Oh yes, it's big. But you need to see it. Take off your shoes and walk along the shore, picking up speckled stones. Brave the cold water. Watch the pines teetering on the edge of the bluff along Twelve Mile Beach. Walk into the woods and climb up the higher ridge, once the border of Lake Nipissing, mother of all the Great Lakes. Maybe you'll see a bear among the blueberries.
The Lake of the Clouds is glittering in the Porcupine Mountains. This is Michigan's upper peninsula. Rough country. The general stores sell live bait and beer. The names are Finnish and the voices are nasal. The mine bosses pulled out long ago. It was much cheaper down in the South American town, where the workers work almost for nothing (Bob Dylan, North Country Blues).
Bring your tent, and a pickup truck if you have it. You'll cook your own food. But there's a whitefish breakfast in Grand Marais, and books, coffee and email at The Fallen Rock in Munising.
