Michigan Day 2

I’m sitting at the counter of the Early Bird Café in Leland, a lazy little town on the edge of Lake Michigan…, or it would be lazy if it had the chance. In the summer that’s not an option. The town is situated around a cross road with the main businesses crammed within 2 blocks of that intersection. One road runs parallel to the beach and only about 200 yards from it, and the other runs directly into it. This café is old and rickety. The counter is Formica, as are the booths, that faux wood grained Formica, the kind that never looked like wood even when new, and now that some of the grain has been rubbed off with use, it just looks sad. They bill themselves as Leland’s best breakfast and lunch. That may be. The tuna on toasted whole wheat was simple but really good, owing partly, I’m sure, to the fact that it’s 1:30 PM and I haven’t eaten since breakfast.

I made a reservation for fly fishing tomorrow. $250 for a half day. We’re floating some river within an hour of Traverse City, just me and the guide. It would cost the same if I brought a friend, but Lee is the only person I know here, and he has absolutely no interest in fishing. So it’s just me and the guide.

I’m finishing up here and about to head down to the waterfront. I’m told that “surely, someone in Leland sells fishing licenses.” Let’s hope so. I tried to buy one online, but Lee’s computer is a dial-up and after getting through 90% of the sign-up, it informed me we didn’t have the proper programs to run it. So I hope Leland comes through, otherwise we’ll be spending time at 6 AM tomorrow searching for one.

Time to check out the rest of Leland.

5:00 PM

Leland wasn’t that interesting today. I walked along the narrow lock that empties Lake Leelanau into Lake Michigan. Unlike most locks, it’s not used to raise and lower boats from one body of water to another. Instead, this lock is used more like a giant sink plug to regulate the water level of Lake Leelanau in winter. Since, as you know, ice expands, they lower the water level in winter to allow room for the swelling ice, otherwise, it would wreck havoc on the retaining walls and shoreline. There is a falls at the top lock and shops on either side of the lock canal.

Small commercial fishing boats off Lake Michigan use the canal to bring their catch to the Leland fish market. It is an old, relatively small plywood building with concrete floors, a row of counters in the back corner and a sink for gutting fish, and display cases filled with fresh and smoked fish from the lake. I’ve been in the fish market before. The catch is always meager, or at least disappointing. And the smoky smell that hovers around the building is almost overpowering when you first open the door, then the underlying smell of slimy, gutted fish sneaks up on you, nearly gagging you and making it hard to stay long enough to buy anything. Luckily, I wasn’t buying anything today, and I ducked out quickly.

So knowing it smells to high heavens, and that I wasn’t likely to buy anything, why go anywhere near it, let alone inside? I don’t know. It’s like not being able to turn your head when a train wreck’s coming. I need to be revolted some times, reminded that it’s not all nice and neat and clean and sterile and fragrant. I need to remember that the fish I eat was once alive and before I get to eat it, it has to die generally by a painful and messy means.