A Conveniently Located Hanging Tree

People with a debilitating phobia learn to avoid certain situations, so you would think I knew better.  As much time as I spend outdoors, hiking in the wilderness and deep woods, I shy away from areas that present the perfect environment for snakes.  Tall grass, wet and marshy fields, and rivers are the prime places for me to skirt around.  I know this.  I do it all the time.  Except this time.

I had traveled a day ahead of my family to the village of Empire in the Sleeping Bear Dunes to set up camp for our annual Family Camping Trip.  It's always a great weekend, with camping much less an emphasis than a whirlwind tour of all the area tourists attractions.  My husband loves tourist attractions. We were exploring the entire Leelanau Peninsula this year, since we try to go someplace new every year.

I love the annual Family Camping Trip, but struggle with camping in my beloved northern Michigan and spending all my time with crowds, overpriced food, and busy streets.  I want to be in the woods!  Early morning of the day my family would arrive was the only time I would be able to wander alone in the woods.  I made a quick stop at the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore Visitor's Center, in search of a Trail Map, to fulfill a promise I made to my daughter, Birdie, to scout out some running trails for her as she is training for her first half-marathon.  The Visitor Center is very well staffed, with many exhibits and plenty of informational brochures available.  I found a Trail Guide, and purchased it on the Honor System by dropping a couple of dollars in the "Friends of Sleeping Bear Dunes" box.  Another reason to love the wilds of Michigan.  Do you think a visit to any big city would include payments on an honor system?

Looking through the guide, I found a nearby trail system that would be easy for Birdie to access and drove a few miles to Esch Beach, within the National Lakeshore.  It wasn't particularly easy to find, and the old road that dead-ends at the beach is hilly with the asphalt washed-out on the edges.  Because it was still early, I walked through a small dune and came out on a completely deserted Lake Michigan beach, with dunes rising up behind me and the lake rushing toward me.  The sun was shining on dewey dune grass, making the dunes sparkle like diamonds.  I had found a very private stretch of beach and could not have been more delighted.

To my left, a small, crystal-clear creek emptied into the great lake.  According to my map, this was Otter Creek.  After walking the shoreline in solitude for about an hour, I returned to my car and found a sign located next to the vault toilet giving the history of the lost town of Aral.

It's a fascinating story.  According to Michigan's Lost Towns, Aral was a logging community in the late 1800's.  But perhaps its most intriguing story is not told on the official plaque at Esch Beach.  Behind the sign a very old, large tree lies on the ground, having toppled over a long time ago.  It's called The Hanging Tree.  On August 10, 1899, two Benzie County deputies were sent to Aral to place a lien on the stacked logs at the mill for unpaid taxes.  Mill Manager Charles Wright met the deputies on the road with a pistol and a rifle, and shot them dead.  The bodies were left where they fell and the mill continued operations as though nothing had happened.  As news of the double murder spread, the people of Aral became increasingly angry, and sent a telegram to Benzonia to inform the sheriff of the trouble.  As the sheriff dispatched a posse of twenty men to apprehend Wright, the mill manager shut down operations and disappeared into the woods.

Courtesy National Park Service

By the time the posse arrived, the angry mob was out for revenge.  Charles Wright had employed a man to act as interpreter for the Ottawa Indians, and Peter Lahala was thought to know the whereabouts of his boss.  The posse dropped a noose around Lahala's neck, and the Indian was hoisted in the air from the hanging tree.  The sheriff lowered him, asked where Wright was, and when Lahala couldn't answer, they hoisted him up again.  Before this grim justice could be fully carried out, Wright was dragged from the woods after being captured by a group of men, and Lahala was released.  Wright was sentenced to a life of hard labor at Jackson Prison.  One year later, his sentence was commuted by the Governor.

I find stories like these add so much more to my experience in a particular spot.  I drove my car about 50 feet up the road, and turned off at the trailhead.  A single-lane dirt two track led to several trailheads, so I kept driving to find the best trail for Birdie.  I knew she needed to run at least 12 miles, so I consulted the trail guide and started marking the different loops she could take.  As I drove further, I

Courtesy Google Images

saw Otter Lake on my right, and immediately thought I was in prime snake territory.  Going deeper into the woods, I stopped at Marker #4 and got out to walk, veering away from the marshy banks on the lake.  I walked a bit in my beloved woods, circled back to my car, and prepared to head back to the campground and wait for my family.  I had a clear idea of the route Birdie would run, and felt good that I was able to find it for her.

Driving out, I noticed many clumps of wildflowers growing right next to the dirt road.  With such a narrow lane, I figured I could lean out of my car window and cut some wildflowers for my vase at the campsite.  I was nervous, knowing that that proximity of the lake and the long wild grass and flowers were great hiding spots for reptiles, but I was able to cut several flowers without stepping outside of the car.  As I came upon the bridge over Otter Creek, I spotted the most unusual clump of flowers, right next to the corner of the bridge.  They were beautiful!  I told myself that I had enough flowers, I was pushing my luck, and I would actually have to step out of the car to cut these.  River, dense undergrowth, bridge, shade on a hot morning, all screamed at me to just keep driving.  I stopped.  The flowers really were breathtaking.  I leaned out the window and scanned the ground, particularly around the base of the flowers.  I took one of the cut flowers and threw it out the window, to see if anything moved on the ground.  The morning was quiet, I saw no movement, and decided I was safe.

Open the car door.  Grab the scissors.  Put one foot on the ground next to the bridge flowers.  Keep one foot in the car.  Lean over, grab the whole bunch of flowers, and make one quick cut.  That was my plan.  As I reached down to cut, a very large, very black snake reared up from the center of the bunch…ohshitohshitohshitgetinthecarouch!slammedmyfootinthedoorohshitohshitohshit!  I hit the gas with the car door still open, called my husband, who was still driving north with the kids, and saw my world turning black around the edges.  When my husband answered, he knew what had happened right away.  He's heard that wheezing and moaning before.  He said, "Are you in the car?  Pull over, pull over!"  He knew chances were good I was about to faint.

I actually handled it well this time, considering the size of the snake and the surprise attack it launched at me.  I kept driving, resisted blacking out, and my husband talked me through it.  I was pretty shaky for several hours, and experienced flashbacks, but I didn't faint, so that's progress.

Later that afternoon, after my husband arrived, I drove him out Esch Road to take him and my son to the deserted beach I had walked earlier.  No longer deserted, we couldn't even park, so we drove out and I instructed him to turn down the dirt road to the bridge so I could show him where "the incident" occurred and let him check out Birdie's running route.   As he slowly drove over the bridge, my son hung his head out the window and said, "Oh yeah, there's your snake, Mom".    GoGoGoGoGoGo!  We peeled out of there, spraying dirt and small rocks behind us, and went back to the safety of the campsite.

Later that night, Birdie arrived at the campground with her boyfriend.  After greeting them, I hugged my daughter and said "Guess what?  I found your running trail today!"  She smiled and replied,

"Oh, thanks, mom, but you didn't need to.  I plan to take a break from running this weekend."

This would be an ironic end to my story, wouldn't it? Sadly, I'm an idiot, and the story isn't finished yet.

On the last morning of the Annual Family Camping Trip, I once again arose very early, and decided to drive back to Otter Creek Bridge to get a picture for my blog.  No sane person with a snake phobia would have returned there, but again, I had a plan.  Turning onto the dirt two-track, I stopped the car immediately, left it running, and using a 300mm zoom digital camera lens, leaned out the window to snap a photo of the bridge, where "the incident" happened.  A wild rabbit hopped across the lane, and I shot a beautiful picture of the rabbit sitting right in the spot where the vicious snake attacked me.  Backing out of the dirt road, I breathed a sigh of relief.  Now, I would never again return to the Otter Creek Bridge.

I had my shot for the blog, my family headed home, and I went north to spend a few days in the U.P.
 While there, a huge storm blew in, and I spent a cozy evening in the tin can, with the rain beating down on the roof and the wind gently rocking the camper back and forth.  I passed the time by downloading all my pictures onto the computer, and when the photo of the rabbit at the bridge came up, I thought it was a really pretty picture.  The sun was hitting the rabbit's back, making its fur shine.  The colors were glorious, the picture was perfect.  Wait…what is that long black thing in the lower right corner of the screen?  A stick?  A root?  Zoom in…ohshitohshitohshitohshit!

Yup, you guessed it.  My attack snake was crossing the road in front of my car when I took the picture. I never saw it until I zoomed in on the frame, safe in the tin can staring at my computer.

The next time I decide to go to Otter Creek Bridge, would someone please erect the fallen Hanging Tree and threaten me with it?

Wilderness State Park: A Modern Perspective

Unit Map, Wilderness State Park

My previous post gave a brief history of Wilderness State Park in northern lower Michigan, which is not only interesting but plays a role in the modern day park and how campers and day-use guests enjoy the area.  As stated, most of the area was logged or burnt by fire prior to 1900, leaving only one small stand and scattered trees intact.  Yet, through the efforts of Michigan's outstanding DNR, the area has been allowed to re-grow naturally and now stands as it once did, providing its visitors an opportunity to experience a Michigan landscape as it occurred prior to European settlement.

Every time I drive the 8 mile road into the entrance to Wilderness State Park, I run the risk of losing control of my car because I am so busy looking at the landscape.  It is such a beautiful place, and the thought that I am seeing it almost exactly the same way my ancestors saw it takes my breath away.  The many different eco-systems I pass through were not created by man.  They are a wonder of nature and sustain thousands of different forms of life.  That's pretty cool, would you agree?

I prefer camping in the lower campground, where the lucky few who know how to play the DNR Reservation System can reserve a campsite right on the beach.  The first thing I do upon arriving at my site, before I even set up my tent or unhitch my camper, is walk from my site to the shoreline (it's a short walk!) and stare out at Lake Michigan.  I feel like I've come home!  It never ceases to amaze me how the sandy paths leading to the water are not man-made entirely; The wind sweeps channels through the native dune grasses that naturally carve paths.  The paths may be kept clear from use, but they've always been there.

Once I've set up camp - which, if you know me, you know it takes a while to construct my "glampsite" - I go for a walk on the beach.  One of the nice things about the beach at Wilderness State Park is that's it's sandy, sometimes gravelly, but I have never seen a snake there.  They tend to hide on the more swampy beaches, or along reed-filled inland lakes and streams, but you don't see the snakes on the Northern shoreline of Lake Michigan.  This means I can take my shoes off!

In addition to beach walking, there are 22.75 miles of mapped trails to hike or bike, and metal detecting is permitted in the park, though any items found must be reviewed by park staff and may be retained pending further investigation.  I am always mindful that when I walk the beaches and trails of Wilderness State Park, countless artifacts lie beneath the surface.  It would be amazing to find one, but most likely the park staff would keep it.

Because I have a strong Native American heritage, I feel a connection to this land.  Once, when camping at Wilderness with friends, we met up with a guy who had found a piece of driftwood at the park and fashioned it into something he called a "Spirit Pole".  It is an acknowledgment of the people who came long before us, and is believed to honor the native spirits.  He taught me how to make one and I thoroughly enjoyed planting it beside the campfire and believing my ancestors were with us in spirit.

Every morning of my trip I would ride my bike 2 miles east of the campground, on the road with my faithful (and since departed) dog Murphy.  When we reached our destination, I would climb to the top of a small sand dune overlooking the great lake, let Murphy off his leash, and allow him to run for a bit.  He was a good dog and never strayed too far from me, but the landscape in this particular spot is indicative of much of the Lake Michigan shoreline; sandy open dunes with patches of pines and scrub brush growing out of the dune.  Murphy would weave in and out of the pines, chase mice from the brush, and when he had enough, would come sit next to me, sharing the spectacular view of Lake Michigan.  It was the best way to start my day, peaceful and serene, staring at the water with my dog at my side.  These days, I would be unable to do that; my current dog, Rooney, is a Newfoundland and a naughty one at that.  I could not take him off-leash unless I never wanted to see him again and wanted to risk getting fined by the DNR as Rooney happily swam out in Lake Michigan.

Later in the day I would ride my bike east again and hit the Big Rock Trail or the Hemlock Trail at Mt. Nebo.  Both are great trails, and the last time I was there I had ridden for 6 days straight without seeing a snake.  So when my friends and husband suggested a long group bike ride on our last day there, I was pretty comfortable that I could join them without incident.  I wish I had realized that the grass cutter had preceded us earlier that morning.  We rode up to the Pines campground on top of the hill, saw the buildings that the CCC had built almost a century ago, took the Red Pine Trail past Big Stone Creek and the dam, where I held my breath the entire way ever fearful of snakes, and came back out to the road from the Hemlock Trail.  It was a great ride, I was enjoying the feel of forward movement and laughing with my friends.  As we rode on the road, where the grass cutter had trimmed the tall grasses on the sides of the road just that morning, I looked down and saw it.  A dead snake.  BAM! I am riding faster and faster, panic attack hitting me full force, when I look down and see another one.  My husband sees what is happening and is frantically trying to catch up to me, because he knows I am not breathing and adrenaline is pushing me faster and faster.  The only thing that saved me that day was keeping my feet on my bike pedals (not on the ground) and the kindly old gentleman who passed us in his truck heading back to the campground.  He realized something was wrong and turned back.  My husband lifted me into the cab of the truck, put my bike in the back, and the kind man drove me back to the campsite.  I almost made it through the week without disgracing myself!  What really bothered me, though, was those snakes had been hiding there all week as I happily rode my bike, and only came out when the grass cutter came along.  They were stalking me, I just know it.

Some points of interest, other than snakes, at Wilderness State Park are the CCC-built buildings, the dam, and the many trails.  Also, the majority of the many miles of shoreline consist of wide sandy beaches with scattered cobble, backed by one of the best developed and most diverse forested dune and swale complexes in Michigan, with some spectacular wetland areas mixed throughout, which I avoid for obvious reasons.  The beaches provide some of the habitat in Michigan for the federally endangered piping plover.  The piping plover is a beautiful little bird that nests on the beach, and most of the shoreline in Wilderness is designated protected area as a critical habitat for the bird.  Volunteers guard known nests, and the piping plover is the sole reason why dogs are not allowed anywhere near the beach.  People, too, can inadvertently step on a nest without being aware, and destroy the fragile eggs.  The DNR tracks the birds and protects them as they continue to pair and increase their numbers.

Another point of interest does not come from Mother Nature.  It comes from the general store 1 mile west of the park.  One of the things that brings me back to Wilderness is the Saturday morning glazed donut holes, fresh from the oven at the General Store.  I cannot begin to describe how delicious 2 homemade, warm glazed donut holes are.  Okay, usually I eat 4.  But when I've just returned from my morning ride to find 6 warm nuggets waiting for me, it is like heaven on earth.  I will fill my plate, sit in front of a morning campfire, and listen to the waves as I eat my 8 sweet treats.  Sometimes I have to go for an extra long bike ride to burn off the calories from 10 donut holes, by honestly, even a bike ride can't quite remove the feeling of a dozen warm glazed pastries nesting in my stomach.  Make sure you stop in at the General Store on Saturday morning.  You won't regret it!

On that same trip with friends, we came upon a man on the beach who had 10 kayaks that he allowed people to use for free.  I've said it before, campers are the best people who just want to share their love of the outdoors.  We borrowed a couple of kayaks and paddled around the shores of Lake Michigan for hours, being introduced to an activity that would become a particular interest of mine.  Thanks to the stranger on the beach, I now own a kayak, and plan to discover the blue waters of Lake Huron in it this summer.

If you go to Wilderness State Park - and I hope you do! - go for the unique and varied terrain, the history, the trails, the beach, and the magnificent waters of Lake Michigan.  Experience the donuts, the friendly campers and DNR staff, stunning views and abundant wildlife (except the snakes).  Even though you are not allowed to camp directly on the beach, sometimes you can set your tent up pretty close to the shoreline on the right camp site, put a camp chair next to your tent, and breathe.  After you spend your day swimming, fishing, hiking, biking, discovering and learning, sit in your chair, next to your tent, and look out over the water as the sun sets on another beautiful day.  Sweet dreams, everyone!

NOTE:  For more information on the varied habitats and piping plovers at Wilderness State Park, please go to my source, www.michigan.gov/dnr