You’re not much if you’re not Dutch

We didn’t post much about Muskegon because, well, there wasn’t much to post about  Muskegon.  Mostly just rain.  In fact, based on a sample size of four nights, we conclude that in Muskegon there always is a twenty-knot wind, with thunder, lightening, and driving rain.  More than ten inches of it fell on us.  Muskegon did teach us one valuable lesson though.  When your boat starts listing several degrees to starboard, it’s probably because the plug is in the dinghy and the dinghy is filled with half a ton of water.  Literally.

We did manage to visit the local museum during a brief weather lull.  This wasn’t just another of the ubiquitous maritime museums that litter shoreline towns.  Nope, this one was the best yet, by far.

The USS Silversides is a retired submarine, and the museum focuses on the history of WWII in general with special attention on submarines and submariners.

Good stuff, although the semi-racist caricature of the Japanese guy guarding the virginal nurses probably was a bit over the top for modern polite society.

We spent over an hour inside the sub, which remains afloat and semi-operational.

Time to watch The Hunt For Red October again.

Last evening the skies cleared enough for a delightful picnic on the shore with Second Wave and Change of Pace.  The boys came along as well.  Oscar was in a mood.

We popped up before dawn feeling like we were gonna be alright. Yeah, the worst was over now.  Heading south.  The initial plan had been for a long day to Benton Harbor but we didn’t want to be stuck there over the holiday weekend.  As we pulled away from Muskegon, the mornin’ sun was shinin’ like a red rubber ball.

If only we knew a song from the sixties, by a one-hit wonder, with a thematically-appropriate chorus.  Oh wait.

Easy four-hour cruise down the lake, past the red lighthouse, and into Holland.

Holland the town in Michigan, not the country in Europe.  Our buddy Fred was born in Holland, which explains the wooden shoes even though he grew up in East Tennessee.

When we reached Holland, the air was crisp with the smell of fall.  The kind of day that makes one want to toss around the old pigskin.  Even Misty Pearl is ready for football season.

When in Rome, they say, do as the Romans do.  When in Holland, go the the big touristy windmill.  So we did.

It indeed is the biggest windmill we’ve ever seen, which isn’t saying much since the previous record-holder was on a mini-golf course next to a clown.

Actually the windmill and the park that surrounds it are pretty cool.  The town itself also is pretty cool.  We strolled around and watched the weekly Thursday evening street performances before eating dinner and heading home.

Right now it looks like we can travel tomorrow.