As part of my youth-revisiting time-warp this weekend, I headed out this morning to the town of Charlevoix, another frequent daytrip destination during the Walloon Lake visits of yesteryear. I found Charlevoix as charming as I remembered, but the drive between Petoskey and Charlevoix took my breath away. One roadside park in particular turned out to be worth the trip.
The Walloon Lake Beachfront Walking Path
While revisiting the summer paradise of my youth at Walloon Lake, I went out for an evening stroll along the street behind the cottage that we used to rent. I was also trying to locate something I remember from those early visits, but didn’t completely trust my memory on – the path between the houses and the lake. Living in a lakefront town as I have for the past decade, I couldn’t believe that such a thing could exist in modern times. After all, Lake Michigan beachfront homeowners went all the way to the Michigan Supreme Court trying to keep people from walking on the beach in front of their homes, so why would the homeowners along beautiful Walloon Lake have a path that was actually in their yards? The adult me could not reconcile the concept.
And not just because I haven’t been here in 30 years.
One of the funny things about being adopted is my parents talk about when they “got” me, as opposed to most parents who “have” kids. Not that it’s bad or anything, just a funny thing that pops up in conversation now and again. Just days after I was “gotten” in July 1974, the Goudie tribe headed up to Walloon Lake in the northern Lower Peninsula, for a two-week vacation with two other families, the Dunn’s and the Baker’s. This would repeat itself each August until I was 8 or 9 – I’ll get the exact year we stopped going sometime in the next year, because I’m about halfway through scanning all 10,000 of my dad’s 35mm slides, but that’s a story for another day. And many posts.