Twelve Mile Beach

Now it's Saturday.  Grandpa resists the allure of the glass bottomed boat shipwreck-viewing tours and decides that it would be much more fun to go and look at Sites of Geologic Interest.  So here he is trying to buy a map in Munising.  No dice.

We remember mention of beaches along the shoreline that we saw from the boat the night before and set off to the one accessible by road.  We make it there in short order:

It's called Twelve Mile Beach for a reason.  The view one way:

And the other:

I suspect that the mention that people have been known to prance naked on these beaches was some part of the lure for Grandpa, who cannot resist:

He reports that the water feels about 65 degrees.  He has a brisk, bracing dip in the (very shallow, very clear) water then sets off, clad only in sandals, to explore the woods.  He didn't last long: he came flying out of the woods flapping frantically at massive swarms of a local fly that looks like a housefly and acts like a horsefly.  We suspect that the reported prancing of the naturists viewed from passing boats could be explained by futile attempts to fight off the flies.  We also suspect that there's a reason the beach is so empty.