Dan Nielsen: Heavy traffic translates into good business

This year’s National Cherry Festival is toned down a bit from 2019 and the booming previous years. But it offers a whole lot more than 2020, when the in-person event was canceled by COVID-19.

The return of Traverse City’s signature festival makes many locals very happy. It means a week of events to enjoy. It means more visitors to spend money on everything from hotel rooms to hamburgers to hoodies.

It also means traffic, which leads to well-founded complaints from locals who seek a quick commute to buy groceries or make a doctor appointment on time.

Roads around town this summer are clogged. It seems tourist traffic has returned to normal after the pandemic. Streets are so clogged with cars and RVs, in fact, that it seems summer traffic has returned to 110 percent of normal.

In most years, traffic jumps around Memorial Day, then gradually builds to a maximum around Independence Day. I heard someone say that the level of gridlock normally achieved by Independence Day already was fact a couple of weeks before July 4.

It will be interesting to see if road congestion gets even worse as the summer progresses. We all want to get out and vacation to the maximum of our ability. We all want to do it at the same time.

My wife and I ventured out Sunday to explore the National Cherry Festival car show and arts and crafts sale, both relocated a mile southwest, from downtown to Grand Traverse Commons. Traffic around town was surprisingly light on Sunday — much lighter than an average weekday, and a whole lot lighter than I expected during the festival. It appears planners’ efforts to spread out events geographically — to aid with social distancing as coronavirus variants spread across the country — helped immensely with traffic flow.

Foot traffic inside The Village at Grand Traverse Commons, though, was heavy. Shops and restaurants were clogged with unmasked customers, people who sought coffee, food and merchandise in the cool of Building 50’s brick interior.

It was a hot, sunny day — ideal for a summer festival. But I have to admit that after an hour in the heat, it was pleasant to step inside for a few minutes.

Not all festivals take place in such pleasant weather.

A friend and I once attended the Telluride Jazz Festival, an outdoor musical event that at the time was just a handful of years old (It’s now 43, which shows my age). Since we didn’t want to sit on the grass all day, we stopped by Kmart after work the day before and each purchased one of those cheap folding lawn lounges, the kind with two sets of clicking hinges that allow either end to ratchet up or down to support head or feet.

The next morning, we made the two-and-a-half-hour drive to Telluride, admired the little town nestled in a narrow valley between snow-capped mountains, and tromped over toward the festival grounds. On the way, we stopped at a bar on Colorado Avenue for a couple of whiskey sours. Still carrying our folding lawn chairs, we eventually completed the last leg of our journey to the festival lawn.

I remember absolutely nothing about the music, though a saxophone may have been involved. I do recall recognizing a couple of the performers’ names, and — since I’ve never been a particular fan of jazz — they must have been famous.

What I do remember about that day is that in the middle of the afternoon clouds rolled in and it began to rain.

Afternoon storms are common in the mountains. They’re why climbers venture out early in the morning and try to reach the peak and start back down before noon. Those exposed mountain peaks can be dangerous in a lightning storm.

Deep in the valley, nestled between Lookout Peak and Mount Sneffels, we weren’t in much danger from lightning.

The first light rains just cooled things down a bit and made everyone more comfortable. But the storm gathered steam and a few well-prepared music lovers deployed umbrellas. All my friend and I could do was grin and bear it.

The storm continued to build to the point where it was pouring. A few lightweights scampered away to shelter. My friend and I stood up and hoisted our multi-purpose lawn chairs atop our heads to act as plastic-and-aluminum rain hats. I’m sure we looked very intelligent. In retrospect, our hats probably would have been good lightning rods, too.

The downpour continued, so loud it drowned out most of the music. The band played on under it’s roofed shelter. My friend and I eventually gave up and sloshed back to the car, wearing our makeshift hats like ridiculous badges of honor.

Car traffic on the only paved road out of Telluride was wet and heavy.

This summer in Traverse City, traffic is running hot and heavy. It seems likely the rest of summer will fill area roads with more tourists and cash registers with more of their dollars.

That’s good news for businesses across town and across the region.