Another beautiful but very windy day. More and I took an early morning walk.
View across to the Maryland shore:

A venerable pine shaped by wind—nature’s bonsai:

And then back for some breakfast.

As I’m still not comfortable taking the kayak out in this wind, I’ve had some time to contemplate the small (or not-so-small) glitches that always seem to occur, no matter how carefully you plan. The biggest glitch: I can’t get the solar panel to work. For some reason, it’s not connecting properly to the camper battery. Customer service recommended I check all the connectors with a voltage meter. (Note to self: buy a voltage meter). That would be a major problem were I staying longer, as there is no electricity in the campground. I’m using as little battery power as possible (cooking and refrigeration are propane), so I think I’ll be OK. Even after two full days and charging my phone and my iPad, I’ve only lost .3 volts.

Speaking of charging stuff: that’s another note to self: make sure you bring ALL the cables and connectors you need. I always seem to be missing one key piece. (Update: even though my iPad indicated it was not receiving a charge from the charging port in my camper, I noticed that the battery charge has actually gone up a bit, so I left it plugged in, and it did fully charge by this morning.)

And then there are the inevitable face-palm moments, like when I discovered that the darning patch I’d put on my favorite old shorts had actually sewn one leg shut! Oops.

Had to go to the ranger station first thing this morning to get my car hang tag, as I’d gotten in after they closed the day before. When I mentioned to the ranger about the ponies not making it easy to stay away from them, she chuckled and said “Yep. To them we’re just obstacles.”

She was proved right a couple of hours later, when I encountered this little family:

This is Autumn Glory and her brand new foal, who has the most gorgeous markings! Those white stockings! However, I had to keep backing up or hiding around my car/camper, as they sauntered right through my campsite.

This guy is Phoenix—regulars tell me he may or may not be the daddy, but he is not letting them out of his sight.

Yes, that’s the taillight of my car that is right behind them as the foal has a brief snack. And then they were off:

I had planned to go kayaking, but the wind is just howling. I’ll hope it dies down some before the rain comes in on Thursday. Time for more walks with Moe, and a little birding.

After a grueling 9-hour trip, Moe and I finally made it to our campsite on Assateague Island. I may have had something to do with the length of the trip, when I struck up a conversation with a group of older women who were on a bus trip from New Hampshire to Lancaster County and Gettysburg, PA. They were tickled to find out that I grew up nearby. I realized I was parked next to their bus, so invited them to see my camper and meet Moe. Anyway, the lunch stop took a little longer than expected.

Misty of Chincoteague, by Marguerite Henry, may have brought the ponies of Assateague to national attention, but it also multiplied the number of people looking to see/pet/feed and otherwise interfere with the herds of ponies that roam freely on the island. On Assateague, now a National Park, they are quite strict about keeping your distance from the wild horses (really ponies). There is a long list of rules to keep you and the wildlife safe (there are also deer, turkeys, rabbits, etc.). That includes not approaching, petting, feeding or otherwise messing with the ponies, and even stowing your food in horse-safe boxes, much like the bear boxes you see in New England parks.

What they tell you: Stay at least a school bus length away from any pony (that’s the big bus, not the special bus!). They can kick, bite, and charge—especially the stallions. What they don’t tell you: The ponies don’t make it easy! I arrived late, so pulled in to the park office to check my status, and before I could even open my door, two ponies appeared out of nowhere and sauntered across the parking lot right in front of my car.

Found my spot, set up camp, and expired for the night. Tomorrow promises to be beautiful, warm, and breezy.

Two things Moe is not fond of: thunderstorms and water.

Both of which he had to endure at Lake Muskegon.

Mid-visit, a thunderstorm came through. Moe nearly trembled himself to pieces until Mom stepped in with a comforting hug.

Then she turned around and betrayed him by taking him for a swim in Lake Muskegon.

(Love the look of sheer terror in the first picture!)

He survived, and was much cooler on a very hot day.

Thanks to my “notifications” requests, we were able to secure a site at Muskegon State Park, another of Michigan’s very popular lakeside parks. You put in your requested campground and what dates you need, and they will notify you if something opens up—and often, something does.

And Muskegon is very nice. There are two campgrounds—the Lake Michigan campground, which sits directly above the shore, and where you can access the Lake Michigan beach by a long stairway, and the Channel Campground, which we got. The channel campground sits right on Lake Muskegon, which is connected to Lake Michigan by a man-made causeway. They are renovating the walkways, so we could not walk directly from our campground to the Lake Michigan shore, but there was plenty to see, as there is a lot of traffic through there, including some large freighters and a twice-daily ferry across the lake.

Love those tugboats! And there were great hiking trails up behind the campground, which led to some spectacular views of the lakes (Michigan and Muskegon) and the “back dunes” landscape.

Cool, huh?

PLUS, I found some mushrooms I’ve been wanting to see. Behold the Water Measurer:

Aren’t they cool? They look like scattered stars in the sand. As an added bonus, there were other members of the puffball mushroom family:

The camp hosts were great, there were lots of birds to see on my early morning walks with Moe, and there was a pretty little beach just a short walk from our campsite. The only odd thing was, our neighbor’s tent kept making me hum “Do You Want To Build a Snowman” from Frozen.

Couldn’t figure out why. Then it hit me:

Russ made it to Ludington a day after I got out of the hospital—and surprised me with a bunch of gladiolus! One of my favorite flowers, they always remind me of Mount Gretna, where it has been a tradition to keep bunches of glads on the porch.

While I’m nowhere near ready to use (or even lift) my kayak, this campground has a nice paved loop for walking, running, or bicycling. And it has a changing display of artwork from local artists. I was pleased to see that the first one I saw was by a quilt artist:

The park was very crowded, and we were smack in the middle of it, but we made the best of it. We were close to Ludington State Park, on Lake Michigan, and downtown Ludington had attractions such as a local brewery/ restaurant and an excellent ice cream and chocolates store.

So we passed several days while my ribs began to heal, even though it was not unusual to hear a volley of “Ows” whenever I tried to sit, lie down, bend over, or, God forbid, sneeze!

Oh my gosh, I nearly forgot our hike to the lighthouse! Very hot day; we were all pretty trashed by the time we got back (little/no shade, walking through sand much of the time). Poor Moe was nearly done in!

But it was really pretty:

We all took a break in the shade of the lighthouse, and got something cold to drink.

I’m clumsy. Always have been. I move too fast for someone who never learned the art of graceful movement. Anyway, back at Brevoort Lake, I was admiring the inside of a neighbor’s camper van, when I went to step outside and missed the narrow running-board step. Went down like the proverbial sack of potatoes, landing hard on my left side. Knocked the wind clean out of me. The neighbors hovered about for the few minutes it took me to breathe again and get back on my feet. Moe was busy playing with their dog and Russ, packing up the last of our stuff, was oblivious to the drama taking place just yards away.

I got up, got dusted off, and finished hitching up the trailer, drove Russ across the Mackinaw Bridge, and helped him unload at his camp for the night. Then I drove another 60 miles to Otsego Lake, where I planned to stay for a few days until I returned to the shores of Lake Michigan in Ludington (I had to go inland for a bit, as I couldn’t get a campground on the lake over the weekend. Russ, fortunately, can stay at any of the state parks, as they always have tent sites reserved for bicyclists.)

I pretty quickly realized I’d injured something, but it wasn’t too bad—I was able to set up camp and take care of myself if I was careful about how I moved. My brother Jeff, an anesthesiologist and the go-to medical guy in our family, talked it over with me and opined that I had probably bruised some ribs. So I took it easy (no kayaking on a lovely lake, alas) and Moe and I simply relaxed and enjoyed the cooler weather.

And some more spectacular sunsets:

But on my final day, I felt something “pop” and the pain immediately got worse. By the time I made it to Cartier Park Campground in Ludington, my ribs were in agony and I was finding it hard to breathe. Kind campers nearby helped me to unhitch my trailer, and Moe and I headed to the nearest urgent care.

By the time I arrived, I looked and sounded like I’d been shot in the chest. They took one look at me and called an ambulance to take me to the hospital. I was frantic about Moe, out in the car, until a kind and quick-witted nurse fetched him, relocked my car, and told the EMTs he was an emotional support animal and needed to stay with me.

And so he did, all through the next 24 hours, while they determined that I had two broken ribs, and a bruised and swollen lung. A police officer held him while I went for x-rays, nurses walked him and brought him water, and they even asked for extra sausages with my breakfast so he would have something to eat. They offered to find a kennel where he could stay while I was in for observation, I refused, and they found room for me overnight in the ER, where he could stay with me (they would not allow him on the hospital floors). They even brought me a hospital bed: much more comfortable than the gurney I’d been on for several hours.

And so I passed 24 hours in the ER of the Ludington, MI hospital. The next day, after consultation with the doctor, it was decided that I could leave, as there didn’t seem to be much risk of additional lung injury. A solid regimen of pain meds went with me (as did Moe, of course).

I realized I haven’t posted my nature finds recently, so I thought I’d gather up several of the more interesting specimens from across the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

By far the cutest is this 13-lined ground squirrel:

(Full disclosure: not my picture, but an internet image.) About the size of a chipmunk, they live in underground burrows and lack the big cheek pouches of chipmunks. Ain’t they cute? Russ described their stripes as looking like lace. These “golden gophers” are the mascot of the University of Minnesota!

And the tastiest award goes to these Juneberries, also known as serviceberries:

These were all over the place at Brevoort lake. The plants range from shrubs to small trees. I was disappointed to find out that they were already past their season in the lower peninsula, as I’d been happily snacking away on them.

And for my mycologist buddies, a few of my cooler discoveries:

I was puzzled by some mushrooms that I was seeing literally EVERYWHERE along sandy lakeshores around here, until I researched them. Behold the Sand Russula:

The more I learn about fungi, the more fascinating they are. Give them the merest bit of decayed plant matter, and they will sprout (even in sand). Fungi even form neural-like networks under the forest floor. They transmit nutrients and information between plants, acting as an underground “superhighway,” and play a crucial role in the health of forest ecosystems. The mushrooms that we see are the fruiting bodies of these underground networks. Pretty cool, if you ask me.

Brevoort Lake is one of the campgrounds within the Hiawatha National Forest. Lovely campground, but primitive (no showers). Guess I’m becoming spoiled. I was close enough to a put-in that I could walk my kayak to the water’s edge and take off. Moe and I had a lovely paddle the day before Russ caught up with me.

And, thanks to the wildfires in Canada spreading a smoke haze over everything, the sunsets were spectacular!

While we were there, Russ decided we should do the “fudgy” thing and visit Mackinac Island (Michiganers call Mackinac tourists “fudgies” because of the many island fudge shops there—kind of like the Atlantic shore, except this isn’t saltwater fudge). Despite Moe trembling in fear throughout both ferry rides, it was totally worth it. The island is beautiful, and the gardens, of which there are many, were in full bloom.

Mackinac Island was home to one of the first fur trading posts in the area—and the beginnings of the John Jacob Astor fortune.

We climbed the steep hill to the old English fort, but balked at the entrance price, so we walked around the fort, where I saw a sign for “Arch Rock.” That sounded pretty, so we strolled down the trail there, and I got one of the most beautiful pictures of my life:

Dunno how I did that, as I am far from a great photographer.

It was a beautiful day, we all enjoyed walking around and seeing the sites, and we had a delicious lunch at one of the local restaurants, after a very odd discussion about whether Moe was a service animal (necessary to admit him to the patio seating). I finally got the hint, admitted that he was a “service animal,” and we were seated.

The ferry ride back was delightfully cool, and I got a good shot of the lighthouse just off the harbor.

Sorry to post another segment without pictures. I have LOTS of pictures, of Brevoort Lake, in the Hiawatha National Forest, and of Mackinac Island. I just can’t get them to load onto my blog just now.

But I thought I would post briefly to say that my activities might be a bit curtailed for a while. Stepping out of a neighbor’s spiffy camper van, I didn’t quite connect with the running board step and went down like the proverbial sack of potatoes (no graceful fall for this girl). I landed hard on my left elbow and side, knocking the wind right out of me. The family whose camper I’d been admiring were very concerned, of course, hovering about with cautionary advice, and offering to help me back up after the few minutes it took me to breathe normally again.

All while Russ, packing up in our site next door, was completely oblivious. Even Moe, who was with me, was more interested in following their golden retriever around than in what had happened to his mom.

Anyway, we had to leave that morning, so I hitched the camper, drove Russ over the Mackinaw Bridge and down to his campsite at Wilderness State Park, and then drove myself 60 miles to my camp at Otsego Lake, set up camp, and fed Moe before stopping to assess my condition.

Some Ibuprofen made it possible to sleep. I called Jeff (my M.D. brother) in the morning and determined that I probably hadn’t broken a rib, or at least not badly, but that I was definitely going to be sore for a while (and have some lovely bruises).

So for the non, I am taking a leisurely approach to life. The weather, thank God, is conducive to sitting in the shade or the sun, whichever you prefer, and just watching the lake. Also catching up on some needlework. Moe doesn’t seem to mind the inactivity, especially since he got one of his favorite long-lasting chew bones.

Pictures to follow (I promise!)