.

Kristy and I moved to Kalamazoo in 1999. I had lived many places before that, attending four different elementary schools by the time I was ten years old. But most of those moves were out of my control. Kalamazoo was a home that I chose. It was a good home and I always look forward to returning. 

Being there was also an opportunity to visit with Kent and YY. Kent and I were in graduate school together, worked our first jobs in Kalamazoo together (even sharing a lab at one point), trained for our private pilot certificates together, and moved our families to Rochester, NY together during the "UberCo" diaspora. When our Rochester, NY employer was decimated in 2013, Kent and YY returned to Kalamazoo whereas Kristy and I stayed in Rochester. 

It is no exaggeration to say that Kent and I have been through some life-changing events together, both positive and negative, and he has remained one of my best friends for the last 20+ years. When I decided on a plan to earn a seaplane rating in Michigan in 2023, Kent was the first person I called to arrange a visit.

Kalamazoo, MI.

Somewhere between Muskegon and Kalamazoo, I emerged from beneath the overcast and was favored with a view of my former home warmed by a golden hour aura.

Kalamazoo, MI.

I will never fail to recognize certain features of this city. I immediately spotted the Radisson hotel, the public library, the courthouse, and Buildings 267 and 300 that survived the early 2000s ravages of "UberCo". As I flew past, I was saddened to realize that after 17 years away, I no longer recognized many other features of the city.

On a left base for runway 5, Kalamazoo / Battle Creek International Airport.

Then, there it was: KAZO. The place where I took my first introductory flight lesson, where I doggedly honed my radio technique to compensate for the Muskegon Incident, and where I spent Saturdays sharing my passion for aviation history with visitors to the Air Zoo.

I was cleared to land runway 5 and noted that the airport had been reconfigured so that the west ends of runways 5 and 9 no longer shared the same area of pavement. I assumed that was done to eliminate a runway incursion hotspot. I taxied to parking and while I was bundling up the airplane for the evening, Kent emerged from Duncan Aviation and shook my hand.

It was good to be home.

Magic Carpet Ride

Pilots often refer to their airplanes as "time machines" or" magic carpets" and that day's flying exemplified exactly why. I departed Traverse City that morning, beheld the splendor of the Sleeping Bear Dunes, explored the beautiful former island kingdom of a cultish and violent religious leader, enjoyed a delicious lunch on my first ever visit to Charlevoix, visited with all-around great guy Ross for the first time in eleven years, returned to a beloved home, and reunited with Kent and YY. I hopped from one end of the Lower Peninsula to the other while seeing sights both beautiful and infused with nostalgia. 

What a day! This is why I fly.

Saturday, May 13: View from the Crow's Nest

Me, YY, and Kent.

We stayed up late into the night talking. The following morning, Kent and YY treated me to a fantastic breakfast at the Crow's Nest, their favorite breakfast spot in Kalamazoo. My previous favorite breakfast place, Food Dance Café, unfortunately closed permanently in 2022.

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hrs)	Total (hrs)
13 May 2023	N21481	AZO (Kalamazoo, MI) - SDC (Sodus, NY)	3.8	2644.1

Lake St Clair a few minutes prior to crossing into Canada.

That afternoon, I flew a perfunctory IFR flight home under a gloomy overcast through well-known territory. After a week of hand flying all over northern Michigan, I let HAL fly home.

Analysis of total flight hours sorted by week from MyFlightbook.

If it seems like I did a lot of flying that week, I did: 31.4 hours total (22.1 ASEL plus 9.3 ASES). In 20+ years of flying, it is by far the most I time I have ever logged in a single week (as shown by the graph above).

What an incredible week! Time with a new instructor in a new model of airplane, achievement of new skills and a new rating (ASES), reconnections with family and friends (Uncle Brian, Karen, Kim, Chris, Tiff, Ross, Kent, and YY), visits to favorite destinations (Mackinac Island and Kalamazoo), and exploration of new places like Beaver Island and Charlevoix (plus five new airports). I may not have achieved all that I hoped, but the week was undeniably a huge success.