A sort of hippie travelogue
By the time you read this, me and my 26’ foot travel trailer home, The Scrapes of Wrath, will be long gone, heading to undisclosed Indiana to spend much of the winter. We spent the last two months just outside Hillsdale, MI at a small campground on Boot Lake, and I’ve been making it a point to not tell everyone where I’m living because in my past life as a union steward I knew too many people. And too often someone would message and want to drop over to smoke one, or worse, they’d just drop by. I love most everyone I know. Love the fuck out of most of humanity, but I’m not an everyday kind of social creature. Never have been, but people rarely understand that.
But now that I’m out of town, and my tail lights are a phantasm in the Midwest snow fog, let me tell you what I know about sleepy, small town Hillsdale.
First, there’s less than 10,000 people. An overwhelming majority of them are white. There’s a prominent right wing bastion of a Christian college. Hillsdale is red country, and everyone knows to avoid red counties and red flags. The town, the people and its creepy Christian politic vibe ain’t for me, babe.
But also, it’s amongst beautiful rolling hills. There’s a bunch of small to average sized lakes, and a river. If you’re gonna visit, fall is the time to do it. The foliage is breathtaking.
My campground was just down the road, three miles and some change, from the only cannabis dispensary in town. It’s a small, local owned joint, and it’s called The Stoned Goat, one of my favorite names for a dispo. I made pals with a few of the budtenders, and even gifted a copy of $100-A-Week Motel, my first novel, to the store, and was happy that several of them read it, and enjoyed it. Last time I was in, my friends recommended a snack that’s just like hot Cheetos, but with 50mg of THC. I’m going to miss living down the road from them.
Just a few blocks from the modern red brick courthouse and town hall looking area, there’s a coffee shop called The Rough Draft. It’s in the back of some unassuming rectangular building with other offices and such, but the coffee shop is one of the more stately and well appointed shops you’ll find. There’s a big room when you enter. There’s tables and chairs, and the typical comfy looking coffee house seats, and the coffee and snack counter. Beyond that are two more rooms with work tables, sofas and several private nook areas where a handful of professional looking people looked to be doing professional looking things. Great quiet spot for isolated reading and writing.
But my favorite coffee shop in Hillsdale? Checker Records. Man, Checker Records is one of the best coffee shops I’ve ever visited. It’s a record store with a full on fancy coffee counter. They have 20+ different coffee drinks named after musicians and bands. There’s T shirts, records, a handful of dinette booths for reading, friend gatherings and coffee sipping, posters, hats, pins, and old refurbished record players for sale. Out of all the cool places I’ve found this year, Checker Records is the biggest hidden gem. Right there blocks from a big ass Christian college, the hippie caffeine sinners are still holding space. That alone gave me hope that Hillsdale might not be so bad.
Speaking of all the religion and red politics, I did have a real life ‘Sunday morning coming down’ moment. After a particularly debaucherous Saturday afternoon full of weed and lust, I wandered into town stoned, and sat on a park bench drinking coffee outside the old-fashioned courthouse that’s being remodeled, and a young lady friend of mine messaged me several nude photos while I watched Saturday early evening mass let out across the street, and I sat smoking a joint in public as devoted septuagenarian Catholics, and a few Wonder bread golf shirt wearing families milled around me getting into mini vans and sedans, and my eyes must have laughed a hundred laughs behind my sunglasses. People watching in Hillsdale isn’t much of a spectator sport, but that Saturday evening was fun.
There’s a cafe, a sandwich and coffee kind of place called Handmade. It’s a few streets over from The Rough Draft coffee shop, and they have 30 different specialty sandwiches, like the Elvis, a grilled peanut butter and banana something or other. I had one of those French subs you dip in au jus, and fuck, my beard smelled amazingly like melted provolone and steaming au jus for an hour after. Great sandwich. Cool vibe spot.
Hillsdale has a Kroger, so I got to shop in a union store, but there’s no big box hardware. Closest one of those is in Coldwater, a 35 minute drive. That’s also where the closest UPS store is, and I learned that when I had to ship something via UPS. Welcome to small town living. The one time I visited the local owned hardware store, the cashier lady was puzzled about me wearing a T shirt from the Strand Bookstore in NYC. Maybe it’s because I cut the sleeves off, and she didn’t equate tattoos and books, but it took me five minutes of trying to convince her I was indeed a writer before she’d sell me my $3 worth of finish nails I needed to repair two pieces of trim in the camper.
Also, I like to put mail art on book packages when I ship them out, but the post office clerk in Osseo, MI down the road looked at me funny, and asked too many questions for my comfort. I’ve spent a lot of time insulated by people that have similar ideologies and philosophies as me, and that’s not usually the case in small town USA. I stopped putting art on my packages after the third or fourth small town post office I’ve visited the last few months. I should write reviews of post office branches. I’ve seen some interesting ones this year.
Boy, do small town residents enjoy the fuck out of talking to strangers. Everywhere you go there’s smiles and howdy doos, and how are you’s and where you froms. I can be polite. I almost always am. But sometimes being polite means a friendly nod and a keep it moving. Sometimes I’d stop and have full on conversations with these smiling Hilldsalians. I joke about this sometimes, but if you don’t look too close at me, I can blend in in a lot of places. Bearded. Trucker hat. White skin. Tattooed. From a distance I don’t look any different from the good ole boys running around, but somehow, they all knew I was a stranger and not from these parts.
Out of all the gems I found in God’s actual country, the part of the country that houses the Hillsdale Christian College, and a failed book ban at the town library that happened in 2022. In that red, right wing haven, outside of Boot Lake, which was conveniently located 300 yards from my camper home, the place I visited the most in Hillsdale, MI was The Finish Line Family Restaurant. They’re the classic legendary small town diner with an ice cream counter thrown in for fun. They’ve got breakfast all day, including every pancake/waffle and ice cream combo you can dream up, to steak and seafood, and every old retired person within 25 miles seemed to eat there everyday. Sunday morning after church and the line to get a booth was 45 minutes to an hour long. The restaurant was at least 3/4 full every time I stopped in to eat, and the food and hand dipped ice cream was good every time. No lie. You can get steak and eggs, potatoes and toast for $8.99. Have a five scoop sundae to go and with tip you’re out $20. Hell of a restaurant. I’m gonna miss it.
I’m excited to get settled in at the new spot, and get to writing and exploring my surroundings. I’m within a reasonable drive to Fort Wayne, South Bend, Indianapolis, Lansing, Ann Arbor and Toledo. Chicago and Detroit are both less than a 3 hour drive. There should be some good adventures and fun places to find in the coming months. Can’t wait to tell you all about them, too.
Hope we’re all making it through December.
The view from my camper down to Boot Lake at the old campground in Hillsdale
A shirt I bought from my friends at The Stoned Goat
I spent a few hundred hours meditating, reading and writing around Boot Lake
The Hillsdale fair is the most popular fair on earth according to Hillsdale. Photo snapped by my friend Jess.
Dinner one night at The Finish Line Family Restaurant
Fall in Michigan was colorful
it snowed 3 inches one day at the end of November. That was a cold walk from my shower in the bath house that night.
What a time to be alive
Safe and hooked up in Hoosier Land
I know the Hillsdale fairly well and your piece is accurate and right on. I've fished nearby Wilson Lake several times and picked wild asparagus in the area. Good writing, man.