The Marblehead Lighthouse, Est. 1822
I had one of those on a recent bicycling ride with companions Ken Johnson and Lynn Rush while we rolled 30 miles around the Marblehead Peninsula and leisurely savored its visual—and tasty—treats.
We launched our ride that day from cousins Brad and Karen’s canal-side digs near the East Harbor State Park and eased our way toward the fairy-book village of Lakeside; a town established in 1873 and known as a pioneer of the Chautauqua movement.
It protects itself from the ravages of society by gated entrances on its arrival streets and spends its tranquil days resting on the shore of Ohio’s greatest lake while the rest of the world grinds itself through life.
Folks still sit on the porch there and often waved a cheery “Hello” as we rolled by.
We enjoyed a cup of coffee at a quaint bistro in the town center. That refreshment started out to be a cup of tea next door until we learned that treat was, indeed, High Tea and required a reservation.
Thusly fortified we surrendered our permission-to-visit paper at an outgoing town gate and survived our way through late season traffic, quickly joking at our safe arrival in a Marblehead cemetery with a stunning view of a massive, limestone quarry.
From there we survived another short blast of automobile mayhem then escaped to the tranquility of a county road, soon arriving at the Lakeside Daisy State Nature Preserve, 19 acres surrounded by abandoned limestone quarry and protecting this rarest of Ohio’s native plant species.
From there it was a sprint down another highway segment, shortly after which we performed the mild larceny of riding around the gate that extracts a toll from vehicles using a causeway to visit Johnson’s Island, the site of a Civil War Cemetery.
I silently hoped the unknown Confederate soldiers and their identified companions buried there were truly resting in peace.
Just around the corner, so to speak, was Bay Point; a hoity-toity yacht club that preferred to have its member’s gas-guzzling SUVs romping around the premises while bicyclists were compelled to park their bikes by the gate and walk.
We did a mutual eye-roll and complied. Lynn and hubby and her daughter and young family both have boats there and have otherwise enjoyed the club’s ambiance for lots of years.
I was following her down their boat dock’s ramp as a thick hunk of rope where we were about to step suddenly woke up and slithered into the water. At the same time I heard a mild shriek as Lynn’s beginning warning about water snakes being common—suddenly came true.
From that boat place it was a short gauntlet to the Marblehead Lighthouse. In operation since 1822, it is the oldest lighthouse in continuous operation on the Great Lakes.
From there it was a gentle re-visit through Lakeside for a convenient bicycle-bypass of that segment of the busy state highway—and a dish of ice cream, of course. That left us with another ricochet through society’s love affair with their automobiles as we survived our way back to East Harbor and a day-ending interlude on a beach-front, park bench.
Gulls squawked overhead as waves slapped the shore under a brisk north wind and reminded us the halcyon days of summer were about to end.
A DAY OF ENCHANTMENT--
Once in awhile life awards you a bonus day.
Once in awhile life awards you a bonus day.
I had one of those on a recent bicycling ride with companions Ken Johnson and Lynn Rush while we rolled 30 miles around the Marblehead Peninsula and leisurely savored its visual—and tasty—treats.
We launched our ride that day from cousins Brad and Karen’s canal-side digs near the East Harbor State Park and eased our way toward the fairy-book village of Lakeside; a town established in 1873 and known as a pioneer of the Chautauqua movement.
It protects itself from the ravages of society by gated entrances on its arrival streets and spends its tranquil days resting on the shore of Ohio’s greatest lake while the rest of the world grinds itself through life.
Folks still sit on the porch there and often waved a cheery “Hello” as we rolled by.
We enjoyed a cup of coffee at a quaint bistro in the town center. That refreshment started out to be a cup of tea next door until we learned that treat was, indeed, High Tea and required a reservation.
Thusly fortified we surrendered our permission-to-visit paper at an outgoing town gate and survived our way through late season traffic, quickly joking at our safe arrival in a Marblehead cemetery with a stunning view of a massive, limestone quarry.
From there we survived another short blast of automobile mayhem then escaped to the tranquility of a county road, soon arriving at the Lakeside Daisy State Nature Preserve, 19 acres surrounded by abandoned limestone quarry and protecting this rarest of Ohio’s native plant species.
From there it was a sprint down another highway segment, shortly after which we performed the mild larceny of riding around the gate that extracts a toll from vehicles using a causeway to visit Johnson’s Island, the site of a Civil War Cemetery.
I silently hoped the unknown Confederate soldiers and their identified companions buried there were truly resting in peace.
Just around the corner, so to speak, was Bay Point; a hoity-toity yacht club that preferred to have its member’s gas-guzzling SUVs romping around the premises while bicyclists were compelled to park their bikes by the gate and walk.
We did a mutual eye-roll and complied. Lynn and hubby and her daughter and young family both have boats there and have otherwise enjoyed the club’s ambiance for lots of years.
I was following her down their boat dock’s ramp as a thick hunk of rope where we were about to step suddenly woke up and slithered into the water. At the same time I heard a mild shriek as Lynn’s beginning warning about water snakes being common—suddenly came true.
From that boat place it was a short gauntlet to the Marblehead Lighthouse. In operation since 1822, it is the oldest lighthouse in continuous operation on the Great Lakes.
From there it was a gentle re-visit through Lakeside for a convenient bicycle-bypass of that segment of the busy state highway—and a dish of ice cream, of course. That left us with another ricochet through society’s love affair with their automobiles as we survived our way back to East Harbor and a day-ending interlude on a beach-front, park bench.
Gulls squawked overhead as waves slapped the shore under a brisk north wind and reminded us the halcyon days of summer were about to end.
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