Field Notes from the North Highway 2: Where Time Stands Still

There are two ways to drive the 193 miles of Highway 2 across Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.

Most people are simply trying to get somewhere.

I was trying to figure out what happened here.

For nearly 200 miles, the road hugs the northern shore of Lake Michigan before eventually turning toward the Mackinac Bridge. The scenery is beautiful, but it wasn’t the lakes that kept stealing my attention.

It was everything built beside them.

One abandoned motel.

Then another.

An old motor court.

A faded neon vacancy sign.

A weathered diner.

A tiny church that somehow looked both alive and abandoned at the same time.

You can tell Highway 2 used to matter.

Long before the interstate system, families packed station wagons, loaded coolers into the back seat, and followed this road north toward summer fun. Those little roadside motels weren’t always forgotten. Someone built every one of them believing weary travelers would stop for the night.

Many did.

Then the world got faster.

The traffic moved elsewhere.

And little by little, so did the people.

Now what’s left are faded signs, cracked parking lots, empty buildings, and stories waiting patiently for someone curious enough to ask what happened.

Oddly enough…

Those are exactly the kinds of places I love.

Maybe that’s because I’ve always been drawn to forgotten things.

The overlooked.

Maybe that’s also why I spend so much of my life searching for medicinal plants that rarely make headlines.

Everyone knows lavender.

Everyone knows chamomile.

I get excited about a patch of self-heal growing behind a barn.

Or finally spotting white willow after years of hoping I’d stumble across it.

Or pulling over because I caught a glimpse of bladder campion waving beside the road.

It’s such a unique little plant. Most people would probably never notice it, but those inflated, balloon-like flowers dazzle me.

I don’t just see plants.

I see possibilities.