The Lure of Marquette, by Debra Juday

As I leave Michigan’s Lower Peninsula, I cross the Mackinaw Bridge, the Mighty Mac, pay the toll and enter God’s country, defined as such by those who reside within it. I journey west, passing tourist traps and pasty shops strewn along the route. Day changes into night as hours pass meaninglessly; driving dissipates the stressors earned from life below the bridge. Then on the horizon, along the shore of Lake Superior, a distant glimmering of light catches my eye. The lone city lights of Marquette shimmer across the water of Lake Superior. I have been waiting for this. My heart quickens at the prospect of my imminent arrival. My soul lifts with anticipation of the respite yet to be attained. Marquette is within view.

Marquette is a jewel that sits on the shores of the most majestic of all the Great Lakes, Lake Superior. It is comprised of an upper and lower harbor, both fundamental in the establishment of the city, utilizing the deep natural waters of Superior to accommodate the huge freighters needed to transport the large quantities of iron ore mined in the region. An abandoned ore dock stands in the lower harbor. Its burnt orange coloring contrasts against the ever-changing waters of Superior.

The mood of the lake defines its beauty and reveals its strength. Smooth, calming shades of blue on sunny days contrast with the moodiness of gray rolling waves, crashing against the break wall as gales come thundering in. Over a hundred years this ore dock has stood in these waters as a monument to the men and women of the region who have endured the mining boom and fall. It is no longer utilized for ore mining; the train trestle was long ago removed. The upper harbor ore dock, a sister to this one, handles business now, but I can sit for hours and gaze upon its architectural beauty as I ponder how life was lived in the era of its usage. It was a difficult way of life not that long ago. The upper harbor captures my curiosity and speaks to me. I feel slightly haunted by the past, and a sadness I cannot explain engulfs me as I watch the lake surround it.

Marquette is the largest city located in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. It is the area’s center for higher education with Northern Michigan University located within its borders. I have attended NMU’s football games inside the one-of-a-kind Superior Dome, recognized as the world’s largest wooden dome structure by the Guinness Book of World Records; it easily accommodates 16,000 people. Marquette General Hospital is a regionally acclaimed health facility, providing quality care and services. There are widely recognized recreation facilities, including miles of hiking, snowmobiling and off-road trails. I have enjoyed climbing to the top of Sugar Loaf Mountain, for it is here that I can obtain an unobstructed view of the heavenly vista of Marquette on the edge of Lake Superior.

Marquette is a thriving regional hub that has vastly improved over the past, when shopping was limited to a few businesses. Today there are abundant retail venues available, connecting the traditional family operated shops with that of the big-box retailers. These larger businesses can succeed because of the population growth in the region, which supplies the revenue needed to support their operation. The demand of the consumer allows for the influx of these nationally recognized chains, but at the expense of the survival of the smaller, owner-operated businesses in the area.

When I visit, I yearn for the more personal shopping experience that is still available in a city that has not yet outgrown its personal charm. A quaint little bookstore, appropriately named Snowbound Books, operating in an old house, beckons me in to browse the shelves and feel the books. I softly whisper the titles as I walk across the squeaky wooden floor, searching for that must-read book. Excitedly, I purchase the treasure I have found, and the clerk places it in a crisp paper sack, completing my memorable experience. This is the only way to shop for books; I look forward to it every time I visit. Another traditional business, Wattsson and Wattsson Jewelers, boasts a real mine within their store to educate people about the history of mining in the region. Mining has been the major employer of the region since the mid 1800s and has made a significant impact upon those who reside in the Upper Peninsula. It is the personal touches that these smaller local businesses provide that add to the charm of the area and enhance the visitor’s experience.

Nobody is a stranger in Marquette. The people as a community welcome all to their town with an eagerness to share its uniqueness and rich history. There are museums such as the De Vos Art Museum, The Marquette Maritime Museum, Cliffs Mine Museum and the Upper Peninsula Children’s Museum, to name a few. Marquette’s Peter White Public Library is nationally recognized for its unique collections of books and movies. It is a perfect place to explore on a rainy day. The courthouse is famous for its architectural beauty, trials and deliberations but also for its book and movie credits. The Anatomy of a Murder, with Actor Jimmy Stewart was filmed here in the 1959.

There are also unique restaurants such as Elizabeth’s, The Sweetwater Café, and my personal favorite, Donkers, an old-fashioned candy store that encompasses a soda fountain and diner. When you walk through the doors of this establishment, the smell of chocolate candy embraces your senses. Varieties of freshly made confections are beautifully arranged in the glass display cases. The soda fountain reminds me of a by-gone era, with its swivel stools and wooden booths. Upstairs is a wonderful diner with unique selections all freshly prepared to order. I enjoy eating in the front where the tables face windows with a scenic view of a bustling downtown and the lake off in the horizon. President Obama enjoyed a meal at Donkers during a visit to Marquette in 2011.

As I enter the city limits, I roll down my windows and breathe in the fresh lake air, heavily scented with pine trees and wildflowers. I follow Lake Shore Drive until I get to Picnic Rocks. These are black rocks of extraordinary formations that jut from the lake. As I sit and take in the view, my eye searches for an ore boat in the distance. As I stare out at the lake, I see, approaching in the distance, a tiny speck in such a large body of water. As it moves closer, growing in size, it bellows from the distance and majestically enters the harbor; tons of steel float, gliding across the water, gracefully stopping alongside the ore dock to take on its heavy load. I listen to the splashing of the waves lapping at the shore, the seagulls calling from the rocks, and the children laughing on the sand as their parents call to them.

I breathe in the damp, musty air of wood and decomposing leaves as I walk along the path of my favorite park, Presque Isle. I can hear the rustling leaves as the wind blows. The leaves make crunching noises as the deer trample them, following their well-worn path through the dense forest not far from where humans frequent. Then as I reach the opening, Lake Superior is before me in all her beauty. Along the horizon is Sugarloaf and Little Presque Isle and, as the sun sets, the light changes, emphasizing the highlights and shadows like a painting. Hundreds of people have stopped at Sunset Point to take pictures, trying to capture the beauty before them. But I have learned that it cannot be captured. It must be felt deeply in the heart and soul and released, only to be sought again another day. Each day, like each season, brings with it a unique beauty and tranquility.

I enjoy walking along the beaches in spring, collecting the newly uncovered agates that wash upon the shore, tossed inward from the turbulent waves of a wintery Lake Superior. Finding one of these precious stones is a reward for braving the chilly air so early in the season. In the summer months, there are days of hot breezes to be enjoyed along the miles of Lake Superior shore. I walk to McCarty’s Cove and gaze upon the lighthouse just off shore, housed on its own island. Fishing, boating, and sailing are all relished by those who venture north to this rugged terrain. Only the bravest can tolerate the influx of numerous insects found in this area during this time of the year. Tales have been told of the enormous size of the black flies that invade this beautiful country, driving even the sanest person crazy with their constant buzz and biting. I enjoy the fall as the cool nights and warm days bring forth vivid colors, an abundance of colorful trees seen from multitudes of elevations, filling the eyes with extraordinary beauty, which could fill a painter’s pallet.

The snow defines the land, it owns it, and it covers everything in a heavy blanket of white. It towers over people, automobiles and even houses. It makes life difficult to maneuver. It is also the most beautiful encasement for the surrounding area. When everything is covered in white, the landscape appears soft, beautiful and delicate. Snow brings forth new tests of strength and endurance for the people who live in the area. They do not shy away from the snow; they embrace it, enjoy it, live for it, and beckon for it to come. The dog sledder, snowmobiler, ice fisherman and the brave, or insane, lake surfers find joy in the snow. I find it beautiful and entrancing. It maintains a magical quality that snow from downstate cannot attain, for it is Yooper snow. 

I have formed a connection with Marquette that I cannot find anywhere else. I belong here. It speaks to me. My soul longs for its distinctiveness. When life is stressful and overwhelming, a trip to Marquette will set my world straight. I follow Lake Shore Drive along the curve of the shore as I exit the city. It is a tradition, and a final goodbye. Until next time, I say farewell to my favorite place.