The interstate was close to the hotel & it took no time to find myself blasting What's Your Fantasy as I weaved between cars. Minneapolis had one of those "classic rap stations" & I was happy for it.

Today I was heading up to Michigan with my rental car, ready to explore anything along the way. The only thing was that this Minnesota part was awfully boring with few towns and lots of forests and empty fields. I had this one old building GPS-marked in Upson and it ended up being the first exciting thing I'd seen in hours.

As much as I giggled while passing through Clam Lake, I'd recommend a different route than MN-70 if you find yourself driving from Minneapolis to Houghton.

I love Michigan's Upper Peninsula and I'd envisioned that northeast Wisconsin would have some spillover of cool things, but it didn't seem to spread very far from the border. (Save for Upson, Wisconsin that is.)

Arriving in Ironwood Michigan around lunchtime, this was more like it. Weathered streets, old buildings, neon signs & dark, authentic bars. I liked the area around Aurora Street enough that I wanted to stay here tonight, but it was still too early.

From Ironwood, I headed towards the Keweenaw Peninsula. It was there that I ran into the phenomenon of buying beer in a bar, something I had only experienced in Wyoming & New Jersey before.

Entering Bill's B&B bar and takeout in Houghton, there were a handful of people drinking as I looked around confusedly for the liquor store area. A friendly, young lady bartender asked what I needed, where I struggled with remembering my favourite U.P. beer but at the last moment before it got awkward, blurted out Keweenaw Amber. "Oh, you mean Red Jacket Ale?" she asked. "Yeah we got that, 6 pack?"

The plan tonight was to free camp at the local county park. The only problem was that the end of my trip coincided with the end of the school year, meaning car after car of teenagers was heading out to this free and unsupervised area at the mouth of the canal leading towards Houghton. In addition, there was only one road in & out, so I couldn't tuck away anywhere. After they drank and did whatever, they would have to pass my solitary tent by the shore upon leaving.

Abandoning that plan I raced back to Houghton, to go all the way to the Portage Lake Lift Bridge so I could get to McLain State Park on the other side of the canal.

As I arrived, the park ranger looked at me a bit strange as my old cell phone wouldn't turn off and all he could hear was Bill Burr yelling about Republicans. Following that, he profusely apologized that the campground was full and that I would have to camp in the overflow area, "I'm so sorry, but you're going to have to go to the overflow area where there's only one other camper." Um, this was sounding pretty good to me...

Pulling up, there was one quiet RV along with individual campsites on a ridge that overlooked Lake Superior and the Keweenaw Waterway Upper Entry Light. The light flashed as I set up my tent and as I stood there at my campsite, I also had my own private washroom and reading area just 50 feet away (it's not like the RV people were going to use it).

Setting up and cracking a Red Jacket Ale beside my book in the cool Michigan night, this was um, just sort of okay with me. In fact, whenever I return to McLain State Park I'd slip the guy a fiver to get the overflow area to myself again. Sitting out here on this quiet night was one of my favourite memories of the trip.

I also loved the faint light from the lighthouse slightly illuminating my tent as I eventually drifted off to sleep.

Of course being anywhere near Houghton, breakfast the next morning was at the Suomi Bakery Finnish restaurant to get some savoury and filling pannukakku, an oven roasted pancake with custard. The only thing was that I had to wait for a table even as a party of one, so where Nailhed let me in on this Finnish secret in 2012, other people were somehow finding out as well! Probably from Nailhed.com I'd say!

Following breakfast, if I was going to be near Houghton than I was also going to head up to one of my favourite cities in nearby Calumet. I didn't have a ton of extra time, but I went for a short walk, appreciating their 1898 Fire Station and the coffee shop that was still open from my 2012 visit.

I also stopped to see if I could right the fact that I skipped out on seeing the inside of the Calumet Colosseum last time. Unfortunately it wasn't open for hockey just yet, punctuated by a random old timer pulling up in a truck, asking what I was up to & then explaining that the caretaker would be back next week and could probably show me around then.

If only my flight out of Minneapolis wasn't leaving tomorrow.

From Calumet, it was then time to get on with the main focus of today. There was a lighthouse in ruins and through Google Earth plus information gleamed from Nailhed's coverage, this led to worry about my route to the lighthouse, gravel roads and my rental car. Without a concrete answer to which roads were paved out in the wilderness near the village of Ontonagon, I simply punched the lighthouse into my GPS and decided I would figure it out by trial and error.

I was surprised how long the paved roads lasted. When it seemed like I was getting into backcountry & far from civilization, the paved roads remained as I passed a lot of rundown homes and empty land. In the end, I didn't end up driving on much gravel at all when I finally came to the road's end and signs for a private road and new housing estates.

Nailhed and Sloop had parked a distance away back in 2008, crossing rivers and hiking way further than I planned, since I was going to take advantage of these new housing estates. I was already parked closer to the lighthouse than they were when they first emerged on the beach from whatever county road.

Walking up the private road, my heart's pace increased as I flippantly strolled along where I shouldn't be. I was far from the nearest town and pictured someone in a pickup being awfully angry with me ignoring the private road signs. As I rushed and listened, things were going good as I moved freely up this nicely graded road, skipping more & more of the hard beach that Nail & Sloop had to endure.

Coming to a private driveway and a No Trespassing sign at the end of the road, I knew it was time to dive into the forest. I made sure to pick a housing lot still for sale, but as I saw a guy a hundred feet off in the woods having a barrel fire alongside a shitty trailer, I made sure to veer away from him & hopefully keep to the unoccupied lot.

He didn't seem to notice me.

Popping out on to the beach and thinking I was in the clear, sure enough there was a lady up ahead in a beach chair reading with her dog beside her; and she was engrossed in her book, not seeing me at all. In an area where she would expect to see a porcupine or a bear more than a human, I tried to hum and kick stones as I walked along to alert her to my presence.

She didn't notice me until I was really close, but she simply and calmly acknowledged me and said hello. Explaining that I was going to the lighthouse, she said I had a bit of a hike ahead of me, but that I would be fine.

Well that went better than I expected.

The sandy beach ended soon after and turned to red sandstone slabs of various sizes. These were fine to walk on when it was all compressed together, but every now & then, one was loose and your leg would sweep away from you.

Coming to a submerged point of land where I would have to climb over, I went into the forest to cut across and meet up with the shore further up ahead.

The forest was a weird mixture of places that almost seemed like they had a path, to areas that looked like no one had ever walked. For Michigan forest with spaced trees that's usually easy enough to walk, there were enough blow downs, brush and marshy areas to make for slow going.

Eventually (and especially on the way back) I abandoned the forest for simply sticking to the shore and taking chances with getting my feet wet. It wasn't that cold today, so if I got a soaker it wouldn't be the end of the world. And as I have pretty sure feet, I was making quick work even when there would be half-submerged or seaweed-covered parts.

It was about time that I should see the lighthouse up ahead though. Remembering Nailhed's blog about this place, I recalled how they had camped out here and that they didn't see the first building until they were almost right on top of it; which is a funny thing for a point of land with a lighthouse, but here I was not seeing the lighthouse up ahead, reasoning that I had to be getting awfully close.

I was right in that it wasn't much longer as I soon found the fog signal building right on the shore. Leaving that building behind, it was only a few steps until I was under a canopy of trees, looking out over the clearing and the sight that is Fourteen Mile Point Lighthouse.

I was blown away when Nailhed first posted about this place, since it was news to me at the time, and the same feeling came back as I finally made it here. My Top 10 list of abandoned buildings is littered with unique sights & I had spent lots of waking thoughts pondering walking upon this Fourteen Mile Point Lighthouse.

Of course I've been to abandoned lighthouses before, but usually they're just short, simple towers like Bay Bulls or Cow Head. And don't get me wrong, I love the Bay Bulls Lighthouse, but I was legitimately standing in front of a castle here.

There was crenellation, an arcade and protruding brick patterns. All in ruins out here on this lonely point 14 miles north along the shoreline from Ontonagon. It was hard to believe such a grand structure still stands out here, so far removed from any human habitation.

I circled the ruined tower, almost to savour it, knowing that I was now here and had plenty of time to make it back to my car.

As I came around the back of the building, I found the 2nd Assistant Keeper's House and the tiny, brick oil house.

There were plenty of tags and check-ins inside. Of the handful that I read, it seemed like a lot of people make it here by ski-doo.

I sat down on the edge of the open doorway for a minute, taking it all in. For all of the years I'd fantasized about coming out here, it was hard to believe I was finally here.

One funny aside was that during Nailhed & I's Upper Peninsula trip of 2012, I casually mentioned how much I wanted to come out here, to which he replied it wouldn't have been much trouble...and that he heard it was much easier than when Sloop & him came. It was only that I mentioned it too late and we were already headed back towards Detroit! Bah!

This doesn't really seem like a place prime for demolition - knock on wood - but I was still happy to finally make it here after skipping it by chance during that 2012 trip.

Standing up and walking towards the main structure, it was a funny experience of "oh, here's a window that leads to a 10 foot drop" or "oh, here's a perfectly-fine doorway to walk through."

I eventually pulled myself up and inside.

Tile remains on one of the still standing floors.

One of the more intact rooms still left in the place.

Pacing around on the bits of floor and wall tops still standing, there was a confined area you could explore while everything else was missing. Peering into some of the empty spaces, it was just a drop into a thickly-vegetated area where I wasn't sure how you would get out if you found yourself down there.

Especially with my lack of upper body strength, there was a definite thought of "okay, don't fall into that space."

Up in the lantern room I again wished it wasn't such an overcast day, and this time not just for picture taking. Sure the Lake Superior view was still great, but I couldn't help but think of the distant lands and sea I could gaze out over if it was sunny.

I also thought about how I had all of my camping gear in the rental car, where I could have easily camped out here last night but was scared off by the unknown of how far it would be, the possibility of bears, people visiting, etc.. If I would have been a bit more brave, I surely would have had a nice view by the setting sun or early morning light.

By 1875, you had the old rudimentary lighthouse built at Ontonagon replaced with a sturdier tower (this happened in 1866), as well as the Portage Lake Ship Canal Lighthouse operational at the head of the Portage Canal (near where I camped last night). As the Lighthouse Service set a goal to have at least one lighthouse within view of any ship throughout the entirety of the Great Lakes, along this wild coast a ship could leave the view of these two lights where there were only the villages of Freda and Redridge.

It was decided in the early 1890s to construct a lighthouse here at Fourteen Mile Point, as it stuck out into Lake Superior and also acted as a safety point for ships headed towards Ontonagon. Once the ships passed Fourteen Mile Point, they had safely passed both Misery & Sleepy Bay, and now the captains could begin to curve inland towards the coming Ontonagon harbour.

By 1893, supplies and men were headed to this remote point in order to construct a lighthouse. Arriving in the fall, they hurriedly constructed the 2nd Assistant Keeper's House, so that they could return in the spring and have a base for their brick laying and tower construction. One man was left behind over the winter of 1893-94 and tasked with clearing the land, and he must have been quite the keener because he cleared about 10 acres.

As Fourteen Mile Point continues to succumb to the elements and not see any brush clearing these days, it's interesting to see the trees coming back for those 10 acres taken from them so long ago.

One of the most impressive things about Fourteen Mile Point, and one of the things that made me know I had to come out here, was its size. This wasn't some simple lighthouse with one main keeper's house attached, but rather two relatively giant homes for the keeper and the assistant keeper, both attached to the back and side of the lighthouse.

The lightkeepers wouldn't even use these spaces for 50 years though, as the lighthouse was already automated by 1940, its role diminished by larger ships needing to, and being capable of, travelling further offshore. After 1940, the lightkeepers of Ontonagon were tasked with coming out here once a month by the old trail or by boat, to check on the light and make sure everything was in order.

By 1955 the lighthouse was fully abandoned, after the Coast Guard removed the Fresnel Lens and sold the building into private ownership. It would sit here until 1984, when a fire burnt through all of the wooden interior, continuing to burn since this wasn't an easy place for fire crews to reach.

Fourteen Mile Point was again sold in the 1990s and it saw some renovation and stabilization by the mid-90s, but it doesn't seem like there's been any further work in the meantime.

I wasn't sure at first that I was going to make it up to the lantern room, so I left my lunch and backpack down below, although I happened to have a granola bar and some water with me. Therefore, through a sweet victory meal of stale bar and simple water, I leaned out of the missing windows overlooking Superior, feeling ecstatic about where I found myself.

Amidst all this joy, I heard an engine and noticed a little speedboat bob into view with a couple of women peering up at the lighthouse and a man working the engine. I ducked back inside, laughing, but also not needing them concerned with the fact that I was up here all by myself.

They ended up only taking a couple pictures, before doing a 180 and heading back towards wherever they came.

Of course I dawdled, but if I wasn't staying here tonight eventually it would be time to leave. Staying out of the woods on the way back, I returned to the car in record time, a time I remembered and later told Nailhed, where he didn't seem too impressed with how easily I found myself out here, ha ha! Them damn housing estates, eh?

Getting back to the car and off the private road, I leaned back and couldn't believe I had finally seen Fourteen Mile Point.

Next up, I also planned on finally visiting the lighthouse in Ontonagon. I knew the factory that prevented access in Ontonagon had closed, so I thought for sure someone would have cut a hole in the fence and you could walk the empty (the factory was demolished) lot out to the lighthouse. As it turns out? The factory is still well fenced & you still need to set up an appointment with the local historic society for them to bring you out there. The fence had zero signs of manipulation, smh.

Even if I didn't get the Ontonagon Lighthouse, a greater celebratory meal was still in order. That celebratory meal would come in the village of Rockland.

And Rockland is pretty much focused on Henry's Inn nowadays, where they have an evening smorgasbord of food every Friday, Saturday & Sunday. It's highly-regarded and well-renowned, and located in an old building from 1898. It sounded right up my alley.

The thing was, I had some expectations but the buffet was ridiculous.

I don't have any clue how they manage to have enough people here to make all this fresh food, or how they can stay in business preparing all of these delicious things in such large batches.

Sure there were a fair number of people here, but Henry's Inn can do this every weekend night? 6 different types of pizza, 8 different desserts with things like pineapple upside down cake/tiramisu/strawberry cheesecake, fried chicken, stuffed mushrooms, racks of rib, etc., etc.?

I can't recommend Henry's Inn enough.

Following my stuffed mushrooms, oh so tasty pizza, and cold Stroh's, I had a bit of a drive to get myself close to Minneapolis. My flight wasn't until the early afternoon and I was tired by now, but when would I get another chance to see a new community in this area of Wisconsin? With that thought, I had marked Eau Claire's Antlers Motel in my GPS a couple of weeks earlier, and now I was setting off towards this great neon sign.

Arriving and going to Taco Bell down the road, I quoted Bon Iver's Wisconsin with a reference to quesadillas - which no one got - then went to bed an hour later.

The next morning I woke up early to explore Eau Claire, ecstatic to check out a fresh and famous American town in the midwest, in one of my favourite states that I long to see more of.

As it turns out though, I didn't really care for Eau Claire. I walked all over, but it was unremarkable and a place that I just couldn't really get excited or depressed about. It was just, fine. I even looked up if they had catastrophic flooding or something (they haven't) since there were so many empty lots and disjoined buildings.

Grabbing one last road coffee, I had about a 90-minute drive to MSP Airport ahead of me. I soon dropped off my car and finished up one hell of a trip.

As always, thanks for reading.