Michigan Backroads

There are roads, and then there are backroads.

Roads take you to where you want to go. Backroads, on the other hand, have a way of becoming where you want to go. They’re as much a frame of mind as they are a means of travel.

Backroads graciously call us to slow down and savor the changing landscape. They invite us to set aside the drive to arrive, and to open our eyes instead to the treasures that lie in the moment.

The slanting sun burnishing the hills with golden light … overarching maples dappling the road with shadows … sandhill cranes gliding in for a long-legged landing in a marsh … a crush of Canadian anemones scattered like popcorn across a wooded roadside…this is the stuff of a backroad.

Park your car on the verge, get out, breathe deep, and look around you. Why? Because you can. This isn’t the Interstate. This is a Michigan backroad, where courtesy and common sense normally set the only rules for where and why you can pull aside. So do it. Park, stretch, smell the air. There’s always something to see. If you don’t know what to look for, it’s time you gave yourself a chance to find out. Backroads are filled with lessons on how to see.

But seeing—really seeing—involves more than just the eyes. It engages all of the senses, along with the intellect and the emotions. Seeing takes in the kee! of a red-tailed hawk, the smell of white pines, the moisture before a thunderstorm, and it processes them through a child’s sense of wonder.

That scent in the air … ah! The honey locusts must be in bloom. The road curves up ahead, hinting at the presence of a lake, or maybe a river. Yep, there’s a lake, all right—and across the waters…is that a prairie fen? Sure looks like one. Fascinating wetlands, prairie fens; some of our state’s rarest plants grow in them. And now, look—here’s a turn-in for a small boat launch. Hmmm … wonder what the fishing is like? You slow down, stop, take a better look. You’ll come back this way again, next time with your fishing gear or maybe a camera.

Here’s how to find a good backroad:

1. Get off the main drag and onto the gravel.

2. Set aside the maps, slow down, and follow your nose.

It’s easy. If you’re not used to the technique, give it a try. You’ll thank yourself later.

Yesterday, I took a drive through one of my favorite backroad areas in southeast Kent County. West of an Audubon sanctuary, where the marshes end and the road winds through the hills of the Middleville State Game Area, I parked my car at the top of a rise. Those Canadian anemones I mentioned earlier—there they were, a whole crowd of them, clamoring up the high banks of the roadside. The woods around me were a wash of yellow and red maple flowers, glorified by the evening sun. Below me, marsh marigolds lit up a swamp with their buttery blossoms.

A chill breeze reminded me that it was still April and this was Michigan. But I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Backroads. Out-of-the-way places. They can open up our senses and our hearts if we’ll let them. They remind us that, for all the craziness of this world, God is still in his heaven, and he shines some of his loveliest light on life’s less-traveled byways.