Footloose and Fabulous (2025)

16/06/2025

After getting four brand-new Goodyear Endurance tires put on the trailer (peace of mind is priceless!), we were ready to roll once again. And where did we land? In the lovely little city of Ashland, Wisconsin, right on the shore of Lake Superior.

Ashland is nestled at the head of Chequamegon Bay. Our campsite was right next to the historic Iron Dock—or what’s left of it.

We found a nice city campground with full hookups and a view—RV gold, if you ask me. Even better, it’s tucked next to the remains of the historic Iron Dock, a structure so massive in its day, it made today’s shipping containers look like toys.

Back in 1916, Ashland’s harbor was all business. The Soo Line ore dock loaded iron ore from local mines onto freighters heading off to steel plants across the Midwest. Picture a concrete beast that stood 80 feet tall, 75 feet wide, and 1,800 feet long. Let’s just say it was the original “mega dock” before that was even a thing.

The dock was last used in 1965, and over time, it crumbled like a forgotten New Year’s resolution. By 2013, everything above the base had been removed—but that base is still out there. Today, the old ore dock base feels more like a sidewalk to the past. It’s a peaceful place to walk, take in the lake breeze, and reflect on just how much history is hidden in these little towns.

15/06/2025

Today is Father’s Day, and I want to take a moment to recognize two very important fathers in my life.

First, my dad—my constant.
He’s always been there. A steady presence, a hard worker, and someone who never hesitated to do what needed to be done for his family. He’s still one of the first people I call when I need advice or just want to talk things through.

Thanks, Dad, for being my pillar and my example. You’ve shaped more of my life than you probably realize.

And then there’s Keith.
Happy Father’s Day to a man who stepped into a role with heart and quiet strength. For 28 years, he’s been “Dad” to my two kids. Jesse and Vic always knew they could count on him—whether it was advice, a helping hand, or someone to lean on. He showed up, day after day, with love and dedication.

To both of you—thank you. For being dependable, for showing us what it means to lead with love, and for being the kind of fathers who inspire deep respect and lasting gratitude.

13/06/2025

How do you feel about a one night stand? (No, not that kind...🤦‍♀️)

Before we left the campground in Grand Marais, our tire pressure monitor started yelling at us. After a quick roadside inspection (and a squint into the tread), Keith spotted the culprit: a nail. It was a slow leak so we hit the road, determined to take it easy and keep a sharp eye on the monitor.

To be fair, we’d squeezed just about all we could out of those tires—three years and close to 70,000 miles. So instead of plugging it, we made the call to replace all four. We tracked down a Discount Tire in Marquette that had Goodyear Endurance tires in stock (thank you, tire gods!), and pointed the rig that way.

Since we rarely make reservations, I hopped online to search for a campground in Marquette while Keith drove. I had a couple of places bookmarked for a drive-by once we got into town.

But just before we hit Marquette proper, we saw a sign for the Ojibwa Casino Campground—and decided to swing in for a peek. Honestly, our expectations weren’t high. Most casino campgrounds we’ve seen are glorified parking lots with hookups (if you're lucky). But this one? A total surprise.

Paved roads, well-spaced gravel sites, hookups (yes, all three—water, electric, and sewer), and a nearly empty campground. We had our pick of 60 sites... and one quiet neighbor. The price? A budget-friendly $40 for the night. Jackpot!

We slept well, woke up early, and rolled into Discount Tire right when they opened at 8:30 AM. Four shiny new tires and a solid reminder: sometimes the unplanned one-nighters turn out better than you’d expect.

12/06/2025

If you ever find yourself near Grand Marais, Michigan—maybe road-tripping along Lake Superior or just exploring the Upper Peninsula—do yourself a favor and stop by Sable Falls. It’s one of those spots that doesn’t get all the fanfare, but totally deserves a place on your must-see list.

The falls drop about 75 feet in a series of cascades, and the sound alone is worth the visit. It’s the kind of rushing water that somehow clears your head and fills it at the same time. You’ll get to the bottom by going down 170 wooden steps. Yes, it’s a little bit of a workout, but the views are absolutely worth every one.

Once you’re at the bottom, the falls come into full view, tumbling over dark rock and framed by the forest. It’s powerful but peaceful, loud but not overwhelming—just the right kind of nature therapy. What’s really wild is that the sandstone at the base is over a billion years old. One. Billion. Talk about standing in the presence of something ancient.

If you keep following the trail a bit past the falls, you’ll end up on a beautiful little beach where the creek spills into Lake Superior. It’s quiet, a little rugged, and a mix of sand and rock—perfect for rock hounds or just sitting for a while and letting the lake do its thing.

No need to over-plan this one. Just go. Bring some water, wear good shoes, and don’t rush it. Sable Falls is a reminder that some of the best parts of travel are the simple ones: a walk in the woods, the sound of falling water, and the feeling of being somewhere that’s been around long before us—and will be long after.

11/06/2025

I’m not a professional photographer. Let’s just get that out there. At best, I get lucky now and then with a few decent shots to share on our Footloose and Fabulous page. Most of the time, my trusty phone does all the heavy lifting because, let’s be honest, it’s just so convenient. I do own a decent Canon camera—but I couldn't tell you the difference between an aperture and an F-stop if my life depended on it. When I do pull out the “real” camera, I set it on “A” for automatic and trust it to do its job. So far, it hasn’t let me down.

But a few nights ago? I got lucky. Real lucky.

We were staying at Woodlands Campground in Grand Marais, Michigan. Around 9:00 p.m., word spread like campfire smoke—sunset was going to be something special. So we joined dozens of other campers (and a whole army of mosquitoes) to watch the sun slowly sink into Lake Superior.

And wow. Just…wow!

For the next 33 minutes, we stood there in awe—watching the sky transform through every shade of orange, pink, and purple imaginable. It felt like nature was putting on a show just for us. I snapped a bunch of photos, hoping to capture even a fraction of that beauty.

Turns out, not all sunsets are created equal. The best ones tend to happen when the air is clean and dry, with just enough clouds to catch the sunlight and scatter it across the sky. Add in a big, still body of water like Lake Superior? That’s the secret sauce. The colors reflect off the lake like glass, doubling the drama and turning the whole scene into something surreal.

I may not know my way around camera settings, but I know when something is worth capturing.

Sometimes, the most stunning photos don’t come from technical skills or expensive gear. Sometimes, they just come from showing up at the right time, in the right place, with your eyes (and your camera) open.

Drop your favorite sunset picture in the comments below so we can all enjoy. 🌅

10/06/2025

Tucked away on the south shore of Lake Superior in Michigan’s Upper Pen*sula is the sleepy town of Grand Marais. In addition to the amazing beaches, it’s also the eastern gateway to Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore—which basically makes it the front door to one of the most stunning stretches of shoreline in the country.

These days, Grand Marais has fewer than 400 year-round residents, but in the summer, it hums with life as campers, hikers, kayakers, and rock hunters flock to its shores.

How small is small-town life here? The local school has just 35 students total—from kindergarten through 12th grade. As a former teacher and principal, I can tell you: that sounds like an absolute dream school. One building, a few multi-grade classrooms, and probably a staff meeting you could hold around a campfire. Everyone knows everyone, and chances are the school bus driver also coaches basketball and makes a mean chili for the school fundraiser. It’s the kind of
setting where relationships come first—and where kids probably still play outside at recess without a single tablet in sight.

But this peaceful little village wasn’t always so sleepy. Back in the late 1800s, it was bustling with Native American traders, commercial fishermen, and lumbermen chasing the white pine boom. At its peak in the 1890s, the population soared to over 2,000 people. There were shops, saloons (because of course), and plenty of action on the main street. Then, as quickly as it came, the boom busted—and the population dipped to about 200 when the lumber mills closed in 1910. Talk about a plot twist.

Grand Marais also has not one, not two, but three museums. Our personal favorite? The Pickle Barrel House. Yes, it’s a giant barrel. Yes, someone once lived in it. And yes, you’ll definitely want a photo. It was the summer home of illustrator William Donahey, who created a comic strip called The Teenie Weenies. Clearly, he had a thing for cozy spaces and a sense of humor.

And if maritime history floats your boat, the Lightkeeper’s House offers a peek into the life of those who once kept ships safe from Superior’s temperamental moods.

And then there’s the Post Office Museum—a charming nod to the days when handwritten letters and postmasters were the heartbeat of a town. It’s filled with artifacts and old equipment that make you realize just how much work used to go into sending a simple postcard. Spoiler alert: it didn’t always involve scanning a barcode and clicking "Track Package."

09/06/2025

In our six years on the road, we’ve rarely looked back—literally. New roads, new towns, and new campsites have been the rhythm of our travel life. With so many places still on our list, it’s hard to justify circling back to somewhere we’ve already been.

But every once in a while, a place lingers in your memory long enough to pull you back.

That’s exactly what happened with Grand Marais, Michigan.

This little town on the southern shore of Lake Superior has a quiet kind of magic. It doesn’t shout—it whispers. And apparently, it whispered to us again, because here we are, back at Woodland County Park, tucked into a site with a partial lake view and a front-row seat to Superior’s steady waves.

The beach below the campground is a rock hound’s dream—smooth stones shaped by time and water, scattered like treasure waiting to be discovered. You can spend hours wandering the shoreline, pockets filling with nature’s souvenirs.

There’s something grounding about coming back to a place that once moved you. Grand Marais is one of those rare repeats that makes us glad we came back.

08/06/2025

In case you didn’t know, gephyrophobia is the fear of crossing bridges. 🌁 And not just a little uneasiness—this phobia can bring on full-blown anxiety and even panic attacks.

Thankfully, we don’t suffer from it. Which is really good considering how many bridges we cross in our travels!

Our recent route took us over a big one—the Mackinac Bridge, affectionately known as the Mighty Mac. Stretching 5 miles long, it connects Michigan’s Lower and Upper Peninsulas and happens to be the longest suspension bridge in the western hemisphere. And wow, what a drive! The views of Lake Michigan and Lake Huron on either side are nothing short of spectacular.

What’s really cool (and thoughtful) is that Michiganders have made sure gephyrophobia doesn’t stop people from getting where they need to go. If you’re too nervous to drive across the bridge, you don’t have to. Bridge staff will actually drive your vehicle across for you—24/7. All it takes is a $10 fee (plus your normal toll), and a quick stop to request the service.

If you're coming from the north, just pull into the administration building or ask at the toll booth. From the south side, pull over just north of Exit 339 and call Bridge Services at 906-643-7600.

We’re always impressed by the practical kindness you find in unexpected places.

07/06/2025

Michigan is known for the Great Lakes, college football, and small-town charm—but one thing that often flies under the radar is its farmland.

On a recent drive from Harbor Beach to Alpena, weaving through Michigan’s Thumb and up along the Lake Huron coast, we were struck by just how much of this state is shaped by agriculture. Rolling fields stretched to the horizon—corn, soybeans, hay, and who knows what else—all tended by the kind of quiet grit that doesn’t ask for attention but deserves a nod of respect.

There’s something reassuring about it. In a time when so much feels uncertain, the sight of tractors in the field and crops swaying in the breeze reminds you that some things still run on seasons and hard work. These are the landscapes where food comes from—not factory shelves or shipping containers, but from families who know every inch of their land.

It’s easy to overlook, especially if you’re just passing through. But if you take the time to look out the window—and maybe stop for a roadside farm stand or local farmer's market—you’ll see a different kind of Michigan. One rooted in the soil, and in people who quietly keep this part of the world going.

06/06/2025

It’s always tough to pack up when we find the perfect campsite. Harbor Beach really had it all—peaceful views of Lake Huron, great weather, well taken campground, and amenities nearby. But after four or five days, the call of the open road starts tugging at us. We start wondering what the next spot will be like, what new views we’ll wake up to, and who we might meet along the way.

By now, we’ve got our moving day routine down to a science. Keith handles everything outside—disconnecting the power cord and hoses, hitching up, checking tires—while I get the inside of the Airstream road-ready. Pillows get stashed, cabinets get locked, and everything gets tucked away. Once we’ve each done our part, it’s off to the dump station to empty our tanks and top off fresh water.

Start to finish? Usually less than 30 minutes. Quick and easy.

Here’s a fun little video I put together from the morning we left Harbor Beach (minus Keith doing his thing outside) —sped up 2x so you can see our routine in action.

Footloose and Fabulous

16/06/2025

15/06/2025

13/06/2025

12/06/2025

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