Labor Day. (Spelled the American way.)

Up until now on our travels we have heard much of Labor Day in our general conversations with folk, but we didn't really give much thought to the ramifications. Ok, it's a day off for everyone at the beginning of September, but what it actually meant didn't occur to us.

Labor day begins.

My research tells me, (thank you Wikipedia) that it became a federal holiday in 1894, so it goes way back.  Apparently it was very much a political move after some workers died at the hands of the U.S. Military and Marshals during a big strike. It was enacted in law only six days after the strike ended - so it was a pretty rushed job to "celebrate the economic and social contributions of workers" - similar to the ones who'd just recently been killed. So it has an important history.

Interestingly, while the rest of the world has May the first as International Workers Day, the Americans thought that the beginning of September was a better idea - they didn't want their celebration to be associated with any suspect organisations like the communists.

If you don't go away on Labor Day Weekend, this is what you do...

You have what is called a Garage Sale...

...or a Yard Sale.

The trouble is, half the population are doing the same.

So this stuff must be going round in circles.

What all this means of course - just as a bank holiday does in Britain - is that huge swathes of the population set of as early as possible on the Friday evening to 'get ahead of the game', and head for the country. The roads are packed with motor homes, caravans, boats and motorcycles as folk enjoy the last fling of summer.

And that's why Labour Day springs up in so many conversations. It's seen a  turning point, when summer starts to end and winter starts to begin. It's a last fling in the great outdoors before the days start to get much shorter and the weather much colder.

Pioneering stuff here.

We spent the Friday morning gently drifting down a river. No we hadn't fallen in, but had hired a canoe for a couple of hours. It was idyllic, large fish flicked underneath us, herons hoisted themselves above us as we drifted almost silently by. It was a good lesson as to why the rivers were the main arteries of this country in the early days, although if there were any of the indigenous occupants waiting on the shore with their arrows aimed I don't think we'd have stood a chance. What can you do in a canoe? You can't even stand up. I know, we tried it.

We were back by one, as we had to vacate the lovely wooded site to make way for a booking, in fact the whole site was booked solid. So we made a decision and turned left out of the campsite and headed North - purely because we wanted to see the top of Michigan. Around five we started looking for somewhere to stay, and found that everyone else had forethought and planning. Four sites we tried were full, so we asked our good friends at The Home Depot. Unfortunately the one at Houghton Lake was the first to refuse us an overnight - how disappointing. But they did suggest a site to the North of Houghton Lake, which was twenty minutes drive away.

So as the sun set we slowly cruised around looking for an unoccupied space, and we found the very last one.

No water, no electricity, no sewage - but very pretty.

It's a State run site, but it wasn't cheap despite the lack of facilities - most probably because it was right on the lakeside. But as we were stocked up with everything we needed and the fresh water tank was full, we reckon we could sit out the mayhem going on around us, and read a couple of books. After all, we are supposed to be on holiday.

They were going pretty fast, and the lake was pretty crowded. Things must collide sometimes.

Now all the lakes of any size that we've seen here in Michigan are large areas of water in the middle of a housing estate. I don't know how the planning laws work here, but a lakeside property seems to be everyone's desire.

A typical lakeside view.

Houses all the way, apart from 200 yards of rest area next to the road.

Unfortunately that means that there are almost no unspoilt shorelines. In some places it's relentless pontoonery, metallic fingers sticking out into the water every few yards. It's been said that Americans "don't do irony", but there's something very ironic about lakesiders destroying the very thing they pay so much for. But I suppose if the lake is big enough it's too far to see the house strewn shoreline on the other side...

We stayed for one relaxed housekeeping day, but then decided we couldn't sit out the weekend. So, as has got to be our habit, we set off again on an almost truck free Sunday heading North. We had no idea, as usual, that the next day we'd be taking part in an established Labour Day ritual here in Mackinaw City - or is it a village? You decide.

We were going to walk off this bridge...