Final Drive: All Roads Lead to Chesaning

After a nearly 3 hour nap, the Bridge was no longer lit. Instead it was just waiting for that sun to rise. I just looked at the beautiful marvel and laughed to myself, thinking how I slept in my car on a road I didn't even know existed before summer began. Here, I was in the same place I was when I started this trip through the U.P. Back then, my heart and soul was full of curiosity and now it is full of generosity and memories that even this storyteller can't rightfully convey. But it was time to head home. The anxiety for this exam had been building up since the Porkies and I knew I'd be best served finishing my studies in Chesaning.

I paid the toll woman my $4.00 fee, thanking her and thinking: it only costs $4.00? She must not know the beauty of Drummond, a sunset at Whitefish Point and mining in the Keweenaw? As I drove past the five-mile stretch and into The Great Lake State's hand, the bright solar called our sun was creeping just beyond the horizon. I wanted to go back to the Porkies, to the metropolis called Marquette and to see how Ironwood would keep plugging away in this 21st Century economy.

I pulled into Alma at roughly 8:30, fulfilling a promise I had made to my aunt when she lended me her camping lantern months ago. "Marc, can you make our home in Alma part of your adventure?" she asked in late May. She made me breakfast as I told her and my uncle about the past five weeks of my life, my coming of age story, and about how much I yearned to be back on the beach with my law books, but how I needed to be home for these final days.

I hopped in the car. Now less than an hour's drive from my final destination, I looked forward to when I'd read this all again in one-sitting; I looked forward to when I'd be able to share these stories with my godsons, Drew and Ben; I looked forward to when I could take them to this paradise called northern Michigan. And then, looking at the sign that prompted me to turn left, I knew, now more than ever, that my father has always been right: All Roads Lead to Chesaning.

Day 35: The Last Nap

Its been a wholesome 5 weeks already. Wow. Time does fly by fast and yet the beginning days in Tawas up through this morning in Menominee seem so long ago. Shit, I was 27 when this thing all started.

Today, continued like the past week - in full study mode with little interaction. I woke up for the sunrise, but fell back asleep until 9, when I pounded through about five hours of studying, doing MBE questions. That was only curbed by Jen, the girl at the front office, telling me that I was about two hours past checkout and her boss from the city was gonna fine me. "I guess I lost track of time," I apologized. "Tell your boss thanks for not charging me extra and that I'll refrain from encouraging any future lawsuits if I pass this test.

I needed the Internet so I decided to head to the city's library. I've been to some beautiful places for reading during the past few weeks. Located on the harbor, the Spies Public Library was no different. And just like the half a dozen other libraries I've visited, this one was also well-used by all factions of life. It kind of gave me some hope that we weren't all forgetting about the importance of a good-book and maybe that people will read the papers once-in-a-while.

I finally left the library at closing time, which was close to 6:30; I got into my lesser-packed car; and listened to property as I drove to Escanaba. I drove north of Cedar River and found Fox Park camp site. I wish I could say I stayed there for it looked like paradise on Lake Michigan and I later found out it was just $12. Instead I drove to U.P.'s third most populated city at just under 13,000 and the place actor Jeff Daniels brought fame to because of Escanaba in da Moonlight. I eventually made it down to the local Aerie to check my e-mail, charge up my electronics and meet some townies. It was here where I met Leo, who after buying me my second beer, told me that he was the city's mayor. Once again the Eagles Club has brought me a friend I'd never forget. He bragged about the town's timber past and their Lake Michigan frontage. I was content and back in good spirits after another long day of studying.

I walked next door to the city's famous restaurant and brewery, Hereford and Hops, to grab dinner, but the kitchen was closed. It was here, now nearly 11 p.m. at night and on my journey's 35 day, when I decided it was time to head home. I was coming out of the bathroom and saw a 2001 Travel Michigan article framed in the restaurant. It was titled: featured restaurants to visit in Michigan. Hereford and Hops was number 2; The Heritage House, a now closed restaurant in my hometown, was number 1. It was time to head back. (The ironic thing about that link - which I think has since been cut down - is its written about a restaurant of close hometown friends; it was written by a college friend who I first met while studying abroad 8 years ago in the British Isles. Art took a job in the neighboring town before moving to Traverse City for a similar post. We live in small world.)

I got into my car, stopped at a grocery store so I could buy my dad a pasty and headed toward the Bridge. I made one last stop in the U.P, here, of all places, a casino in Manistique to grab free coffee and upon the advice of Fred and Elaine, accept free $20 worth of credit during my birthday month, before driving to the Bridge. I pulled onto Boulevard Drive, put Bon Iver Michicant on my Ipad and took my last nap of this adventure.

Day 34: Birthday Boom County Saloon

What can I say, the 16th of July is a holiday in our family: 28 years and 9 months ago my parents had sex for the third and final time. (The first two were on their wedding night. The second prompted my sister's birth in 1980. And the third was in late 1983.

What a great way to turn 28: spending nine straight hours plowing through practice bar exams, both essay and multiple choice portions. When I said that this was a birthday I'd never forget, I really meant that I'll never forget the fellow RV campers just staring at me with looks of concern and shades of discontent that a 20-something student is simply grazing over a picnic table with headphones, a number two pencil and a booklet.

I wish I could tell you that the first part of my birthday provided great thrills; it didn't. With that said, every two hours, I'd turn on my cell phone to hear voicemails from family and friends and found it comforting to see the many friends sending e-mails, text messages or Facebook messages. It was also amazing to read "keep writing" and "best of luck next week." Its the small moments of communication that can continue our drive through life. You see, I've looked at these 30 plus days through the lens of the law, and through the voices of people. While, I am still uncertain on my cognate, I am hoping it involves aiding others. I'm not good at many things in life, but I enjoy every conversation I ever have, even the hard ones. The ability to communicate may be my greatest asset, something that I've treasured as I've plugged through our state's most northern posts.

I finally called it quits at 6:30, treating myself for a run through this port town, eventually stumbling into Wisconsin. On this hour long jaunt, I was met with the Boom County Saloon, a bar I'd later find out was still open, despite showing no shades of economic activity. Apparently, the serve libations during the odd hours of 4:45 - 7:00. (Happy Hour is primetime?) With sweat dripping down my face, I stopped, took a picture and simply smiled, recalling my maternal grandfather, who was dubbed the boommeister by many. When my grandfather was happy to be with family and friends and was a few gin and waters in, he'd often say boom, similar to how Seinfeld made yada-yada-yada famous. For example, I woke up today, opened up a bar review book, boom-boom-boom, I saw the Boom County Saloon. Here, I was about an 8 and half-hour drive from my childhood home, which was across the street from Grandpa's, now home of my cousin and her two children, and I could hear him. Ironically, this week marks five years since his passing.

My night concluded at a local sports bar, where I met Katie. I was there to treat myself to a dinner, a beer and hopefully watch the Tigers; she was there to do the same. As I talked to the 24-year-old college student from Grand Rapids, we exchanged stories about Houghton, home of her college; home of my good friend Andy. "How do you know so much about the town?" she asked. "I've been traveling for nearly five weeks through the state; I probably know more than some locals," I responded. Before I knew it, I was back in Wisconsin, where Katie bought me a birthday beer at the local brewery. Despite having met her just an hour before, our stories interchanged as we discussed how we both ended up here in Menominee. She was here on a summer internship, preparing for her future. In many ways, I'd like to think I am doing the same.

Day 33: Where the Best of Michigan Begins

I woke in the late morning after about 5 hours of sleep. I figured the small amount of sleep was worth having the recollection of having seen the Northern Lights during this venture. The day began with the beginning of continuing the review process; nerves were setting in; and despite being hours away from test day and being in the midst of true beauty, I felt the same anxiety as the hundreds of others about to take this test.

After a muggy run around Lake Antoine, I exchanged my goodbyes with Kelly and Ric, both of us knowing that this little friendship that had little merits besides the common bond of campfires and class rock. My next destination was Menominee – a border town, located on Lake Michigan. For me, this tiny town of less than 10,000 dates back to my high school days, when I was on the state’s student council board and representing my school at conferences around the state and country. Another member of the board was my friend Tommy. Though I haven’t seen him since before I graduated from high school, it was people like him who inspired me to take this trek across the U.P. He once stayed at our home in Chesaning and I figured the least I could do is the favor.

I made the under two hour drive south, continuing my fifth day in the central time zone and feeling like I was in another state more than any prior time. This was Packers’ Country, where Detroit fans are far and few between, and where Brett Favre was a legend-turned-ass. Yet, people are forever grateful for 1997, when he led Green Bay to the promise land and returned the Lombardi Trophy home.

After listening to mortgages on tape – something that is proving to be my hardest subject – I landed at my camp site along the river that shares the city’s name. This city park was by far the cleanest I’d camped at. The summer workers were out 24-7 doing yard work. I studied for a few hours, grilled my first dinner in days, and eventually met Jen, the local college-girl who worked at the front desk. When she heard of my story, she invited me to tonight’s festivities: the 4th of July Fireworks 11 days late.

As we crossed across the bridge that divides Michigan to Wisconsin, I thought how much this trip has exposed me to every generation. Here I was with a group of college students, last night I was with Ric and Kelly and weeks before I was sharing Martinis with Fred and Elaine. The show didn’t disappoint, providing a great precursor to what would be a birthday. I’d never forget. Kind of considering, such I'd be starting it in a town that calls itself 'Where the Best of Michigan Begins.'

Day 32: Putting things into Perspective

My second day in Iron Mountain started on 2nd shift and it was a marathon in this sports' town. I studied into the late morning at my campsite and when rain was finally going to meet up with me again, I figured no better time than now to do laundry for the first time in two weeks. (It's amazing how you can feel so accomplished for doing so little.) Then again I was working on outlines, hoping to finish them by dinnertime.

I spent the early evening atop the city's highest post, the iconic ski-jump that makes this place internationally famous. As I sat there, I couldn't help but think about the hurdles we all make. A year ago, I would have never dreamt to be studying at the footsteps of this giant salom; a year ago you probably would have never thought you'd be reading about this place and recalling different passages in your own life. Reflection can be one of the greatest things of life. If we fail to do so, we will be left with little to embrace in the future. I finally moved back to camp around 9 p.m. after another stop at Spuds. The place was great, but I was in need of some home-cooking. I promised myself to make something in Menominee. I promised myself to thank my mom for the amazing meal that I imagine awaits me when I come home.

My night concluded or began at around 10 p.m. when I poured a beer my friend Bob Benenson gave me for graduation and joined Kelly and Ric(sp?). Kelly and Ric were enlightening to say the least. As we sat there and talked, Ric's son blowed up huge firecrackers in the distance, which barely overpowered and the ambiance of classic rock. It was then when I was reminded again what it means to be happy. With Kelly and Ric, you can't help but think you're in the midst of a love story that only time was a hurdle. They'd met years before, had separate true loves, and time brought them back together again, or as Kelly puts it "after our divorces we finally owed up to the truth." Sitting there, Ric told me of the city's rich past.(Here we are home of Izzo and Mooch, but before them was the Ford Model T and Kingsford Charcoal, both icons for all of us, whether we use them or not.) Meanwhile, Kelly and I discussed classic rock, playing "name that tune" of many bands I told her I saw as a teen in Cadot. (What were my parents thinking? Perhaps that trip was the beginning of my adventures. Perhaps it was the beginning of their trust.) Nevertheless, this conversation made this night feel like Iron Mountain was more than a destination, but a home much like the one I love to call my own.

I went back to studying, but this wasn't met without an interruption. I thought I saw something moving in the air and decided it was time to drive back up the big hill. Just when I thought I hadn't taken advantage of Iron Mountain because of long, drawn-out study sessions, I was met with the Northern Lights. I wish I had a picture, but instead, I only have a conversation I had with a fellow dweller of the skies. This sky-seeker was a local man, the same age as me, who had seen a good part of Europe and the world. We had lots in common, especially talking about Romania. I felt a bit apologetic though: he was there as a member of our military; I was there as a tourist and employee of a law firm. If the northern lights didn't put things into perspective; talking to him did.

Day 31: People Move Us Forward

After a couple hours of studying, I pulled out of Luxor around 11 and headed East. Run to you was on the radio, and for the first time in weeks, I realized this chapter was winding down; I hadn't driven in this direction since I went to Drummond nearly 3 weeks ago. My time now would be spent going toward the Bridge and effectively south to Chesaning. It made me a bit sad - this 'coming of age' story was winding down; a bit scared - knowing this exam was about 10 days away; but more than anything it was comforting - knowing that even if my mind goes, my heart will never forget this journey. OK. It was back to review, I'd use these next few hours on the road listening to Michigan Distinctions, an audio I took notes from a month ago on day 2 of this trip.

This two-and-half hour drive was expected to be my longest of this journey. Kind of odd thinking that it was, but I had planned to always drive under two-hours. But like any other journey, this didn't come without any stops. The first: Watersmeet, home of the Nimrods. This is the town ESPN gave national fame before it became a national phenomenon. I then kept moving east on US-2 and stopped at Bewabic State Park. I had no reason to stop here, but after two hours of driving, I was itching it get outside and work on my outlines. (My goal for the next two days was to finish up all my outlines, something I was suppose to have finished earlier, but I traded those days to do MBE in the woods.) Here, I affirmed my love for the state parks. Every spring we hear budget cuts in this state about saving money by eliminating access to these treasures. I wonder if any of those people ever come to the state parks and see the hundred or people using them on days like today. (My guess is they have their private cottage, boat and have no need keep such places public.) This park was home of the Fortune Lakes

My next stop was just up the road to Crystal Falls, studying atop of hill at a turn-of-the-century courthouse. As

As people kept moving in and out of the building, I couldn't help but think that the profession I seek to join is what attempts to preserve what lies inside. And despite that, it is the people whom they represent who actually allow it to move forward.

I continued down my trek to Iron Mountain, the land of Izzo and Mooch.

As a Spartan, if you can't get excited for this, you really don't deserve to bleed the Green and White. My site for the next few days would be Lake Antoine, a beautiful Lake just outside of downtown. When I first thought if coming here, my uncle, a pilot for Delta, said its a beautiful lake to run and bike through, admitting he loves to do such during a layover. The night concluded with a bike ride, to give homage to my Uncle Jack's advice and dinner at Spuds -- gorgonzola and walnut pizza = awesome. As I spoke with the bartender, I started thinking perhaps this journey of mine will provide more than brief bout with our state and a precursor for other opportunities.

Day 30: Perhaps Like Ironwood I .....

As I woke up and began my studies on Federal Civil Procedure, I couldn't help but think that Ironwood was a crossroads. Here I was during the last legs of my trip and with under two weeks until this test. Here I was in a place with such a strong name, but one that only sheds its own rich past. I ended up studying for nearly 10 hours today, first at the Luxor, which I've since dubbed my motel; second at my beloved library; third just outside the historical depot; and finally a late night three hour session back at the luxor.

The day wasn't absent from some local treats though. My uncle, who co-owns our family's clothing store with my parents, set up an appointment in early June for me to look through the Stormy Kromer Factory. This was about the only promise/obligation I had made before going on this trip so it was an important two-hour break. As I went in, I realized I had just locked my keys in the car. (Dumbass instantly went ringing through my head. Here I was representing my family and the first minute would be spent discussing how I was locked out of my shit-filled car.) "Did you lock it running?" Kristin, a worker, asked. "No," I said. "Oh no problem," she responded. She was right. It took the local Triple A affiliate to get there within six minutes of my phone call. As we talked about their company's history and how Kromer joined in 2001; I discussed mine. The story flipped from their fascination of how our family has had been in business since just after World War I ended. I couldn't help but espouse a since of pride in my ancestry for retaining their position in history for 93 years. The tour continued and it only compared with my Heineken tour in Amsterdam for most elaborate. (The latter included three tastings. This included seeing each stage and facet of the business.)

As I studied this afternoon, I couldn't help but think that perhaps I was a bit like this now town of 6000. A century ago, you couldn't fit enough people in this community as it relied on the rich minerals, today its still reeling to find its identity. Today, I'm also uncertain of my future, but perhaps like Ironwood, I can rely on a bit of faith, and hopefully fate will get me there. I went for a six-mile run throughout this town and realized how much it resembled the 1950s, or what I would have thought such would be. I went by the American Legion - which has a monument for "the boys" (The boys who came back from World War 1.) This post was number 5; there are now more than 14000 worldwide. As I crept up the hill and to the large Hiawatha statue, giving evidence of its native american past and where the first iron ore mine was tapped. The plague read, dedicated to the memory of those who developed the ironwood area, the immigrants, farmers, loggers, railroaders, and iron ore miners.

The word immigrant just stood out. In my adulthood, immigration has hardly met making a better life. Instead it is a way to retain a homogeneous community, specifically keeping out the hispanic community. I wonder if today's world would have allowed my great-grandfather to go on that boat that led to the start of our family store. I headed back to luxor and the owners recommended a Mexican restaurant across the street. Go Figure.

Day 29: As Good As It Gets

We woke up for sunrise. I instantly felt like every Michigander should do this before they die. In fact, maybe every human being should. Jessie started a fire, which I then decided to use for warmth as I began a long day of MBE review. Evidence can damper any mood, but it was OK for this daystarter

We trekked the final 2 miles to atop the Lake of the Clouds and eventually said goodbye. I exchanged information and thanked the students for allowing me to be part of their journey; they thanked me for allowing them to be part of mine. As we said our goodbyes, I filled out my sheet, leaving them this blog, and simply wrote to keep their faith. If I’ve learned anything in my short time here on earth --which if statistics are correct, meaning I’m already a third through my time -- its that faith can build you up just as it has torn down society time and time again. But the gift of faith is how you use such...

I had little gas in my car; little direction to where I’d end the day; and in need of fluids and a shower. (Here's a starter for my newest adventure. I ended up going to White Pine, the closest gas station. It reminded me of a place straight out of an old western. No place for credit cards on the gas tank and I had no clue where to put the nozzle back up. (Apathy is what I told some woman who showed. More like ignorance though.) When I got inside to pay, the older woman was nice to accept my $9 and gave me directions, but as I drove to Lake Goegbic, I felt for the first time on the trip, “where the hell am I?” Soon enough, I said Michigan “The Upper Hand.” I wound up at Lake Goegbic State Park, where I pounded through 50 MBE Questions for Constitutional Law faster than a six kegs on toga-wearing fraternity night. It was me, a few boats and about no one else. It dawned on me that I could take a shower at the State Park so I charged my phone and went into the glamourous community bathroom. I just laughed how my life has evolved during the past few weeks. One night I was having this five-course dinner with the Haleys on Drummond and now I am so content to be in a state park bathroom. I said, ‘well I have pumped enough money into this state over the past month to deserve a free-shower.' Then I got upset because I felt like I was entitled to something. ‘Isn’t that the problem? We feel entitled to everything. This trip is about exchanging such self-worth for the beauty of people, nature, and life.”

I arrived to Ironwood in the mid-late afternoon and met Ronnie. Ronnie might be in his late 70s, but it fails to show any signs of being at the end of life. He owns, go figure, Ronnie’s Camera Shop (no surprise on no web site) in downtown Ironwood and I needed a new battery for my camera.

If you haven’t been able to tell, I have been using my cell phone for pictures. I somehow lost my battery last Saturday in Houghton. Go figure – camera (fine); camera without battery (not fine). Ronnie and I just shot-the-shit (is that in the right verb form?) as I tried to get ahold of Canon for the right battery. Meanwhile, he told me about Ironwood, gave me a rundown of the 50s senior class, which was around 200 and the current class, around 66. “And they say the school is too small for them now,” he scoffed. “You can’t be serious.” As I walked out of Ronnies, I saw a iconic building. It was the Carnegie Library, the first in Michigan and built 11 scores ago. I spent about 2 hours here and felt at home. After being one of the last ones to leave at 5:30, I eventually checked into a motel. The owner told me “You can’t get a better place for this price. You’re going to love this room. Love it.” “Do you have a bed?” I asked. “Do you have a TV?" This feels like getting upgraded to 1st class when compared to napping on the dirt in sleeping bag with the wolves. Actually its better since, the people here aren't assholes like some in first class.”

My night concluded at Tacconelli's, a reccomendation that Ronnie gave me hours earlier. He said “if you’re hungry and want some good food, and it seems like you do considering that you’ve been eating nothing in the mountains, then this is the place.” I figured, what the hell - their motto is "as good as it gets!" The bartender, Brandi, convinced me to get a burger with a fried egg, cheese and bacon. Anything sounded good, and despite sounding like a heart-attack on-a-plate, I thought I’d give it a try. Besides, it came with soup and a salad bar. I ate it all, drank a couple beers and after she told me a few places to go visit, I told her that I’d buy her a beer tomorrow if she didn’t mind being a tour guide. (no call yet.) The funniest thing in this place was the other locals bragging about a 5-pound burger competition that recently happened. As the one guy showed everyone on his 6-year-old picture-phone he kept saying, “Yeah. You know this guy who dun it told me that he brought a 12-pack of beer to drink so it would help him wash it down.” When he said wash it down, the man was referring to how the burger would help him drink the beer, not the rather. I went back to beloved home and passed out for 10 hours.

Update: One Month Behind Us

Some people have asked where I have traveled so far. Others have asked why the heck I am doing this. Here is the original reason. Here is the original route. Here is the updated route. So far I've traveled the distance it takes to go from Chesaning, MI to Provo, Utah. I hope the links in the previous sentence explain why. If they fail to provide a good reason then pour some bourbon and look at the stars.

Day 28: My Rock; My Pencil

I woke up at around 8:30, about 90 minutes after the alarm was suppose to go off and resumed property. Ugh... To be past this test. Only two more weeks. As my professor says, "Press on." I joined the crew for the day and it wound up being one of the best decisions I could have made. They offered plenty of water, an alternative to coconut water, which was now down to three 9 ounce boxes.

We went to the Shining Cloud Falls, where I studied and they swam. I couldn't help but feel 15 again and a different life ahead of me than the one that is now. I can't complain; how could I as they dove into questions about where I'd been? This time last year I was in Europe and the year before that I had a flat in Wrigleyville, where I roomed with two of the best men could ever meet.

As we continued our trek up to 400 plus feet, we took breaks. They chattered; I studied and I even got the chance to quiz them on some Criminal Law questions. 'You study more than anyone I have ever met,' one of the pupils said. 'You'd be doing the same if you were so much money in debt,' I answered back.

We eventually made it to high ground. To the right was Lake Superior, about 7 miles down. To the left was the Lake of the Clouds, about 2 miles away. And in between was this valley that could only look more perfect if had it been Late September. The view reminded me of when I was their age on a student government trip to the Smokies enroute to Carolina. The bluffs reminded me of those friends who I met back in the late 90s, many names whom I have forgotten. Yet, I can see their faces as easy as that hawk flying over my head.

As we closed shop for the night, I got in another study session, using my rock as my utensil. I found this rock the first day and since I had forgot my pencils, I figured it would stay with me forever. "If I ever become famous," I told them. "This rock will be in a museum."

Day 27: Peace Be With Us

I woke up at 10 - really? Did I spend all that time sleeping. Yep. I guess back to spending three hours on Torts. My goal was to spend these 3 days studying the MBE subjects again before this weekend's pre-exam. Hike for an hour and another hour spent against a large rock and contracts. I sure hope this whole thing is worth it. And its not this excursion I am referring to, but the fact that I spent three years doing what I'm doing in 10 weeks.

Today's lunch involved wild raspberries. Sorry Mr. Rhode but these are a bit better. (For those not from Chesaning, the Rhodes use to own a strawberry farm in our hometown. The guy was also Captain Bob, but that's another story.). I thought if I gained weight in Copper Country, its all but lost now caring this backpack through the woods. As I fed off the wild, I couldn't help but feel I had found faith in this wilderness park and what do you know - faith then found me when I set up camp shortly after 5 p.m. It was here that I talked with Jesse a 20-something college student from La Crosse, Wisc., he and Kristin were leading a group of Christian students from Milwaukee on a similar trek. (There sure are a lot of Sconnies in this part of the 'Great Lake State' - a nickname I'd remind the students throughout the night.) They offered some of their dessert - oreo pie - for my dinner. After breaking bread, peace was certainly with us as we watched another beautiful sunset come over our tents.

After my fourth study session of the day, I joined them for late night games before heading back for another night. This was as peaceful as any night I've had on this trip.

Day 26: Sleeping Bag, Books, and Granola

I left Houghton wondering when I'd be back again. I know I would be there tomorrow if it was to simply give back to those who were so kind. I know it would be tomorrow if I was given the fortune to show others the wonders of our state's most northern posts. That's all of another chapter though.

Next stop: Ontonagon, albeit a brief one. I didn't have much of a reason to visit this old port town, but wanted to know if it was as desolate as once told. Sitting there in the town's sole gas station-turned-coffee shop, I found out that it was exactly as I had envisioned. You simply can't help but feel compelled to help in the anchor of a county that has less than 10,000 remaining members. Yet, if this was like similar places I'd been to before, my bet is one thing the residents didn't want was more government intervention. Help? Yes. However, regulation, as they see it, is what has killed this area.

I arrived to the Porcupine Mountains State Park in the late after, eventually parking my car at the Lake of the Clouds. I trekked downhill to the Lake Superior trail, with about 40 pounds of bags, including my tent, sleeping bag, and books, before arriving shortly after 8 p.m at Lone Rock, which I have since dubbed Study Rock. It was just enough time to get a little studying in, a granola bar - my food for the next three nights -- a shower in Lake Superior and to watch another sunset.

Sleeping came earlier than any other time on this trip. I went to bed about 10:30, mostly due to having no light and no reason to stay up to attract wild. I ended up sleeping nearly 10 hours, only waking up when I felt a bit scared - nature will do that to you. Who would have thought an open-air tent, a sleeping back and a shirt as a pillow would be so comfortable.

Day 25: Chasing Something Else

We arrived back around 4 a.m., which didn't leave much time for sleep. That's OK. I can't remember the last time I crawled through spaces smaller than a slide at a Mcdonald's playland. I woke up at 9:30 and went back to studying at my beloved Portage Lake District Library. I've now come accustomed to sleeping in different spots; my body has now slept in 12 different places over the last 25 days. (25 days. Wow. So so long ago.)

After studying, Andy took me over to the Mineral Museum, we figured it could put into perspective last night's exhibition. As we walked through the classroom, I kept feeling bad for not knowing so much about my state. How could I be just 10 days shy of turning 28 and know so little about a place that made Michigan so famous. We went back to his house and I talked with his parents about the past. His mom gave me reading materials and his father spouted out past stories as I had my first real pasty. I was told about the Torch Lake Tycoon, their late great-grandfather, and the Italian Hall Disaster. Meanwhile, I was able to sit on a couch and do about 30 problems for the MBE. Having a couch is nice. We often read the news about the cruelty occurring in our world, but when you stop and talk to people like the Sarazins you forget all of that.

Tonight's agenda included Andy's 10-year class reunion. It began at the Keweenaw Brewing company. Go figure, I thought another brewpub to be had. As I talked to his former classmates, I remembered how 6 weeks ago marked 10 years since my own high school graduation. Ten years had past by since I left home. I've since been to nearly 30 countries, seen nearly 35 states, and moved to nearly 20 places, all of which my mother would called "shitholes" before asking me when I was going to get a "real apartment she could visit and drop off all my shit in her basement." His friends talked about their 5-year class reunion and recalled that I had missed mine. Instead of reuniting with friends I was chasing a girl in Ecuador. I thought then when is this gonna happen again? That question hasn't changed much. And tomorrow I'd be chasing something else, this time it would be backpacking in the Porkies.

Day 24: Being in the Car is the Destination

I woke up shortly after 8 and began a study session. Caleb offered some coffee his wife had picked up in the Galapogos Islands and I was reminded of how my body was missing this caffeinated poison that I had come accustomed to drinking 7 times a day during law school.

He left for work and I just out of his large glass windows before retreating to lakeside to continue with this day of studying with a bountiful of beauty. Click, clack, ting tang I heard, followed by heavy breathing. Somehow two dogs, one the size of a golden lamb and another smaller than a pug (You can probably guess that I am not good with dog kind.s) came down those steep steps. They gave a few sniffs asked for a few pats and walked down the stoney shores. I went back up hill to finish a quiz on domestic relations and then went off to my second post of the day. This was appearing to be a day I'd never forget.

Not bad, 5 hours in and its only 1:30 I thought as I got to the Jampot. 70 minutes later I had finished my carrot cake muffin made by the monks and decided today was the time I'd make the car push up ole Brockway Drive. Here about 1300 feet above sea level I stood for more than on hour armed with my ipad and just looked out - one side surrounded by lush forests and the other by the calmest Lake I'd ever seen. This look from atop sure makes Conflict of Laws seem a bit better. The look reminded me of when I went to the Scottish Highlands: Nothing but green forests and the Andy Dufresne blue sea. Its great to feel 19 again.

Next stop: Copper Harbor, the most northern place of US-41. The weather was calling for 60 mph winds and Thunderstorm warnings down state - in this case that meant south of Houghton. It ended up being a bit wet as I visited Lake Fanny Hoe and Fort Wilkins State Park. Thank God my mom gave me a Carhartt Rain Jacket the day before I left. Yesterday was her birthday: 57 and not a day older than 25. Nothing gets through it. I toured and then decided to wait out the storm at the Brickside Brewery. The count is getting up there for beer places, but I think my friends at the Livery would be happy. (The story on that one involves two summers ago when I was doing a half ironman in Benton Harbor with my law school friend Darek. I had no place to stay and basically empty coffers to pay $200 a night. I randomly found this couple who owned the Brewery who let me crash at their pad for two nights. I make a point to stop there everytime I am en route to Chicago.)

As I left Copper Harbor for Houghton, the clouds were low, the rain was light and I kept thinking these roads are made for driving. (What the hell does that mean?) Well, most roads are made to get to places. I'd like to think we have some that are simply so scenic that being in the car is the destination

After dinner with Caleb and Andy we went and had a drink at a Chicago-like club in Houghton. Who would have thought of that? And then Andy and I joined his brothers and a few others for a trek back to Eagle Harbor. I was advised to buy a bright head lamp. After that all I can say is I crawled under/into a waterfall and may or may have not spent two hours at about 900 feet below the earth's service looking for the substance that gave this region its Copper Country name.

Day 23: Caleb's Camp

I woke up this morning on the floor of a camp near Eagle River. I had gotten six hours of sleep, but 8 am seemed way to early to wake up. I guess the 4th of July celebration had taken its toll. (I guess that is similar to most celebrations I go to.) No problem, life moves forward. We drove back to Andy's house in Houghton and I took a much-needed shower before taking off to study. That lasted a short amount of time as I parked in the city park and fell asleep for a 2.5 hour nap, waking up to some grandparents discussing their grandchildren's accomplishments as they went for a picnic.

After lunch, I resumed a study session on professional rules of conduct and stopped into the Bike Shop, the local bicycle store owned by Andy's friend, Caleb. Flash back to 10 pm the night before, when I asked Adam's friend, Caleb if I could crash at his place over Lake Superior for a couple of nights. Flash forward, all sober, 'Sure he said. Probably a beautiful place to study.'

After studying we went out on his pontoon boat with friends where we saw Bald Eagles flying over our heads. We eventually retreated back to Caleb's camp, a nearly 60 step drop down the bluffs of Lake Superior in Eagle River to the cabin he and his family built. It was another 50 steps to the shore. This certainly wasn't on the map when I planned this trip last winter. Then again travels always take you to places you never knew existed.

It seemed as peaceful as any place I'd ever been. The sounds of waves crashing into the rocky shoreline and nothing but nature. We had a late-night chat: me armed with my usual rye with two cubes and him having a Kalhua and Baileys discussing about our own personal travels. 'You know from my home in Chesaning to here is about the same as my home in Chesaning is to where I lived in Washington D.C. in another life,' I said. "Wow," said Caleb, who grew up in the Petoskey area. "This is far from everything, but you saw today why many of us transplants stay up here."

I departed for my quarter and the ambiance felt like one of those $20 noise machines you buy from Target to help you sleep better. Nope, this was just Caleb's Camp in the middle of somewhere special.

Day 22: Welcome to Copper Country

I left Marquette behind me, hoping that today would be one filled with celebration. It was the 4th and America was turning the big 236. The day wound up being even more than I had imagined. As I approached the port city of L'Anse, the last city before the Keweenaw Peninsula peaks out to Michigan's most northern points, I stopped to pay my respects to the Snowshoe Priest, a statute of Bishop Baraga or as locals told me later today, Spider Jesus.

I arrived to Houghton at noon. This town is best known for being a metropolis a century ago and now for being home of Michigan Tech. Signs all over this part of the state say, "Welcome to Copper Country," a reflection of the regions mineral rich past. I didn't have anything planned for the day besides meeting up with a friend from law school, who was reared in the city.

As we left Andy's house, we drove out to his camp - what locals call their summer homes. We drove 20 miles outside of the Houghton-Hancock region and up the Peninsula. After seeing the view of his summer home, we traveled to Gay, Michigan, and their beloved Fourth of July parade. This included contest of "who can blow the biggest bubble"; "who can through raw fish the farthest" and "stopping in to look inside the Gay Bar."

We proceeded north and east as we wrapped around the shores of Lake Superior past Eagle Harbor and eventually 10 miles from the tip. Here we jumped off the cliffs into the frigid-feeling waters. I thought there's nothing like a handful of men-turning back time to when they were boys, a freighter at the horizon, and wild raspberries and blueberries to nimble on. Splash! "How is it?" someone asked. I just stuck my thumb up from sea and proceeded back for the 20 foot climb to the top.

My head was singing Ray Lamontagne's Old Before Your Time. 'Now the wren has gone to roost, the sky is turnin' gold. Like the sky my soul is also turnin'. Turning from the past, at last, and all I left behind. Could it be that I am finally learnin?'

We drove back down the Peninsula's western coast to Eagle River, where we were treated to sunset, Barbeque, and music at Fitzgeralds, known to the locals at Fitzs. Despite the rain, we were able to see fireworks at midnight as we rung in another Fourth of July celebration.

Day 21: Tallest Man in Our State

I woke up and went for a jog along Marquette's seemingly never-ending trails. The town seems to belong out west, yet it is a treasure right here on our state's shores of Superior. It also reminds me of Burlington, Vermont, giving homage to free-thinkers homing for that sweet scent called fresh air.

We then packed up Brett's tent and drove to Mt. Arvon, the tallest point in Michigan. It is less than 2000 ft, but it still signifies being at the highest point during that one day in time. As we drove up US 41, you could see small Waldens from the highway as their log cabins made perfected matches. They say it starts getting hilly after Marquette and it didn't dissapoint as Brett drove up to the state's highest peak. "You know Marc, your the tallest man in our state right now," he said as we reached the peak. 'Huh. I guess for this small moment in time, I am,' I replied back with probably the biggest grin I'd had since when we'd hike as kids in our neighborhood sea-level park.

And as we drifted from the highest point Liz put in Dylan, a perfect fit for a cloudless day.'How does it feel? To be on your own, with no direction known.' I soon took a short 15 minute nap as we descended downhill and feeling that studying would be in high gear come the 5th.

This evening Brett and Liz left, having to get closer to home. But we did stop for some dinner at a beer at the international food fest. It wasn't much of International, despite a few people asking me about my Hungarian shirt. Brett had a Burrito; Liz had the BBQ; and I had the gumbo.'So far all food is American,' I told Brett as we drank down a lime-arita Bud Light on an unusually warm 85 degree evening.

As I said goodbye, I decided I missed biking and eventually went back to the campsite to get my growler and study book. It was well worth it as I arrived to the shores of Lake Superior about an hour later. My ipad, my book, my beer and my freshwater. (Wait...our freshwater.) This is studying, I thought. I browsed to find a spot and saw a young family. The father carrying out his daughter to the lake as she held on to her daddy's hand as tight she could, trusting him as she went into these frigid temperatures for the first time.

Day 20: Every Man Deserves a Castle

I left Grand Marais knowing that this was the halfway point of this adventure I've come to love with each breath. Three weeks ago seems like ages ago. It seems but a dream of another past. As I drove to Picture Rocks National Lakeshore I was once again reminded that I'm on borrowed time, something I'm come accustomed to thinking about as my travels take me to previously uncharted posts. How lucky can one truly be at 27. Pretty lucky I guess.

The car was amplified with some professor from Texas explaining to me how secured transactions and perfecting those goods were part of our everyday life. I pulled into the walkway to miner's castle and thought 'every man deserves a castle even if he can just live in it for one day.' This bastion gives homage to the pasts as we look out into Lake Superior and hope for a better future. You can't help but dream how our brothers have been dreaming the same fantasy from this place since well before Michigan was a traveler's paradise. I also was met with a flood of other tourists as sat down in the shade to study some more.

After listening to some more review, I met my cousin Brett and his friend Liz in Marquette. Habitual meeting was in due course as we stopped into a neighborhood pub before heading to the camp site to post tent. Marquette is the largest city I've been to since leaving campus nearly a month ago. It is home of Northern Michigan University, a few brew pubs, and was the historic seen to Anatomy of a Murder.

Just nine months apartment, Brett and I have been around each other's lives since the start. And while our paths have moved into different directions, certain arenas have brought us back. This time its our love for the great outdoors. As we both reach our late 20s we're falling in love with our state each day, realizing their more to be had in this corners of the world than ever imagined.

Day 19: Where Are You Going?

It was Sunday, but it was back to work. This two day stretch of negotiable instruments and then secured transactions seemed like the worse yet. At least, I was in Grand Marais and not that god-awful cubicle in the library. Honestly, the best thing about this place may not be its beauty, but talking with family members who I knew little about. Its amazing how we can learn about our past simply by talking. To think they did this kind of thing more often before computers, televisions and that Ford Motel T was invented.

The morning session went as well as it could, looking out at the bay, where they building a rock wall to prevent the sand from filling in. This small harbor town has been a refuge for boaters since the turn of the last century and the resilient residents that make up the community of 400 hope to keep it that way for years to come. I then went for a five mile job around the bay. This area has provided motivation since its inception and those who are proud to call it their home talk about the rich history that it boasts. This includes discussing Jim Harrison's presence.

As the afternoon sun came in, Fred and I, along with another friend, went for a hike about 6 miles east of their summer home. I studied property and Criminal Law in the back of the jeep, something I've become accustomed to doing as I get from one destination or the next. Its been great how so many people have been supportive of this trek - some envious, some a bit flabbergasted, but most simply supportive. "July 1st. A new record," Fred said as we tasted the blueberries beginning to be in perfect bloom. They tasted as rich as my paternal grandfather's name. (His name happens to be Rich.

The night concluded with a dinner at the Lake Superior Brewing Company. I'm kind of getting it now why The Great Lake State is becoming the Great Beer State. "You mind if we see a sunset?" I asked as we turned out of the restaurant to head back home. The view didn't disappoint. Two nights earlier I was in Whitefish Point. Two nights from now I will be in Marquette. I kept thinking of that line from 'Catch Me if You Can' when Christopher Walken asked Leonardo Dicaprio's character "Where are you going Frank? Where you going tonight Frank?" Where will I be in the future, where am I going? I just hope it involves many more of these sunsets.

Day 18: Where Timber, Fishing Were Once King

It was time to leave Brimley and drive over Grand Marais, my next stop on this stretch of sleeping in beds. It was time to relisten to creditor rights, as dry of a topic as any, but something else to do as I drove 62 in a 55 and was getting passed by people driving 70. (Wow. they sure do drive fast up here in the middle of nowhere.)

During my drives over the past 24 hours, I've been to Michigan's blueberry, cranberry and moose capital. Its seems every enclave has something their predecessors left to them to be proud of. You probably have that in every state. The only difference is we - us Michiganders - are fortune enough to have the four seasons. As my uncle who now lives in New Jersey once said, 'by scent of the air you know when its fall. You know when its winter. You know when its spring and you know when it is summer.'

I arrived to Grand Marais was was whisked away by family, my mom's first cousin, Fred, and his wife, Elaine, of 40 plus years, to see the abundance of beauty that surrounds this small port town where timber fishing were once king. We first hiked up the large Grand Sable Dunes. Perched atop these sandy clouds, I knew these next few days would be as enjoyable as the rest, spending time with family and taking it all in over some long conversations.

We hiked over to a majestic waterfall before checking out and old log slide. If this isn't history, then I don't know what is. Here, I was bitching about having do some studying on negotiable instruments tomorrow and then I see a 300 foot drop that man made to assure lumber could get from these rich forests into our homes. The views were breathtaking though and just as I thought this couldn't get any more peaceful we hopped into their Jeep and drove about 10 miles east to the most secluded place I'd ever been. A region that I couldn't get to even if I tried. And then we arrived to Barfield Lakes and I felt like I was disturbing this pristine region. Nature had its way since the beginning of time and it wasn't my job to mess with that.

We made it back to camp, but as I went to bed that night after an amazing dinner. I kept thinking. I need to assure that each week of my life, I find a place where I can be at peace as much as I was this afternoon. If I don't then this entire trip, this entire study marathon, and the past few years of school might all be worth nothing.