Double Crossed – The Walk

Nova and I set out for Mackinaw City on Saturday afternoon. We drove Willie, our 1971 Ford F-250 Camper Special, with a vintage Alaskan Camper in the bed. We towed my 1977 Kawasaki 650 on a trailer. I would park the motorcycle at the rest area on the north end of the bridge and then ride it back to the campground after the walk. Willie had never been more than 100 miles from home, and I was excited about this trip. Pulling out of the driveway, we gave Melissa two toots on the horn and waved, “See you next week,” I said. “Woof, woof,” Nova Mae added.
Driving an old truck without air conditioning across northern Wisconsin and Michigan’s UP in August, was a little warm. With the wing windows open, we were comfortable with plenty of air. We arrived at Mackinaw City on Sunday and found our campsite.
I rode my bike around town, meeting all sorts of people: Stan was 77, he’s been coming to walk Big Mac for years. Jill’s husband had recently passed away. They’d walked the bridge many times together and this year she would walk with his ashes. I think she planned to scatter them, but she didn’t offer, and I didn’t ask. People from all over the country came to walk for lots of different reasons.
I finally trailered the motorcycle across the bridge and parked it in the rest area. I returned to the campground and discovered I had been double crossed! While I was gone with Willie and the trailer, someone set up in my campsite! It was after eleven and I wasn’t going to wake the camp host. I pushed my trailer into my site and chained it to a tree. Nova and I drove Willie downtown and found a place to park where there were lots of trees to keep the camper shaded the following day. We climbed into the back and went to bed. The only thing left to do was get some rest before the big walk in the morning, which wasn’t easy. I felt like a kid trying to sleep on Christmas Eve.
By 6:00 on Labor Day morning, Mackinaw City (population 875 people) was buzzing with thousands of visitors who came for the walk. Two ladies were talking in the parking space next to me. I got up and decided to follow them. Nova Mae wanted to walk with me, “Sorry, Nova. Dogs are not allowed on the walk. You’ll have to wait in the camper.” Being my first time on the bridge walk, I didn’t know where I was going or what to expect. The two ladies had already gone, so I followed the crowd.
The crowd made their way to the starting point. There were people as far as I could see. Nancy Sinatra’s song, These Boots Are Made for Walking, was playing over the PA System. The mood was festive on a cool, crisp morning, under a clear sky. Everyone was jovial except one grumpy lady and as luck would have it, she struck up conversation with me.
After some small talk, she complained to me about the cops on horseback: “Those horses shouldn’t be in this crowd. If they get spooked, they’ll trample people.” I told her the horses are well trained to be in crowds. She griped, “Pets aren’t allowed on the walk.” I explained, police horses are not pets, they’re working animals. “There are too many cops here. They’re just looking for reasons to arrest people,” she said. “Why can’t they just leave us alone.”
“The are here to keep everyone safe,” I explained. “You’d have to be doing something really stupid to get arrested here today.” For each of her complaints, I had a calm, logical response and she was getting frustrated with me.
 
“Blah, blah, blah,” she said. “Why don’t you just go back to Wisconsin where you came from?”
I smiled, “Because I came from Minnesota.”
The music faded and Michigan’s Governor welcomed the people, followed by a young lady who sang the National Anthem. The crowd join in full voice, “Oh say does that star spangled banner yet wave, ore the land of the free, and the home of the brave." The applause and cheers following the anthem, were roaring loud! Although I was too deep in the crowd to see them, the governor’s entourage led the walk, and the crowd followed. The people I met on the bridge were amazing.
The first person I spoke with on the bridge was Ruth. I asked why she was wearing dress shoes; they wouldn’t seem uncomfortable. “I’m 78 years old and I always wear dress shoes for the walk. This is a special occasion, you know – being able to walk this bridge. People should dress up.”
The next people I spoke with were Rochelle and Andrea, a mother and daughter. They happened to be talking about an old ford pickup which they parked next to. “Was the truck green with a camper in the back?”
“Yes, it was,” said the mom. “You must have seen it, too.”
“Saw it? I drove it,” I said. We shared a good laugh about that and talked about how well organized this event was.
Three lanes were formed: the southbound lane was for people starting in Mackinaw City and walking north. The north lane was for people starting in Saint Ignace and walking south. Though it sounds a bit confusing, it makes perfect sense; when walking on a road, pedestrians are to walk facing traffic. The two center lanes were for emergency vehicles.
Before the walk, I read the rules: running was not allowed during the walk, for safety reasons, but the first people we met coming from the opposite direction were running. “There not supposed to be running,” The grumpy lady complained. (I thought I had ditched her.)
The first person was a sole runner, followed by a man and woman running with American flags; one in colors to support police. It was beautiful how the rising sun in the east illuminated the flags. The walkers cheered for Old Glory, Well, all but one. The grumpy lady complained, “All these cops and not a one of them will lift a finger to bust these people breaking the rules….” I picked up my pace to put some distance between us. A few firefighters ran in full gear behind the flag. Even on a cool morning, they had to be hot!
I later learned that up to 700 people can pre-register to run from St. Ignace to Mackinaw City. They leave first so that there are no walkers ahead of them.
The grumpy lady was correct, there were a lot of officers on the bridge walk, and their moods were as festive as the walkers. Not far into the walk, I met a State Trooper, “There sure are a lot of Troopers here,” I said.
He nodded. “They bring us in from all over the state.”
“If y’all are up here on the bridge, who’s protecting the rest of Michigan,” I asked. “It seems if one was to speed on the highway, this would be the day.”
“Oh, there are plenty more of us, and we have friends keeping watch,” the officer replied. “Say, do I recognize you from the side of the road?” We shared a good laugh about that. I met the friendliest people in uniform that day.
Four more officers were gathered and chatting in a small group, three of them were on bicycles, I mentioned that no bikes were allowed on the bridge. “We’re special,” one of the cyclists replied. Another pointed at him, saying, “He’s real special.” We all had a good laugh about that, and then I purposed an offer to the quietest bicycle cop.     
“As a law-abiding citizen, I would never bribe a lawman,” I said. “So, this is not a bribe, it’s a legitimate business offer: I’ll give you five bucks, cash for your bicycle.” The officer smiled and politely declined. I upped my offer, “Ten bucks for the ride, and I promise to return it when I get back from the other side.” The officer laughed but again declined. He said the bike belonged to the taxpayers and it wasn’t his to sell. “Man, some people just can’t be bought,” I said shaking my head.
Another officer said, “You should have offered twenty. I’ll bet he would’ve caved at twenty and you’d be the first kid on your block to own a real police bicycle.” Then he quickly added, “At least legally.” The officers had a real hardy good laugh about that and one of them seemed to be blushing. I imagine there was a story behind that, and I would love to have learned it, but I had a long way to walk and more fun officers to meet.
Officer Dennis Maura looked like an ordinary cop. He wore a unform with full gear, an old-fashioned policeman’s cap with the hard bill, and a florescent green safety vest for visibility. But he didn’t need the vest to be seen. A small crowd was taunting him, ‘Do it again. Do it again.’ The officer waived them off, momentarily, and then he did it again, a cartwheel. I caught a bit on it on a video. It amazed me that his hat stayed on his head, but his radio microphone fell from his shoulder. As quickly as he came upright, he sprung the mic back up into his hand, and clipped it to his shoulder; almost like a kid doing a trick with a Duncan Yo-yo. Not only was Office Maura quite the gymnast, but he was also a talented Yo-yoer; or is it Yo-yoist? (Are those even words?)
When I came to the suspension section of the bridge, I looked down through the open grate surface. The green steel structure below looked surreal against the bright blue water. It reminded me of something I built with my Erector Set as a kid. I got on my hands and knees to take a photo through an opening in the grate. I wondered if that was how this bridge came to be; some young kid was playing with an Erector Set and dreamed of one day building a mighty bridge. My daze was interrupted by someone touching my shoulder. “Are you okay sir?” I turned to see an officer standing at my side. I assured the officer I was fine and was just taking a picture of the iron work below.
The cop politely told me, “You have to keep moving.” (Loitering is not allowed and I was there for a few minutes.) “Be careful getting up,” she cautioned while offering me a hand. I was okay; I stood up quickly and found myself stumbling – almost as if I were drunk! The officer grabbed my arm to steady me, “The bridge is moving a lot today,” she said and wished me well as I moved along. The bridge is designed to move but I hadn’t considered how much.
The event featured several turnaround points for folks who wanted to walk shorter distances. A turnaround at the peak of the bridge served people who wished to walk five miles but didn’t want the hassle of finding a ride back. This is the highest point on Mackinac Bridge. I spoke with a trooper posted there.
The Trooper rocked back and forth, from one foot to the other. I inquired if he was dancing or just keeping beat with the movement of the bridge. “It’s to keep me from throwing up,” he said. “This bridge sways enough to make a person sea-sick if they stand still up here for very long.” Then he pointed to my feet, “Look at you.” I was subconsciously moving back and forth also. I asked the trooper if he’d like to dance. “Sorry, my dance card is already full,” he laughed, and I moved on.
I had now crossed the midway point. “Two and half down, two and a half to go,” said a man walking next to me with his young daughter on his shoulders. He was about two feet on the open grate. “This is Meghan. It’s our first walk.” His daughter waved at me and said hello. In the process, she knocked her dad’s hat off his head. He nearly froze in place. Naturally, I bent down to pick up the ball cap and handed it to him. “Thank you,” he said. “I don’t think I could have done that.” The man went on to explain that he was scared to death of open grates. “I decided this year I would face my fear and walk over the grates, but if I look down, I doubt I’ll finish the walk.” He wasn’t the only one facing fear.
I paused alongside a man standing in the middle of the paved lane looking at the vertical cables. The cables were making a high-pitched squeaking noise, almost like a gate with rusty hinges but much louder. “The bridge feels like it’s moving,” he said, seeming a bit panicked. “Why are those cables screeching? Are they going to break? Is the bridge safe.” I chatted with the man long enough to learn that he was crossing the bridge trying to overcome his fear of heights. I wanted to put his mind at ease.
“The bridge is supposed to move. is very safe,” I said calmly, “And it’s” Then I told him, “Those cables are making music, they’re singing to you, inviting you to dance.” I walked with him for a while. Once we were off the suspension part of the bridge, his anxiety eased, and he seemed relieved. Meanwhile, I was buzzing! I soon reached the north end of the Mighty Mac. I turned and looked back at the bridge, “That was just awesome,” I said.
I began walking toward my motorcycle in the rest area. It wasn’t quite 9:00 yet and the bridge wouldn’t reopen to traffic until noon. I knew ahead of time I’d have at least a three hour wait. To pass the time, I planned to ride the motorcycle forty-five minutes north on I-75 to Sault Ste. Marie. I can spend hours watching boats and ships pass through the Soo Locks. Maybe it was the dopamine my brain was releasing but I was still feeling a great natural high from walking the bridge. I second-guessed my plan. I can go to the Soo Locks anytime. I looked at the clock and then glanced back at that The Mighty Mackinac Bridge. “My feet might end up hating me for this, but I’m going to do it.”
Come back next week, for the thirds and final segment: Double Crossed – The Way Back