It would be ironic — and a hideous thought to contemplate — if this little book should help bring about the discovery of the “forgotten” Upper Peninsula. Yet I take comfort when I reflect that the people who might find and deflower my native heath rarely hold still long enough to read books. . . . They obediently race through here all summer long, bent only upon making five hundred miles a day, an achievement which somehow seems to ease the peculiar nature of their pain. They know not of the existence of the true U.P. They’ve never really been there.
© 2011 Timothy Schulz