Destinations

Follow in our footsteps: inspiration for your exploration. This section covers destinations big and small, including multi-stop itineraries.

Antigua Awakens

November 12, 2018 By Sandra Friend 1 Comment

At sunrise, the tradewinds riffle across a sea of leafy green cascading down the headland at Long Bay. The forest reverberates with melodious but unfamiliar birdsong. I spy a hummingbird neatly inspecting each flower of an acacia tree while deftly avoiding the pipe organ cacti below. A trio of pelicans wheels past.

Tropical forest Pineapple Beach Club — The glow of sunrise illuminates the tropical forest

The chatter of birds and the strum of the waves are my only companions at sunrise as I sit on a hand-hewn burled wood bench and contemplate the new day at the aptly named “Relaxation Station.”

Relaxation Station at Pineapple Beach Club

Surprisingly, I am the only one taking advantage of this perfect perch, a front row seat to sunrise, surrounded by nature, atop a hill that’s the quietest corner of Pineapple Beach Club, an all-inclusive resort in Antigua.

Pineapple Beach Club — The beach is quiet early in the morning

Perhaps beachgoers don’t rise with dawn. The light seeping through our curtains and the warbles through the screen caught my attention, drawing me outside. We found the hilltop yesterday, since the stairs are just past our room.

I’d never thought I’d feel satisfied with an all-inclusive resort, a foreign concept to me. The idea of a cruise ship on land springs to mind, complete with the temptation of tours coupled with a constant flow of libations, hydrations, and snacks. But like a cruise ship, there is a gift that comes with being in one place, walking everywhere, not having to think too hard.

Time.

For most vacationers here, that’s the allure, albeit unspoken. They’ll talk about the free flowing rum punch, the endless buffets, the difficult choice of whether to swim in the sea or splash in the pools. But rarely do you hear them speak of time.

Pool at Pineapple Beach Club — One of several pools at Pineapple Beach Club

And yet. There are those like myself – mainly women, I note – who slip off to a quiet corner of the property with a novel or a notebook in hand, eager to embrace this foreign thing in their lives, an unscheduled block of time. They are adrift from their workaday routines, the pressure of a job, the hours spent commuting, and the need to clean up after everyone. Even better, they don’t need to make dinner.

Simply bliss.

As I sit atop this rocky headland, listening to the scurry of a mongoose in the underbrush, watching the rising sun illuminate the tangled fibers of the cacti downslope, knowing that my day will unspool with a parade of new sights and experiences while we tour the island, I’m grateful to have this little corner of Antigua to myself this morning. It awakens my senses to Caribbean sensibilities. It gives me a chance to recharge.

Sunrise at Pineapple Beach Club — In awe of an Antiguan sunrise

And even though for us, it’s a working trip, isn’t that what a vacation is for?

The Road to Saltville

November 6, 2018 By Sandra Friend 1 Comment

Ceres, Virginia — Among the hills of Ceres

State Road 42, the Bluegrass Trail, winds its way through the farms of Ceres, occupying the rolling hills in the valley between Big Walker Mountain and Burkes Garden. Wooden barns drop timbers piece by piece into grassy fields. A barn quilt hangs at a crossroads near a historic marker for Henry Groseclose.

Where the valley narrows, we see a trailhead and in a blink we are past it, realizing it was the Appalachian Trail.

For a brief few curves, Virginia 42 joins with Virginia 16, known in these parts as the Back of the Dragon. It being a weekday, with the sky spitting rain, we don’t encounter a single motorcycle. But as the folks on Big Walker Mountain know, riders will be testing their mettle on the 32 miles of tight curves between Tazwell and Marion.

We choose to stay with 42, the road to Saltville. Behind a barn with a sunflower quilt square, rows of pumpkins stretch into the distance. We wind through Ridge Valley, where a brick school sits on the valley floor, one of the flatter spots along this road. The parking lot is full, so school is in session. A parade of antique vehicles sits outside an auto shop near Brushy Mountain.

In 30 miles, we pass eight cars and a short bus, two propane trucks, and a pickup hauling a cattle trailer. After so much quiet, it’s startling to see a power station and high tension lines, but then we recall that Saltville was a company town, and we’re nearly there. Traffic picks up. A deer dashes across the road just as we round a curve in the creek with a wooden swinging bridge for pedestrians.

Saltville jumped on our radar just a few days before, the universe conspiring us to send us there as good road trips often unfold. First, a fellow we met in passing in Harpers Ferry at a coffeeshop mentioned a place “with mastodons and mammoths that Thomas Jefferson knew about.”

Saltville mastodon — Saltville yielded both mastodon and mammoth bones

That was intriguing on the face of it. As we continued along our planned route through the Shenandoah Valley, more voices chimed in. “A must see. One of the more unusual museums you’ll find in Virginia. From the Ice Age to the Space Age.”

The clincher was a re-enactor we met at Natural Bridge. Turned out someone in his family tree – Confederate guerrilla Champ Ferguson – was one of only two Confederate officers hung for war crimes in Virginia, and it happened due to Champ’s leading role in the Saltville Massacre.

As Highway 42 approached downtown, Saltville admittedly had the feel of the mining towns of the Northeast, industrial in nature. And that’s how Saltville spent much of its life.

Salt ponds Saltville — In the heart of the valley, the salt ponds support unique biomes

Brine trapped deep beneath the ground bubbled up in salt ponds in the valley floor, where the earliest evidence of Ice Age fauna was found while Virginia was still a colony. Serious archeological excavations came much later.

Saltmaking happened as soon as a process was developed for pumping brine and extracting the salt through drying. Boiling brine in kettles was one method. The first piping for the saltworks was made of hollowed logs.

Brine pipe — Hollowed log used as brine pipe. Wouldn’t rust!

By the time of the Civil War, salt was worth its weight in gold as a preservative for meat. The Confederacy spent a great deal of manpower protecting this strategic valley from Federal incursion.

Civil War Display — Studying one of the Civil War displays

After the war, salt extraction and the subsequent market for industrial chemicals – managed by large corporations with big budgets and paternal largesse – led to the company town that Saltville became. Alkali works producing caustics joined salt extraction. The Army briefly oversaw a plant to produce poisonous gas. Hydrazine was manufactured in Saltville in the 1960s to power Titan rockets and the Apollo lunar module.

It wasn’t until the 1970s, when the availability of cheap soda ash from Wyoming joined health and safety concerns about plant operations, that the corporations shut their works in Saltville. Jobs evaporated and the population shrank.

Today, Saltville recounts its rich history through the Museum of the Middle Appalachians, the Salt Ponds – connected by a bike path, and now part of a recreation area – and Salt Park, the historic site where the first salt mine and saltworks stood.

Salt Park — Visiting the site of the first extraction of salt in Saltville

While the road we took to Saltville was long and rambling, the road we left along was not. Via Virginia 91, Saltville is less than 20 minutes from Interstate 81 at Glade Spring, just north of Abington.

Mission Relaxation

September 2, 2018 By Sandra Friend Leave a Comment

We couldn’t find it in the gift shop or the deli. It wasn’t on the menu. Finally, we asked our server. “You don’t sell fudge here, do you?”

She laughed. “No, it’s good for the people in town who make it to make some money, too.”

Cake at Mission Point Resort — Chocolate hazelnut cake, yes. Fudge, no.

A no-fudge zone on Mackinac Island? No problem. There is a distinct un-fudgie vibe surrounding Mission Point Resort. In local parlance, “fudgies” are the day-trippers who roam downtown, buy fudge, maybe visit the fort or a museum, and leave.

By contrast, our fellow guests at Mission Point were here to relax. A buffer of residential area separates the resort from downtown, and only the guest carriages and taxis come down this way. Perched along the Mackinac Straits, with an expansive lawn down to Lake Huron, it’s an oasis of calm on this bustling island.

We arrived, as planned, by bike. Beyond the sweeping drive where carriages dropped off guests, a bike parking area was just around the corner from the Main Lodge. Their rental fleet sat nearby.

Mission Point Resort bikes — Guests reserving rental bikes

Although it was built in the 1950s, the lodge at Mission Point feels much older. Solid support beams of Norway Pine, their bark stripped with drawknives, hold up the roof and form a giant teepee. The meld of wood and stone throughout the structure gives it a grounded, earthy feel, much like the grand National Park lodges of old.

Mission Point Resort lodge — Inside the Main Lodge lobby

If you see a border collie carefully watching the cavernous space, it’s Nick. Spending his time around concierge Pat Driscoll’s desk, Nick is one of the more important members of the grounds crew. While originally trained to round up sheep, Nick now rounds up geese. “He won’t chase ducks or seagulls,” said Pat, “although his herding instinct kicks in with joggers, bicycles, and small children.”

Mission Point Resort Nick — Concierge Pat and Nick

We found this a delightful solution to an ongoing problem for Great Lakes lawns: the unwanted deposits of visiting Canada geese. Let’s just say the lawns at the last two places we’d stayed didn’t chase the geese away, and the results weren’t pretty.

Mission Point Resort lawn — The lawn stays clean thanks to Nick

Not a problem at Mission Point. The shoes of kids, brides, and mini-golf players stay clean, even after dark during Glow Golf or stargazing on the Great Lawn.

Family is key to the success of Mission Point. Many of our dining companions were three generations vacationing together. John complimented a Canadian couple of how well-behaved their young boys were in the classiest restaurant on the property, Chianti. The granddaughter of the piano player sat with her dad listening to Grandpa play. We all oohed as a freighter slipped by at sunset.

Ore freighter Mission Point Resort — We saw a freighter pass by during every meal

The ambiance and measured pace of the meal let us relax after a busy day exploring the island. John raved about his filet mignon, the best he’d had yet. “I’ve never said this before, but I don’t want this dinner to end!”

Mission Point Resort bike — John enjoyed finding display bikes in the shops

We found the common spaces of Mission Point to be as pleasurable as the privacy of our own room, and spent a few hours kicking back in the library. It was delightful to see families pull out board games to play. Other folks read books. We kicked back in comfy chairs and talked, admiring the wooden kayak hanging over the barrister bookcases.

Mission Point Resort library — The library was our favorite haunt

Built around a core of a college that had its own theater – which was featured in the movie “Somewhere in Time,” with many interiors from the film shot here at the former Film Studio – Mission Point also actively supports the arts on Mackinac Island.

Mission Point Resort theatre — The chair Christopher Reeve sat in has its own nameplate

The theater building houses an art gallery showcasing works curated by the Mackinac Arts Council. Guests are encouraged to visit the Richard & Jane Manoogian Art Museum in Marquette Park, with admission included in your stay. You can also view “Somewhere in Time” and other scheduled films at the theater as well.

As cyclists who’d come with our own bikes, we were thrilled that M-185, the loop road around Mackinac Island, goes right through the property. From our room, we could gauge when bike traffic was light or heavy.

Mission Point Resort biking — We rode out from Mission Point every day

Built on the bluffs, the hotel has a lot of steps and terraces. Even indoors. I was surprised at how much the Main Lodge rambled on in many directions. This meant a great deal of walking about, but that’s expected when you’re on Mackinac Island. Especially on a property with 241 rooms. We did see bike racks at numerous locations, although we kept ours close to the lobby.

It was three years ago that the Ware family took on Mission Point Resort as their personal mission. “We all have a love and appreciation of this property and we want it to thrive,” said Liz Ware, who serves as Director of PR. Other members of her family oversee various operational aspects of the resort. With more than $5 million dollars invested in renovations so far – both behind-the-scenes and in the guest quarters – the Ware family is taking the future of Mission Point Resort seriously.

Sandra and John at Mission Point Resort — Mission: relaxation. Accomplished!

Mission Point Resort is open from late April through the end of October. You can often find great deals on their website for their quieter weeks of the season.

A Day in Paradise

August 29, 2018 By Sandra Friend 4 Comments

Dusk settled in as the road ahead of us curved to open up a panorama of mazy marshes along the rim of Lake Superior. “This is the perfect habitat for moose,” I said.

We crossed the mouth of the Tahquamenon River and sure enough, a road sign warned us of moose along the next two miles. A stately pair of sandhill cranes, a little different in coloration than the ones we know at home, stood along the marsh edge. But no moose.

Paradise, Michigan, is genuinely off the beaten path. It touts itself as the “wild blueberry capital of Michigan,” but we’d missed the festival held just a few days before. Fortunately, we’d found plenty of late season blueberries while hiking. And raspberries.

Paradise is mainly known for what it’s near: Tahquamenon Falls and Whitefish Point. We settled in to our waterfront room under stormy skies, where I watched a whitefish-shaped cloud blowing smoke rings over the bay as dark descended.

I’d hoped for a dark sky filled with stars, but no luck. The storm clouds broke open into a light show in the wee hours as lightning arced over the St. Mary’s River.

Our morning skies hung leaden, but this is Paradise. We weren’t going to let that keep us inside. I was a bit intimidated reading that Tahquamenon Falls State Park sees upwards of a half million visitors a year, but I wanted John to see its beauty.

Upper Taquamenon Falls — John’s first glimpse of the falls

The Upper Falls occupied us for a couple of hours. In the context of waterfalls we’ve seen in Iceland, they are small but mighty. In the United States, they’re huge. East of the Mississippi, they are second only to Niagara in water volume.

The North Country Trail runs right through the park, so it was a delight to hike yet another segment. A fee shuttle service lets you walk the 4.8-mile footpath one way between the park’s two developed recreation areas. Plenty of people took advantage of it.

I’d been here twice before over the past three decades. The infrastructure – particularly the boardwalks and staircases – all seemed new and quite capable of handling massive volumes of people.

Stair climbing at Upper Taquamenon Falls — Upper Taquamenon Falls stair climbing

Fortunately, we didn’t encounter crowds. There is a lull up here just before Labor Day Weekend, so there were no throngs to wait for at the viewing platforms.

We also walked right in at Camp 33, the famed brewery and restaurant at what was once one of the Civilian Conservation Corps camps. The extensive menu had plenty of options, including a tasty mix of three types of sautéed mushrooms.

When we emerged from lunch, the skies had turned blue. Time to see the Lower Falls!

Lower Taquamenon Falls — Visitors at the main overlook

Not a single showy spot like the Upper Falls, they are more of a series of rock ledges over which the river pours. Boardwalks follow them upstream until you reach the soggy footpath of the North Country Trail again.

For those wanting a bit of adventure, the park rents rowboats so you can power yourself over to the base of the falls and to an island from which to see the falls even better.

Rowboats Taquamenon Falls — Rowboat heads for the island at Lower Taquamenon Falls

We had another destination in mind, however, so we passed on the rowboats. Like many folks who day trip up here from Newberry or St. Ignace, we were also headed to Whitefish Point, the end of the road beyond Paradise.

Dominating land’s end is the lighthouse and Coast Guard station, part of a larger complex that is now the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum. As the important turn out of the vastness of Lake Superior into the more sheltered waters of Whitefish Bay, Whitefish Point is an important navigation point for ships coming and going through the Soo Locks.

Inside the Lightkeeper’s quarters at Whitefish Point — Inside the lightkeeper’s quarters

Historically, it’s also been a graveyard of sunken ships. While any map of Great Lakes shipwrecks is astounding in terms of how many vessels have been lost, Whitefish Point has 30 vessels at depths achievable by experienced diver, all part of Whitefish Point Underwater Preserve.

Artifacts from the Samuel Mather, which sank in 1891

While the museum interprets these wrecks – along with Coast Guard lifesaving and lighthouse keeping at the point – its strongest focus is memorializing the Edmund Fitzgerald. It sank in our lifetimes – November 10, 1975 – and was the largest ore freighter of its kind. On rough seas, it simply vanished.

Gordon Lightfoot’s song “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” has alternately brought on goosebumps or tears since I first heard it while in high school, so it was interesting to hear a docent at the museum say “he wrote it so those men would not be forgotten.” The museum similarly honors their memories through exhibits, memorials, and a short movie.

Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum — The museum exhibits maritime history and artifacts from shipwrecks

No one knows exactly why or how this fully-loaded freighter sunk with all 29 crew on board. While a US Navy jet was able to locate the ship several days later, broken in two, in 530 feet of water, It took numerous dives in the 1980s and 1990s with manned submersibles to examine the wreck.

The centerpiece of the museum is the ship’s bell from the Edmund Fitzgerald. Using a rebreather deep sea dive suit that John remarked was built very much like a space suit, Joseph MacInnis used underwater welding equipment to remove the bell. It was replaced with a replica engraved with the names of the lost crew. The process, and the opportunity for families of the crew to be involved, are documented in the movie shown at the museum. Tissues are provided.

While a heart-wrenching story, the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald led to massive overhauls in Great Lakes shipping regulations and practices, especially where it came to crew safety. Navigation charts were modernized and weather predictions made a priority. There has not been a wreck of this magnitude since.

While at Whitefish Point, we also visited the surrounding Seney Wildlife Refuge, where easy trails lead out to bird observation areas. These dunes are a flyover spot for raptors in the spring. Audubon has a small nature center and gift shop here, with charted bird sightings.

One of several nature trails at Whitefish Point

The beaches of Whitefish Point also attract a lot of agate hunters, no matter the weather. It’s something about the shape of the point that catches a large collection of colorful wave-tumbled rocks and minerals.

A day in Paradise wouldn’t be complete without dinner, and so we were directed right out of our hotel door and across the parking lot to The Inn, where what would be more appropriate than whitefish for dinner? It was some of the best so far on this trip.

Whitefish at The Inn, Paradise — Whitefish at The Inn

Two Parks, Two Stories

August 18, 2018 By Sandra Friend Leave a Comment

When a local author tells you to point your car south to experience a fascinating chapter of regional history, you listen. Especially when they’re in your back seat. And so we arrived at Fayette Historic State Park, near the tip of Garden Peninsula, with an idea we’d be introduced to something very interesting.

Kath Usatilo 100 Things Upper Peninsula Michigan — Kath Usitalo signing copies of her UP book at Fayette Historic State Park

We’d already made the requisite pilgrimage to Kitch-iti-kipi, Michigan’s Big Spring, located in Palms Book State Park. There isn’t a lot to the park, but what you’ll see is spectacular.

Kitch-iti-kipi is 200 feet across, 45 feet deep, 45 degrees Fahrenheit year round, and amazingly clear. The spring basin is formed by numerous bubblers and vents at the bottom.

While you can peer into it from the edges, a hand-cranked raft on a permanent cable lets you float over it and peer down to the bottom through a center opening in the raft, like a glass bottomed boat with no bottom. Accordingly, people drop things through it, like the glasses and iPhone the ranger pointed out among the trout resting below.

Kitch-iti-kipi raft — A busy day on the raft at Kitch-iti-kipi

Purchased in 1926 from Palms Book Land Company, the spring basin was cleaned up and improved by the Civilian Conservation Corps, who also built the original raft. While a ranger guided it across on our visit, much of the time you simply do it yourself.

Fayette, Michigan historic site — View across Fayette from the Overlook Trail

When Kath also suggested Fayette Historic State Park, we had plenty of time to continue on down to it. This historic village is down near the tip of the Garden Peninsula that arcs into Lake Michigan west of Manistique, perhaps 30 minutes from Kitch-iti-kipi.

We expected a ghost town – that is, ruins. When similar towns in Florida tapped out a resource, they crumbled. But this ghost town is a well-preserved record of a late 1800s industrial town along the Great Lakes.

Iron was smelted along the scenic shoreline of Snail Shell Harbor, a spot of breathtaking beauty with ancient cedars clinging to its cliffs. From the setting, it’s hard to believe that such an industry was the primary purpose of this compact coastal community.

A blast furnace dominates the waterfront, along with the pilings of the old docks beneath the clear shimmering water. Starting after the Civil War in 1867, residents manufactured charcoal pig iron.

They lived in grand homes, in humble cottages, and in simple cabins. There was a market, a butcher, a barber, and blacksmith.

A hotel dominated the middle of town. It offered a two-story outhouse, something we’re still puzzled about as to how that worked.

Limestone was quarried from the cliffs to use in the kilns. The charcoal kilns looked like giant brick volcanoes.

The smelting operation shuttered in 1891, once the market for pig iron took a dive. While the hotel remained for a couple of decades, most residents left to seek new employment.

Obtained in 1959 by Michigan DNR from a land swap with Mead Paper Company, the town and its many structures – some restored, some very rough, and others having only foundations remaining – became a state park. More than twenty buildings are well preserved and interpreted. The site has been on the National Register of Historic Places since 1970.

What did we learn by visiting two Michigan State Parks in one day? Plenty. It certainly helped to have Kath guiding us to Fayette, as we would not have guessed how detailed and interesting it was otherwise. Another great tip? Buy a parks pass. At $32 for a non resident pass, it will serve us well in the rest of our travels in Michigan.

Visit Kitch-iti-kipi at Palms Book State Park

Visit Fayette Historic State Park

Grab a copy of Kath Usitalo’s book

Finding Petoskey Stones

August 15, 2018 By Sandra Friend Leave a Comment

At Bayfront Park in Petoskey, we rested our bikes against a fence as we watched a young couple and their son on the rocky shore of Lake Michigan. They’d scrambled down a wooden staircase near the Lime Kiln Ponds, poring over the stones along the waterfront. Perhaps they’d find a Petoskey stone?

We’d tried the day before. We stopped along US 31 at an MDOT wayside park. It looked promising, with two gravel spits creating a cove where a swan tucked in to get out of the wind. I searched the shoreline for a good 20 minutes but saw nothing I thought might be a Petoskey stone.

Petoskey stones are unique. The fossilized remnants of a coral reef formed in Devonian period seas, they have a pattern made up of distinct cellular structures that each surround what was a “mouth” for the coral to ingest its food. But as we discovered while looking for them, they can come in many forms.

Shoreline of Lake Michigan — The best place to see Petoskey stones is the waterline as their patterns show best when wet

As fossils surrounded by limestone, they erode. And so at a restored spring-fed water fountain on the shoreline of the Bay View Association, established in 1876 as a summer retreat center for the Methodist Church, pieces of Petoskey stone are a part of the decorative stonework. They’ve faded and eroded so that the cellular structure is quite obvious.

Bay View fountain — This fountain at Bay View has Petoskey stones embedded in its design

At the visitors center in Petoskey, they have a handful of specimens on display. John asked about the largest Petoskey stone ever found. It was over 300 pounds, and now rests at City Hall. Michigan DNR restricts your collecting of these hefty fossils to 12 pounds per person, so a more recent find of a 93 pound stone didn’t go unnoticed by the state. They reclaimed it from the fellow who’d discovered it and posted photos on social media.

Nikki at Petoskey Visitors Center — Nikki gives us the scoop on Petoskey stones

Nikki showed us both unpolished and polished specimens. I’d figured we’d need a rock tumbler to polish our finds, but she strongly recommended against it. “They’ll turn to dust.”

Instead, it takes perseverance and multiple grades of sandpaper. Start with a coarse grit and work to a finer grit while polishing them in water. A finishing grit of 800 is best, followed by either use of a natural oil – coconut and avocado work well, Nikki said – or, optionally, sealing with an acrylic finish.

It’s that multi-step process that creates the wet look that you’ll see on Petoskey stones in gift shops and mineral collections. And that’s why, when you’re looking for them, you’ll find them most easily where the waves strum the shore.

Lake Michigan shoreline — Plan to get your feet wet when hunting along shorelines

When we checked in at the Bay Inn, which offers a sweeping view of Little Traverse Bay, we asked innkeeper Vern Osterlund for pointers on the best places to find Petoskey stones. He recommended West Park, right along US 31. Unlike the MDOT wayside we tried, not a lot of people walk the shoreline here: it’s a 3/4 mile loop hike through the woods out to the shoreline, meaning a less picked-over beach with better finds.

John and Vern at the Bay Inn — Ask Vern at the Bay Inn for Petoskey stone pointers

As we discovered while cycling the Little Traverse Wheelway north and south of Petoskey, people will search the beaches for Petoskey stones wherever it is easy to reach the shoreline. We’d suddenly see people’s heads pop up from the shoreline, which was quite funny, especially over along the edge of Bayfront Park West in front of the St. Francis Solanus Mission, the oldest structure in the region, opened in 1860 by Bishop Frederic Baraga to minister to the Native Americans.

St Francis Solanus Mission — A popular collecting spot is in front of the St. Francis Solanus Mission

At Twisted Crystal in downtown Mackinaw City, the proprietor showed us a variety of carefully crafted pendants and earrings made from slices of Petoskey stones. As he mentioned their origins – Marquette and the Straits of Mackinac among them – I was surprised. So Petoskey stones are not just from Petoskey, but it remains the most common place to find them.

Tucked away in a scrapbook in the Drummond Island Historical Museum, an article older than I am lent a clue. The glaciers that covered Michigan eons after these Devonian formations fossilized plucked them out of bedrock and spread them across the state, which is why the Petoskey stone is Michigan’s state stone.

According to the article, “Petoskey stones may be found on beaches and in road cuts, ditches, gravel pits, gullies, and sand blows all over the state, particularly in the northern part of the Lower Peninsula.”

We searched many spots this week for Petoskey stones, including the shoreline of Lake Huron at De Tour, the Mackinac Straits, the rocky headlands of Wilderness State Park, and the water’s edge near Charlevoix. No luck.

Frog on pebbled beach — Sometimes you find the unexpected when searching for Petoskey stones

Where did we consistently find Petoskey stones? Along the lesser-visited beaches of Petoskey, right off the Little Traverse Wheelway.

Beach along Lake Michigan — One of several productive spots along the Little Traverse Wheelway

Don’t expect many at established parks or busy areas. Instead, you need to bike or hike to the quieter spots where footpaths or stairs lead down to the shores of Lake Michigan.

Avoid steep bluffs and private property, and mind the poison ivy along narrow trails. Make sure you have a sturdy basket or a pack to carry them out – we put ours in John’s bike bag. With a little exploration in places where access isn’t easy for people in cars, you will find Petoskey stones.

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