At the end/beginning of Route 41 is Fort Wilkins State Park. The fort was established as an army post in 1844 to protect the copper miners from the Indians. Proving the old adage that a good offense is the best defense (or is it the other way around, that the best defense is a good offense?), the fort saw no hostilities, and was closed in 1870.
These days, you can watch the staff as they recreate life as it was at the fort in the 1800's.

Copper Harbor, the first town of note on our trip south, came to life in the 1800's, as tales of copper deposits drew miners to the Keweenaw peninsula, the peninsula within a peninsula (the U.P.). The deposits proved to be minimal, and trade turned to timber and port activity.
Nowadays, the big attraction is tourism, with Copper Harbor being one of the gateways to Isle Royale National Park. Also of interest are the Astor House Museum, the Delaware Copper Mine tour, and Brockway Mountain Drive.
There are plenty of shops to visit in town, including Swede's Gift Shop, where you can buy minerals like dadolite, copper, silver, and scrimshaw. Or search out one of the agate beaches, and gather your own. While at the beach, you can look across to the Copper Harbor Lighthouse, the first of many lighthouses we will see and visit on our trip south down Route 41.
The author walks to the water's edge, and fills a small vial with some water from Lake Superior, to be poured at the end of the trip, on the Beach at Miami, into the waters of the Atlantic, in some sort of ritual closure of the journey.



South of Copper Harbor and the tiny village of Phoenix, we come upon a tall sign that marks the area where 390 inches of snow fell. Further along, we come to Calumet, home of Coppertown, USA. Coppertown offers displays of mining equipment and the development of the mining industry. A simulated mine gives visitors a glimpse of the miner's world.

Next we come to the cities of Hancock and Houghton, twin cities straddling the Portage Canal, which runs from northwest to southeast across the peninsula, from Lake Superior to Keweenaw Bay.



Joining the two towns is the Portage Lake Lift Bridge, a favorite photo opportunity.
Both towns share a rich mining heritage. Immigrants from Finland and Wales found their way here to work the copper mines. The Cornish miners from Wales brought with them the pastie, a meat pie. Although pasties are like the typical not-very-exciting meat-and-potatoes fare that one finds in Wales and England, you do have to credit them with inventing some creative packaging. Be sure to have a pastie before you leave the area, just so you can say, "I tried one of those once".



If you're a rockhound, head north out of town to the F. J. McLain State Park on State Route (SR) 203, and search for agates.
In Hancock, you can visit the Quincy Mine Hoist, and tour an old copper mine.
At Houghton, the rockhounds study minerals at the Seaman's Mineral Museum, or if you are really serious, sign up for classes at Michigan Technological University. Here, boys learn to be miners, and the minors grow up to be miners.

Back at Houghton, board a boat for a trip to our nation's wilderness island national park, Isle Royale. Be prepared to rough it though, for there are minimal facilities on the island. For one, the trip to the island is 6½ hours long. For another, if you are drinking any water from local sources, you have to filter it. Campfires are prohibited, and you have to bring out all your garbage, so we are talking primitive conditions and primitive camping. But, if you relish a taste of adventure, Isle Royale might just be your cup of tea.

Back on land, we head south to Baraga. At Baraga, the impact of the Finnish settlers can be seen at the Hanka Homestead Museum. Hanka is a restored 1920's homestead, and is located 7 mi. west of U.S. 41, at Arnheim Road.
Further south of town is the statue of Bishop Frederic Baraga, a Catholic priest who ministered to the Indians of the region in the 1830's, walking 700 miles round trip on snowshoes to visit his flock.

We stop at the Baraga County Historical Museum, and chat with one of the curators, Barbara Broadbeck. Barbara tells us that Route 41 started out in the early part of the century as a stagecoach route, and that by the 30's, it had become a gravel road connecting the Keweenaw with Iron Mountain, over 100 miles to the south. L'Anse is the gateway to the L'Anse Indian reservation.
Barbara relates how the local Ojibway Indians got into a feud over the casino, and two factions went on the warpath with each other over control. The tribal center was mysteriously burned down by one of the factions.
Mrs. Broadbeck explained to us that this area was settled back in 1846 by a certain Captain John Bendry, who staked a claim. The miners came later, and of course, if you have copper, you have smelting. And if you are surrounded by waters like Superior and Keweenaw, you have fish, Smelt and smelting.

Another industry that grew up in this area is lumber. The availability of wood prompted the opening of the Ford Historic Sawmill. The mill was dedicated to providing wood for Henry Ford's early station wagons, the ones that have come to be known as "woodies". Which reminded me of that old saying, "If you saw one saw mill, you saw them all".

South of Alberta, we turn east, toward Michigamme, the Copper Country State Forest is one of 6 Michigan State Forests, which cover 6,098 square miles, 2,968 square miles of it in the UP, and the rest of it in the southern half of the state. Here, the Moose Run Loose. In fact, you can obtain a Moose Locator Guide, and the official Michigan State Map has little moose icons on the map, so that you will know where to go hunting for moose. Not necessarily gun hunting, but just hunting.

Continuing east, we head toward Ishpeming and Marquette. There are lakes everywhere, long lonely roads, but around every curve, a lake. We stop at a public access ramp right alongside the road, and dip our toes into the cool water.
Back in the car, we note the Adopt-A-Highway sign. These are found all over the country, and indicate that this company or that Lions club or this Boy Scout Troop or that organization are responsible for some section of the highway's upkeep. Picking up litter, we presume. This sounds exemplary, but we wonder why we have never seen anyone, I mean NO ONE out on the highway picking up anything! Is this just a farce? Does anybody really clean up the roads, or is this just show?

Passing Craig Lake near the town of Michigamee, we are amazed at the big boy toys we see. Campers, fold-down campers, motorhomes, on any given summer weekend, you will see the big boy toys. Ski-jets, Moto-cross, motorcycles, personal water craft, boats, bicycles, you name it, they're are all out here running around the countryside.
The latest fad, we are told, is the kayak. Portable and inexpensive, they are the latest rage on Michigan's waterways. And speaking of waterways, we wonder that, while Minnesota may be the home to 10,000 lakes, Michigan cannot be far behind. Lakes and lumber. miles and miles of forests. We pass logging camps and see lumber trucks lumbering down the highway. These are not your typical 18 wheelers. The trucks fly by, and we hurriedly try to count the wheels. 'It's not 18! I think it's 20 or 22! No, it's not. Yes, it is, it's 22 wheels!'.
East of Champion we are in ski country now, with slopes throughout the area, and the home of the National Ski Hall of Fame. At Ishpeming, you can find Jasper Knob, the World's Largest Gemstone. The name, Ishpeming, is allegedly an Indian name, meaning, "heaven", and for ski buffs, especially those that like to ski-jump, they might say the name is appropriate.
The Finns who came to this area must certainly have thought it was heaven, and began organized skiing way back in 1887. Later, their early organization would lead to the creation of a National Ski Association, a skiing Hall of Fame, and a yearly Ski Jumping Championship held in February. "Shush sounds gud, no?"

Besides skiing, there is tobogganing and snowmobiling, and at the ElQual, there is Alpine and Nordic skiing.
Coming through town, look for Granma Trees Restaurant, and stop in for a pastie. There are varieties, like beef, beef, and beef. I say, try the beef.
If it is Sunday, head for the Old Fashion Baptist Church, at 321 S. 4th St., and stop in for some good preaching and some good singing.

Headed toward Marquette, we pass through Negaunee, where the first iron ore mines were worked in 1844. Stop at the Michigan Iron Industry Museum, and learn the history of the Marquette Iron Range. Look for the Lucy Hill Luge facility, the Suicide Bowl, and the Iron Ore Discovery Monument.



Coming into Marquette, we are once again on the shore of Lake Superior. Check out the shops downtown, and then head north to Presque Isle Park, where we can see the long iron ore boats out on the Lake.
Lake Superior is the greatest of the five Great Lakes, and is the World's largest freshwater lake (by surface area), covering 31,70 square miles. The lake is 350 miles wide, 160 miles long, and goes to a depth of 1300 feet.
Marquette was founded in 1849 and named for the famous French explorer. The town is home to the Marquette Maritime Museum, the Marquette Historical Museum, and the Superior Dome, the world's largest wooden structure (be careful with that cigarette). Watch the iron ore ships at the docks near the park, stop at the Prison Gift Shop (on sale, files and guns made out of soap).
South of Marquette is the National Experimental Forest (what do they do there?). We pass through Harvey, wonder about all the hooplah about Chocolay, everything is named Chocolay, and proceed south to Gladstone on a very unpopulated section of highway.
We wonder who owns all this land, and can't something be planted on it, something that people can eat, even something that could be planted in and amongst the trees? We note another abandoned railroad, and remember our own fascination with trains and railroads growing up, a model railroad layout, hiking along the railroad tracks on the way to the hobby shop to buy more HO gear, and eventually working on a railroad ("I've been working on the railroad, all the live-long day!!") for a few years.
While the big railroad companies seem to have gone out of business or merged into mega-lines, there has also been a resurgence of what are called the "short lines" (remember your monopoly? Short Line railroad?). Along the road, another curiosity. Instead of the small town local newspaper boxes next to the mailbox, we see plastic holders for "The Mining Journal". Which tells you what's on people's minds in this neck of the woods (and it really is the woods).

We skirt the edge of the Hiawatha National Forest, one of 3 in the state of Michigan, and one of 155 in the continental United States. Hiawatha covers 880,000 square miles of land, and contains 6 designated wilderness areas. The forest has over 100 miles (160 km) of shoreline. Stop in Gladstone to visit the local Sports Park.

South of Gladstone, we head for Escanaba. In these environs, they fish on the bay in the winter time. The bay freezes solid by mid-winter, and the folks drive their cars and pickup trucks right out onto the ice. Then they construct little shacks, little houses, with all the conveniences (well, almost) of home. They sit in their little shacks, augur a hole through the thick ice, and then drop a line down the hole with some tempting morsel or worm, or piece of plastic or bread or bug, or whatever. Fish aren't too bright, and mid-winter, they'll eat just about anything you throw at them!

Now these fishermen have it down to a science. They know that some whirligig made in China is guaranteed to bring in the big ones. Or Uncle Charlie's secret-recipe doughballs will do the trick. And so they sit in their little cabins, drinking hot coffee from a thermos, with a little toddy in there to take the chill off. For some, the sitting, the quiet, the toddy, is the end-all, and the excuse of fishing is just the means to an end. It's peaceful, so what if the fish don't bite, these fishermen have got their portable TV with the Green Bay Packers on, they're away from the old lady, and life is sweet. Go, Pack, Go!



Escanaba came into being in the early 1800's, as settlers were drawn to the area's timber resources, and later, to the iron deposits. Little Bay de Noc and the Escanaba river proved to be a good place for a deepwater harbor, and the town to this day is a major iron ore shipper.

From Escanaba, we can follow route 41 on its journey by going east, inland, to Powers, Michigan, or we can cheat, skip Powers, and go straight south to Menominee via Michigan's state route 35. The map says it's a scenic route that follows the coastline, and so we go.
Stop at the J. W. Wells State Park, take out your binoculars, and see if you can see across Green Bay (the bay, not the city) to the other side of the bay, Door County, Wisconsin. Some say on a clear day you can see vacationers on the Door county side looking through their binoculars trying to see over to the other side of the bay named Green. Wave to them.

Speaking of maps, we have to mention our love of maps. We have used, in the last two days, the Michigan State map (I love the moose icons, spots where you are most likely to spot these animals), the Kewanee Peninsula map, and the map put out by the folks in Marquette.

If you do decide to religiously follow route 41 to Powers, you will go through the Potawatomi Indian Reservation. The Potawatomi are an Algonquin tribe, and once held sway over the land we now called Michigan, Wisconsin, Illinois, and Indiana. In the 1800's, they ceded land to the U.S., and some went north to Ontario, others to Iowa, Oklahoma, and Kansas, while a small contingent retained lands in Wisconsin and Michigan.



Turn left at Power and head south to Menominee.
Route 41 comes down out of the Upper peninsula through the twin cities of Menominee, Michigan, and Marinette, Wisconsin, sharing the shores of the Menominee river that acts as the border between the two states at that point.
The town, the river, and the county are all called Menominee, after the Indian nation of the same name. The name means "wild rice people". Since the Menominee Indians would not plant grain in the earth (they did not want to wound their mother, the earth), they harvested by canoe the wild rice that grows abundantly in the waters around the area.
Wild rice, it turns out, is not really a rice, it is a grass, an aquatic grass, and until recently, could not be cultivated. The Indians would paddle about in their canoes, bring the tops of the grass that contained the grain in over the side of the boat, and then whack the heads of the grass with sticks to make the grain fall off into the boat.