For many years my grandparents belonged to a small circle of people who called themselves the Sunset Club. They’d park their aluminum-and-plastic camping chairs on the beach in northwestern Indiana and watch the sky over Lake Michigan turn orange and heliotrope above the shoreline steel mills, their backs to vast sand dunes. These skies are so spectacular it is almost obscene, and visitors can enjoy the show in near-solitude because nobody expects the suburbs of Gary to be so stupid-beautiful. The Indiana Dunes finally became a national park this year, but it is still overlooked, and the broad stretches of fine sands can be completely empty at dusk. (You can also rent a ridiculously big lake house nearby for a genuinely distressing price.)
“Never a Lovely So Real” by Colin Asher
“Never a Lovely So Real” by Colin Asher
“Never a Lovely So Real” by Colin Asher
For many years my grandparents belonged to a small circle of people who called themselves the Sunset Club. They’d park their aluminum-and-plastic camping chairs on the beach in northwestern Indiana and watch the sky over Lake Michigan turn orange and heliotrope above the shoreline steel mills, their backs to vast sand dunes. These skies are so spectacular it is almost obscene, and visitors can enjoy the show in near-solitude because nobody expects the suburbs of Gary to be so stupid-beautiful. The Indiana Dunes finally became a national park this year, but it is still overlooked, and the broad stretches of fine sands can be completely empty at dusk. (You can also rent a ridiculously big lake house nearby for a genuinely distressing price.)