Michigan Wildcamps

It has been a new experience for us traveling since mid June when we returned to the United States from a winter on the road in Mexico. We were, for the first time since retirement started in October, traveling in high season.

School was out, families were traveling right alongside us, campgrounds were always crowded and popular wild camps frequently occupied. We were surprised to see so many vans crossing mountain passes in southwest Colorado. After a winter spent traveling almost alone  our two wheel drive bicycle-free, ladder-free, all terrain tire-free, home on wheels seemed dowdy and the antithesis of an adventure vehicle among the squadrons of four wheel drive Sprinter Winnebagos bustling around mountaineering shops and high octane coffee emporia. 

It was difficult for us to come home to a country that has thrown away its masks in contrast to Mexico where families live together and protect the fragile amongst them, with expensive injections when possible but always with basic hygiene and pandemic precautions. We explored cities and museums and cultural attractions with ease and in viral safety but suddenly we found ourselves surrounded by oblivious gatherings of unprotected people. 

We have taken notes as we have driven and once we get back there are destinations that will merit a second visit, with time to take in the history, the culture and the attractions we have had to skip across these many states. But because we are retired and have no time constraints, broadly speaking, we have allowed ourselves time to enjoy solitude, to enjoy that which has been forced upon us by the lingering Covid. 

Without jobs or offices to attend, with no children to hustle off to school, with no youthful impulses to drive us to night clubs and with friends ready and willing to take Covid tests for us, we have managed to travel so far, in a bubble.  Might as well make the bubble work for us we figured and so we have enjoyed rural America. 

Layne cooks most days, squash casserole last night, pasta tonight, grilled cheese and soup tomorrow and we buy food to go. In summer food trucks, outdoor events and roadside stands make it easy to pick up a cook’s night off. 

It’s been almost a year since we left the Keys and the usual anxieties of van life have fallen away. How to manage daily functions of living, filling and emptying trash cans, water tanks, toilet tanks and so forth occasionally provoke some head scratching but we fumble on through confident the answer will present itself which it always has. “Can you see a trash can?” She asks me at the shopping center…

Where to sleep is the other big question people ask about living on the road (dealing with the toilet is the first curiosity most outsiders have). We have learned not to worry; some solution will come up. Usually we seek out spots away from facilities, sometimes we pay for campsites, usually without hookups as we don’t need them, in state parks and even national parks (where Rusty isn’t welcome for the most part). Mostly we look for free spots and they can be delightful. 

There is a sense of the awesome origins of this country when you wild camp. We choose spots by no means unique to us, except that we are uniquely using them, by ourselves, but our presence  makes our clearing in the forest ours if only for a night or three. We sleep under the stars, sometimes with rain pattering on the tin roof, we wake up to a world of silence that is all ours before the working world rises to the sounds of bedside alarms and then we can hear the rushing of cars in the distance. 

One of the reasons we cling to Michigan is that from here on the wilderness is much reduced. On Thursday GANNET2 will be in the mechanic’s shop in Barberton Ohio where civilization begins. The density of population in the east, the patchwork of public lands will be a big change from the endless national forests of the West and the sparse towns dotting miles of empty highway. 

Several decades ago I read the entire Natty Bumpo series of novels, the best and most coherent of them The Last Of The Mohicans made into movies from time to time. I was surprised to learn that Cooperstown in New York, repository of baseball fame, was named for Cooper’s family and he wrote the frontiersman novels at a time when Ohio and Kentucky were the furthest edge of America.

I can’t make up my mind if the chance to live back then was a chance worth grabbing. As I read about Lewis and Clark actually doing what Natty Bumpo did in fiction I read about yellow fever and malaria, endemic and not understood. The chance of death so prevalent the term “I trust you are well” in correspondence had actual meaning such that today we see people resisting vaccination so little do they fear diseases we assume to have vanquished…polio is back I see to my chagrin. 

I feel myself privileged to look out on these woods and rivers from the comfort, unimaginable in 1790, of my home on wheels. 

The price we pay for the good health, the comfort and safety of these woods is to be paid shortly when we return to the order and chaos of roads, power plants, rules, customs and expectations of the 21st century. 

But for a little while longer we sleep in the deep silence of night, and wake to the cold autumnal mornings grateful for our modern warm bedding with the expectation we shall get through the day in continued good health and peace. No muskets needed, no tinctures at the ready, and alas a little less of the wonder that filled human minds when the hows and whys of the natural world were less clearly understood. 

The Adirondacks, the White Mountains, Appalachia and our old friend the Ocala National Forest are all yet to come to delight us. But after Michigan the romance of the wild frontier will be behind us for a few months and I shall miss it. Natty Bumpo I’m not, far from it, but privately I wish I were. 

1915- A Reality Check

I am very fond of a  website I came across a while back called Stonekettle Station written by a thoughtful Alaskan who wrote this intriguing look back at 1915 for Labor Day, the US equivalent to May Day in the rest of the Industrialized World, including the former USSR, hence the US reluctance to celebrate the day in May. In any event because I like history and have developed a belief that the present reflects the past ( a radical notion!) I thought this essay is well worth reproducing (with a few of my color photos for those not interested interested in history). Jim Wright the author has a donation page on his website and I like to think this kind of writing is worth encouraging. 

You ever stop to wonder what your life would be like if it was 1915 instead of 2015?
Imagine.
Imagine what it was like to be your great grand parents.
In 1915, the United States was in the middle of the Second Industrial Revolution.  It was a time of wonder and ever advancing technology. It started in the 1860’s and would last right up until the beginning of World War I. It began with steel, the Bessemer process to be specific, a cheap and easy way to mass produce strong and reasonably lightweight metals.  Strong lightweight steel was the skeleton of the modern age, the core of everything from the new cars to steamships and oil rigs to utensils and lunchboxes, to the machines that manufactured the future.  A few years before, in 1911, a tall skinny fellow by the name of Eugene Ely landed a Curtiss #2 Pusher on the deck of USS Pennsylvania and took off again – and thus was born naval aviation, a profound moment that would change the very way wars were fought and thus change almost everything else too and the effects of which are still being felt to this very day.  If you were moderately wealthy, you could buy a Cadillac with an electric starter. Despite the fact that there were still plenty of horses out there on the roads, the car had become so ubiquitous and affordable that Michigan created the first modern roads when the state started painting white lines down the middle of the more heavily traveled avenues.  Though many factories were still powered by steam, electricity was no longer a novelty.  The first modern public elevator began operation in London, England, and soon became common everywhere – leading directly to the modern city skyline.  America was booming. Her factories were churning out new products at a record pace. The western frontier had all but disappeared – oh, there were still a few bandits and cattle rustlers out there, but the wild woolly west was long gone.  The gold rushes, the boom towns and gun fights were long over.  Hell, by 1915 Wyatt Earp was living in Hollywood and working as a consultant for the new movie industry.
It was certainly a marvelous time.
If you could afford it.
If you lived through it.
See, those churning factories were horrible places.  In 1915, most were still powered by a massive central steam engine which drove an enormous flywheel, which in turn powered shafts and belts and pulleys, which finally powered the machines.  And though, as noted above, electricity was becoming increasingly common, most of those factories were dark and poorly lit – typically illumination was sunlight through skylights and banks of single pane glazed windows.  Often boiling hellholes in the summer and freezing dungeons in the winter – both air conditioning and central heating were still decades away and all those single pane windows didn’t do much to keep out either the cold or the heat. Those factories were filled with smoke and poisonous fumes from the various manufacturing processes, lead vapor, heavy metals, acids, chlorine, bleaches, all were common.  Normal working hours were from dawn to dusk, typically anywhere from twelve to fourteen hours a day, sixty and seventy hours per week for wages that would barely pay the rent and put food on a factory worker’s table.

Child labor was common, especially in the textile industry, though in some states there were supposed to be laws regulating it.  The kids toiled right alongside their parents.  The children typically worked the same hours as adults, but for a quarter, or less, of the pay.  Pictures of the time show children working barefoot among the machines, ragged sleeves flapping near the flying belts and spinning pulleys.  Whole families hired out to the factories, the men doing the heavy labor, the women and children doing the more delicate tasks. Towns sprang up around the mills, often controlled by the factory owners. Company towns, where workers very often became little more than indentured servants.  Life in a company town was often better than the alternative on the streets of places like Hell’s Kitchen or out in the fields of the South. Company towns gave workers a higher standard of living than they would otherwise be able to afford. But the running joke was that while your soul might belong to God, your ass belonged to the company.  Mill towns and mining towns and factory towns and logging towns were common across America, places where the company ownedeverything from your house to your job to the church you prayed in to the store you bought your food from. And prices were whatever made the company the most profit and in many places there were laws that prevented you from renting or buying outside the company town.  The company might pay you a decent wage for the time, but they got a lot of it back too.  Get crosswise of the company and you lost it all.  Get injured on the job and could no longer work, and you lost it all. Get sick, and you could lose it all.  Get killed, and your family was out on the street.  There was no workman’s comp. No insurance. No retirement but what you managed to save – and since you probably owed a significant debt to the company store, your savings were unlikely to go very far.
Of course, you could always take a pass on factory work and return to the land.  In 1915, millions of Americans were farmers.  Farming was hard back breaking work (it still is, just in a different way) – so hard that seventy hours a week in a smoke filled factory with a high probability of getting maimed or killed looked pretty good in comparison.  Most of those farmers, especially in the South, didn’t own their fields. They were sharecroppers, living in conditions little better than slavery or the serfdom of the Dark Ages.  Of the small farmers who did own their own land or rather owed the bank for their own land, more than half lived in abject poverty.  In the coming decade, the decade of the Great Depression and the Dust Bowl, most would lose everything.

Most of America was powered by coal in those days and if there was anything that would make life in a factory town or in the sweltering fields look good – it was working in a West Virginia coal mining town.  It was a race to see what would kill you first, explosion, cave-in, or the black lung.  And just like in the fields and factories, children worked alongside their parents – if they had parents, orphanages were also common. And orphan labor was even cheaper than the average child, both in life and in pay. Renting out orphan labor was a good gig, if you could get it.
You could always become a merchant seaman, though life at sea was damned rough. You could move west and become a logger, though you’d probably live longer in the mines of West Virginia. You could still be a cowboy, or a cop, or carpenter none which paid worth a good Goddamn and had the added benefit of a short lifespan.
Since people got sick and injured a lot, and most couldn’t afford even rudimentary medical care, many turned to patent medicines.  The pharmaceutical industry was only loosely regulated, but by 1915 there were some few laws in a handful of states regulating the more outrageous claims for the various elixirs. The big medicine shows were gone, but there were still plenty of drug store shelves stocked with hundreds of varieties of patent medicines. Some were mostly benign, like Coca-Cola. And some were downright toxic, like Radithor, made from water and radium.  As late as 1917, The Rattlesnake King, Clark Stanley, was still making Stanley’s Snake Oil, a worthless mixture of mineral oil, turpentine, and red pepper, and fleecing sick people out of their money and making them yet sicker (hell, as late as the 1960’s TV’s commercials touted the benefits of smoking for sore throats. And, as late as 1970 there were still X-ray foot measuring devices that would give you cancer in use in a handful of shoe stores across America).

In 1915, only a few states mandated that your kids attend school, and then only through elementary.  In the South segregation and Jim Crow Laws were in full force and civil rights were decades away. Lynching was common.  On the other hand, women could actually vote in exactly five states, well, six if you included California which grudgingly acknowledged in November that females might be citizens too despite their unfortunate plumbing.
In 1915, maybe three out of ten Americans could ever expect to own a home, most would pay a landlord their whole lives. Few had any rights in those relationships either, you paid the owner and you lived with what you got or you got thrown out. Period.
In 1915, a lot of Americans were hungry. More than fifty percent of seniors lived in poverty, but then the average lifespan was only about fifty-five, maybe sixty if you hadn’t been breathing coal dust or lead vapor all you life.  Few of those seniors had pensions, most lived on the charity of their families – if they were lucky enough to have families.  Sanatoriums were a common place for the aged and infirm to spend their brief final years.
In 1915, if you had ten kids, you might expect six of them to survive to adulthood.  If you were lucky. Polio, tuberculosis, measles, mumps, pneumonia, whooping cough, hard labor in the mines and factories and fields, lack of social safety nets, lack of proper nutrition, lead paint, food poisoning, poverty, orphaned by parents killed by the same, would probably claim at least four of those kids. Likely more.
People from that generation always wax nostalgic for The Good Old Days – and then theyimmediately proceed to tell you why life was so much harder and more miserable back then.

The simple truth of the matter is nowadays we Americans live a pretty damned good life.  And we live that good life because since 1915 we’ve put systems and laws and regulations in place to improve life for all of us.  Programs like Social Security and Medicare have a direct and measurable effect on how long we live, and how well. Regulations governing working conditions and workplace safety have a direct and measurable effect on the probability that we’ll survive to retirement.  Laws that prevent the rich from owning a whole town, or abusing workers, or turning them into indentured servants, or hiring children at pauper’s wages to maintain the machines in their bare feet, have directly benefited all but the most greedy few.

The American dream isn’t dead, far from it.
I’ve been to countries where dreams have died, America is far, far, far removed those hellish places.
It is a measure of just how far we’ve come, and just how big an impact that those laws, regulations, and social safety programs have had that those who directly benefit from those very same laws, regulations, and programs can complain with full bellies just how terrible they have it.
Things like Social Security, Medicare, Workman’s Compensation Insurance, The Federal Reserve, Federal Deposit Insurance, child labor laws, federal minimum wage, occupational health and safety standards, the Environmental Protection Agency, The Centers for Disease Control, The departments of Education and Health, Labor Unions and workers’ rights, and yes, even Welfare, all of these things were created for a reason. For a good reason. For a compelling reason.
These things were created because when you leave it up to the church and charity to feed the hungry and clothe the poor and heal the sick, a hell of a lot of people go hungry and cold and ill.  It is really just that brutally simple.
These things were created because when you leave it up to charity and family to take care of old people, a hell of a lot of old people end up stacked like cord wood in institutions. The moldering remnants of such places are all around us.
These things were created because when you leave it up to people to save for their retirement or a rainy day or for accident and infirmity, a hell of a lot of them don’t, or can’t, or won’t.
These things were put in place because when you leave it solely up to the market to weed out poor products and fake medicine and unsafe machines, the market doesn’t, or can’t, or won’t, and it’s perfectly happy to go right on killing people for profit.
These things were put in place because when you leave it up to industrialists and share holders to treat their workers with dignity and respect and to pay them a living wage for their hard work, you get indentured servitude.
These things were put in place because when you leave it up to devoutly righteous people who go to church every Sunday to decide what is right and proper and moral, you end up with lynchings and segregation and Jim Crow. And that is a Goddamned fact.
These things were put in place because when you leave it up to the factory owners to decide wages and safety and working hours, you get this:

When you leave it solely up to bankers and the factory owners and the industrialists and the politicians, well Sir, then what happens is they end up owning it all and you get the privilege of paying them to eat out of their garbage can.
And for most of history, right up until very recently, that’s exactly how it was.
Fundamentally, government exists to protect the weak from the ruthless, otherwise what damned good is it?
Lately there are a lot of folks who think they want to live in 1915, rather than in 2015.

The question you need to ask yourself, on this of all days, is what century do you want to live in?