Issue #68 : Summers On Grand

SUMMERS ON GRAND
Chad A. Clark
I remember.

I remember beaches of golden, silky smooth sand. Water so blue and expansive that I refused to believe that it was a lake. Lakes were something you saw on camping trips in the middle of the woods. Lakes were something that you could walk the entire way around, or at least see the other side. This was not a lake, this was an ocean. It was the only explanation, the only classification that made sense. Lake Michigan was an ocean which had earned the wrong name.

The beach was the apex of any vacation to Saugatuck. On the right days, when the winds were blowing the right direction, the water would be almost body temperature, and the waves could get close to surfing height. Not that we ever did surf, of course but it did make for some epic body surfing. Timing was key, walking with the wave, pushing off at just the right moment and letting the water take you, rushing you in to shore at break neck pace. It could have gone on all day but of course the time would come when we would have to go back to the cottage.

The snack bar was also a great part about the beach. Cold lemonade as sweet as you could stand it. Hot dogs, French fries, ice cream, all the fare that you would come to expect from the enclosed shop, up on the bluff overlooking the water of the lake. The parking lot was almost always full and the din of children shrieking at play was sometimes overwhelming. It never bothered us though, the sound personified fun. It was the place we wanted to be. Swimming, or sand castles or exploring the dunes or stuffing our faces with food that was very bad for us, we wanted it all.

I remember walking to the beach. While it was obviously possible to drive there, summers in Saugatuck were massively crowded and parking passes were pricey. The better option was to walk. We would walk from the cottage, down the long hill to the little canal that ran through the town. There was a ferry that took us to the other side and this was a big part of the trip. The ferry was connected to each side by a long chain and the operator would have to crank the boat by hand in order to get it to the other side. Sometimes, the operator would let us crank the wheel for a while. Once on the other side, we would walk a little more until we got to the base of Mount Baldy. This was the tough part, hundreds of steps straight up to the top where, once there, you could look down over the town and get a really spectacular view. There were a number of walking paths you could take from here that would wind around the dunes, or you could go directly down the other side and down to the beach.

By this, I mean you could run down the other side. A trip that took a lifetime to walk up so many stairs was over in a few heartbeats going down the other side. You would run down, the sand somehow miraculously free of glass or debris and it would take all your effort just to keep your feet up with the rest of your body. Eventually, inevitably you would get tripped up, and end up rolling and tumbling down the rest of the hill. Again, by some intervention of whatever higher power was there, we managed to avoid crashing into each other or suffering major injury.

I remember long car drives. I remember times before the interstates were as developed as they are today and car trips would require passage through smaller towns, lengthening the trips but making them that much more interesting. I remember hours in the car, trying as best I could to entertain myself with my toys, my comic books, trying to convince my parents to let me play my books on tape on the car’s stereo, even though I’m sure they had heard their fair share of Rip Van Winkle, Tom Sawyer and Davy Crockett. On trips to Saugatuck with Grandma, we would have usually one or more dogs with us and you could always tell when we were getting closer to the lake because they would get more and more agitated, sensing the water, the excitement.

I remember the cottage, sitting on the huge lot on the corner at the top of the hill. There were four bedrooms along the side of the house as you walked through it. All of the first three rooms had two beds while the rear bedroom had one king sized bed, the room for the adults to sleep in. Everywhere else was fair game. On trips with the other cousins, all of the bedrooms would be full and there would usually be someone sleeping on the couches, both in the living room and outside on the front porch. As you walked back towards the kitchen, there was a large tree painted onto the wall with the names of so many people who had stayed at the cottage. The tree was so full of names, there was hardly any white space left to add yours. Through the kitchen, to the other side and the rear room of the house would also be used as a bedroom, with sometimes two or three or four of us camping out in sleeping bags, staying up late telling each other stories. You had to walk through this room to get to the back door, or go down into the basement, which I did as rarely as possible.

In the backyard was the grill, simple and small but it got more than its fair share of use. I remember my dad cooking massive quantities of barbecue chicken, with just the right amount of char and sweet sauce. The sweet corn was so good, you could almost get by eating it alone as a meal. Produce in Michigan is phenomenal in the summer and fresh fruit was always on hand, especially peaches and blueberries. Behind the house were several huge raspberry bushes and we took more than our fair share whenever we could.

In downtown Saugatuck, right by the river, there was a general store. The man who owned it also owned the miniature golf course across the street. We would go there to return empty soda cans, Michigan had a ten cent deposit instead of five cents so it was a huge windfall when we got to return the cans. The influx of capital would fund a trip over to the drugstore to play at the arcade or we would go across and play mini golf. The owner was always good to us and would let us play as many rounds as we wanted after we paid for the first one.

I remember the bakery in Saugatuck, right by the tennis court. The bread always smelled so good and we would usually go through a bag of rolls in one meal, depending on how much of the family was visiting. We would tear through the rolls and the butter at a fairly alarming rate, considering today’s sensibilities regarding dietary habits. Still, it was the taste of summer.

The downtown itself was the perfect balance of local, townie shops along with your more yuppie oriented art galleries and tourist shops. In particular, there was the used book store up on the second floor of a building that I loved visiting. I would usually pick up a book or two when I could. The drugstore was a good stop, with the arcade as well as the ice cream counter in the back. Of course, there was no shortage of places to get ice cream in Saugatuck. The Kilwin’s fudge shop was right across from the drugstore and just down from that was a Baskin Robbins. Another local ice cream shop was on the next block.

The docks that ran along the river were always filled with the biggest, most luxurious boats I had ever seen. It was fun to walk along and see which yacht was the biggest and to see the locals entertaining out on the boats. It always felt safe there, even though many of the adults were probably drunk as a skunk. Still, nothing but good memories. It was the kind of place where you could walk and get pretty much everywhere and never run out of places that you would like to go.

Sometimes, we would spend a week up there. Sometimes we would be there for a month. I got to bring friends with me to the cottage a few times and some of my favorite times growing up were with my cousins and aunts and uncles in that tiny little house in the tiny little town on the lake. Saugatuck is very different now. The town has gone after the dollars from the tourism industry and has become one of the hot spots for well-to-do professionals from the Chicago-land area to spend their summers or weekends. The shops in downtown are much more centered around the pricey galleries and the tourist-y stuff, boutique pet clothing and kitchy merchandise. The locals seem less like locals now and more like rich lawyers and doctors who spend most of their week there when they aren’t preparing legal briefs or rushing into surgery. There are even some hotel chains that have opened up shop there as well as a few more fast food restaurants.

Still, whenever I drive through, I find myself taken by the ghost of childhood’s memories, the good feeling of times spent with family in the shade of those massive trees. The cottage is still there, although the once expansive yard is now mostly filled with the new house one of my uncles built there. He now lives there year round. I will always have my memories though, and if there were ever a box that I would use to pack away my most precious and happy memories of childhood, I would call that box, “Saugatuck”.


Thanks for reading! I hoped you enjoyed it and if so, please take a second and share with your friends! Thanks for the support.

This text is the exclusive property of the author, Chad A. Clark and is intended solely for the purposes of viewing online. Any copying, downloading or re-distribution is strictly prohibited.

©2014 Chad A. Clark      All Rights Reserved