It requires a small army of people to keep up the maintenance on my house, and my yard in particular. Lawn mowing, lawn spraying, tree spraying, gardening, bug spraying; all are needed constantly. Driveway recoating and septic pumping are needed every few years. Then there are the one-time items -- house painting, window replacements, well replacement. Ugh. Home ownership has been quite an adventure. A friend of mine once told me that owning a home is when you first start thinking of expenses in terms of thousands. At least. A fair amount of home drama this month; my adventure in mowing is described below.
Regular readers know I take every opportunity I can to run races on Mackinac Island. They used to have three every year up there, but they just added a fourth so naturally I travelled up there for the inaugural running. Also, below.
I had a minor breakthrough in writing, well, not writing so much as outlining, but I did get core plot finally sorted out on my current project. That is to say, I know where I want to go and how to get there. Now it's just work. Maybe I'll actually finish this before I'm dead.
[Books, Rant] Tom Wolfe, RIP
[Books] Tigers, Burning Bright
[Dexter, House and Home] Home Sweet Home
[Travel, Health and Fitness] Running the Island
Tuesday, June 05, 2018
[Books, Rant] Tom Wolfe, RIP
I once spent a summer reading everything he wrote (this was prior to his turn to fiction). He was not just one the most astute observers of the 20th century, he was also a great explainer and dramatic license was his tool of choice. Like many young adults, I was inundated in the binary -- the tribal conflicts of the moment -- Tom Wolfe showed me they were merely symptoms of something deeper in human nature, simultaneously less important but more troubling. If you've been following any of the commentary upon his death, you can see I am not alone in being greatly influenced by him.
He worked both a lesser and greater theme. The lesser one was subcultures. His early work marked the "discovery" of subcultures, from cars to hippies to the Manhattan art world. What followed from that was the larger theme: status. With ideas from sociologist Max Weber he saw human interaction as, after life-or-death necessities, a striving for status. Looking at his subcultures he saw how the people within jockeyed to impress others and increase their perceived value through their words and deeds. It jibed not only with his reading of Weber, but also his personal experience in academia.
From this realization, casting his eye about the world he found endless fodder. Everywhere he looked he saw straight through the elevated and the pompous to see their narcissistic motives. Moreover, he described it all in lacerating prose that, to my ear, cut as sharply as Waugh or Trollope. Needless to say, this did not endear him to those he skewered. (Interestingly, one of the things he never got around to skewering was politicians. As a result folks in political circles often commented highly on him since he was always pointing and laughing at other people.)
We now have something that we haphazardly refer to as the Rationalist Community or the Intellectual Dark Web. You can get a taste for it by visiting sites such as Slate Star Codex and Overcoming Bias
, where a good deal of time is devoted to understanding the source of our behavior beyond the surface explanations. Robin Hanson, of Overcoming Bias, recently co-authored a book entitled Elephant in the Brain, devoted to understanding the "real" motivations behind our behavior (it's on my reading list). I can see a pretty straight line from Wolfe to Hanson and many others of the same stripe, suggesting to me that as much has he has been acknowledged as an influence, he is probably still underrated.
His fiction sold well, and is quite infamous, but I would start with his earlier work. General consensus is that The Right Stuff is the pinnacle, but Wolfe himself said his favorite was Mau-Mauing the Flak Catchers. He said wouldn't change a word of it, so I would start there. In it, Wolfe made savage fun of the smug, oh-so-elite guests at Leonard Bernstein's party who, safe and wealthy on the Upper West Side, had adopted the loathsome Black Panthers as a cause du jour to demonstrate to the world their noble and progressive minds. Wolfe used them to turn his eye on how cultural elites were now using political extremists and screeching protesters, often violent, as status symbols. Hyperventilation ensued among the chattering classes. As cutting and foresightful as Wolfe was, it seems satire is not the deadly weapon it is made out to be. If you don't see the relevance to today's world you may be a lost cause. Now, you'll find the a lite version of the same behavior everywhere, from the boardrooms of multinationals to the PTO at your elementary school they find ways to link with fashionable sanctimony and victimhood through noble statements and activities. In some venues you will be punished for not displaying it such solidarity.
It tempting to say we need a new Tom Wolfe but like all phenomena, he was of his times. We no longer have time for satire and longer than a tweet or a snippet of newsertainment snark, or worse, a meme. Like Twain and Mencken before him, he used his gimlet eye to cast a light on humanity, and in his way, aided us in holding this cynical, subtextual world to some sort of standard of rationality. We were better for having him.
He worked both a lesser and greater theme. The lesser one was subcultures. His early work marked the "discovery" of subcultures, from cars to hippies to the Manhattan art world. What followed from that was the larger theme: status. With ideas from sociologist Max Weber he saw human interaction as, after life-or-death necessities, a striving for status. Looking at his subcultures he saw how the people within jockeyed to impress others and increase their perceived value through their words and deeds. It jibed not only with his reading of Weber, but also his personal experience in academia.
From this realization, casting his eye about the world he found endless fodder. Everywhere he looked he saw straight through the elevated and the pompous to see their narcissistic motives. Moreover, he described it all in lacerating prose that, to my ear, cut as sharply as Waugh or Trollope. Needless to say, this did not endear him to those he skewered. (Interestingly, one of the things he never got around to skewering was politicians. As a result folks in political circles often commented highly on him since he was always pointing and laughing at other people.)
We now have something that we haphazardly refer to as the Rationalist Community or the Intellectual Dark Web. You can get a taste for it by visiting sites such as Slate Star Codex and Overcoming Bias
, where a good deal of time is devoted to understanding the source of our behavior beyond the surface explanations. Robin Hanson, of Overcoming Bias, recently co-authored a book entitled Elephant in the Brain, devoted to understanding the "real" motivations behind our behavior (it's on my reading list). I can see a pretty straight line from Wolfe to Hanson and many others of the same stripe, suggesting to me that as much has he has been acknowledged as an influence, he is probably still underrated.
His fiction sold well, and is quite infamous, but I would start with his earlier work. General consensus is that The Right Stuff is the pinnacle, but Wolfe himself said his favorite was Mau-Mauing the Flak Catchers. He said wouldn't change a word of it, so I would start there. In it, Wolfe made savage fun of the smug, oh-so-elite guests at Leonard Bernstein's party who, safe and wealthy on the Upper West Side, had adopted the loathsome Black Panthers as a cause du jour to demonstrate to the world their noble and progressive minds. Wolfe used them to turn his eye on how cultural elites were now using political extremists and screeching protesters, often violent, as status symbols. Hyperventilation ensued among the chattering classes. As cutting and foresightful as Wolfe was, it seems satire is not the deadly weapon it is made out to be. If you don't see the relevance to today's world you may be a lost cause. Now, you'll find the a lite version of the same behavior everywhere, from the boardrooms of multinationals to the PTO at your elementary school they find ways to link with fashionable sanctimony and victimhood through noble statements and activities. In some venues you will be punished for not displaying it such solidarity.
It tempting to say we need a new Tom Wolfe but like all phenomena, he was of his times. We no longer have time for satire and longer than a tweet or a snippet of newsertainment snark, or worse, a meme. Like Twain and Mencken before him, he used his gimlet eye to cast a light on humanity, and in his way, aided us in holding this cynical, subtextual world to some sort of standard of rationality. We were better for having him.
[Books] Tigers, Burning Bright
Suddenly I found myself reading about man-eating tigers. In my wanderings on the web I will occasionally encounter a conversation where multiple people chime in on the excellence of a certain book, often one I have never heard of. I will then immediately hit Amazon and read up on it. If it looks promising I usually add it to my wish list. When in need or reading, I'll revisit that list for ideas. (I should publish the list. It is remarkably eclectic.) Sometimes these finds don't pan out; I will forever be stunned at how many bad or pointless books get rave reviews. That was not the case at all with The Tiger, by John Valliant.
I did not realize there were any such things as Siberian Tigers left in the world. In fact, if you had told me they had not existed since the days of cavemen, I would not have doubted you. But there are. While not flourishing, they are not uncommon in the remote areas of Siberia, near the Manchurian border, and a reality of daily life in the hand-to-mouth villages that exist in their midst.
Valliant documents the story of one which had taken to not just opportunistically eating the local denizens, but seemingly stalking specific individuals out of malice and vengeance. A much-liked local, who often tested the poaching laws seems to have had an encounter with a tiger which appears to have angered the tiger to the point of stalking and killing him while passing up easier human prey. Of course, opinions vary as to whether the man brought on his own destruction or not, but in any case it is up to the local enforcers of environmental policy to deal with the situation. There is another kill, again with questions about cause and effect. In a dramatic finale, the environmental cops track and kill the tiger, but not without the tiger getting in a good lick or two.
It is within that skeleton of an outline that the magic happens. Valliant scores with this narrative on multiple levels. He nails the local flavor, highlighting the hard life of the people in this remote wilderness, who live and die with the land and for whom hunting is a matter of life and death. He nails the cultural conflicts of the desire of conservationist and the wildlife protection laws versus the poverty stricken who can make year's worth of income by poaching one tiger and selling it to the Chinese. He nails the politics and how perestroika effectively killed the mining in this region and the dismissiveness and contempt of the people towards a corrupt government half a world away. He nails the history with compelling profile of the early explorers and the sorts of circumstances that would cause people to settle in such a remote and terrible (though beautiful) land. He nails the psychology of man versus tiger by not just describing the terror of living amidst and man-eater, but also getting deep inside the tiger's head and it motivations. (It's worth noting that, although man, should he choose to, could easily wipe out tigers now, over the epochs back into prehistory, tigers have an insurmountable lead in the kill count.) He nails the tension of the hunt, the palpable fear of knowing the man-eater amy be lurking behind any bush or in any shadow and the incredible speed of their attack; less than five seconds can determine life or death. Lastly, he nails the aftermath, often tragic, of the people touched by the man-eater.
Should you read The Tiger? Yes, absolutely. It is riveting start to finish.
But that put me on a man-eating tiger kick, and it seems the classic of the genre is Man-eaters of Kumaon by Jim Corbett. Corbett was a legendary hunter operating in India betweens the wars. (Does it make sense to say "between the wars" anymore? For you young'ns, that's between WWI and WWII, or the 1920s and 1930s.) At this time in the remote areas of India, tigers were responsible for hundreds, if not thousands of human kills every year. Corbett was often called in to deal with beasts that had killed dozens of people.
Corbett himself, was one of those old school, understated, fearless subjects of the Crown that now exist only in stories found in used book stores. As a point of honor, he considered himself a sportsman and apparently an amatuer, taking pains to differentiate himself from a "reward hunter," saying he would prefer to be shot rather than hunt for reward. He wonders whether sitting up in wait for a tiger to return to a partially eaten kill is "cricket", i.e. unfair to the tiger. He regularly marches in to the jungle alone, effectively making himself bait. He sleeps in trees to the point of mastering the art -- in fact, killed a man-eater who attacked him after he had been sitting in a tree for over 15 hours waiting (I have trouble sitting still if a meeting runs longer than an hour). He lead a party to pursue a wounded bear, and after running out of ammo, killed it with rocks and an axe.
As riveting and compelling as Valliant's story was of the man-eating tiger in Siberia, such an escapade would have merited only a shrug and a footnote from Corbett. Dude was on another level. So much so that often his tales beggar belief. He writes of how he has developed instinct and intuition and occasionally "just knows" a tiger is lurking behind a certain rock. It sounds like witchcraft but the sincerity and authenticity of his voice makes you believe it. One assumes this intuition is nothing but reaction to stimulus such as scent or sound that is perceived subconsciously, thus it is perfectly possible. I mean, if anyone had hunting skills that transcend to objective and observable it would be Corbett. His understanding and application of tracking and hunting methods is masterly.
Should you read Man-eaters of Kuamong? If you ever want an example of totally unaffected prose, Corbett is your man. He puts on no airs and, apart from the understatement one expects from old, British adventurers, everything is face value. Stories are related in a straightforward way, without ornamentation or high-minded digressions. Corbett is truly authentic. That said, contemporary audiences will probably be looking for more bombast or for something to relate to great social themes or virtue signalling. You will find none of that. To me, that's a blessing.
Later in life, Corbett, who even in the course of his hunting years was often accused of preferring to photograph wildlife rather than shoot it, became a strong advocate of the preservation and protection of tigers. Valliant, for his part, after examining the terror a man-eater can inflict, took time to write an epilogue that is a strident plea for tiger conservation and the man tasked with killing the man-eater in his book expressed similar sentiments. I would guess that is probably the case more often than not: Surviving a deadly encounter with such a predator inclines one to want to preserve it. The psychology and science of that reaction are worth an essay in itself. Homo Sapiens has been relating stores of man-eaters for all of our existence. It seems even though we could end that, we don't really want to.
I did not realize there were any such things as Siberian Tigers left in the world. In fact, if you had told me they had not existed since the days of cavemen, I would not have doubted you. But there are. While not flourishing, they are not uncommon in the remote areas of Siberia, near the Manchurian border, and a reality of daily life in the hand-to-mouth villages that exist in their midst.
Valliant documents the story of one which had taken to not just opportunistically eating the local denizens, but seemingly stalking specific individuals out of malice and vengeance. A much-liked local, who often tested the poaching laws seems to have had an encounter with a tiger which appears to have angered the tiger to the point of stalking and killing him while passing up easier human prey. Of course, opinions vary as to whether the man brought on his own destruction or not, but in any case it is up to the local enforcers of environmental policy to deal with the situation. There is another kill, again with questions about cause and effect. In a dramatic finale, the environmental cops track and kill the tiger, but not without the tiger getting in a good lick or two.
It is within that skeleton of an outline that the magic happens. Valliant scores with this narrative on multiple levels. He nails the local flavor, highlighting the hard life of the people in this remote wilderness, who live and die with the land and for whom hunting is a matter of life and death. He nails the cultural conflicts of the desire of conservationist and the wildlife protection laws versus the poverty stricken who can make year's worth of income by poaching one tiger and selling it to the Chinese. He nails the politics and how perestroika effectively killed the mining in this region and the dismissiveness and contempt of the people towards a corrupt government half a world away. He nails the history with compelling profile of the early explorers and the sorts of circumstances that would cause people to settle in such a remote and terrible (though beautiful) land. He nails the psychology of man versus tiger by not just describing the terror of living amidst and man-eater, but also getting deep inside the tiger's head and it motivations. (It's worth noting that, although man, should he choose to, could easily wipe out tigers now, over the epochs back into prehistory, tigers have an insurmountable lead in the kill count.) He nails the tension of the hunt, the palpable fear of knowing the man-eater amy be lurking behind any bush or in any shadow and the incredible speed of their attack; less than five seconds can determine life or death. Lastly, he nails the aftermath, often tragic, of the people touched by the man-eater.
Should you read The Tiger? Yes, absolutely. It is riveting start to finish.
But that put me on a man-eating tiger kick, and it seems the classic of the genre is Man-eaters of Kumaon by Jim Corbett. Corbett was a legendary hunter operating in India betweens the wars. (Does it make sense to say "between the wars" anymore? For you young'ns, that's between WWI and WWII, or the 1920s and 1930s.) At this time in the remote areas of India, tigers were responsible for hundreds, if not thousands of human kills every year. Corbett was often called in to deal with beasts that had killed dozens of people.
Corbett himself, was one of those old school, understated, fearless subjects of the Crown that now exist only in stories found in used book stores. As a point of honor, he considered himself a sportsman and apparently an amatuer, taking pains to differentiate himself from a "reward hunter," saying he would prefer to be shot rather than hunt for reward. He wonders whether sitting up in wait for a tiger to return to a partially eaten kill is "cricket", i.e. unfair to the tiger. He regularly marches in to the jungle alone, effectively making himself bait. He sleeps in trees to the point of mastering the art -- in fact, killed a man-eater who attacked him after he had been sitting in a tree for over 15 hours waiting (I have trouble sitting still if a meeting runs longer than an hour). He lead a party to pursue a wounded bear, and after running out of ammo, killed it with rocks and an axe.
As riveting and compelling as Valliant's story was of the man-eating tiger in Siberia, such an escapade would have merited only a shrug and a footnote from Corbett. Dude was on another level. So much so that often his tales beggar belief. He writes of how he has developed instinct and intuition and occasionally "just knows" a tiger is lurking behind a certain rock. It sounds like witchcraft but the sincerity and authenticity of his voice makes you believe it. One assumes this intuition is nothing but reaction to stimulus such as scent or sound that is perceived subconsciously, thus it is perfectly possible. I mean, if anyone had hunting skills that transcend to objective and observable it would be Corbett. His understanding and application of tracking and hunting methods is masterly.
Should you read Man-eaters of Kuamong? If you ever want an example of totally unaffected prose, Corbett is your man. He puts on no airs and, apart from the understatement one expects from old, British adventurers, everything is face value. Stories are related in a straightforward way, without ornamentation or high-minded digressions. Corbett is truly authentic. That said, contemporary audiences will probably be looking for more bombast or for something to relate to great social themes or virtue signalling. You will find none of that. To me, that's a blessing.
Later in life, Corbett, who even in the course of his hunting years was often accused of preferring to photograph wildlife rather than shoot it, became a strong advocate of the preservation and protection of tigers. Valliant, for his part, after examining the terror a man-eater can inflict, took time to write an epilogue that is a strident plea for tiger conservation and the man tasked with killing the man-eater in his book expressed similar sentiments. I would guess that is probably the case more often than not: Surviving a deadly encounter with such a predator inclines one to want to preserve it. The psychology and science of that reaction are worth an essay in itself. Homo Sapiens has been relating stores of man-eaters for all of our existence. It seems even though we could end that, we don't really want to.
[Dexter, House and Home] Home Sweet Home
The latest drama was when my lawn mowing service (really just one guy) just decided to quit. No warning. No return of calls. He just ghosted me for some reason. After a week of this I finally realized the guy was not just behind schedule, he was not going to show. I thought about trying to fire up the old mower and do it myself like the old days, but my mower hadn't been started in three or four years and it was 50-50 whether it would start at all, and if it did it was 50-50 whether the engine would explode.
It has been a wet spring and the grass was growing half-and-inch a day. Many parts of the yard had reached 6 to 8 inches and I was expecting a harshly worded letter from the Homeowners Association any day. I posted a desperate plea to the local facebook group and managed to find a fellow who was trying to kickstart a lawn service in tandem with his 13-year-old son who was willing to come out on short notice, that very evening in fact. Of course, before he got there the rains hit hard, so it was put off a couple more days, but at least I'm not living in a jungle anymore.
It's interesting to note that previously I had contracted some work with a local firm that was run by a particularly entrepreneurial high school student who had built up one of the top local landscaping firms while he was still in high school. Apparently this kid intends to be the next in line.
Dexter is an excellent place for this sort of thing. There are plenty of big old exurban lots that need yard work and it's fairly wealthy these days so you can set a decent price and expect to get paid, which is a big concern when you are shoe-stringing a business. (You might be surprised at how often folks will arrange to have a small business do work and then simply not pay them, knowing that in a practical sense there is little recourse.) Dexter is also really focused on the local kids. The public schools are among the elite. Not only are they well funded, but there is a foundation that solicits donations to supplement their funding with private grant money (lately focussed on robotics, it seems). So there are quite a number of folks who will pick the local kid over a professional service on principle.
Really, if you were to picture a perfect example of the good, affluent, suburban life, you would probably picture Dexter. To read the police blotter is almost comical: a tool was stolen from an unlocked shed, a mailbox got knocked down, a bike was stolen. The worst things are DUIs, usually by barbarians from Ann Arbor, or an occasional domestic violence incident from one of the few remaining tiny pockets of lower income.
The various local social media (Facebook, NextDoor, etc.) are delightful, filled with announcements of local events and people reminiscing, "Why yes, I remember so and so, I used to live two doors down from them...", missing dogs found, chickens or cows that have gotten loose. On the latter, Dexter still has a sizeable rural component to it.
The intertwined issues of traffic and growth are the biggest complaints. Gentrification continues although sentiment to put the clamps on growth is waxing. A couple of new condo developments right in the heart of the village were controversial, but there is no arguing with their desirability; planned to sell at 400K they have been offer in excess of 600K before they are even built. As a homeowner, I am deeply prejudiced towards my property value increasing like that, thus my incentive is to fight these insurgent savages and their evil developments and keep housing supply limited.
The list of benefits is long -- outdoor activities abound on the trails and lakes nearby. Ann Arbor is 15 minutes away, itself often rated one of the best places to live in the nation. One hopes Dexter can stay just like it is forever, but nothing does. Disruption might come from hard times. It might come from a complete loss of rural hospitality and turn into one of those places where you can't live without a net worth of $10 million and everyone sues each other and all the kids are on oxy. Trouble, as they say, always comes around.
For now I'm just going to be happy to live in a place where if I'm in a tough situation, some 13-year-old kid and his dad will step up. Kudos to the is kid for getting (as Nassim Taleb would put it) skin in the game early in life. And kudos to those who created the environment where the kid can do it.
It has been a wet spring and the grass was growing half-and-inch a day. Many parts of the yard had reached 6 to 8 inches and I was expecting a harshly worded letter from the Homeowners Association any day. I posted a desperate plea to the local facebook group and managed to find a fellow who was trying to kickstart a lawn service in tandem with his 13-year-old son who was willing to come out on short notice, that very evening in fact. Of course, before he got there the rains hit hard, so it was put off a couple more days, but at least I'm not living in a jungle anymore.
It's interesting to note that previously I had contracted some work with a local firm that was run by a particularly entrepreneurial high school student who had built up one of the top local landscaping firms while he was still in high school. Apparently this kid intends to be the next in line.
Dexter is an excellent place for this sort of thing. There are plenty of big old exurban lots that need yard work and it's fairly wealthy these days so you can set a decent price and expect to get paid, which is a big concern when you are shoe-stringing a business. (You might be surprised at how often folks will arrange to have a small business do work and then simply not pay them, knowing that in a practical sense there is little recourse.) Dexter is also really focused on the local kids. The public schools are among the elite. Not only are they well funded, but there is a foundation that solicits donations to supplement their funding with private grant money (lately focussed on robotics, it seems). So there are quite a number of folks who will pick the local kid over a professional service on principle.
Really, if you were to picture a perfect example of the good, affluent, suburban life, you would probably picture Dexter. To read the police blotter is almost comical: a tool was stolen from an unlocked shed, a mailbox got knocked down, a bike was stolen. The worst things are DUIs, usually by barbarians from Ann Arbor, or an occasional domestic violence incident from one of the few remaining tiny pockets of lower income.
The various local social media (Facebook, NextDoor, etc.) are delightful, filled with announcements of local events and people reminiscing, "Why yes, I remember so and so, I used to live two doors down from them...", missing dogs found, chickens or cows that have gotten loose. On the latter, Dexter still has a sizeable rural component to it.
The intertwined issues of traffic and growth are the biggest complaints. Gentrification continues although sentiment to put the clamps on growth is waxing. A couple of new condo developments right in the heart of the village were controversial, but there is no arguing with their desirability; planned to sell at 400K they have been offer in excess of 600K before they are even built. As a homeowner, I am deeply prejudiced towards my property value increasing like that, thus my incentive is to fight these insurgent savages and their evil developments and keep housing supply limited.
The list of benefits is long -- outdoor activities abound on the trails and lakes nearby. Ann Arbor is 15 minutes away, itself often rated one of the best places to live in the nation. One hopes Dexter can stay just like it is forever, but nothing does. Disruption might come from hard times. It might come from a complete loss of rural hospitality and turn into one of those places where you can't live without a net worth of $10 million and everyone sues each other and all the kids are on oxy. Trouble, as they say, always comes around.
For now I'm just going to be happy to live in a place where if I'm in a tough situation, some 13-year-old kid and his dad will step up. Kudos to the is kid for getting (as Nassim Taleb would put it) skin in the game early in life. And kudos to those who created the environment where the kid can do it.
[Travel, Health and Fitness] Running the Island
I have previously gone into detail about how much I like Mackinac Island, so I won't go on about it at length. It is a delightful combination of family-friendliness, romance, history, and bars. If you're new here, just google it for the details. What is also has is some very cool races. (If you're not a runner, you can skip the rest of this post.) There are four races a year, all worth running. The official site to visit is Run Mackinac, but let me give you my overview. The races are always on a Saturday and they ascend in distance (and attendance) over the season starting with:
If you're a runner should certainly try one of these races. They offer something for everyone and you get to be on Mackinac Island for a while which is the best reason.
- Fort-to-Fort 5-Mile Challenge -- The inaugural race occurred just this year. I think it's planned for the second Saturday in May, which is roughly when the island opens its season. The race starts inside Fort Mackinac, one of the island top attractions and winds through the interior of the island circling a second, smaller fort, Fort Holmes, then back to the start. You start from inside the fort to a musket salute (or maybe a cannon) then the route runs along beautiful wooded paved streets. It is very hilly. Not much flat at all, you are either climbing or descending pretty much the whole time.
This is a good time to be on the island. All the shops and restaurants are just opening for the season and it is relatively uncrowded. Key word: relatively. But be advised, it is not summer, just barely spring, and you are in the north woods. You could be facing quite cold temps. Check the weather ahead of time and bring the right gear. Early in the season also means probably it's your best shot at a reasonably priced room on the Island. - The Lilac 10k -- This is scheduled shortly after Memorial Day during the Lilac festival. (There are lots of Lilac bushes on the Island.) This race starts at the west end of "town" and heads east on a flat stretch on the main road then turns inland climbing a very steep road to the highest point on the island. The steepness should not be understated. The first quarter mile after you make the turn has most people walking. It continues to be uphill, though less steep for another mile or so. When you reach the water station you know you are at the top. Your reward for making it up is a long lovely downhill stretch, bisecting the island N/S such that you come out to the shores of Lake Huron almost directly across the island from where you started, you are now about half way. From there it's a flat half-circumnavigation counterclockwise on the shore road to the finish, about 500 yards from starting line.
The race itself is most notable for the uphill struggle and downhill reward. Barring strange weather patterns, this is usually in the heart of spring and the Island will be at its most lovely. The flowers on Mackinac Island are legendary. Weather should be good, but note: tourist season is in full swing at this point. Rooms will be dear, especially if you don't plan ahead.
- The Eight Mile Run -- This race is always the Saturday after Labor Day. It is an eight-mile circumnavigation of the Island along the shore road. You will run the entire length of M-185, clockwise, with Lake Huron on your left the whole time. You start at Mission Point, the big resort just east of town and run the circle from there. Simple. You'll pass through town, have terrific views of the Mackinac Bridge as you turn to run up the west side. Best of all, it is blissfully flat for the entire distance (well, there may be a brief undulation here or there but nothing to concern yourself with).
I love this race and I run it every year. I think this upcoming one may be my 10th. To me, it is about the perfect distance. Once you are comfortable with a 10k (6.2 miles) your next step up in distance is a Half Marathon (13.1 miles). I have never gotten to the point where a Half is not a struggle, and I've done quite a number of them. Usually around mile 9 or 10 I'm thinking, "this race is too long", and it becomes a question of pain endurance rather than fitness. This eight-miler is just about the perfect distance for me. I can really put everything I have into it without it become a question of survival.
Anyway, your weather issue here is potential heat. Rare, but it does happen. Usually if it doesn't rain, it's perfect. However, despite the fact that it's after Labor Day, rooms are still going to be dear -- plan ahead. If you like college football this is a good one, because after the race, everybody congregates in the bars to watch the games. - The Great Turtle Half Marathon and 5.7 Miler -- This is the last race of the season, always the Saturday before Halloween. It's also the only one with a shorter option. The Half starts at Mission Point and runs a couple of miles counterclockwise on the shore road before turning up a trail towards the interior of the island. Much of this race is on dirt -- either trails or dirt roads (there is a web of hiking/biking trails that criss-crosses the Island). The interior is hilly but I don't recall it being as hilly as the route of the Fort to Fort; that may be poor memory though. This being fall, the leaves are turning and the woods are bug free. Just a great trail run, if nothing else. The route provides you with stunning views from high above the town and harbor.
I have never done the 5.7 but it looks like you go from Mission Point straight up into the interior and barrel along a trail the runs along the east bluff, then plunge back down to the shore road for the last couple of miles.
This late in the season, as you would expect, the risk is cold weather, although that is somewhat mitigated by the mid-day starting time. You might think this late it would be easy to get a room, but Mackinac is a minor destination for Halloween parties also, so rooms will be high this weekend. That said, feel free to bring your costume and join the other dressed-up revelers is you have any energy left in the evening.
This is literally the last weekend the island is "open". The next day shops are closing up (you can find some good sales) and seasonal help is bugging out. Winter is coming.
If you're a runner should certainly try one of these races. They offer something for everyone and you get to be on Mackinac Island for a while which is the best reason.
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