I was sitting in the barroom of Blanck’s Supper Club a month ago, enjoying a brandy old-fashioned for which, as change for my five dollar bill, I got back a shiny half dollar coin, and watching the Fond du Lac news. The weather report was mostly clear, with fog near Lake Winnebago. There’d been a deadly crash in Appleton: “Speed and alcohol believed to be involved.” In brighter news, the S.S. Badger had set sail from Manitowoc for the maiden voyage of its 71st season ferrying cars and passengers across Lake Michigan. “You been on the Badger before?” asked the silver-haired fellow beside me. “Me and the guys took our motorcycles over. They had a comedian on there, by the bar; I never laughed so hard in my life.” “What’s that?” said his wife, looking up from her Tom Collins. “The S. S. Badger,” he said. “They had a comedian on there, by the bar; I never laughed so hard in my life.” “Ready to order?” she asked. “Unless they changed the menu!” he cracked. That one got a good laugh. (He ordered the Haddock Supreme.)
I’d longed to sail the Badger since I learned of it last year, when damage to the ship’s Ludington, MI port had ended its 2023 season prematurely. Seven stories tall and 410 feet long, it’s the Great Lakes’ last remaining coal-fired passenger vessel, shuttling daily through the summer since 1953 between Michigan and Wisconsin — a 62 mile voyage of about four hours. What better excuse than SCARY COOL SAD GOODBYE’S “MIDWEST ROAD TRIP SUMMER SPECIAL” to finally book my ticket? It’s $88 per adult and $96 per car, and it’ll save you three hours of driving on U.S. Route 10, but for those who love an antiquated mode of transportation, it’s worth a trip on its own. Through the tireless reportage of America’s #1 vibes-based email newsletter, I present the perfect weekend in and around our dear Lake Michigan.
FRIDAY — MANITOWOC, WI
You may start your steamship journey on whichever side of the lake you choose, but I rarely pass up the chance for a classic Friday fish fry, my favorite Wisconsin tradition. So I made my way to Gib’s on the Lake, a nautically-oriented supper club with prime Lake Michigan views, nestled among the rolling Kewaunee County farmlands since 1984. Gib’s is famous for its German food served every Wednesday and Thursday, but I was here for the lake perch dinner, substantially crispy and served with your choice of potato (I went hash browns), clam chowder or iceberg salad, and the obligatory brandy old-fashioned swimming with neon cherries. As the sky went pink and lilac, alive with hummingbirds, I eavesdropped on a couple in matching Realtree camo as they argued over the pronunciation of the word “tour.” (“It’s TOOR. Not TORE.” “Don’t even fucking start with me.”)
Take it from me and stay the night at the charming Lighthouse Inn, where you could be so lucky as to score a lakeside room. My view was of the parking lot, but equipped nevertheless with a nice quilt and a voucher for a homemade breakfast in the Gull’s Nest Lounge. (“Need anything? Cuz I need a smoke,” declared the waitress, delivering my oatmeal.) But the highlight is the lobby, styled in the haunted manner of a ship from long ago, with pastoral stained glass windows and lots of religious art, like the portrait of the Blessed Mother looking rather like an e-girl. There’s also a large map illustrating but a sample of Lake Michigan’s major shipwrecks since 1600 A.D. to get you pumped up for your journey on the deadliest Great Lake.
SATURDAY — ALL ABOARD THE S.S. BADGER
Manitowoc, Wisconsin is the kind of city I love, with a small but thriving downtown that looks like it was crackin’ in 1895. You might recognize the name from the series Making a Murderer, if you like that sort of thing; the alleged killer was born here, and lives here to this day. (En route to the ferry, you’ll pass a screaming yellow billboard: “THE REAL KILLERS ARE STILL AMONG US!”) With a couple hours to kill before the S.S. Badger boarded, I wandered through the “Garden Fair Extraordinaire,” a sale of all sorts of flora and the type of curious yard art one only finds in the Great Lakes region, plus a classic Sheboygan brat fry and a hot man with a chainsaw carving tree trunks into benches. Down the street from the Wisconsin Maritime Museum was the striped awning of Beerntsen’s Confectionary, more or less unchanged since 1932. You may slide into the dining room’s original walnut booths and order a maple phosphate, an olive nut sandwich, or one of 32 sundaes with names like Honeymoon Special or Pineapple Royale. I got a cherry milkshake and a glass of hot malted milk topped with whipped cream — a sicko move, but when in Rome.
The S.S. Badger loading dock is in the shadow of the Manitowoc Malthouse, where malt for beer has been produced since 1878. Seven stories tall and billowing black smoke into the gray sky, she’s an intimidating vessel from below. A worker drove my Cadillac into the belly of the beast, and I climbed aboard. The lounge chairs of the upper deck would be empty for the journey’s rainy first hour, filling with sunbathers as the clouds dispersed. Down below: a small museum on the S.S. Badger’s history, a movie theater where Tom & Jerry would be shown promptly at 2, a cafeteria straight out of 1982, and a fabulous upper deck lounge serving cocktails in hues of Red Dye #40 and DayGlo blue. (“Limit of Two Long Island Ice Teas Per Person.”) A powerful horn blasted as we pulled away from shore, past the North Breakwater Lighthouse and out into the mist. Then an announcement: “Our famous Badger Bingo will begin at 2:15.”
They do not play around when it comes to Badger Bingo: the host keeps the game running at a brisk, machine-like pace for nearly all four hours of your Lake Michigan voyage, slipping in the odd attempt at stand-up comedy now and then. I lasted for an hour and in that window, won twice, though I did lie about my hometown when I rose to claim my prize, not wanting to be pegged as an F.I.B. (that’s Fuckin’ Illinois Bastard to Wisconsin natives). The fruits of my labor were an S.S. Badger coin purse and the wonderful beer koozie you see below. Retiring to the upper deck, I ordered a Dirty Shirley and watched a group of hikers literally cover their ears as a Michigan musician known as “The Ukulele Guy” strummed the hits of Smash Mouth and Gnarls Barkley, accompanied by a woman who appeared to be his mother.
For the great majority of your S.S. Badger, you are alone on Lake Michigan: no land, no boats or people, as far as the eye can see. Your phone stops working as you sail out into nothing until finally, three and 1/2 hours in, the hazy bluffs of the Ludington Dunes appear on the horizon. The fine fellows of the Ludington Marine Patrol appear to have little to do beyond escorting the Badger into its Michigan harbor with great fanfare as onlookers cheer ashore. Then a teenage boy drives your car out and you’re off to Ludington, a town of two historic lighthouses, miles of wildflower-studded dunes, and as far as I can tell, zero good food. But it’s worth a one-night stay, providing you stay at the Blue Spruce Inn.
SUNDAY — “MYSTERY SPOT”
I’m always wary of sounding like I’m doing promo but trust me, no one’s paying to advertise their coal-fired steamship or mid-century beach motel on some sinister-sounding “email newsletter.” That said, I urge you to spend a night at the Blue Spruce Inn, should you find yourself in or around Ludington. When you check into the office of the 7-room motel, where the walls are knotty pine and the pillows are embroidered with tiny spruce trees, the place’s elderly owner will hand you a map drawn by her forester husband. Follow its vague directions and you’ll arrive at the “MYSTERY SPOT,” where you may park illegally, venture into the woods and climb a lonely trail to a secret patch of dunes. Atop its sandy peaks, you can gaze out over Hamlin Lake, and Lake Michigan beyond it. Another iconic weekend in the American Midwest.