The River · The lead
The Huron Runs Through the Middle of It
Five bridges, one river, and the city assembling itself from mid-span.
The River · The lead
Five bridges, one river, and the city assembling itself from mid-span.
Counts, not claims. Where we do not know a figure, we describe the thing instead.
Five stops, one river, no hurry. North to south, the way the water goes.
The river's quietest crossing — downstream from the dam, where the water slows and Ypsilanti forgets to perform.
The low ground between the river and the rail embankment — where the park comes and goes on the water's schedule.
The hinge of the city — brick on one bank, the tower on the other.
Most cities hide their working edge. Ypsilanti left a gap in the fabric, and the river fills it.
The road that connected Detroit to Chicago still runs through the middle of Ypsilanti, and at the end of a working day it looks exactly like what it is.
Each section is a walk of its own. Start wherever you happen to be standing.
Brick frontages, cast iron, and how to read a 19th-century street.
Every guide on the site, in one list, in section order.
Five sequences through the city, each one stitched out of guides already on the site. No timings, no distances — just the order to take them in.
Organisations rooted in Ypsilanti, from the river corridor to the old factory floors.
Organisations rooted in Ypsilanti's streets, river, and industrial story.