The Mackinac trek: Day 5
I rose at 6:30 on Tuesday morning because when you're staying at the Grand Hotel, you take advantage of every possible amenity. Initially, I'd planned to take a morning dip, but on Monday, the pool temp was 62 degrees, and that was at 2:30 in the afternoon. But that was okay, because I had found the Vita-Course.
I've searched in vain for a history of the Vita-Course, but I seem to recall that somewhere between the 1890s and the 1910s they were all the rage among people who went places to "take the waters." Lay out a path from one-half to two miles long, and along that path set a series of "exercise stations." People move along the course at their own pace (I imagine early users strolling decorously, but most modern participants jog or at least walk briskly) from station to station, completing tasks ranging from "bend down and touch your toes ten times" to "do twenty pull-ups." Cheesy? A little, but so in keeping with the hotel's Edwardian atmosphere that I had to try it.
I was outside before I spotted a single soul - one old couple smoking and a small army of hotel staffers washing the porch and steps. I was confronted by another soul who thought I Knew Things. Honestly, who mistakes red flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt with a giant four-sail windmill on it as the uniform of a Grand Hotel employee? A woman in her late 60s and her 40ish daughter stopped me to ask about the exercise room, because they'd read that you couldn't use it until you asked at Registration. I told them I thought we just used our room keys to get in. But either that wasn't the answer they wanted or they didn't believe me (then why did you ask?), and they continued haranguing me about this sign they'd seen...somewhere. I suggested they find an actual employee and went on my merry way.
It wasn't merry for long. In late September, northern Michigan at 6:30 a.m. is dark. And the Grand's Vita-Course is in the middle of a woody area, neither well-marked nor well-lit. I tracked down six of the ten exercise stations (one of them twice, as I unwittingly jogged a little circle around the grounds), and one I skipped. A tree-hugging, dirt-worshipping Pagan I may be, but I'm not gonna drop to the wood-chipped path and give 'em twenty. Defeated in my quest for vita-ness, I went to the exercise room - which my room key opened just fine, thankyouverymuch - and hit the rowing machine for so long I could've rowed to Belgium. (As a pointless aside, the room's TV was playing an episode of "Wings." The whir and clank of exercise equipment drowned out the sound, but I tell you what: even when you can't hear a word he's saying, Tony Shalhoub rocks.)
Leora stopped in while I was afloat in the Atlantic, on her way to a sunrise walk (and more pictures, of course). I like having her around while I exercise. Sometimes, when I'm halfway through my workout, wondering why the hell I subject myself to these things, it's nice to be reminded that there this amazing person with whom I'd like to share as long and healthy life as possible. Sometimes it is also nice to have someone say, "No, you can't stop. Less whining; more rowing."
I panted back to the hotel, relieved that more people were awake and that the other guests hadn't all died in the night. I took a shower, crammed some goodies into my suitcase (tiny soaps that say "Grand Hotel"!) and retired to the parlor for a while. After breakfast, there wasn't much to do but check out. Part of us wanted to stay until the last instant, to make the staff kick us out for the 11:00 check-out, but we were anxious to get on the road, so we took one last wistful look around and returned to the ferry.
Despite the fact that the temperature was much lower than when we arrived, Leora and I headed up top again, clinging to each other for the warmth of stubbornness, and watched the Great Turtle1 recede behind us.
1. Many things on Mackinac have turtle logos or motifs, or are called the "Great Turtle Thisorthat," because the original name of that island means "Island of the Great Turtle."2 The Jewish congregation on the island is even called Kehilat Hatzav Hagadol, "Congregation of the Great Turtle," or, as gnomi proposed, "Congregation of the Turtle of Greatness," which is even cooler.
2. I recently came across an Indian genealogy site which suggests that the name might actually mean "Place of the Big Lame Person," which would have led to some very different decorating schemes.
I've searched in vain for a history of the Vita-Course, but I seem to recall that somewhere between the 1890s and the 1910s they were all the rage among people who went places to "take the waters." Lay out a path from one-half to two miles long, and along that path set a series of "exercise stations." People move along the course at their own pace (I imagine early users strolling decorously, but most modern participants jog or at least walk briskly) from station to station, completing tasks ranging from "bend down and touch your toes ten times" to "do twenty pull-ups." Cheesy? A little, but so in keeping with the hotel's Edwardian atmosphere that I had to try it.
I was outside before I spotted a single soul - one old couple smoking and a small army of hotel staffers washing the porch and steps. I was confronted by another soul who thought I Knew Things. Honestly, who mistakes red flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt with a giant four-sail windmill on it as the uniform of a Grand Hotel employee? A woman in her late 60s and her 40ish daughter stopped me to ask about the exercise room, because they'd read that you couldn't use it until you asked at Registration. I told them I thought we just used our room keys to get in. But either that wasn't the answer they wanted or they didn't believe me (then why did you ask?), and they continued haranguing me about this sign they'd seen...somewhere. I suggested they find an actual employee and went on my merry way.
It wasn't merry for long. In late September, northern Michigan at 6:30 a.m. is dark. And the Grand's Vita-Course is in the middle of a woody area, neither well-marked nor well-lit. I tracked down six of the ten exercise stations (one of them twice, as I unwittingly jogged a little circle around the grounds), and one I skipped. A tree-hugging, dirt-worshipping Pagan I may be, but I'm not gonna drop to the wood-chipped path and give 'em twenty. Defeated in my quest for vita-ness, I went to the exercise room - which my room key opened just fine, thankyouverymuch - and hit the rowing machine for so long I could've rowed to Belgium. (As a pointless aside, the room's TV was playing an episode of "Wings." The whir and clank of exercise equipment drowned out the sound, but I tell you what: even when you can't hear a word he's saying, Tony Shalhoub rocks.)
Leora stopped in while I was afloat in the Atlantic, on her way to a sunrise walk (and more pictures, of course). I like having her around while I exercise. Sometimes, when I'm halfway through my workout, wondering why the hell I subject myself to these things, it's nice to be reminded that there this amazing person with whom I'd like to share as long and healthy life as possible. Sometimes it is also nice to have someone say, "No, you can't stop. Less whining; more rowing."
I panted back to the hotel, relieved that more people were awake and that the other guests hadn't all died in the night. I took a shower, crammed some goodies into my suitcase (tiny soaps that say "Grand Hotel"!) and retired to the parlor for a while. After breakfast, there wasn't much to do but check out. Part of us wanted to stay until the last instant, to make the staff kick us out for the 11:00 check-out, but we were anxious to get on the road, so we took one last wistful look around and returned to the ferry.
Despite the fact that the temperature was much lower than when we arrived, Leora and I headed up top again, clinging to each other for the warmth of stubbornness, and watched the Great Turtle1 recede behind us.
1. Many things on Mackinac have turtle logos or motifs, or are called the "Great Turtle Thisorthat," because the original name of that island means "Island of the Great Turtle."2 The Jewish congregation on the island is even called Kehilat Hatzav Hagadol, "Congregation of the Great Turtle," or, as gnomi proposed, "Congregation of the Turtle of Greatness," which is even cooler.
2. I recently came across an Indian genealogy site which suggests that the name might actually mean "Place of the Big Lame Person," which would have led to some very different decorating schemes.