I went straight home from work and started packing like mad. Our newer, smaller tent was all wet from the day's rain, so I settled for the older, bigger one, comforted by the fact that at least I knew we could set it up in a minute or so in pitch darkness without thinking twice. We used the same tent every night during Midsummer, and Forest always helped me with it.
Forest called early on to let me know that the Store was dead, and if I wanted to pick him up early, I could! I was pleased, and we managed to get there a full hour before planned. After a quick bite of chili dog (the art of which I have recently come to appreciate), we were on our way. We were both in happy moods, and listened to CD's the whole way. Despite his lack of sleep the night before, Forest managed to stay awake until just a few minutes from the bridge, and we were good company for each other.
We arrived at the Straits state park at about midnight, found our campsite, and pitched our tent. It was crystal-clear and cold outside, but the moon over Lake Huron was beautiful.
Soon enough, we were climbing into our sleeping bags. Forest refers to them unaffectionately as "polyps". They are mummy-style bags, and while they are wonderfully warm, getting into them and getting them zipped up can be a real treat, let me tell you. I was snuggled up in mine, and getting quite toasty when Forest started cursing at his. First he had zipper problems, then he couldn't get comfy, I don't remember the saga of all the Polyp's transgressions, but it was truly out to get him, I guess. I offered to help, but Forest gets stubborn and cranky when he's tired like that, and he wasn't taking help from anyone.
I remember quietly thinking to myself that he'd learn better than that someday! He murmured an apology to me, assuring me that he didn't want to be cranky on our trip. It was sweet, and lovingly phrased, so I forgave him any current and future crabbiness and went to sleep.
It got VERY cold that night. I slept with my head buried in my sleeping bag, as usual, and my bag tightly zipped, with my Pinket and pillow trapping any warm air and not allowing it to escape. I was comfortable. Forest, on the other hand, apparently got tired of wrestling with the evil polyp, and tried to sleep with the thing draped over him like a blanket. Of course it isn't designed for that, and he slept terribly, waking many times with icy cold parts of himself hanging out in the air. (Thankfully, not THOSE parts.)
Wednesday
Morning came around with the sound of a large frieghters' horn as it made the three-hour trip through the Straits, and I crawled out of the tent around 9 AM for the hike down to the bathroom building. It was a lovely, sunny morning, the birds were chirping, and the walk along Lake Huron was pleasant. I resisted the urge to pick the pretty wildflowers poking up through the rocks at the lakeshore. Upon returning to the tent, I found Forest still snoring diligently away. I happily read my book until an hour later, when his unhappy, cranky, tired head poked out of the tent, and the rest of him followed. It was decided that coffee was immediately necessary, so we broke camp in about 45 seconds, and headed for the showers.
It felt immensely good to be clean, and bundled in fleece, and the shower seemed to have restored some of Forest's good spirits. Soon we were headed for breakfast in St. Ignace. Happily we found a little diner with a nice special and tasty coffee. We sat in a window with a view of the lake, and watched ferries running back and forth from the island while we ate, and somehow started chatting about our lives when we were kids. Our waitress was really nice and cheerful, and the place was empty and warm. This combination quickly restored us to adventuresome moods, and we headed for the ferry docks for the trip to the island.
The boat trip over was chilly, but we sat on top in the open air, anyway. Lake Huron was in a calm mood, and though there were plenty of clouds forming in the sky, the air was dry and crisp near the water. There isn't much possibility of conversation on the boat because of the wind, but Forest and I were happily together in spirit as we soaked up the view of the beautiful island we would explore in the next few days.
As soon as we disembarked we knew we'd come at the right time. It was just past noon when we arrived, and barely a soul was to be seen. The Main Street of Mackinac Island is usually packed with tourists, and buzzing with noise and bicycle traffic. On the contrary, people were mostly working. A group of painters had begun at the top of a tall building, and were painting their way down the scaffolding. Most of the people around were delivery-folks, bringing horse-drawn wagons full of flowers, hay, or other miscellany to the businesses in the Island's usually-busy merchant district. The UPS man always cracks me up, driving a team of horses and several wagons hitched together, but still checking things off on his electronic keypad; he looks like a true conflict in time.
Of course we were assaulted by the usual smell of the busy downtown area, a unique combination of fudge, horse manure and hay, but we quickly became used to it as we walked toward the Cloghaun (our B&B).
We were a few hours early for check-in, but still got a warm welcome from Paul, one of the innkeepers. He informed us that the room wasn't ready, but invited us to place our bags next to the couch in the living room in the meantime. We had errands to run, and were glad to dump our heavy bags in favor of the lighter backpack we'd brought for daytime trips.
In search of a weather report, we went into the city library for the first time. It is a beautiful little building with comfy chairs and desks in the center and silent rows of books in the side wings. The entire west end of the building faces out over the waves, and there are rocking chairs on the back veranda. We enjoyed combing through their selection, and thumbing our way through various books, staying warm and indulging our curiosity. Forest and I have a notoriously inquisitive nature as a couple. After discovering the location of Malta (it's a long story) we inquired with the librarian and learned the location of the local grocery store, Doud's Mercantile.
We needed to pick up a few things, and were happy to find that Doud's also had a fresh salad bar and lots of tasty looking wine and fruit. After a light snack and a meander around the Governor's residence and Grand Hotel grounds, it was time to check in to the Inn.
I hadn't imagined how wonderful it would be to stay in a bed and breakfast as opposed to a hotel. The Cloghaun turned out to be even more of a treat, since it was built in 1884 and still contains many of its original antiques, and all of its original architecture. The modern fancies were added delicately so that they don't interrupt the old victorian feel of the place at all. I had this great feeling of timelessness the whole time we were there. Looking around, you really can't tell what century you are in. When we first arrived our bags were placed in a living room area, at the end of the front hallway. Now, as Paul led us back to check us in, we walked past old pictures of the family which has owned the house for over a hundred years, and an antique piano, which Paul informs us 'still works, but doesn't sound too good.'
He took a handful of keys from his desk, and turned to lead us upstairs. He very nicely informed us that to our left was the tea room, where tea was served from 3 until 4 daily, and to the right is a common room, with a library, videos, and a TV/VCR we can use whenever we like. Before we had much chance to look at the rooms in question, Paul was climbing the stairs in the center hallway, and running my hand along the worn wooden bannister, I followed him, Forest behind me. We marvelled that at no point along our path did the floor so much as creak. This house was SOLID.
Our room was the 'Mary Donnelly' room, the first to the right at the top of the stairs, named for one of the children of the founders of the Inn. Forest and I really didn't know what we were in for, whether we'd be sharing a bathroom or not, and whether we would have any modern amenities (Cable TV, a phone, that sort of thing.) Upon seeing the room, our cares melted away. Everything in the room was as it would have been when the place was built, with the exception of a modern mattress in the antique bedframe, and a tiny full bathroom, neatly inserted where the walkin closet had once been. Our room had two windows, one looking out toward Fort Mackinac, and the other inland. Both were curtained with beautiful, intricate Irish lace. The walls and mouldings were painted in light blue and white, and the sunlight pouring in through the lace lit the room brightly due to the clever placement of mirrors on the two interior walls. I learned a little something about the clever art of mirrors while we stayed there!
Paul opened the door for us and showed us around, and soon handed us our keys on their antique brass rings and disappeared down the stairs.
The carpet was a thick, plushy blue, and we were glad to take off our shoes and make ourselves at home. The center of the room is the big four-poster bed. The carved walnut headboard of the bed is draped in antique lace, and the bed is piled high with pillows, some very soft, and some firm. In one corner of the room stands a huge antique wardrobe, lined with cedar, in which we proceeded to hang some of our clothes. Along the far wall was a large dresser with crystal pulls and an oval mirror on top, beautifully carved. For all its obvious age, the drawers still pulled without any persuasion, and we quickly unpacked the rest of our things into its deep drawers.
On top of the dresser was a book, entitled Simple Truths. On the inside jacket of the book was a note from James Bond (no kidding, that's the owner of the inn), explaining that this book reminded him of the simple joys of life, and that he hoped that our time on the Island would be peaceful and simple. It was very thoughtful, and Forest and I both enjoyed browsing through the book in our spare time.
On the wall near the door is a large old mirror in a victorian frame, and a small table with a pile of pretty clothbound books and a huge stack of fresh towels on it. Upon further investigation, we discovered that the books were journals, kept by the room's visitors since the mid-90's. We got some kicks out of reading through the previous guest's notes, and some of them even had good advice for what to do on our trip. Every single entry gave a glowing review of the inn and it's keepers, except for one, written by an 8-year-old girl, who said she 'wouldn't miss the smell of horse poop in the morning'. We laughed at that one a bit.
In the corner was a comfortable upholstered antique chair, and near the sink was a low, marble-topped washstand where we kept most of our toiletry things while we were there. The room had a serene, uncluttered feeling, and we were very relaxed and comfortable there. After unpacking, we took turns reading the history of the inn, and a short nap, before we headed downstairs to take our first ever afternoon tea.
I'm not much of an anglophile, but I can see where the tradition of tea is a lovely one. It was nearly 4 PM, and quite cold and cloudy outside, and our tummies were just ready for a nice snack. Soon enough we were seated at a lovely table next to an Irish-lace-covered window, sipping hot tea from lovely china, and munching on a very tasty lemon cake. Paul came down and chatted with us, keeping us company and warming the room with his very friendly and courteous presence. He seemed genuinely interested in our plans for the trip, and had some advice and encouragement that turned out to be helpful as well.
My peppermint tea was also the best I've ever had. Soon Forest and I both felt refreshed and eager to bravely head for the chilly but beautiful outdoors. We had decided that we'd like to continue with the day's hiking on the inland paths, and quickly picked out a few likely destinations on our trail map. We sure made a lucky choice! We hiked for several hours. First we climbed the paths to the old cemetaries on the top of the island. These are fascinating, because there are soldiers from as early as the revolutionary war buried there, as well as people related to the folks who still inhabit the island! We found the graves of the Donnellys who first built the Cloghaun, the Douds who owned the mercantile where we bought our supplies, and several other long-standing Mackinac clans. It's amazing to me how many of the families who are on the Island now have been there for 4 generations or more.
Also amazing to us was the lifespan of these people! Many of them lived well into their nineties, and that was back in the 1800's, when lifespans weren't ordinarily that long. Forest and I concluded that it was a combination of avoiding the soot and pollution of the industrial revolution (which never reared its ugly head on the island) and constant exercise. The island is about 9 miles in circumference, and full of hills, and there's no way to get from place to place without walking or riding a bike. Many of the paths aren't even accessible by horse. From the cemetary we went on to Skull Cave, which is one of many strange rock formations on the island. In victorian days they thought it was an old Indian burial ground, and apparently some guy hid there from the attackers during the war of 1812.
Forest and I pretty quickly forgot the history, though, and started exploring. The rock was a fun climb, and soon we were high enough to have quite a nice view. Having been formed by water, the rock formation had many hollow parts, but we refrained from climbing into it, since neither of us relished the idea of getting stuck down there. I took a neat photo of Forest climbing up there; I ought to scan it in someday.
After Skull Cave we decided we would like to go see Fort Holmes. The Island has two of them, one big one that everyone knows about, and this smaller one few people visit, which was a British fort during the war of 1812. It was actually pretty difficult for us to find, and we had to follow a few paths which disappeared from under our feet, and use our common sense to guess which way we should go. Soon enough, we found it, and were not disappointed. The outer two walls of the fort were the first things we saw, several hundred yards out from the main structure. They were crumbling rock structures, mostly buried in the earth. After slimbing over those walls, we could see the imprints of some older buildings, and a square pit that most likely led to an old cellar at one time. We stepped on it, discovered it was both hollow and spongy, and decided to back away, since we didn't want to fall into a 120-year-old cellar. Ick.
After a few hundred yards we came upon the backside of the fort. All that remains of it is a timber barricade, half-buried in an earthen mound. I climbed up the outside of it, and was soon walking on the timber walk at the top of the walls, with a great view, probably one of the tallest points on the island. I could see all the way to the mainland, despite the storm clouds forming in that direction. Forest soon joined me, and we trekked around the outer wall, which is nearly circular, to the archway which still contains two large and heavy wooden doors. The interior of the fort is just an empty circle, the blockhouse having been deemed unsafe and torn down in the late 60's. The fort has never been archaeologically excavated or studied, and when it was dismantled the park authority attempted to leave as much as possible intact, only removing the dangerous blockhouse. It would be interesting to see what would be found there.
Mackinac has a bizarre military history. The Americans never threatened the British fort during the American Revolution and following the revolution obtained the Straits area by treaty. But then in July of 1812 a British force landed secretly on the far north end of Mackinac Island and forced the United States to surrender Fort Mackinac in the first engagement of that conflict. Actually, no shots were fired; the Fort Mackinac soldiers hadn't even known that war was declared. It was the first 'battle' in the war of 1812. The US got the island back in a treaty a few years later.
From the top of the Fort Holmes hill Forest and I spotted a small trail running down into the woods, and being of an inquisitive nature, we soon took off to find out where it went. Soon we found ourselves in the deep woods of the island, where the trillium grow by the hundreds. It was beautiful, and we both enjoyed taking photos of the lovely endangered flowers.
It started to sprinkle while we were deep in the woods, but hardly bothered us. We heard some thunder far off, but it never threatened to come nearer. We enjoyed seeing the natural part of the island in the rainy weather; it brought out the scents of the woods, too complex for description, but thoroughly heavenly.
Several hours later, we walked back to town, both having had a lovely time. We stopped off for a bit of coffee and fudge, than headed straight to the inn. We planned to clean up, find some dinner, and then spend the later part of the evening back at 'home', relaxing and getting warm.
Before getting to dinner we were both a bit on the wonky side, a little fuzzy-headed, and realized that we had missed a meal that day, and gotten so much exercise that we were quite drained. Dinner at Horns was just what we needed. I had a great chicken salad, and Forest quesadillas (he loves those), and once we got a bottle of wine and went back to the inn we were feeling better.
We decided to go to the common room, and snuggle in front of a movie. There weren't many people at the inn that night, and we had the room to ourselves, undisturbed. It is a large and beautiful room, with a great big fireplace,tons of interesting antiques, and huge windows around the soft velvet couch. The book collection is marvelous, most of them are antiques which have been on that same shelf at the Cloghaun for over a hundred years, and guests are still encouraged to read them if they like. I was interested to see that all of the logbooks from the hotel beginning in 1883, before it was completed were there and intact. Forest browsed through a copy of Ivanhoe that was so old that it didn't have a title page or any copyright information, and didn't list its publisher on it anywhere. In oldfashioned handwriting along the inside of the cover was someone's philosophy on reading a good book, probably put there by one of our great-grandparents' contemporaries.
We picked The Three Musketeers, and plopped it in, snuggling ourselves under a warm blanket on the couch, and felt right at home. We ate some wonderful strawberries, nearly as big as apples, drank some tasty piesporter, and realized that this was easily the nicest place either one of us had ever stayed, and that all of the people, from the mercantile to the inkeeper to the lady who helped us park at the ferry lot had been incredibly polite and kind. It was already a great trip.
We went upstairs shortly after that, each of us to read for a little bit in bed. Within a page of that idea, I was asleep, drifting off to the 'clip clop' of a horse on the street outside. The island is very quiet at night.
Thursday
In the morning it still looked rainy, and we weren't sure what we ought to do about it. After a long hot shower, we headed down for breakfast, expecting a continental breakfast of the usual 'donuts and coffee' variety. Were we ever suprised! The tea room tables had lit candles on them, and we were encouraged to help ourselves to a great many very tasty things. There was a fresh fruit salad that was really great, plus there was oatmeal, and huge tasty croissants, muffins, and other things I don't remember. The teas were out, and Forest remarked at the wonderful coffee he had to drink. (Forest really isn't all there until he's had that coffee.) The orange juice was served in a large antique crockery pitcher, and I was suprised to see that our breakfast dishes were the same fine china used for yesterday's tea. To Forest's joy, though, they don't mess around with coffee - that comes in stout little mugs. Makes for a happy Forest.
The tea room is really quite elegant, and I enjoyed just sitting in there for breakfast. It's got enough antique tables and chairs to seat about 20 people at once, which is about how many people the whole inn can hold. On the buffet at one end is a display of the inn's fine silver, and a CD player, on which Paul plays whatever quiet music he feels in the mood for, ranging from classical piano to Enya, and never loud enough to be more than soothing. The room is done in an interesting combination of pinks and greens, with an old-fashioned patterned carpet and more of the signature lace curtains.
We had intended to inform the innkeepers that they didn't need to have maid service for our room, since we'd be the same occupants the next night, and still had plenty of towels and so on; but they were so fast that the maid was already in our room cleaning while we were at breakfast!
Soon we headed bravely out the front door of the inn, knowing that rain was forecasted until about 1 PM, and wondering what we ought to do with ourselves. After some meandering and pondering, we decided that we may as well just rent some bikes and see how far we could get around the island's perimeter before we were forced to turn back. We wanted to go at least as far as Arch Rock. Soon we were pedaling away, and discovered that the work of it kept us plenty warm enough. We got to Arch Rock with no problem, and climbed up there, and against all wiser advice, Forest climbed out onto the edge of the rock above the arch. I have a photo of him perched there, and he looks terrified to me; but he seems to have enjoyed his climb. I stopped a few feet shy of him; I'm not quite that brave, and there wasn't room for two up there. Quite alright by me.
Since it hadn't started to rain yet, we decided to keep pedaling away from town, and before we knew it we were aiming to circle the island entirely. The sun came out, and soon there wasn't a cloud in the sky! Apparently all we had to do was commit ourselves for the long haul, and the weather cooperated. It was a nice ride, and though we stopped several times to explore, skip stones in Lake Huron, and relieve our legs of their unaccustomed activity, we still got back to town earlier than expected. We took advantage of the time to head for our room and take a nap, suprised ourselves by sleeping clear through teatime! I hadn't thought I would sleep at all, but Forest was sure he could snuggle me to sleep, and he was right.
Once we emerged from our prolonged nap, we decided to go out for a hike and see the sunset. We had been careful all day to eat once in a while, so we didn't get all wonky this time, and still had plenty of energy to go. We headed westerly with the idea of maybe finding Lover's Leap, a little-known rocky outcropping which is part of the folklore of the island. Apparently a fellow thought he was chasing his lover, and he plunged off the cliff to his death, but no trace of the woman was found.
It was very difficult for us to find Lover's Leap, and in the end we found our own version. We followed trail after trail, after our map proved to be incomplete, and wended our way through the woods. Our only concern was to be back near town by dark, as our innkeeper had warned us that there were no lights whatsoever on the back part of the island, and we didn't care to wander all night in the black woods. Finally we came upon a very old, unmarked stone staircase, cut into the hillside and leading up to a crumbling square enclosure, high atop a rocky outcropping. The view was spectacular, and we were sure we had found Lover's Leap. Once we left there, we found an even more beautiful little grassy clearing, about 12 feet across, high above the trees overlooking Lake Huron.
We ignored the view for a while, and it was lovely.
Sunset found us on the trail toward town, but we stopped to watch it make its lovely descent into the lake.
Back at the inn, we cleaned up, and decided to go to a restaurant/bar called the "Mustang Lounge" we had seen that looked right up our alley. It was on a back street, and looked much more geared to the locals than to tourists, and we are all about that. Indeed, when we came in, the place was moderately busy with island folk, some talking horse (literally), and many talking business and laughing boisterously. It's amazing they get along so well, as isolated as they must be all winter long! Our waitress didn't initially offer us a menu, because she said most people just knew what they wanted. It was comforting, and for the billionth time we enjoyed not being treated like tourists, even though that's just what we are! We had eaten pretty healthy food on the whole trip up until that point, but decided that it seemed like a good time to wolf a burger and some onion rings and fries, and that's just what we did. It hit the spot.
On the way back to the inn we noticed that Thursday night seems to be the pub crawl night for the locals. The islands workers and management alike were out, laughing and being altogether silly. It was interesting to watch, but we weren't energetic enough to join in.
Happily the great, full moon rose over the water and lit our way back to the inn. We stood for a minute on the porch, and then at the second floor window, just staring at the uncommonly beautiful moon.
We got back to the inn quite late, and there were some people in the common room watching Titanic, which neither of us cared to see again, so we went upstairs to read for a while. True to form, I was asleep in no time, and I guess Forest joined me not too long after. We were determined that we would get up plenty early in the morning so we could be packed up before going down to breakfast, and that was somewhat of a feat, since our room included NO modern technology; no TV, no phone, and most importantly, no CLOCK.
Friday
Miraculously, we managed to rouse and get out of bed in plenty of time; probably because the island is so silent at night that there's an appreciable difference once the sun comes up and horses start clopping around here and there. You can also hear boat horns tooting in the harbor. Before long we had cleaned up and packed all of our things, appreciating the lovely furniture in our gorgeous and comfortable room one last time. I remarked that I was somewhat sorry to leave, and wrote an entry in the room's journals saying as much.
Breakfast was another real treat. There was a hot egg dish (Forest said it was a souflet, although I never had a souflet like that), and terrific coffee cake, and all the trimmings of the day before; plus several toasters lined up with bagels nearby! I stayed with my old standbys, though, while Forest was more adventurous. The fresh fruit salad makes a really great breakfast.
We decided to run a few errands, and take a photo or two of the inn, and then headed back to the mainland on the ferry. It was a very nice, sunny day, but the wind was freezing cold, so this time we sat belowdecks on the boat ride, and didn't regret it one bit. From the ferry we could see and reminisce about many of the places we had explored during our stay on the island. We really covered a lot of it on our hiking excursions, and were pleased to have explored it so extensively. I think most of the people who only go to the island for a day trip probably miss a lot of that stuff, since the easy one-day destinations like Fort Mackinac and Main Street are the first things you can see, handily within sight of the boat docks.
We both had a wonderful trip, and were very glad we went when we did, even despite the chillier weather. We wore fleeces a lot of the time, but it was worth it when we were leaving on Friday, the 3rd and 4th passengers of 5 total, and watching entire boatloads of noisy schoolkids and tourists slamming into the port as we were pulling out of it. We had experienced the island as a quiet, peaceful place filled with industrious, polite, friendly people, and tens of miles of solitary wilderness to explored. In our memories it's just as we would have wanted it to be.
The day didn't end there, though. We were very happy to get into the nice warm minivan, and decided to make a short stop in Mackinaw City to warm ourselves to the idea of civilization before heading back to Lansing. We wandered a little mini-mall, and listened to the Troy High School Big Band tackling Big Noise From Winetka before hitting the highway. Originally we had intended to swing south through Ann Arbor and pick up some martial arts supplies we needed, since we had the day off, and no big plans. We ran into a traffic jam near Flint, though, thanks to poorly planned construction, and knew we couldn't make it there by closing time, so we gave up on the idea. Happily, Forest was driving at this point, and I wasn't in the mood to care. It had been such a nice trip that we were both awfully happy campers, despite the traffic. We got back to Lansing, and though we were tired, decided to stop by the Store and say 'hi' to everyone and catch up on events for a bit, and then attend the Shakespearean ball before returning home.
The ball was a real treat! Forest hadn't been back to his high school since graduating there, and was pleasantly suprised, saying "this isn't the Eastern I remember". His english teacher, who had invited us, was completely thrilled to be hosting such an event, and I can't blame him. It was wonderfully done! We walked in the door, and were given masks, since it was a masked ball. On the programs was some renaissance dancing, to be done by the same group who dances at the Michigan Renaissance Festival, some music, and someone doing a molologue from Henry V. It sounded pretty cool.
Then we walked in the doors, and were impressed! Someone had really gone all out with decorations. The school has a large atrium next to its offices which has a very oldfashioned stone floor and wooden panelling. The walls are white, and there are gold-leaf carvings accenting them. Someone had covered the windows in beautiful imitations of stained class windows which were very effective in transforming the place into an old royal hall. In another room was a really nice buffet of foods from Shakespearean times. The fruit tarts were really tasty, and much of the food was supplied by a very expensive local restaurant. There was even free coffee. Forest hardly knew what to do with himself, since the inn had thrown free food at us twice daily, and now he was getting it again! Eek. The halls were decorated with gorgeous fresh flower arrangements, and there were candles lighting the tables. It was quite a classy event.
It was an interesting thing to watch. On the one hand, high school kids were there, learning to do renaissance dances, making out on the couch, things I remember high school kids doing. Then there were drug deals in the backroom, and it was certainly interesting to watch the fellow Forest referred to as "Twitchy the crackhead" trying to follow along. A bossy renaissance wench bullied poor Twitchy onto the renaissance dance floor, and I think he mainly went along with her because he was too out of it to argue.
On the floor next to "Twitchy" was a very wealthy man in a very expensive suit, whom I remember as Dr. Patel, one of the finest neurosurgeons in the country. I have no idea what he was doing there; maybe he was a sponsor. Still, it was a strange combination.
On our way home, we picked up Legend which I had never seen, and once we got there we proceeded to ignore the mess and the need to unpack, and curl up together to watch it. It was a very relaxing end to a lovely time together.
I love Forest so much!
