Little Sable Point Lighthouse | A spiral climb into the clouds on the shores of Lake Michigan in Golden Twp.

The little metal tag on the railing reads, “CHICAGO 134 MILES”. You might have stood there squinting like a moron looking for the tip of the Sears Tower but for the fact that your thighs are sizzling, your lunch is doing cartwheels and your fists grip tight around the railing like it’s motorcycle handlebars and just about then you realize that 115 feet is a lot higher than it sounds. Down on the sand, beachgoers throw a Frisbee as a seagull swoops below – yes, you’re looking down on a seagull – while the waters of Lake Michigan break soundlessly against the beach, soundlessly because the only thing you can hear is the wind. By now it’s hard to even hear the friendly guy sitting five feet away on a wooden crate inside the top of the lighthouse. He’s trying desperately to finish telling you the history of the Little Sable PointLighthouse, but with a burst of courage you tell him, “Be right back,” intent on talking yourself into doing at least one lap around the little walkway, which you do, fists sliding on those endless handlebars while your backslide slides across the lighthouse’s 148-year-old wall. Back inside, the lighthouse keeper wraps up his story – something about the monstrous Fresnel lens that sits encased where the spiral staircase finally reaches its peak. Back in the day, you learn, when the lighthouse was burning kerosene, and before that when it burned lard oil, this lens made the light visible to ship captains for 19 miles. “19 miles,” you wonder, braving to step one more time onto the balcony, still clutching the railing as your eyes draw to the hazy line where the waters of Lake Michigan blend with the horizon. Not a bad way to spend 8 bucks.