An annual summer trip Up North has become a tradition for me. I don't know how that happened. Actually, I do know. It has to do with the need for my dear friend Miss Kate to get her equally dear daughter, Her Royal Highness Miss Anna, to and/or from her summer camp in Cheboygan, MI, but it has turned into a terrific little annual ritual of new discoveries.

This time we started in Beulah, bordering on Crystal Lake and within shouting distance of Sleeping Bear Dunes. Beulah is a sweet tiny little town, just like thousands of other sweet tiny little towns spread throughout No. Mi. We spent a couple of nights at the Best Western; a safe choice given that the quality independents were mostly booked up. The BW is a reliable, convenient spot and you get a free hot breakfast to boot.

The Beulah days were filled with the usual: a trip to the Hungry Tummy restaurant, a movie at the Cherry Bowl Drive-In, some beach time, a trip to Glen Arbor for a fine dinner at Boondocks. This time, however, it included an epic crossing of the legendary Sleeping Bear Dunes.

We started early, because you need to start as early as possible in the summer. It gets hot and humid very quickly on the 3.5 mile trek. The hike starts almost directly from the parking lot with a climb over a huge dune, but that is only a taste of what is to come. The path is a fairly straight one; from a little over a mile and a half inland to Lake Michigan, then back along the same path. The dunes are hundreds of feet high and there are several of them. The sand is soft and deep; at some points you sink well above your ankle with each step. When the sand is cool, it is a very pleasant sensation.

As you go on, you quickly realize that this is seriously hard work, and a bit heartbreaking. As you summit each dune the lake appears to be just over the next one -- it's not. By the time you get four or five dunes in, you have pretty much given up on ever reaching the water. Then you hear the waves and you know you are going to make it.

The water is cool, clean, and inviting, but the shore is dauntingly rocky. Not to worry. It turns out that if you manage to teeter and shuffle your way out past about 20 yards of rocks, the bottom turns as sandy as the beach -- a truly awesome feeling. It redefines "refreshing."

As far as I can tell, we were the first ones there. We set off at 9am when it was nice and cool, and I strongly advise you do the same, should you ever attempt this. When we got to the lake it was probably 10:30 and there was no one else in sight. We spent about a half hour on the shoreline and in that time a group of girls in the far distance appeared and actually went into the water to wash their hair (hmmm…) and just as we were leaving were set upon by a rather odd character, looking to be in his mid-thirties and clearly of the new-age, spaced-out strain. Without prompting, he took the time to explain how the dunes were formed: "You see, there's water and wind and rocks and sand. And the wind blows the sand but the rocks sink and that's why there are dunes." Really? Astounding. He then proceeded to go on about his travels through northern Michigan, mispronouncing Mackinac and getting the names of the lakes confused. Stupid hippies.

Anyway, the hike back was truly brutal. It had gotten hot and the sun beating on the sand made things unpleasant for the soles of our feet. We crossed paths with lots of folks going in the opposite direction, all of whom were wondering how much further they had to go to reach the shore (clearly the beach was about to fill up). We just laughed at them. By the time we got back to the big dune at the parking lot, the place was filled with people of all ages and sizes, many of whom had the sole purpose of climbing the big dune at the start then turning around and going back to their car. The ones that were actually starting the hike in the high summer sun -- well, best of luck to 'em.

A brief tribute to Miss Kate and HRH: Kate had done this hike when she was in college, aged 22. Now at exactly twice that age, she conquered it again through sheer force of will, vowing to return at age 66. Miss Anna was even more surprising. Given her standard teenage affection for sloth and slackery, we figured she'd be complaining from the start. Not so. She strapped on her iPod and powered her way across the dunes at a pace Kate and I could not keep up with. Of course, she slept 15 hours a day for the next week, but still, you gotta give her props.

Another new venture this year was a visit to Black Star Farms, a B&B/Winery/Working Farm/Stable, just outside Traverse City. I'm sure it's a decent B&B, but you can't get in the main building lest you are a guest so there was no way to get a real feel for it. But there is a nice Farmer's Market and Wine Tasting area. You can sample to wines and cheeses, then you have pretty much free rein to wander the farm and see the all the animals -- dogs, cats, cows, sheep, llamas, and lots of horses (there is a strong equestrian theme). Black Farms is a great spot for lunch and leisurely afternoon of exploring. I would skip the wine though. Despite the PR campaign, I have yet to encounter a Michigan wine that I would consider good.

Next it was back in the car heading for points north, specifically the Upper Peninsula. This was to be the first time I had spent more than a few minutes in the U.P., and let me just say that I now regret spending practically my entire life in Michigan and just now getting around to appreciating it. First, the greenness of it is overwhelming. The bulk of the U.P. seems to be rainforest thick with lush green trees. Like all of northern Michigan it is peppered with little towns, although in the U.P. many of the towns have a much stronger north woods feel to them. You encounter things like gas stations that rent snow mobiles and hang what I can only guess are beaver pelts out front and other paeans to the winter.

There are also some culinary themes. You'll see signs for "pasties." This is not indicative of an over-supply of exotic dancers. Pronounced to rhyme with 'nasty,' a pasty are essentially a savory meat pie; they are sold in virtually all restaurants and in each case they are claimed to be the best or most genuine. Another tradition is cole slaw. You get a side of slaw with just about anything you order, from entrees at full service restaurants to hot dogs from concession stands. The slaw around these parts is on the creamy side. Yet another unusual delicacy is deep-fried pickles. These are exactly what they sound like: Kosher dills, quartered into wedges, battered, and deep-fried. Pretty tasty, actually.

OK, this stuff isn't going to put Mario Batali out of business, but this the U.P. -- this is the comfort food of the north. Enjoy it.

Our target was Paradise -- Paradise, MI -- where we bunked down at another Best Western. Once again, high praise for Best Western. The high-speed wireless worked flawlessly, the rooms and grounds were immaculate, and once again, a breakfast buffet was served in the lobby every morning (although this one lacked hot food). Interestingly, there are placards posted throughout declaring that the hotel was dry -- no alcoholic beverages were allowed on the premises, and if you can't deal with that, the staff would be happy to help you find alternative lodging. There are two possibilities for that: one, is religious; there is a very strong Christian ethos throughout Northern Michigan and some places push that to the point of forbidding certain behavior. Unlikely, however, that Best Western as a nationwide corporation takes that stance. More likely, they were just keeping the place family friendly and scaring off the potential gangs of drunken fishing or hunting buddies that might try to take over.

Apart from that the BW has a fine indoor pool and hot tub and most importantly, it has its own private beach on Whitefish Bay, which counts as Lake Superior. I would never have imagined it, but late in the day, once the water has warmed up (relatively speaking), you can walk out into Lake Superior and wallow around to your heart's content. The sand on the beach is soft and smooth and the water is so shallow you can easily walk a hundred yards out into the water and only be waist high. The water is crystal clear. If the weather was warmer, you could easily imagine yourself in the West Indies -- that is not hyperbole. The Best Western in Paradise a real gem. Highly recommended.

The town of Paradise is a tiny place. There is a general store, a couple of bars and diner-ish restaurants, two gas stations (one of which had no gas, it was reduced to convenience store status) and that's about it. But there is no doubt about the Up North vibe, including a snowshoe store and a place called the Red Flannel Saloon.

Another good thing about Paradise is its proximity to Tahquamenon Falls. On a warm summer day, T-falls (as I will call it, because I can't be bothered to keep typing Tahquamenon) is just about perfect. The park is divided into two areas -- the Upper Falls and Lower Falls. The Upper Falls is comprised of a single large falls area with walkways through the woods to a series of overlooks. It is a good sized waterfall, roughly 50 feet high and 200 feet wide -- claimed to be second largest waterfall east of the Mississippi, Niagara being first of course. The Upper Falls are nice to look at, but interaction is minimal. You can snap some great photos and there must be a way you can wander out into the river above the falls because I saw someone out there, but I suspect it would take breaking a rule or two to do so, not to mention the slip-fall-and-get-washed-over risk.

The Lower Falls, on the other hand, is a real blast. Not so much a falls as a cascade, there are five falls of less than five feet each that surround an island in the river. The water is rarely more than waist deep and unless the river is running very heavy, it a small matter to wade out enjoy the crisp clean rapids. You can reach the Lower Falls by following a short hike around one side then wading across the right branch of the river, or you can rent a row boat from the moderate scary (in a squeal-like-a-pig way) folks who run a small livery, and row across the river directly to the island for easier access to both branches. I highly recommend a rowboat -- tons of fun.

T-falls cost $7 for parking and that gives you all day access to both the Upper and Lower Falls. Rowboats were rented for $3 per person, but I got a feeling the natives running the livery make up whatever price they think they can get. Still worth it, though.

There is a 4-mile path you can walk should you choose to use your feet to get between the Upper and Lower falls. I'm sure it's a beautiful walk, but we had walked enough at this point. Lastly, I strongly recommend a visit to the Falls Brewpub located inside the park at the Upper Falls entrance. You can get the requisite fried pickles, pasty, and cole slaw; you can also get a pint of Porcupine Pale Ale which is absolutely delicious.

The final U.P. adventure was a two hour dash west to the town of Munising, jumping off point for Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. Covering about 12 miles of shoreline on the mighty Lake Superior, Pictured Rocks -- as the name suggests -- is a coast of magnificent multi-hued, glacier-carved cliffs alternating with more of the Caribbean-worthy sandy beaches that so unexpectedly abound on Superior.

We headed up mid-afternoon with the expectation of catching a sunset shoreline cruise, but high winds caused cancellation of all the boat trips. Lame. The winds weren't that high; I've gone out in higher winds on smaller boats. Of course the waves would have pretty much ruined any hope of taking reasonable pictures, and I should also note that there did seem to be a fairly defensive attitude among the folks involved with the boat operation, including lots of signs telling you that if you get on the boat you better just shut up and do as your told (essentially). Probably better off not to have parted with our money.

However, they couldn't stop us from walking the brief wooded trail to Miner's Castle overlook, a large rock outcropping that brings to mind a castle turret, and then a further stroll down to Miner's Beach which seemed to have waves that might have made for some sweet bodyboarding, although no one was doing so.

For dinner in Munising the first stop was Pictured Rocks Golf and Country Club where the sign advertised "public welcome." Let's just say it was not exactly like the country clubs back home. Every vehicle in the parking lot was either a full-sized SUV or Pickup. Literally, every vehicle except my Camry. The "dining room" was just a big unadorned room being used as 19th-hole style bar and it was packed with stocky, backslapping, middle-aged men in golf pants and baseball caps sucking on bottled beers and bellowing to each other over the din. Literally, every one of them except me, Kate and Anna. What a sight; a herd of salt-of-the-earth northern Michigan males post-golf socializing to avoid going home to their wives. Look, I don't want to sound like an elitist snob, especially since I have nothing but good thoughts for the folks in upstate Michigan, but damn, if you're going to act like a stereotype, you're going to get called on it now and then.

We didn't stay; instead we headed into town to the Dogpatch, a L'il Abner themed restaurant (no, really), with good natured service and decent food. The U.P. is nothing if not utterly charming.

Leaving the U.P., we made for Mackinac Island which remains the same: a bit touristy, hit or miss on the restaurants, but a lovely island just made for summer vacations. We did nothing new or out of the ordinary on Mackinac, other than refine or dining judgment: Goodfellas is still good; Village Inn is still bad. We went for a ride on the Mackinac Breeze on a flawless afternoon; biked around the island, stopping for a break at British Landing; stayed at Mission Point, where they have this expansive green lakeside lawn with pure white Adirondack chairs spread about -- I developed a minor obsession with photographing it properly and frankly I don't think I did it justice.

A couple of nights on the island, and that was that. Drop Anna at camp, then barrel home and back to our respective lives with nothing but plans for the future: maybe stay at Black Star Farms or somewhere in Glen Arbor; definitely get more deeply acquainted with the U.P. Lucky for us, it'll still be there next year.