The Long Way Around – a Visit to South Bass

Dearest Rachel –

We had fully intended to make a stop in Put-in-Bay while we were on the island this time around; while your parents rarely bothered to venture over there (their priorities leaned into the fishing aspect of island life, after all) it was pretty much de rigeur for the three of us after a while, especially after they stopped coming entirely.  It was no trouble for us to hop the Sonny-S for a day trip across the lake, and hang out in an actual town, as opposed to the general store in the middle of three miles of otherwise empty north-south road.  We’d walk around DeRivera Park, and take that one street up to the Heineman winery (where I’d get a case of their grape juice, which had a unique fizz to it I’ve never found anywhere else).  We’d play a round of miniature golf at the War of 18 Holes across the street, and grab a meal at one place or another before making our way back to the dock for the trip home, and all in all, have a lovely day; the sort of thing that could pass for a date if it were the two of us.

Of course, we are “two of us” now; just not us two.

And, as it so happened, it wasn’t going to be nearly as easy to get to South Bass as we’d previously managed in the past.  There are advantages to being here outside of the standard tourist season, but there are disadvantages as well.  One of the latter is that not all of the boats are running at all of the times, or even at all.  The Sonny-S turns out to be one of those casualties; they don’t even begin to run until after Memorial Day, a situation we never had to deal with in the past.

So that left us with the issue of how to get over to South Bass, or even whether to bother.  Daniel, after all, tends to be a bit of a homebody, never even so much as leaving his rocking recliner if he was sufficiently comfortable.  But this isn’t home, and while both of us enjoy sitting around doing nothing, we’re not keen on doing that much nothing for nearly a whole week.  We’d have to find a way to get to South Bass, if only for the adventure of doing so at this point.

The obvious possibility was to take the Miller Ferry back to the mainland, and a connecting boat over to South Bass. It would be time-consuming, relatively speaking, and more expensive than the Sonny-S, but it would be cheaper than getting a charter (IF we could arrange one), and it would unquestionably be a bit more interesting. So we decided to go for it.

At the island dock, we ran into our old landlord, who still serves as the harbormaster. He extended his condolences yet again when we mentioned we had brought you with us, and when we explained what we were planning to do today, he spoke to the captain. I don’t know if he used any influence, or if they just don’t have a policy of double-charging, but the captain told us to just get on the boat bound for South Bass when we got to the mainland as part of the ticket we paid for on-island. They really look out for us here; I still remember the time that we had to get Daniel over to Magruder Hospital for a case of poison ivy, and they let us on free as a ‘medical emergency.’

In any event, the trip over was otherwise uneventful.  Said captain talked to his colleague piloting the ‘Put-In-Bay,’ and the latter waved us aboard, although not without some chatter about where we were from, and certain news having to do with that (specifically, the fact that we told him we were from ‘the Chicago area’ led to discussion about the new Pope, Leo XIV – although he happens to be from south suburban Dolton, if I recall correctly).

Once on South Bass, we made our way to several golf cart rental places before settling on one in particular; as you know, the Miller Ferry dock is on the southern tip of the island, while the town of Put-In-Bay itself is in the narrow portion just north and east of the island’s center.  It’s not far, but I’d rather not have to walk all that way throughout the day, and I sure wouldn’t want to be lugging a box or two of Heineman’s finest from place to place while I did so.  Believe me, it makes a difference, in terms of getting from place to place.

And speaking of places we needed to be, we’d heard talk that the crew manning the Middle Bass run would take an extended lunch break in Put-In-Bay before returning to Middle Bass for the 5:15 trip to the mainland.  While it might mean cutting our stay short, we realized we might be able to hop aboard this otherwise devoid of passengers return trip – if, that is, we could get in touch with the folks in charge.  The lady at the ticket counter by the docks thought it would be possible to, but the it would require us to check in at their office by the marina, just outside the village limits.  One more reason to have transportation; we would need to be there on time.

Much of the order of the day was at Daniel’s recommendation and preference.  He was the one who suggested we hit the miniature golf course first, rather than the winery; “why carry everything around all day?” He also decided that we had no need to go up Perry’s Monument; that could wait until ‘next time,’ when we came back with the girls.  When I expressed doubt about whether that would happen, he gave me his usual ‘oh ye of little faith’ look that I’ve come to know so well – both because he’s gotten so good at it, and because I inspire it so often.  Hey, I can’t help it; this particular journey doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in things panning out in the future.

Speaking of inspiring confidence, it turns out that there really wasn’t much to recommend the place to our would-be fellow travelers at the moment.  between the fact that it was a Monday (when most restaurants take their day off) and that the summer season hasn’t really started yet, there really wasn’t that much open on this larger, more populous island.  Ironically, though we managed to start off strong between the golf course and the winery, it was pointed out to us that the next day would have been a no go for the former, as they would be applying mulch to the greens.  But what really drove it home that Put-In-Bay was still pretty dead at this time of year was when we got into their downtown area around DeRivera Park.  We couldn’t park anywhere near anywhere, since every parking space had a pay with QR code sign in front of it, and most of the bars and restaurants were closed, including the former Dairy Queen that was advertising a Dole Whip special, like I’d had in Honolulu.  It would have been nice to introduce the confection to Daniel, but when we stopped by, it was clear that they weren’t just closed for the day, but had yet to open for the season.

We did find a place to eat – supposedly at one bartender’s recommendation – but the place she recommended happened to also not be open yet; however, the establishment next-door was up and running, and I didn’t recognize that we’d been there on a previous visit, so we checked it out.  It was pretty good; certainly filling (which, for the usual island prices, had better have been the case), and a few things we’d never had, so that was good.

But at this point, we’d done pretty much everything that we intended to do, and we still had a couple of hours to kill even before the boys on lunch break returned to Middle Bass.  So we looped around the island a couple of times, checking out the houses with lakefront property.  Maybe you’ll remember when I would peruse real estate listings, trying to find us a place in the area that would be suitable for you (since, until 2019, it didn’t seem like likely we could score ourselves a place on Middle Bass itself).  I will admit that, while we’re here, it still feels nice to be here. But given all the history we have here, I can’t imagine living here now; it certainly strikes me that we did well to not have succeeded in our bid to purchase the Muller cottage that we’re staying in the week; what would I have done with it on my own, honey?

Anyway, after a stop in the local grocery and beverage shop (hey, the place bills itself as a ‘drinking town with a fishing problem,’ so the latter is just about as big as the former), we made our way to the marina.  I dropped Daniel off with our purchases (and leftovers) and returned to the docks on the other side of the island to drop off the cart.  The taxi ride back into town charges on a per-person basis; sure, we could afford for both of us to go, but why deal with the additional expense and bother?

In any event, everything went fairly smoothly after that.  We were home by five, and I was in bed before ten (there’s only so much I can watch before my eyes glaze over, it would seem, even if I’m enjoying the series I’ve dug up for us to watch; I may tell you about them, ironically, over the next weekend while we’re at ACen).  So I’m telling you about this first thing the following morning, although I’m honestly not sure when I’ll be able to upload this to you.  Not that it really matters to you when and whether I can.  

Still, if you could continue to keep an eye on us, and wish us luck, it would be appreciated.  After all, we still need it.