The first thing you notice when you cross Mackinaw Bridge onto the Upper Peninsula of Michigan is all the signs for pasties. Being that I am eleven years old, I thought this was hilarious, until Emily informed me that it's pronounced "pasties" (like it rhymes with "nasties"). A pasty is a little English pie, basically a pot pie like the ones you used to get for dinner when your parents went to a party and left you and your brother home to build a fort out of chairs and blankets and watch, in order, Buck Rogers, The Love Boat, Fantasy Island, Hee-Haw, and Saturday Night Live before falling asleep in the fort. So, yeah, basically a pot pie, but without the pan. A cross between a hom bow or a knish and a pot pie. Apparently pasties have been a popular food on the UP for a couple hundred years. I knew that at some point I would have to get me one-a them pasty pies.But first things first. We found a state forest campground down this long dirt road.It was on a little lake just north of Lake Michigan. The sun was going down when we got there and quickly set up camp.Janice and Anna brought a big bag full of Bud Light tall boys to our going-away party, and we're still drinking them. Thank you, Janice and Anna, for the gift that keeps on giving.It was really damp and cold but we got a fire started and warmed up right-quick.Emily made a little fire stick and wrote her name in the air. It was like our own little frickin' Fourth of July.We got up really early the next morning for a long drive northwest to Minnesota, and the lake was glass.And I did get me one-a them pies. And it was delicious.