Michigan's Upper Peninsula

World-class natural beauty in rural America

I first got a passport fourteen years ago. Now, having visited twenty-five-ish countries, seen some awe-inspiring mountain valleys and illuminated cityscapes, watched the setting sun dip behind the sea on multiple continents, and made friends from every corner of the globe, I like to think I’ve learned a few things. One is just how rare it is to have eighteen uncles, and another is how much I love Michigan and where I’m from. 

My perspective on culture and humanity has changed a lot over these years, and with it, my appreciation for rural America. 

Everyone from the casual road tripper to the hardcore vagabond knows that the more we travel, the more we realize how big the world is and how much more there is to see. I’ve been blessed to explore further than most, and I’m acutely aware of how limited my travels have been, but in almost a decade of being a nomad and seeing some jaw-dropping slivers of Mother Nature, when I’m back in Michigan and driving home along the lakeshore in the late evening, I get more and more emotional as the years pass. 

The term “Flyover States” should be scrubbed from the American lexicon. Sure, New York is cool and California—a place I’ve never been—has some pretty epic things to see and do, but the middle of the country is insanely beautiful, and anyone who dismisses it, or rural America in general, is clearly doing so out of ignorance. 

I’m admittedly biased, but I think that especially applies to Michigan. I can’t believe I got to grow up here. The beauty is world-class. And I’m consistently surprised how few people, especially Americans, realize that. 

Once again, I’m admittedly very biased, but I think that this especially applies to Upper Michigan.