THE BEACH WITHIN REACH

by SARAH BENCE

In the sweet coastal town of ludington, one of Michigan’s best assets is opening up to people with various disabilities: the outdoors.

Ludington has become a more welcoming and accessible outdoor destination, thanks to efforts by both local disability advocates and the Friends of Ludington State Park, a nonprofit organization supporting the park.

According to Patrick O’Hare, president of the Friends of Ludington State Park, the organization is always looking for ways to enhance the park, and it just so happens that a number of those projects involve improving accessibility.

One such project was obtaining an all-terrain, electricpowered track chair in May 2022 for state park visitors. The off-road track chair can handle uneven trails, snow, sand and even water. In its first season, it was used 58 times. “The response has been overwhelmingly very positive,” O’Hare says.

Some of that encouraging feedback included a comment shared by Jennifer McDonald Murphy, whose husband used the Ludington track chair. “I cannot begin to describe the feelings my family had seeing [my husband] truly happy for the first time in years. Driving along the beach he said, ‘I never thought I’d hear the waves again.’”

Jamie Spore, Ms. Wheelchair Michigan 2016, is an accessibility advisor to Friends of Ludington State Park, as well as other Ludington businesses. Born with spina bifida, Spore is a lifelong paraplegic wheelchair user and has been a passionate advocate when it comes to accessibility for all.

“The new track chair has been an amazing addition to Ludington State Park,” says Spore, who has taken it for rides on the Logging Trail and the path out to Big Sable Point Lighthouse. “Before the track chair … I had never been able to go on the Logging Trail, because of inaccessibility. It’s a beautiful trail!”

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HOW TO RENT THE LUDINGTON TRACK CHAIR

Reserve the chair (free) at friendsofludingtonstatepark.org. Clicking the “track chair” link at the top of the page. There’s also a video posted on the website explaining how to use the track chair.

The response (and demand) has been so encouraging the Friends of Ludington State Park are already fund raising for an additional track chair; not only would this allow use of a chair while the other one is charging, but also having two track chairs would mean that two people with mobility challenges could use the chairs and enjoy the state park together.

Beyond their new all-terrain track chair, there are many other accessible attractions in Ludington:

• SeeCoast EnChroma® Viewer: This new viewer is located along the Skyline Trail at Ludington State Park. It’s designed to show a broader spectrum of colors for people with red-green color blindness and is the first viewer with the EnChroma® feature anywhere in Michigan.

• Beach wheelchairs: Wheelchair users can rent special wheelchairs equipped for sand from the Beach House and the Hamlin Lake concession stand. They are free and firstcome, first-served.

• Universal kayak launch: Located at Hamlin Lake Beach, the universal kayak launch includes a 30-foot graded gangway and transfer area, enabling wheelchair users to launch their watercraft.

• Accessible playground: Also at Hamlin Lake Beach, there’s a playground featuring ADA-accessible ramps, a poured-in-place rubber surface and an accessible sidewalk.

• Lake Michigan beaches: There are two beach access points that are wheelchair-accessible and barrier-free in Ludington: the beach access by the Beach House in Ludington State Park and Stearns Park Beach. Both have vinyl decking and loanable beach wheelchairs.

• Waterfront Park: This 5.3-acre park has an accessible paved scenic path and a wheelchair-accessible playground on the shores of Pere Marquette Lake.

• Cartier Park Pathway: A paved, ADA-accessible one-mile loop within the popular 80-acre woodland park area.

• Ludington bicycle trail: A paved, ADA-accessible two-mile path that connects to the Sable River Trail.

• Ludington Area Jaycees Mini Golf Course: This mini golf course includes a wheelchair-accessible course. For information on accessible attractions in Ludington, including restaurants and transportation, reach out to Pure Ludington at pureludington.com or 231.845.5430.

Sarah Bence is a freelance writer and occupational therapist based in Michigan. Follow her travel blog @endlessdistances on Instagram.

Accessible Stays

Ludington State Park Campgrounds

The park offers wheelchair-accessible camping—there are five barrier-free campsites at Pines Campground and one at Beechwood Campground. The sites include features like an asphalt path to restrooms and electrical outlets, heightened poured-concrete fire pits and picnic table overhangs for wheelchair access.

Cartier Mansion Bed & Breakfast

This stunning B&B was recently renovated, in consult with local accessibility advocate Jamie Spore. The Edison Suite in the carriage house is fully ADA accessible and includes a roll-in shower and accessible sink.

• fireflies

• moths dancing on the porch light

• late-night hamburg and fries at J&S Hamburg

• walking through a pitch-dark campground

• drinks on the deck

• crickets chirping

• s’mores

• thunderstorms

• finding a marshmallow stick

• staying up for the second show at

• sweatshirts over swimsuits

• beach bonfire

• ghost in the graveyard

• kick-the-can

• owls hooting

• frogs croaking

• coyotes howling

• bug zappers

• flashlight tag

• coming home to a glowing porch

• double scoop cones

• sunsets

• waves heard through a window

• Tigers game on the radio

• star gazing

• night hikes

• falling asleep to the clanking of rigging at the marina

• foghorns

• loons

• northern lights

• campfire songs

• burning rosemary on the grill to ward off mosquitoes

• barefoot bike riding

• campfires

• fireworks

• sleeping outside without a tent

The Cherry Bowl Drive-In

• skunks skulking raccoons clanging

• watching for satellites anglers’ voices across the water

• driving with windows open

• two-tracking

• moonrises lighthouse beacons stargazing from the back of a pickup

Sweet Summer Nights

Roaring bonfires and fireflies and camping out and … Here’s our love note to life lived after the sun goes down Up North digging for night crawlers

Ight Swimming

There is no time to think twice. You’ve got about one nanosecond to shimmy out of your suit and hit the water, lest the mosquitoes carry you away, or maybe worse, your neighbors up late at the cottage next door catch a peek. But once you’re in, you’ve entered another world, my friend. On a clear night, you’re practically swimming through the stars: black water blurs into black sky, and there you are in the middle of it all, wearing nothing but your sun-kissed skin, cutting through the cold water like a warm spoon through ice cream. It’s sexy even if you’re all alone, shocking even if it’s your hundredth time, and the closest you’ll ever feel to flying. The sensation of pure freedom in exchange for just a few millimeters of swimsuit fabric. Now that’s a good deal.

—Emily Bingham

Coastal Camping

One feel-good bonus to the back-to-basics wave washing over America the Beautiful is the revival of the family camping trip. And we know we’ve got a plethora of pretty special places on our shining freshwater seas to pitch a tent. A few highlights: D.H. Day Campground, Glen Arbor; Fisherman’s Island State Park, Charlevoix; Wilderness State Park, Petoskey; Ludington State Park. —Emily Betz Tyra

Cool Runnings

Frankfort-ites run to the Cool Spot, Cedar natives howl at the Blue Moon, Bellaire folks get in line at Ruthie’s Dairy Twist, the Benzonia brood beelines it for Hill Top Soda Shoppe. As for Traverse City West Siders jonesing for a pull from the soft serve machine, Shirley is their siren. The Dairy Lodge’s sassy blond mascot has been perched on the sign’s igloo since Al Hepler began running the place in the 1950s. Back then, the kids called her Shirley, after Al’s wife. Shirley became a brunette when the sign was repainted decades later, and a ruckus arose when the sign’s original painter, Mel Timmerman, updated the sign a few years ago, restoring Shirley’s blond locks. Today, West Siders unite behind their queen, painted an icy blonde on one side and lush brunette on the other, and the neighborhood spot’s malts and sodas, flurries, sundaes and the ultimate classic: the twist. Pick your pleasure at the window at 405 N. Division, Traverse City.

—Emily Betz Tyra

Science Saturdays

My dad snuck in astronomy lessons on weekends, hauling out the telescope—needed or not—so we could explore constellations, see Mars and Venus, or look at the moon. My favorite lessons were with the whole family down on the deck on Grand Traverse Bay, wrapped in blankets with heads cocked back and eyes glued to the dark sky searching for shooting stars, or what he called meteors. We made it a game to spot the fiery flash first.

But when Perseids came in August they came faster than we could call them, so we just sat back and enjoyed the fireworks. Perseids is one of the more famed and favorite astronomical events because of its consistency. Every 130 years the Swift-Tuttle comet rotates the Earth, but every year, the Earth rotates and rams into the debris path left by the comet. The rubble, ranging from the size of sand grains to small pebbles, crashes and burns into the Earth’s atmosphere, streaking across the sky. The Perseids run from the end of July to mid-August, but their peak, with 60 meteors streaming by per hour, happens August 12–13 in the wee hours of morning.

—Lauren Marmion

Fire Rites

Beach, park, backyard, riverside, woods after a long summer dusk. The chill announces: autumn is as near as the dark—though not yet, there is time. You stare kindly at the ash-filled basin. You bend to the paper and maple kindling tenderly as an old lover. You strike the match, touch it to old news. Flame reaches out, catches, gathers, flies skyward. Light flickers against the dark, pinning it to trees or starry sky. You add split birch, slow-burning oak. Now wait. Watch the coals build, feel opposites; intense heat, chill leaning on you from nightfall. Smoke wings against you, stains your hands with soot, your hair with blue-scented feathers. Step back, settle into the bent lawn chair. Call. They come—friends, children, elders—dragging branches and carrying tokens of thanks— filled red coolers, water, wine, stories. The fire gods accept, ascend to fight the night, and you, safe for now, let them warm body, mind, spirit against the coming cold. For hours, you sit inside the wavering pool a bonfire shapes and watch mystery unfold at your feet, opening its heart, lifting itself into its own ending, its own dust, until at last you fall asleep in smoldering, spent light.

—Anne-Marie Oomen

Summer Is For Euchre

Northern Michiganders love their Euchre, and while we play it anytime, anywhere— huddled by the woodstove at deer camp, after pancakes on winter mornings, on beach blankets under an umbrella—it is best played snug on a screened-in porch on a late summer night. The cool night air eternally refreshes, the peanut M&Ms in the bowl provide brain food and the mosquitoes are locked outside (suckers!). Anyone can learn, but, as with any foreign language, it’s best to start early to make it a native tongue. I did, taking pointers on the lap of my uncle, fidgeting nervously, staring blankly at the suits and bowers, foolishly telling my older brother to “pick it up,” sifting through the sea of diamonds in my small fingers until—finally—I realized I had a God-sent hand and the confidence to go it alone. —Emily

Betz Tyra

The Enlightenment Of Hunger

We crouched around the fire, stomachs yowling, doctoring the blisters on our feet with Duct tape and a pocket knife. He mentioned karma, and my heart skipped. Did you say caramel? The best thing about going hungry is the bourbon goes faster to your head.

We bushwhacked five miles—or was it 50?—walking in circles looking for a lake where the trout were rumored to be as long as ax handles. By dark all we found was a swamp guarded by angry mosquitoes the size of pterodactyls. I brought the camera and a bottle but forgot the canned goods and the bug spray back at the truck.

He smiled as I talked of celestial payback for egregious indiscretions, rising at last when the talk finally turned from cheeseburgers to making a bid for the trailhead in the dark.

Surprise! A last season leftover not long from the freezer. It was sealed in a baggie wrapped in newsprint and a sweater, a back strap of venison the size of a python when uncoiled, still cool to the touch. We savaged the meat into hunks and huffing on our haunches like happy baboons speared them over the flames on sharpened sticks. You talk about enlightenment. I’d rather talk of blistered hunger, campfires, meat, juices running down the chin, and basking later in the fullness of Eden lost somewhere in the Northwoods under the stars. —Bob Butz