I regret that Whitehall Road forces one to drive through cities of Whitehall and Montague before one can get on the Oceana Highway and drive through the small towns of Rothbury, New Era and Shelby. I love Whitehall and Montague, but they are too far south. And so I boarded the US-31 trunk line in Whitehall, feeling hungry and fatigued but ready to put the pedal to the metal until Manistee. South of Manistee, I saw cars pulled over to the west side of the row and just in time to swerve and avoid it, a stag thrashing and dying, his spinal cord severed. His front legs worked, his back legs immobile. The land west of the stretch of road north of Ludington and south of Manistee has reverted to wilderness, the only wilderness in lower peninsula Michigan. I didn't see the lucky car with the smashed hood, the unwitting bullet that had brought this stag down. If a demolition driver needed meat, he could reliably stock his fridge for life with a good bumper and a short drive south of Manistee. I've often said that stretch of road has deer ballets in performance, not deer crossings.
So I swerved, recovered, and wondered why I didn't see a deer thrashing in the middle of a two lane federal highway until the deer's horns flailing could scratch my paint as I rolled onward.
I almost always stop in Manistee when driving north to Manistee, and there's a pleasant boathouse restaurant on the south shore of Manistee River, but I didn't wish to lose my road fire year. I though of the solid walnut counter of the bar and I couldn't see myself stopping. I could see the cardboard mills on Lake Manistee, but steamy plumes arose from them, and in the moonlight night, I fancied them fumaroles fuming.
The road dwindles to a two lane north of the Little River Casino. Fish fries are key for Friday, but the fish is Cod and not Perch. One Inn had an interesting sign: Cod All You Can Eat, $ 6.99. Can a fish read? For a major freeway, the two laner through Bear Lake, Benzonia, Beulah is quiet and dark at night. I had the road to myself, except for a police car monitoring traffic at the Speed Limit sign just inside Bezonia City Limits.
It's just as well that US-31 drew me onto its divided highway at Whitehall. I made splendid time, giving me an hour to hang out in Honor, Michigan, order dinner and write what I remember of the road's conversation with my soul. It is receding from my mind the way a dream eludes the conscious mind.
Sufferin Suckatash is tuning up their guitars at the LumberJack Restaurant in downtown Honor, Michigan. In fact, it is the only restaurant serving decent food left in Honor, Michigan. The Platte River Inn folded after serving the public since 1951 and no one has bought the facility next door to the LumberJack. The Platte River runs coldly and swiftly behind these storefront joints.
What is this! A restaurant without a webpage featuring a band without a web page. This isn't 1994. It's Honor, Michigan on the way to Traverse City.
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