More Copper Harbor

Back to Copper Harbor for a minute.



The last overlook on Brockway mountain drive as you descend into the tiny village of Copper Harbor.



For thousands of years, the view from here was of a densely forested landscape. American Indians hunted, fished, and collected copper for centuries.

But in 1843, the Keweenaw mining rush was on, and everything changed. Sheltered by Porters Island, the natural harbor below became a busy transportation and supply hub as fortune seekers arrived from near and far.

The quiet of the forest was shattered by the sounds of men unloading supplies, carving roads, digging shafts, and felling timber. Mining communities bulged as immigrant workers poured in. Though the U.S. government built a military fort to handle potential conflicts with American Indian tribes, no problems arose.

After the early mining rush faded, many immigrants stayed on as farmers, homesteaders and fisherman.



Here is a pretty cool GPS shot on the way up the Keweenaw Peninsula from Houghton/Hancock, with 41 miles to go while traveling on Route 41. Damn, just noticed the speed ! I was just cruising and relaxing during this clip and I am still doing 8 over. Freakin' ST is a beast !



This was home for the night. Sweet little cabin for $65.00 a night.






Check out the door handle to the bathroom. Must be in Finn country.



The motel grounds had it's own museum containing local antiques and artifacts. Never did go and check it out, even though it was right next to my cabin, as you had to go get a staff member to come and open it. Didn't feel like bothering anyone.



Almost 2,000 miles to Miami. To think I was another couple hundred miles south of there in March - on the Key West run. Covering some ground - eating miles !



Stopped in Swede's and picked up my Daughter some copper earings.



Before retiring for the night, ran up to the local brewery, Brick Street Brewery I think, and sampled one of their local craft brews. Just one.



Running back down through the U.P. along a country road between 28 and 2, I came through an Amish community. I didn't know there were any in the U.P. It was the coolest thing seeing this large family of kids all dressed up and walking along the road following Mom. Over the years of observing the Amish stealing looks at my motorcycles, I suspect they have a secret and deep admiration for motorized two wheel travel.

I wish the picture would have came out cleaner as I passed by, as a zoomed in clear shot of the little guy directly following Mom would have been priceless. Look at him frozen in his tracks and in awe, as the geared up rider on the Mighty ST whirred by. He might just be ruined. The love of two wheeled travel and motorcycles is universal, and many of us are born with it. Then one day it is realized and acted upon ... if we are fortunate.