North of the 45th

It’s cold and snowy here in Carp Lake. St. Ignace is the same. St. Ignace in winter is no joke, it’s a different monster than Traverse City. When Buffett sang “I gotta fly to St. Somewhere,” he did not mean St. Ignace in winter. The winds in the Straits will humble you quickly, at least they should. I’ve never felt such a cold wind. But if you can look through the frozen tears in your eyes, you’ll see beauty in the landscape.

Moran Bay is starting to freeze up. Freighters seek refuge from the wicked weather just offshore from the office and the ferry docks. There’s a hum on Mackinac Island from snowmobiles instead of tourists. Lunch at the Jamaican-inspired Kingston Kitchen on a frigid afternoon hits different. The boat ride to the island hits different.

I’ve been both slightly obsessed with and burdened by the question: "Why do people do what they do for a living while on this big blue ball?" Beyond a paycheck, that’s what I want to know. Some days I enjoy searching for the answer to this question that bothers me so. Other days I wish my brain would shut off and I’d just make the donuts and stop thinking about it.

This career change at this point in life, as I’ve shared before, has been filled with excitement and second-guessing. I suppose that’s normal.

I have a number of favorite Jimmy Buffett lines and quotes, depending on the mood and the need. At the top of the list for a very long time has been “my occupational hazard being my occupations just not around” from A Pirate Looks at Forty. The ski business was very good to me, but that lyric always rang a little too true. We are not a ski family. We are a boat–beach–island family.

So as nerve-wracking and anxiety-inducing as this career change has been, that lyric doesn’t ring quite as true anymore. We put people on a boat to an island. That makes sense to me.

So I’m continuing to adjust. I’m continuing to learn the newness in all of this. I’m sure it will all make sense with time. It better.

That way maybe — just maybe — I’ll know the answer to that question that bothers me so. Not that I’ll stop thinking about it, because I’m still slightly obsessed with that same question for anyone I know and anyone I meet.

Pictured here: While heading to the island last week, the John G. Munson—a 768-foot self-unloading Great Lakes freighter with a 25,550-ton capacity—slid through the Round Island Passage, built to haul limestone, iron ore, and coal.