Detroit Eclipse

For those of you in the dark (buh-dum-dum), these past few weeks, the Great American Eclipse of 2017 has been incredibly hyped.  Lets face it - it should be. 

This type of eclipse involves the moon moving directly between the earth and the sun.  Recognizing that the sun is basically 400 times larger than the moon but is also 400 times farther away, the sizes match almost perfectly.  If the two line up correctly with each other and the earth, an eclipse ensues. 

The result is an awe inspiring astronomical event that is known to have stopped conflict and  inspire the arts.  Christopher Columbus even used one to bamboozle indigenous people.  I suspect an eclipse might  even confuse a Republican or two. 

During this recent eclipse, the 70-mile wide strip of land, known as the Zone of Totality, stretched from sea to shining sea.  As expected, the lighting became dim, the temperature dropped and some animals reacted as if it was dawn or dusk. 

While zillions of people flocked to the Zone (Wyoming's population literally doubled!), I could not make the journey.  While I had an offer for a road trip to St. Louis, I was obliged to decline as I had home responsibilities (sorry Josh).  I knew I wanted to photograph the spectacle but I just couldn't manage the time commitment.

That said, I wanted to secure photos that you would likely not see elsewhere.  Lets face it - stunning images were produced showing the Bailey's Beads....but nothing else is in the picture.  Why?  In part, because it was too high in the sky. While there is certainly nothing wrong with that, they are photos that could have been taken anywhere in the zone.  I wanted to incorporate the eclipse into some sort of feature that says "I was here!"  with "here" in this case being a readily identifiable landmark.

But my problem was the angle. At 2:28pm Detroit time, the sun was over 60 degrees above the horizon.  Further, in order to have a large sun in the image, I have to use my telephoto lens.  So where can I go where I can shoot high in the sky for a large sun and still have a recognizable foreground?  

Detroit.

Rising over 660 feet, the Penobscot Building is one of Detroit's gems.  Completed in 1928 in the Art-Deco style, the roof profile is probably one of the most identifiable buildings in Detroit's skyline.  For those of you familiar with the area, this is the building with the red ball on the spire at night.  

So, the idea was simple - find the location in Detroit where the sun will be near the Penobscot ball during the eclipse when viewed from the ground.  

Enter PhotoPills. Without the gory details, this application allowed me to calculate where I needed to be during the big show. The destination? Campus Martius Park.  

During the big day, Natalie, Sue and I set up shop with two critical pieces of equipment.  First, we all had the eclipse glasses.  No, they don't make anybody look good but they make you look smart.  Everybody knows that looking into the sun, even under most stages of an eclipse, is bad.  Okay, maybe not everybody.  

Second, I secured the mandatory solar filter for my camera rig.  Without it, the camera is ruined (not unlike your retina) as the lens focuses the sunlight on the delicate sensor. 

Ultimately, I was in three different locations.  That's a long story.  But, in the end, I got the shot I envisioned. For the record, these images are barely altered. 

Generally, clouds during an eclipse might bring some folks to tears.  Think about it. When is the last time you saw the sun on a cloudy day?  What if you had to wait for a very specific sun in a very specific spot at a very specific time of day? 

But for me, it worked.  The clouds were just starting to roll in during the latter phases.  Knowing the solar filter was blocking light, I needed to lengthen the shutter speed.  Subjects on the move with an open shutter blur.  Voila.  

All in all, the outing was excellent.  In the event you missed this particular event, another one is occurring in 2024. Totality will be as close as Toledo, Ohio.  I'm there.  

I'll be looking ahead to June of 2021, also.  Little known fact - the sun will rise in Detroit eclipsed on the 10th.

I'll be there, too. 

OK in the OTR and CZ

Two people.  Two days off.  Road trip.  

While I have come to generally despise the name "bucket list", I understand its motive.  Natalie and I, looking to hit a target destination, hit the road. 

The drive down to Cincinnati was smooth as it was a Sunday morning.  By lunch time, we had arrived in the Over-The-Rhine neighborhood (OTR).

Needless to say, that name needs some explanation. 

As is so often the case, immigrants moving to a new town gather in clusters based on their heritage or country of origin. Detroit has Mexican Town while Dearborn has a tremendous Middle-eastern population.  For Cincinnati, the mid-19th Century saw a a huge influx of Germans. 

Rhine. Germany.  So the connection is made, right?....sort of. Germans named the neighborhood based on the geography of their homeland. They were indeed "over the Rhine."   A quick peak at a map of Europe shows the Rhine River is the second longest river in the region and is a major part of Germany's identity.

But there is no river in downtown Cincinnati.  That's right - no river exists separating the downtown region with the OTR.  Perhaps those Germans were having one too many lagers?  

It turns out there was a water feature that inspired the name. During Cincinnati's expansion as a midwestern economic force, the Miami and Erie Canal  was cut from Lake Erie to the Ohio River.  This canal, running south along the western counties of the state, literally bisected Cincinnati into a northern and southern portion. Guess where OTR ended up?  Yup - north of the canal.  So from a downtown perspective, OTR was literally over the "river.".

As economic forces changed, the canal lost its muscle. After a short stint as basically an open sewer, the city opted to pursue a subway system. Dead before the first car was on the track, Cincinnati opted to pave the land as a road.  Today, you drive it as Central Parkway. 

Anti-German sentiments came into play during World War I.  This was complicated by the gaff known as Prohibition. After all, what do Germans like to do with their time? Brew beer!  Over a dozen breweries where in the neighborhood at the turn of the 20th Century. Why would a cultural group stay in a region where everyone hates you and numbnuts in your government prevent you from making a living?  You'd leave too! 

Construction of major interstates during the Eisenhower Administration forced the displaced poor in to the OTR that was now partially occupied by the impoverished from Appalachia.  Federal programs soured as crime rose and poverty became entrenched.  By the 1990's, OTR was a neighborhood that you didn't walk in broad daylight. If you didn't need to go there, you didn't go.   (Some studies suggested that crime rivaled that of Compton in Southern California.  While this has been discredited, OTR was still awful. Nobody in the right mind disputes it.)

Yes, we went there.  Now, before you think we're nuts, read this article.  Visit this website.  In short, this is what can happen when concerned citizens and businesses say "enough."

As it turns out, the neighborhood is over 360 acres.  Sure, some of historic buildings are gone, but many remain.  It may turn out to be one of most intact historic neighborhoods in the country.  The National Trust for Historic Preservation placed the neighborhood on the list of the” Eleven Most Endangered Historic Places in America” in 2006. Between 2001 and 2006, 52 historic buildings were demolished.  Realistically, those numbers exceed the number of historic buildings in some cities’ entire historic districts. The neighborhood has now lost about 50% of its historic buildings.  

The opportunity to poke around for the afternoon was tremendous. The weather was great (though a tad warm).  It wasn't anything a cold beer and wood-stove pizza couldn't fix. The Findlay Market was extraordinary.  Built in 1852, the main building is a rare example of the nation’s early iron architecture.  Iron frameworks for construction were a BIG deal when they were first developed - very few remain. 

Still in the OTR, the obligatory cold beers on a warm early summer day came at the Rhinegeist Brewery.  Remember, the OTR neighborhood was largely German when it was settled.  German for "Ghost of the Rhine", the little skulls on the tap are a perfect logo.  Further yet, and perhaps more cool, the current brewery is inside one of the old bottling operations from the Pre-Prohibition Era.   The photo below was taken on the rooftop drinking deck.  Five stories above Cincinnati, the opportunity to taste fancy beer, look at old architecture and and watch sky-diving Peregrines Falcons cant be overlooked. What a great way to enjoy some time...

The inside, it should be mentioned, is simply huge. I mean huge.  Simply massive. Natalie and I were both in awe as we walked up the stairs to the main room.  Thousands and thousands of square feet.   They literally have wiffle ball games inside the building.    

Sadly for us, we did not get a chance to take a tour of the caverns below the building.  For you beer brewing novices, lagers, a German flagship beer, are not fermented at room temperature. They must be kept cooler.  With today's modern technologies, refrigeration is possible.  Historically, brewers would construct large caverns below the breweries were the temperature were suitable.  The caverns still exist below OTR. Perhaps if Natalie and I return, we can get there. In the meantime, the kegs below were in the main ale room.

 

Dinner was at yet another stellar OTR project - The Taft Ale House. Originally, it was the St. Paul’s Evangelical Church and was once the oldest protestant parish in the Queen City (one of Cincinnati's many nicknames). Constructed in 1850 amidst the expanding Over-the-Rhine brewing industry, its rather ironic that the church becomes the brewery, don't you think? 

What's the Taft connection? William H. Taft was from Ohio, specifically Cincinnati.  Ohio is rather proud of their man who went on to be both the President of the United States and the Justice of United States Supreme Court.  

The legend of the rather rotund, 350-pound Taft getting stuck in the tub lives on here. While it has never been confirmed as the story appeared 20 years after he left office, it is known he added a giant tub to White House during his tenure as President. To honor the story - true or not - the Ale House developed what is quite possibly the coolest logo ever....

After dinner drinks were secured in Washington Park. Originally, it was developed in the mid-18th century as a part of the Over-the-Rhine neighborhood after a short tenure as a cemetery. During OTR's less than glamorous days, the property was the dump you would expect it to be.  

Now?  Kids playing in fountains. Beer sales.  Dog parks.  Concert shells.  Playgrounds.  Simply an unbelievable piece of property at only 12 acres in size.  

Parking? Well, think about this. How many cars were there during the development of the OTR? Exactly none.  Needless to say, parking in the area might be a challenge and what you do find might be tight. Well, during the $46,000,000 restoration,  a 450-car garage was built below the park. You would never know it was there as it was mastefrully included. 

Further, the entire neighborhood is now boasting rurals.  The Golden Muse (below) is right next to the park.  It's nice to see art that has not been vandalized.  The city, forward thinking as it is, totally embraces the idea.

 

Lodging was a short skip from Washington Park.  The Symphony Hotel is quite possibly the nicest place we've ever stayed.  Resurrecting an old 18th Century home with the musical theme based on the Cincinnati Music Hall (which is literally across the street), the building is now one of the go-to places for lodging. Fine dining awaits guests before a show at the Hall.  For us, our meal was Monday's breakfast cooked to order.  

Each room, by the way, is named for musical greats.  We opted to pass on the Mozart, Brahms, and Beethoven Rooms. There was no Cypher room interestingly enough.   Instead, the Rachmaninoff seemed appropriate.  Named for Sergei Rachmaninoff, the room was stunningly detailed in late 18th Century furniture.  What a room.  

As a biology nut, I always find the historic medical investigations of the deceased to be fascinating.  While it has yet to confirmed (if indeed it ever can be), evidence suggests that Rachmaninoff suffered from either Marfan Syndrome or Acromegaly.  Both congenital conditions result in large hands (among other traits).  He was noted as writing piano pieces with chord structures that involved tremendous stretching of the fingers.  His skills as a pianist were certainly added by his biology.

While our first day in town was largely an "off-the-cuff" sort of structure, Day 2 was certainly planned. In fact, it was really the entire reason for the trip.

The Cincinnati Zoo and Botanical Gardens is one of the premier zoos in the country.  One of the nation's oldest, it made recent headlines for the killing of Harambe the Gorilla. While certainly a horrible situation (and correctly handled by the zoo, by the way), another death occurred there that should not be overlooked. 

John James Audubon, the noted 19th Century ornithologist, estimated that the Passenger Pigeon population was in excess of 3 billion birds.   Unregulated hunting and massive habitat loss brought the once abundant bird to extinction.  Martha, the world's last passenger pigeon, died in her enclosure at the Cincinnati Zoo on September 1st, 1914.  

Her enclosure remains.  The statue below is there in her honor, as well.  Her time of death is noted as 1pm - this makes that moment in time one of the only episodes (if not the only  episode) in world history where the extinction of an animal is precisely known.  

Interestingly, and even more unknown to most folks, the world's last Carolina Parakeet died here, as well.  Incas died on February 21, 1918.

While it was not horribly hot, it was hot enough if you are not used to humidity.  Regardless, it goes without saying that cameras and zoos go hand in hand.

Giraffes, in case you don't know, poop different depending on whether they are males, females, or moms who have just given birth.  

Orangutans, as you might imagine, spend alot time in zoos doing nothing.  Contrary to the opinions of the public, their time in the wild is spent doing much of the same... 
 

Gray-crowned Cranes are native to Africa.  Like so many other species of wildlife, they are experiencing declining populations.  Sucks for Uganda.  It's their national bird and is shown on their flag.

Meerkats have become very popular given their successful show Meerkat Manor.  Their tendency to post a guard while the rest forage is an excellent trait that shows their "all-for-one one-for-all" mentality.  It works great.......right up until they each other's offspring to help ensure better odds for their own kids. I wonder if they showed that on the television!

Ultimately, the two day tour of Cincinnati was superb.  Beer.  Buildings.  History.  World class zoo.  In fact, it was so enjoyable, we may have to head back.  There were plenty of parts we never covered. 

Fort Wayne

As any student of American history knows, the United States and Great Britain have had an interesting relationship.  We hated each other.  We continued to hate each other.  We liked each other.  Now they hate us again.   

After the second "we hate each other" phase, cooler heads prevailed and peace existed...for a short time, anyhow.  During the late 1830's, internal conflict within Canada swelled into a little known brouhaha known as the Patriot War. 

While United States troops were involved (sort of), it brought to the forefront a grand gaff of strategic military planning relating to the protection of our newly acquired soils. Federal documentation attributed to an unknown author (or perhaps just an interpretation of a suspected conversation by the writer of this blog) states:  "Holy s***.  If we find ourselves hating them again, we are so screwed because they have a fort on the Detroit River and we don't....."

Enter Fort Wayne.  Named after the western movie star, John  General "Mad" Anthony Wayne, funds were secured and the fort was built in what is now Del Ray in Detroit.  Shortly after the fort's completion in 1851, but before the installment of the first cannon, peace prevailed yet again.

While one might think the fort immediately slipped into disrepair, it did not.  (That comes later.)  The Civil War, World War I, World War II, Korea and Vietnam all saw Fort Wayne playing a role.  During the Arsenal of Democracy, the grounds were functionally the world's most impressive motor pool.  The tanks and jeeps rolling off assembly lines of Metro Detroit passed through Fort Wayne before heading to Europe.  The Vietnam era saw the grounds used for swearing in new soldiers before closing before finally closing.

After a short stint as the Fort Wayne Military Museum under the auspices of the Detroit Historical Museum, it has been operated, as of 2006, by the Detroit Recreation Department, assisted by the Historic Fort Wayne Coalition, the Friends of Fort Wayne, and the Detroit Historical Society.

With my newfound freedoms following graduation and a free day in my schedule, I headed to the Fort's grounds for photography.  Like many photographers, I find black-and-white conversions to be very appealing for images of the built environment. 

This is the original 1848 limestone barracks.  Note the addition on the back elevation of the building. Fossils were found in some of the front blocks as limestone is functionally old sea creatures. 

 

Sadly, funding is lacking.  Some buildings have been restored. Others have not.  The rowed buildings below are the quarters for the Non-commissioned Officers.  They are duplexes. 

While some buildings were literally converting to trellises for various botanicals, some could use some simple attention. The door below, while shoddy looking, really just needed some paint. Sure, the side lights needed replacement, but that is largely cosmetic.  While ugly and beautiful at the same time, this door is not as decrepit as it looks. 

Any fort needs defensive works.  Otherwise.......it's a really bad fort, or not a fort at all.  This board is held in place to minimize bird entry.  Back in the day, as the saying goes, a soldier could discharge their weapon from this gun port at an attacker.  The slot is only perhaps 5 inches wide, but that is enough room to do the deed. Note the lintel over the port.  

Brick courses are much more involved than people realize.  Almost any building today is laid out in "Common Bond."  If you look closely at historic buildings, however, you'll note that bricks are assembled in various patterns.  In the hands of skilled craftsmen, these patterns can become impressive.  Others, like the "English Bond" below, are marginally flashy, but easily overlooked.  The long face of a brick is the stretcher  while the short face is the header.  Note that every other course of bricks is entirely headers while the other courses are stretchers.  The exterior walls at Fort Wayne were not originally brick at all. These were added later. 

  

Storage of munitions is an issue with any military installation, even to this day.  Many historic forts have powder houses. In the event of an accidental explosion of potentially hundreds or even thousands of pounds of gun powder, damage could be extensive.  The standard design of the time called for an arched roof and stout stone walls. In the event of an accidental discharge, the force of the explosion would be driven up, not out.  

In the case of the Fort Wayne Powder House, protection goes beyond roof design.  The building (slightly larger than a one-car garage) is recessed into a hill.  Around the building, an open space reinforced with limestone beams can be found.  In the image below, the space is perhaps four feet wide while the beams are near chest high.  Note that the construction techniques are not identical on the two walls.  The left wall is the exterior wall of the powder house while the right wall is an interior wall of the hill in which the building is recessed.

Sadly, so much of the fort is in disrepair. Sure the property still gets used.  Civil War reenactments, flea markets, and soccer games now replace marching soldiers, motor pools, and poker.  In any case, if you appreciate history, architecture or the military, it is worth your time. 

Check it out.  It doesn't matter who currently hates whom.

Done...?

It's done. Finally.  Finished.  The finale.  Complete.

There it is....

What you see there is my Final Project. Officially, it is the National Register of Historic Places nomination for the Naval Air Station - Grosse Ile.  The title?  Runways to Recognition.  Huh? Huh? Pretty witty, eh?

As the "Final Project" suggests, it was the final step of my three-year journey to earn a Master of Science in Historic Preservation from Eastern Michigan University.  I even managed to graduate with honors.

Of course, with documentation that includes histories, photos and written descriptions of over 30 buildings on a 600+ acre piece of property, any documentation that is worth of a damn is going to be a few pages long, right?  I added the  bottle cap to give scale. (Who would have thought that a bottle cap would be laying around the house. Crazy.) It clocks in at about 7/8" thick.  

 

That journey was quite awesome, if I can say so myself.  Sure, I went to Ypsilanti scores of times over that period. But I also managed Traverse City for a few classes and that awesome road trip to Wheeling, West Virginia is one for the ages.  

My plan?  Well, for now, I'm going to relax just a bit and try to catch up on some things I have been putting off.  I also need to investigate the details behind that one extra class.

Yeah, you read that right.  One more class.  

One of the courses for my degree was an introduction to Geographic Information Systems.  Basically, you input incredible data into incredible software and get incredible maps allowing for incredible analysis.  My project for the class involved a study of cemeteries in Wayne County, Michigan that are susceptible to flooding.   I found the class to be simply incredible. 

The class I am looking to take this fall is essentially a Part 2 as the first section only covered half of the data options (Vector vs. Raster for those of you who know the difference.)

"Why?" you ask?

Because I want to...

So, when I mentioned a moment ago that I was done, welllllll, sort of. I guess I was done with my Final Project and Degree. 

But, hey, there is more learning to be done!

Happy Holidays!

On behalf of Natalie and I, Santa Tree Swallow would like to wish to you all safe and happy Holiday Season!

Beautiful Island

Scott Kelby knows photography.  As a photographer, author, editor and technical chair for photography workshops, he gets it.

One of the projects he launched almost a decade ago is the World Wide Photo Walk. Basically, people sign on to lead a group of photographers in a given destination. All participants submit one photo to the group leader.  That leader judges one to be the best and forwards it to Kelby. He in turn judges the top 11 - 10 finalists and one grand prize winner.

Here's the rub...

There are over a 1,000 walks conducted around the globe.  Scott Kelby has the unenviable task of judging over 1,000 images.  

So, if you're waiting for me to say I led a group, you'll have to wait longer.  I did no such thing. I opted to play the tag-along on one of Detroit's Photo Walks - Belle Isle.

Sadly, the morning of October 1 was a sloppy mess. Not at all a hard rain, it was certainly misty and wet...at least at first. By mid morning, the rain had cleared and the clouds were thick. By lunch, they were gone. 

The following photos are what I would consider my better ones.  I only get to submit one for the Walk.  I chose the leave-covered steps. 

I guess we'll see where this all goes!  Global winner? Oh, hell no.  But maybe I can knock out a Belle Isle win........

 

A Tragic Minute

With my new semester starting in less than a  week, Natalie and I wanted to take a day and have fun.  With plenty of options on the table, we opted for a trip to the Detroit Zoo.  

Always a fun day, I couldn't help but to be struck by the rhinoceros. Such a somber beast. 

Specifically, it is the Southern White Rhinoceros.  A subspecies of the White Rhinoceros, it shares the continent of Africa with the other subspecies, the Northern White.  

Lets take a minute and clear that up.  The Rhinos don't care what a subspecies is. That is science-y stuff.  They care about getting food, water and making baby rhinos.  Before, I even try and describe the concept, know this - scientists are ready to discard it as it relates to these two gentle beasts.  In short, they are likely two completely different species.  

And one of them is nearly extinct. 

With perhaps 20,000 individuals in the wild, the case for the Southern White Rhino looks solid for the time being.  

The Northern White Rhino is done.  It is only  a matter of time.  Sudan, Najin and Fatu are all that remain.  Genetics and health work against them.  Sudan, who is thought to be 42 years old is the planet’s last male. He, in the modern vernacular, is "shooting blanks."   Even in the prime of his reproductive health, it would not matter as Najin is his 26-year-old daughter.  Even if a different healthy male were available, she has leg injuries, which means that she can no longer bear the weight of pregnancy or that of a mounting male.  Fatu, the daughter of Najin (and therefore the grand-daughter of Sudan) has a uterine disorder that prevents an embryo from being successfully implanted. 

So how did they get here?

Poachers.  

Why?

The horns.  

Made of keratin, the same component of our fingernails and hair, the horn is severed from the dead animal and used as medicine in southeast Asia.  Fever, rheumatism, gout, snakebites, hallucinations, typhoid, headaches, carbuncles, vomiting, food poisoning, and “devil possession” are all treated.  And none of this matters as science has shown it doesn't work. 

Yes, it's true.  Entire poaching syndicates (who risk confrontation with guards who have orders to shoot them on sight) using some of the most amazing technologies available hunt down and kill an animal to scare away ghosts and goblins.   A horrifying trend in Vietnam is to add ground horn to water and drink it to cure a hangover.  I wish I was just making that up, but I'm not.  

Looking back at my photo, I can only imagine how much money that horn is worth.  

But what is a species worth?

Apparently, the aphrodisiac story does not hold.  Well, at least it didn't, but it does now.  Per Save the Rhino,  rhino horn was never really prescribed as a medicine for the sexually weak. (You're confusing that with Tiger Penis...which also doesn't work.) Western media have quoted this sexual side-effect so often the Vietnamese now believe it.  

It is worth mentioning, too, that this ecological horror story is fueled by poaching, not hunting.  I suspect someone might be screaming "Yeah, but that dentist shot that lion...!" He did, yes, but investigations found that he thought he was doing everything by the  book and his guides basically bamboozled him.  

Further, where is the outrage and anger every time a Rhinoceros is shot?  Why don't people get upset with that?  Or, for that matter, how about when a person gets shot!

Sadly, this will mark yet another time in history where the moment of a species' extinction will be known.  This is not always the case.  The Wake Island Rail was lost forever during the Japanese occupation of the island during World War II.  The year is not even known.  Island-hopping strategies by the Allied Forces functionally isolated the island from receiving supplies. The tame fist-sized bird never stood a chance as the Japanese struggled for food.  The year of loss would be anybody's guess between 1942 and 1945.

The loss of Nola a few months back made international headlines.  You can bet when these three pass, you'll hear all about it. We'll know the loss of the last animal down to the minute.  I suspect there will be outrage and sadness for a short time and then people will get back to their lives and pay attention to things that largely don't matter. 

Despite being on the planet for over a million years, the era of the Northern White Rhino is drawing to an end.

A tragic minute it will be.  

(As an aside, my photo was taken in color, but converted to black-and-white using the Silver Efex Pro from the Google Nik Collection.)

Forts and Fun in Fudge-land

Natalie and I recently had the chance for the few-day getaway.  You might be thinking that we jetted off to some exotic location.  Nah.  Maybe we just stayed home and cleaned the garage.  Nah. A national park?

Well, sort of...

Mackinac Island, that quaint island getaway in the Straits of Mackinac, was once the second National Park (after Yellowstone, of course).  While its tenure was short-lived (it reverted to a state park in 1895), it really should be visited by Michiganders.   With a few days to spend, we made a go of it. 

First things first, we did not chase the Crested Caracara in the Upper Peninsula.  A long story short, we just didn't feel like it.  First Michigan record? Sure. So what. 

Anyhow, the Straits is not just about bridges and forts.  Our first destination was just some quiet hiking along Search Bay. We had trouble finding it.  Bah-dum-dum.  (Search? Find?  Get it?)  No really.   We did.   Once we there, however, it was really quite relaxing.  Sadly, the onset of the expected afternoon rain killed the day though there was enough to see and do in St. Ignace, including a great dinner with Natalie's Uncle Mark and Aunt Gail who happened to be in town at the same time!

 
With rain gone at sunset, the evening afforded us the chance to see the Straits and the Mighty Mac.  One of the largest suspension bridges in the world, the Mackinac Bridge is more or less the identity of Michigan.  Connecting the Upper and Lower Peninsulas, it certainly beats driving around the lakes via Wisconsin, Ontario, or taking a ferry!   

It is worth mentioning, by the way, that while workers did die during its construction, no one is encased in the concrete. Urban legend is incredible, isn't it?  Basically defined as modern folklore with fiction deeply rooted in local stories, it is amazing what people believe even in the face of the absolute truth

 
In any case, being encased in concrete would have been a great solution to the Apocalypse that rolled into town around midnight. Veterans of that now famous Boy Scout Troop 831 Frog Lake camp-out know what I am talking about (Neal......).  In the middle of the night, the storm, measuring 49 out of 50 on Paul's "Holy Crap, we are about to die!" scale, moved in.  What a bruiser.  Like the scouts of yester-year, we fled to the car as we had legitimate concern for our safety.  Wind. Hail.  Small dogs.  Kansas farmhouses.  You name it.  It was all over in 10 minutes.  The tent did fine. 

Likely, the storm created for the following day picture perfect weather.  In hindsight, it was totally worth it.  The entire day was spent on the island.  

For first time visitors, a visit to the Fort is a must.

Perched conveniently on a bluff on Mackinac Island, Fort Mackinac was originally built by the British in 1780-81. By 1796, they had rightfully turned it over the Americans. After all, it was on American soil. Yes, American soil, as the Brits had lost the Revolutionary War.  

Well, it wouldn't be long before they got it back. 

With the onset of hostilities marking the beginning of the War of 1812 (which started in....wait for it.....1812), the British attacked the fort.  

Now, you might be wondering how the hell they did it.  150 feet off the surrounding waterfront property, they must have had a secret weapon.  No, they didn't. Well, okay, yes, sort of.  

The secret weapon was...surprise.

While the War had been newly initiated, the Fort Commander did not yet know.  Yes, that's right.  No emails. No texts.  No CNN.  The courier with the written declaration of war had not yet arrived.  One can imagine his surprise and horror when fort awoke to see hundreds of British soldiers and their Indian allies ready to attack the fort....

...from the north.  

Oh yeah, that's the other crazy part.  Assaulting the gigantic cliffs from the south would be stupid. The British came on to the island from the north. Believe it or not, the center of the island is even higher than the fort. With cannons ready to rain hellfire down the surprised Americans, it didn't take long for them to surrender...

...without a shot begin fired. 

It probably goes without saying that military bases in remote corners of the continent see their share of death.  Death means burials. Burials mean cemeteries.  During our bicycle ride around the island, Natalie and I found ourselves at the Post Cemetery.  I would love to tell you when it founded, but I can't, because nobody knows.  What is certainly known is the fact that there are more interments than stones as the earliest graves were marked with simple wooden crosses that are now long gone.  Local stories have soldiers from the War of 1812 being there, but it can't be confirmed.

Needless to say, you have to be dead to end up buried in a cemetery (well...one would hope,anyway...). But it's how you die that can be so intriguing.  During the Fort's heyday (up until 1895), troops were stationed there and in some cases, died there.  Maybe it was an illness that did them in.  Maybe it was a workplace accident.   

Wouldn't it be an amazing story if you got shot, but lived? 

It happened. 

As a graduate of Harvard's Medical School, I appreciate medicine both from a practical standpoint and a historic standpoint.  Who did what and how they did it is simply fascinating to me. 

Take William Beaumont, for example.  Detroiters will know the name from the hospital. Few knew of him as a  medical doctor.  His work in gastroenterology? Legendary. 

On June 6, 1822, in the trading post on Mackinac Island, a voyageur (not to be confused with a voyeur) by the name of Alexis St. Martin took a musket ball in the belly at point blank range. By all rights, he should have died. But, he didn't.  In fact, he went on to live for decades despite a peculiar wound.  The hole blasted in his belly healed in such a way that one could peer right into his stomach.  In the same sense that a doctor can open a patient's mouth and see tonsils, Dr. Beaumont could see into Martin's stomach through the hole (called a fistula) below his ribs.

Realizing that the knowledge of human digestion was close to zero, Beaumont began years of studying digestion using Martin as his laboratory assistant/guinea pig.  Using bits of beef tied to strings, he would dip the meat into the fistula and time it.  After, for example, one hour, he would remove it and study it.  Collecting stomach acids was certainly not out of the question, either.  A whole host of various studies ensued. He went on to publish Experiments and Observations on the Gastric Juice, and the Physiology of Digestion in 1838.  Given the knowledge of medicine at the time (or lack thereof), this was a huge accomplishment and confirmed scientifically that digestion was largely chemical and not mechanical.  

 

Needless to say, the opportunity to enter the building where Martin got shot is awesome.  Golfers may want to visit a popular golf course.  NASCAR folks visit race tracks.  Novice gastroenterologists need to get to Mackinac Island.  I got to visit the place where a sweaty dirty fur trapper got shot in the bowels and went on to live as a lab rat.  

Awesome. 

The trading post still stands on the flat lands below the fort. 

Except its not the real building.  Its a reconstruction.  I don't care.  It stands in the same spot!  Close enough!

A ride around the Island on bicycles is worth it, too. I have to admit that I was leery at first.  "Around the whoooooooooollllllllle Island...?" I whined.  Natalie reminded me - "Hey ass, Paul, we do this same distance when we ride at home..." As some folks say, true dat.  Okay, maybe the island is a tad more, but we paid for it with the cut down the middle of the middle of island....
 
Remember when I mentioned how the British occupied the high ground to the North of the fort? Yeah, well, biking up the high ground was a bit rough.  However, the coasting down the hill was totally worth it. The best part was taking my feet off the pedals and screaming like an 8-year old and not being able to stop at the bottom.  

It is worth mentioning, in case you didn't know, that motor vehicles are not allowed on the island.  All traffic is on foot, bicycle, or horse drawn wagon.  Watching for cars is simply not needed are there aren't any!  Road apples? Now that is a different story!

The final day saw us back on the south side of the Bridge.  Fort Michilimackinac (MICH-uh-luh-MAC-uh-naw) was the destination.  Before there was Fort Mackinac, there was Michilimackinac.  It was started by the French in the early 1700's only to be taken over by the British when the French basically vacated the region. The Brits decided that a relocation of the fort was warranted. What could not be dismantled and moved (to Fort Mackinac) was burned.  Centuries later, archaeologists (minus the whip and fedora) relocated the exact positions of the buildings.  

Using the known construction practices of the time, one can now walk the Fort as it appeared in the British occupation. However, since the French built it, the construction practices are French.  It was nice to see all the methodologies that I had studied in my various classes.  Columbage, dove-tails (which truly lock the logs in place) vs. square notches (which  truly don't and therefore suck). 

How about clapboards, weight poles and dormers....

...or hewn logs with no chinking and a 12-light window...

..or views that were never seen by the 18th Century French...

Certainly, any fort has trouble makers.  Punishments can be mild or extreme depending on the nature of the offense.  One plausible penalty would be some time in the Black Hole.  Nothing more than cell below the floorboards, the offender could be there for days with limited food, no light and no heat.  

One might wonder exactly what actions would constitute time in the Black Hole and what would be comparable today.  Hmmm, how about making statements encouraging a foreign country to spy on you? Or, how about having classified documents in your emails stored in your basement?

Black hole time, for sure, huh?

Overall, no new birds.  After all, it was only a few hundred miles from from home.  Some might it argue it was a bland trip. I say "nay."  

Short? Sure.  But totally worth it.  They always are.