Nestled in a slice of God’s Country in the northern part of the Mitten State sits a log cabin beneath towering pine trees.
The cabin’s sprawling back patio leads out to a wooded scene of serenity: the 11th hole of the Swampfire Course at the Garland Lodge and Golf Resort in Garland, MI. Deer often run wild on the fairways and in the yard, wildlife roam without any concern, and an occasional bear can be seen waddling in the distance across the golf course.
Under the cabin’s roof sits 5,000 square feet of warmth, comfort, resort-like fixtures and amenities, laughs, and fantastical memories built over the last 7 years.
This is the Hutch Lodge, owned by Tom Hutchens Sr. and his wife Grace. They bought the home in 2017.
My wife, Sue, and I were blessed with staying there over a frigid January weekend with our great friends Tommie Hutchens, Beth Carter, and their 12-year-old son Bray.
With three Toms under the same roof, it was virtually a “Tom Convention.” Word is, it was the largest gathering of people named Tom in one room since Tom Cruise, Tom Brady, and Tom Hanks all met together — except we were much hotter!
With frigid temperatures and deep snow, you’d think there wasn’t a whole lot to do. But check this out: Snowmobiling, cross country skiing, Saturday ice fishing at Fish Camp, Friday night Bingo at the Garland Lodge, hiking, or you could just sit inside by a roaring fire, watch the snow fall, grab a glass of wine or cup of coffee and read a book.
Our journey started in Macomb Township, MI, at Casa de Hutchens with Tommie driving Beth’s spacious Dodge Ram tankmobile. It would be just over a 3-hour drive to Garland with a stop in Rose City, MI, at the Country Corner Winery. The four of us drank some wine samples and caused as much trouble as we could — well, Tommie and I did anyway, with a lot of side-eyed glances from the ladies. Bray joined in the fun with the boys.
From there, the cabin was just a short 40-minute peaceful drive through scarcely populated, heavily wooded northern Michigan wilderness.
We arrived about 2 pm at the Hutch Lodge where Tommie’s dad greeted us in his garage with a hearty laugh, giant smile, big open arms, and a cigar in his hand. It was a frigid 14 degrees outside, but Tom kept his sprawling garage slightly warmer with a few heaters. We unpacked inside the log cabin and met our other host, Grace Hutchens, who had a lovely, warm smile and a kind, gentle soul.
We all started the party in the garage with a few drinks to keep us warm and a few stories to get us laughing, then Tommie and I trudged through the deep snow in the back yard to the men’s tee box at hole number 11. We started walking the 165 yards to the hole each carrying a beer that turned more into slush drinks the further we walked. Snowshoes would have been a better option, but we high-stepped along through the deep snow on land, then 50 yards across a frozen pond until…CRACK!!
Tommie’s boot plunged through the thin ice a foot from the shoreline. The water underneath flooded his boot and he swore. I’d been following him and after he got on shore, I quickly took a different route to avoid a re-enactment of what I just witnessed.
The scenery was beautiful….Endless white snow bordered by towering pines and birch trees. Now — at 12 degrees — every pond on the Swampfire Course was frozen solid, except the one spot where Tommie’s foot went in. A few hundred yards away, I glanced at the beautiful cabin in the distance where we had left 30 minutes earlier. If it wasn’t so damn cold, it would be about as close to Heaven on Earth as you could get.
It was time to head back to the cabin, grab the families and head out for the real excitement that hits the Garland Lodge every Friday night — BINGO!!
We went to the Lodge in the bar area and sat near the main entrance. Along with our table of seven, the bar area was packed with about 50 other people dining, drinking, and playing BINGO. From what I hear, it’s like this every Friday night.
Now this isn’t competitive BINGO like at those halls where some old lady would crack you on the side of the head with a styrofoam cup if you got a BINGO when she only had one spot remaining on her card. This was fun, laid-back, northern Michigan BINGO.
My wife, Sue, started off strong, winning two times in the first 30 minutes. Her prizes were very satisfying — she won a Snickers candy bar each time. Then the BINGO caller told every player to pass their card to the right. Ha! I ended up with Sue’s hot BINGO card.
Within two games I won! I yelled “BINGO!!” First time I got a BINGO since I played with my Grandma Emma Budop in the late ’90s. I went up to claim my prize, hoping it was a free one-year golf membership at the Garland Lodge and Golf Course. Judging by Sue’s Snickers bar awards, the bar was set pretty high. I met the BINGO caller and she handed me a Garland Golf Course divot tool and ball marker. This was the closest thing to winning the lottery since I got 2 out of 5 numbers on the Powerball.
Our winning table didn’t stop there. Tommie also got a BINGO, but he ran into some trouble when someone else won at the same time. They dueled it out with a vicious game of rock-paper-scissors. Tommie lost with “paper” and walked away kicking the dirt with his shoes and empty-handed. The winner got a Snickers candy bar. Ha!
The Garland Lodge knows how to do it. I went away from there telling anyone who would listen that every metro Detroit bar needs to start having BINGO nights.
The next morning was beautiful: a bright, sunny, cloudless sky and a balmy 5 degrees at 8:30 am. I’m an avid runner, so I was planning to go for a run in this wilderness resort. But 5 degrees was WAY too cold. I’d wait until it got to at least 9 degrees.
I bundled up in layers, stepped outside and exhaled a frosty breath that rose up about 12 feet before dissipating. I crunched on the smashed snow in my running shoes and ran down the resort road that lead away from the Hutch Lodge. At this time of year, the road is barely traveled, except by deer, fox, and the occasional bear.
Everywhere I travel, my goal is run at least one day just for the experience. I’ve run in Barcelona, Florence, Italy, places in Spain, Germany, and about 20 different states in the U.S. Despite the snow and frigid temperature, I wasn’t about to pass this up.
I ran along the road with the sun blaring in my eyes. I watched as the towering pines went by. Some birds swooped near me and I saw four deer through the woods just staring at me. I stopped for a moment, snapped some photos of this beautiful scene and took it all in. There wasn’t a sound around me except my breathing.
I only ran two miles because we had a full day planned, so I headed back to the Hutch Lodge.
The plan for the day was for me, Tommie, and Bray to go to Fish Camp. Sue and Beth would go into the tiny town of Lewiston, MI, to do some shopping.
Fish Camp is exactly what it sounds like. It’s pond fishing, combined with a roaring fire, great, loud music, and a shanty where two cooks dished out freshly cooked trout, steaming hot chocolate, New England clam chowder soup, and much-needed alcohol beverages to keep us warm.
Tommie, Bray, and I dressed so warmly in layers that we were sweating profusely on our way in the van that drove us to Fish Camp from the Garland Lodge. We literally needed to go out in the 18-degree weather to cool down.
Once we got there, it was game-on. We each grabbed our fishing poles that were provided by Fish Camp. The fish were so hungry that the hooks didn’t even need bait! I hadn’t fished in years and it showed.
Tommie and Bray already caught 8 fish by the time I caught my first one in the fishing hole. Kids younger than 6 around me with their moms even caught multiple fish before I caught my first one. But once I caught my first trout, it glowed like a golden star, it weighed almost 70 pounds, and…ok, it was about 12 inches long, weighed 4 pounds and I threw it back.
What a great time, though, standing on the ice, sipping a beer, fishing, and watching Tommie fall through the ice again. Ok, so that didn’t happen. After catching our fish, it was time to sit around the roaring fire, grab some freshly cooked trout, clam chowder soup, another beer, and chat with the other people at Fish Camp.
After a couple hours, we met the ladies at the Garland Lodge bar for some drinks and then went off to watch some NFL playoff football at Tally’s Log Cabin Bar, which is routinely voted as having the “Best Burger in the North.” It didn’t disappoint.
Our night and our short weekend of northern Michigan bliss was almost over. We went back to the Hutch Lodge and did what 50-somethings do: We burned the midnight oil and went to bed about 10 pm!
It was a fantastic weekend and the 48 hours went by in the blink of an eye. Sue and I have been invited back up to the Hutch Lodge in the summer and we will definitely take up the offer. Thanks to Tommie and Beth for taking us up, and thanks to Tom and Grace for the hospitality and fine resort living. It was a trip we’ll always remember.
