Moose Jaw Junction: Hunting Down Good Times Up-North

Moose Jaw Junction

Driving through the towering stands of pine trees, John and Kate went mile after mile before they ended up on the corner of Van and Larks Lake Road. There they  pulled in the parking lot of Moose Jaw Junction.

Grant leaned on the steering wheel and studied the place if he were checking it out–– making sure everything was the same as when he’d rode over with a buddy for lunch a few months earlier. He’d just put his snowmobile back in the barn for the season. He hated to leave, but if he wanted to come back, he knew he’d better catch his flight or risk getting fired.

“I love this place,” he said, “This is where I come to relax. Take my snowmobile in the winter, and my all-terrain vehicle in the summer. Beautiful trails run all over this countryside. When I’ve had enough, I come back here for a good meal. Life just doesn’t get any better.”

“The restaurant has an unusual name.”

“Maybe. But it fits. In 1999, the owner, named it in honor of his great-grandpa who came here after the Civil War to work at the Moose Jaw Junction Lumber Camp––his grandpa worked there too. They were both hard workers and dedicated to this area––not unlike the generations of locals who’ve been coming to this watering hole since 1946––first as Round Lake Bar, and then as Lark Lake’s Bar. One of the guys I talked to once said if walls could talk the entire history of this area could be told.”

Wondering if the place triggered past memories, Kate dug further. “Nice story, but what’s the rest of it? The look on your face tells me there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Look, I had some good times when I came up north, but I got nothing to hide. I always liked this place, particularly at night. It glowed––sounded good too. You could hear it before you ever walked in the door. And come Christmas? It was beautiful. Same as everything around here.”

“Grant. Are you saying this place is at its best in the wintertime?”

“Not necessarily. I’m just talking about the feeling I get––seeing the colorful snowmobiles out front on a snowy night—how the folks in these parts are never in a big rush to take down their Christmas decorations.”

Kate giggled. “I felt that way as a kid. I couldn’t understand why we didn’t leave the tree up all year-long.”

“My feelings exactly. And when you stop and think about it, It’s the one time of the year when the not so rich, get to take over the job of decorating the North Country. It’s kind of nice really—you don’t see signs of hard times—all those pretty lights shining on the white snow make everything looks clean and bright.”

“I would’ve never thought you had it in you to be so sentimental.”

“Don’t worry––I’m not getting all touchy-feely on you––it’s really quite simple. Summertime the rich folks around these parts keep things pretty—then in between Halloween and Easter––the poor folks take over and do the same. It all works out okay.”

“By the looks of those expensive toys out front, it doesn’t look like anyone here is poor!”

Excerpt from “Paradise: A Love Story from Petoskey to Harbor Springs.”

Copyright 2013 G. G. Galt

Note: Michigan State University Fans will enjoy the story about Coach Duffy–-scroll down the page to the story about what some thought was his finest moment.