the bistro off broadway
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Memories
Snow Much Fun
By Sally Amspaugh

More years ago than I care to count snowmobiling in Michigan was a favorite of sport for Jane and Clyde Stump, Jim and Karen Hummel, Dennis and Connie Davison, my husband Larry and myself.

The early years we would make the trip to Indian River where we camped out at the Indian Trails Motel. The first year was spent in three bedroom house trailers and we did our own cooking. By popular vote (all girls) it was decided to move to more (no cooking!), cook friendly accommodations.

Many years we would start the trip at ten p.m. after attending a basketball game played by one or another of our sons. Seemed those were the years when we always encountered lots of snow and high winds to make for interesting night travel.

Once upon a trip it was decided, by one of our snow navigators, (not female) as we headed for the Indian River area, to jump over to interstate 75 from 27 and to go through Detroit to miss Lansing. Now I might not be the sparkliest flake in the blizzard but I think we went a few miles out of the way? Anyway -- we arrived – eventually.

And so the saga begins----

Va-room. Va-room. Oh what is that noise??
The clock says six a.m.
A.M.???
Must be some mistake, I think I am on vacation?
As I duck back under my pillow---
Va-room Va-room.

It’s so toasty and warm in my blankets. As I turn to snuggle up to my hubby I discover he has shrunk into a pillow. No-no - that’s just his pillow not him! There it goes again.

Va-room-purr, va-room purr . What the?? Aha, if it purrs it must be a cat? Who is waking the cat?

As the fog clears I remember -- it is a cat — my Arctic Cat that must mean – YES!!  It’s Michigan and sledding time. And just a few degrees below zero!! With the dryer climate in Michigan it feels much warmer. Did I say warmer?  Well warmer than the 35 below that we experienced last trip!!

I hope my handlebar warmers have been engaged.

Getting dressed requires some extra time and manipulation, three layers of clothing under a snowmobile suit requires some thought. All must be in the proper order as the day becomes warmer, and peeling layers is easier if planned ahead according to what will fit in the boot on the back of your sled.

After suiting up comes breakfast at The Coach House Restaurant though there is hardly room under all those clothes. And the coffee that sounds so good right now will have to be disposed of in a couple of hours, on the trail forty miles from civilization. Maybe better skip that, the cold air will wake us all soon enough.

We pack a bottle of water and some snacks. When traveling with men you never know where you might be headed. The problem, in short, is neither do they –and like they would ask anyway- there is no place to get directions in the wilds. So getting “found” sometimes consumes a considerable amount of daylight and lunch being eaten at bedtime.

But right now I am ready to hit the trails to a whole lot of fun. The whole motel is now buzzing with activity except for the nonsledders wishing we would leave so they can resume sleeping.

It’s really quite beautiful as we head out to the ride. We normally travel in single file and being in line near the back while it is still dark I get to enjoy the moving lights from all the sleds ahead. The red and white lights reflect and bounce randomly on the freshly fallen snow from the night before.

Some of the trails produce an interesting obstacle course while others are smooth and peaceful. There are groomed trails in lots of areas but I am fortunate to ride with a posse of snow mavericks who prefer to blaze their own trails. Now that can be interesting or frightening and sometimes both at once.

Exploring near the Pigeon River area we were privileged to stop and watch a herd of elk marching through snow up to their bellies while debarking trees as high as they can reach. They are beautiful and quite graceful with dark brown silky coats in contrast to pure white snow. Stark black leafless trees still provide nourishment for many species of wildlife. The bucks sport an intimidating large rack. Later that week a local television station telecast a nature documentary featuring the only herd of elk in that area with information that the herd resided in a wildlife preserve, protected, where it was illegal to trespass, WHOOPS, guess no one saw that sign!!

Riding through a forest of majestic tall pines in a heavy snowfall is an experience never forgotten. It’s like riding through clouds of white and green cotton candy. A pair of cardinals completed this perfect Terry Redin light bouncing painting.

On sunny days the trees are covered with diamond fairy dust dancing on the lush jade green of the trees. Getting lost in there was always a concern of mine-again I knew there was no place for the LADIES to stop and ask directions. Grudgingly I must admit the male snow posse always managed to find the pine grove exit sign.

Locating restaurants in the small hamlets along the trails always proved a challenge. Bars were the only eating establishments for miles, and never had a glass of milk my beverage of choice. We soon learned that chili was NOT a soup in Michigan. After several requests from our group for chili soup the exasperated waitress finally shouted, “do you people want chili or soup?” We all ordered a ham sandwich and fries!!

She got a big tip just for putting up with us – and — for bringing my glass of milk!
Back in Indian River after a full day of riding on Fridays all would pile into the cozy warm van and head east to Alanson to Bob’s Place for an all you can eat fish fry and salad bar, then polish the whole thing off with strawberry shortcake. Good thing riding the sleds burned lots of calories, well maybe not the riding but digging out bogged down sleds in the fluffy white stuff could get pretty grueling. The snow posse always helped the damsels in distress.

Another favorite recovery place was Vivio’s THE ONLY PLACE to eat pizza, according to our gang, in Indian River. I still get an occasional whiff of that heavenly aroma when the wind is from the north!

Some small towns I remember are -- Wolverine, Alanson, Epsilon, Clarion, and many others that evade my memory.

Walloon Lake sported a deserted ski slope just for our taking. That is one of the smoothest places to ride hills and dip suddenly into valleys. Tummy flips are common on the ride. WHOOPS. Again I guess no one saw the sign until we were leaving. The posse I ride with can also turn into outlaws at the drop of a helmet when   circumstances required such action.

We replaced broken parts with trips to Spanky’s Wholesale Shop, and bought gas wherever it could be found. No one wanted to run out of fuel and be at the mercy of the sled that pulled you back. It was very difficult to steer while in tow especially with one of the posse at the other end of the rope. A hair-raising experience! I’ve watched but never been the victim. It became a contest to see who had the most fuel-efficient machine and every little boy got delight in winning that game.Um- guess the difference between men and boys really is the price of their toys!

In short -- I love Indian River, Michigan and the snow great memories.

Next time we will head for the Upper Peninsula to Copper Harbor, the Tahquamenon Falls, twin cities of Houghton and Hancock, Hulbert, the eastern part of Hiawatha National Forest region, Calumet, Copper Harbor and the copper mines, and other places north.

Till then, hope you have snow much fun.

In Memoriam… Sally Amspaugh was one of our original Senior Scribes, and was Secretary of the Senior Scribes Scholarship Fund. She passed away July 25, 2011

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