The Localized Life: On Location: Holland, Michigan (Part II)

DAY 2

There we were: hungry on a Sunday morning in a town where nothing opens on this day of rest until around noon... except for the Windmill Restaurant. I think every small town has its own version of the Windmill, that diner you can rely on to be constantly busy, to always have decent but not great food, and to never fail to decorate for a holiday (in this case, Valentine's Day). For breakfast, I had a "Birdnest" (over-medium eggs on top of a plate of hashbrowns with feta cheese) and it did not disappoint.

The plan was to find Lake Michigan which, conveniently, exists as part of Holland State Park. There's something really amazing about big bodies of water, but I am very particular that they are bodies of fresh water. Maybe I should be embarrassed of just how midwestern this will make me sound, but oceans freak me out. Having spent too many summers looking forward to the end of August when the local lake or bay would finally reach 65 or so degrees, salt water is just too warm (then again, I don't particularly like baths either). Not to mention the veritable zoo of things to step on, feel against your legs, and/or get bitten by. Nope. For my own experiences with water, it's fresh water in person, the ocean via Planet Earth.

Break Wall

When we found the lake, it was like nothing I'd ever seen, an arctic tundra with ice formations lining the shore and snow drifts covering the break wall (diversion: I think it's interesting that "break wall" is part of most Michigander's vocabulary, an indication of the very central role the Great Lakes play in our culture and interaction with the natural world). I'd venture to say that, for most, Lake Michigan connotes summer weekends and the easiness, seagulls, and familial gatherings that come with them. In summer, sand masks the sound of human feet while children's laughter and waves provide the ambiance.

That day was in all senses the summer version of Lake Michigan's diametric opposite. Barren and strange, the landscapes were hard to understand with the overarching quiet stillness emphasized by crunching footsteps. And yet, though the lake did nothing to provide the comfortable familiarity of the archetypal bright orange pail and a sandcastle experience, she was uniquely accessible. Instead of swimming a few feet into combative waves, we walked freely hundreds of yards onto still ice. The sharp boulders lining the break wall that make parents hold more tightly to their children were merely pebbles sticking up through the snow as a man led a dog attached to a sled pulling two young girls around them.

There was a certain sense of comradery at the beach that day. When you and yours are among hundreds, its easy and sometimes even the objective to ignore other beachgoers, but that day we belonged to a handful who were interested in enjoying the other personality of the lake. Or maybe it wasn't that. Maybe it was just that, even though most of us there had taken physical science in 6th grade, we were bonded by our awe.

Thank you for indulging my poetic waxation. For your patience, I will conclude with a few images from our day at the beach. (Please take note of just how large those ice formations were and imagine them lining the entire beach front...)