Up North
In Michigan, pretty much everywhere you go is “Up North.” I’ve even jokingly said sometimes going south is considered “Up North.” But when you hop in your buddy Farina’s car and travel three hours up the righthand side of Michigan’s mitten, you’re definitely Up North — no air quotes needed.
I took this amazing and beautiful sky photo — appropriately — exactly 30 years after our amazing and beautiful daughter Skye was born.
We launched ourselves up I-75 on the day the groundhog told us Winter’d soon be over. He was mostly right, apart from the cold at night. Snow was a scare commodity.
Farina and I have done this before; it’s a blast for two lifelong photographers to just go wherever we feel like, on our own timetable — no assignments, nothing to send back to the desk on deadline. His in-laws’ place along Lake Huron in Oscoda was the perfect starting point and, in fact, was the site of my most memorable photo (above).
The receding ice and snow melt made for gorgeous patterns along the beach in Harrisville, Michigan, where I used to go camping with my parents as a kid.
Armed only with my iPhone (15 Pro Max), it was great fun wandering along the coast and inland, just going wherever we wanted. A few of the towns felt mostly abandoned. Stores and businesses only steps away from beautiful Lake Huron were boarded up or just empty. It’s perplexing as to why these aren’t thriving tourist towns. Farina figures it’s because the sun doesn’t set there; it only rises over the water and nobody’s up that early to gather and watch it like they do over on Lake Michigan on the western edge of the mitten.
Repeating mounds of icy snow graphically piled up along the shoreline. We didn’t dare go out too far once Farina’s foot fell through a few inches and he got a soaker.
It’s always a blast hanging out with my buddy. Pizza for lunch, hell, pizza for dinner too! Guy talk, old comedy DVDs, he even brought along a few videos we made decades ago of our kids wandering through these same forests and beaches.
When there’s nobody else around, we used ourselves as subjects.
Above, Chris Farina reflects on his car after allowing me to reflect on my childhood at the campground, including my greatest catch ever made during an impromptu softball game at the field that’s still there (with likely the same backstop). Glory days.
A stairway down to the Au Sable River provides pretty, converging lines.
Day slowly gave way to nighttime and we headed out again to see what we could see in the gloaming.
A car passes our scenic turnout on River Road.
The temperatures started dropping as the stars began peeking out. We balanced my iPhone on top of Farina’s car and waited for other cars to streak by during a 30-second-long exposure.
His in-laws’ swing set was a good focal point after the sun set on the first night, then again as the stars came out on the second.
Back at the cottage, we used beach towels to sit, kneel and lay down on as the frost began creeping onto the deck. We put on all our warmest winter clothing and stayed outside as long as we could stand it. Perhaps that Punxsutawney prognosticator prematurely proclaimed pleasantness.
Again, we were each other’s best foregrounds as Farina stands still during a 30-second-long exposure and a plane slowly blinks by.
The next morning, we up and left. But not before Farina snapped some beautiful fog photos of our favorite swing set. Back down South — below Michigan’s thumb — we made plans to adventure out again, sooner rather than later. Unlike our cameras, friends shouldn’t let too much time lapse between exposures.
Rodney Curtis is a recovering journalist and author of four books.