The Top 10 Things I've Learned About Camping

Since I started tent camping 25 years ago, and added camping in the tin can 10 years later, I've learned a lot about exploring outside and camping.  Some of these lessons will help readers who are new to camping or getting outside, and experienced adventurers will most likely be able to identify.  At least I hope they will, otherwise I am the most incompetent outdoor adventurer ever!  (Which actually might be true).

1.  Never leave your Mackinac Island Fudge on the picnic table overnight.

Chip discovers 5-Star Dining

Rocky

This one is more important than you'd think.  Leaving fudge, or any other food, out overnight is an open call to all the creatures of the woods.  I only needed to spend one night in a tent listening to Rocky the Raccoon munching on my fudge, then rolling on his back with indigestion to learn the perils of leaving food out.  This same rule holds true for coolers.  Raccoons, bear, chipmunks, and other wild animals are rather industrious.  Put your food in the car or camper, folks, and this includes the dog's food.  Lets keep wild animals wild, and not habituated to people; that's when animals become dangerous.

2.  Never stake your tent at the bottom of a hill.

It was all fun and games until it rained

A newbie mistake, I was scouting out a campsite on a windy day, and discovered the hill behind me blocked the wind, making it easier to set up and keep the tent warmer.  But guess what windy days usually lead to?  Rainy nights.  All that water running down the hill has to go somewhere, and most likely it will all go into your tent.  If I wanted a houseboat, I would have bought a houseboat.  Put your tent in an open, high, flat area, away from trees and hills.

3.  Always carry a walking stick while hiking.

I visited Drummond Island once for a week, snowshoeing and hiking during a mild winter.  I fell in love with the island and its people, so while there I bought a hand-made walking stick from a local merchant, more for sentimental value than anything else.  However, that stick has been a lifesaver on a few occasions.  A clumsy hiker like me finds it very handy to complete my hike even after I've sprained my ankle or twisted my knee.  It also works as a snake beater.

4.  Never trust someone who says "Trust me".

"Is this CO 412? or  CO 423?  Didn't we already pass that fern?"

My friend Debbie will tell you that all of my reassurances that I know what I am doing are of little comfort when you've been lost for eleven hours on two-track after two-track that all look exactly alike.  The experienced outdoor people recognize that in the wilderness, things change but look the same.  Never assume you know where you are going or what lies ahead.  Be prepared, and rely on your own skills to get out of a perilous situation, even if the only skill you have is to carry an emergency beacon so trained rescue personnel can find you.  Been there, done that.

5.  Always look up.  TRUST ME.

"HELLO!"

I can't stress this enough; educate yourself about wildlife and their habits prior to exploring the wilderness.  When it comes to the elusive black bear, especially in Michigan, they are likely to avoid human contact if you follow the rules, therefore you likely will never see one.  However, when hiking, kayaking, climbing, or just sitting by the campfire, don't forget to look up.  Do NOT carry fruit and berries in your backpack, unless in sealed containers.  You might end up with a close encounter you are not prepared for.  Learn how to avoid wildlife.  A bear might look cute and friendly, but he would tear you apart for an apple.

6.  Always unplug your electrical cord before driving away.

Is that a raccoon hanging out of that camper?

This may seem like a no-brainer, but for a camper new to RVing and in a hurry to leave, you'd be surprised how many things you can forget to do before you pull out.  The good news is, you will only make that mistake once.  Seriously, you wouldn't believe how much damage can occur when you drive off with your electrical cord still plugged in and locked to your camper.  Always remember, all those people waving at you on the highway are not being friendly; they are trying to tell you something.  Check windows, doors, steps, hook-ups, and awnings before you leave.  The same goes for tent campers.  Those straps are called tie-downs.  Make sure the kayak on top of your car is, in fact, tied down.

7.  The macho men in the campground are there for a reason.

No carbon monoxide poisoning for me!

I used to get offended by the men who would rush to my aid every time I backed my trailer into a site, but I have gotten over it.  Those same men have, at times, kept me from hitting a tree, changed a tire on my tin can, fixed my propane leak, and found the tiny fuse that fell out of my battery.  Macho men in campgrounds are wonderful.

8.  Always follow the rules.

How many times have I been hiking a trail and seen something very
intriguing off the trail?  Yet every trail head has a sign posted, "Please Stay on the Trail."  This is a good idea for many reasons, but the most important reason is the environment.  Michigan's DNR and DEQ have worked very hard to preserve the delicate balance of nature for all of us to enjoy.  You might think one person walking off trail would be no big deal, yet you'd be wrong.  Follow all posted rules in the woods, wilderness, and waters.  They really are for your protection, and the protection of the beauty all around you.

9.  Always keep your dog on a short leash.

I used to have a furry tail.

There is a narrow, dirt trail that follows a high ridge line along the Big Sable River at Ludington State Park.  When camping there, I walk my Newfoundland, Rooney, every morning along this trail, with the river running below a steep embankment.  I always keep him on a retractable leash and let the leash out 12 feet or so while he runs and does his thing.  After several days of walking that trail, one morning without warning Rooney took off down the steep hill for the river.  After I ended up wrapped around a tree about halfway down, still clinging to Rooney's leash, a macho man once again came to my rescue, pulling me and my dog back up to the trail.  Even if you have a well-behaved dog, the leash rule is important, because someone else might not have a well behaved dog (like me), and there are wild animals out there.  Keep your furry friend close by your side, unless you are sitting by the campfire.  Rooney has caught his tail on fire 3 times while sitting at my side.  It took us awhile, but lesson learned.

10.  Carry duct tape.

Even camping in a well-populated campground can bring unexpected challenges.  Be prepared for just about everything you can imagine going wrong, and a few things you haven't thought of yet, though eventually you will.  Weather, drunk campers, animals, equipment failure, and an aging, forgetful mind can lead to all kinds of potential disasters.  When the disasters come, make sure you've brought your sense of humor and an extra bottle of water along, but most importantly, always carry duct tape.  A fresh bottle of water and a full roll of duct tape can solve 99% of your problems while camping and enjoying the outdoors.  Hole in your boot?  Duct tape.  Sudden downpour?  Secure a natural shelter with duct tape.  Broken fishing pole?  Duct tape.  Leaky tent?  Duct tape.  Loose wire on your camper?  You know what to do.

I am sure as time goes on, I will discover many more tips for surviving outside.  But these are the top things I've learned so far.  Do you have anything to add?  I would love to hear your stories and advice!

Happy Spring everybody, and Go Outside!

Two Tyttos on the Way to the Kaymala

After leaving the Porcupine Mountains to join Debbie at Brimley State Park, I was feeling a bit out of sorts.  I had dreamed my whole life of going to the Porkies, and I wasn't ready to leave yet.  Arriving at Brimley in the cold and rain didn't help.  But since I enjoy time with Debbie so much, I was starting to settle in, though with a lingering sadness that I just couldn't shake.  Our second morning at Brimley was still cold and overcast, but the rain had stopped.  I took advantage of the weather to stock up on firewood, fill my water tank, and clean up inside the tin can.  Then we were off again to explore the more civilized sites around Brimley.

First stop:  The Old Indian Burial Ground on the Ojibwe Reservation.  Debbie and I wanted to explore inside the grounds, but signs on the wrought iron fence prohibited entering, and I am a rule follower, so we used our imaginations to determine what was inside all the little boxes.  I had read somewhere that Indians would bury their dead in a shallow mound for 9 months, then dig up the bones and place them in a wooden box above ground.  I didn't know if this is true, but a quick internet search at the Coffee House revealed the boxes to be Spirit Houses, which were built to house the spirits that protect the grave, and supplied with tools and resources the dead would need to enter the spirit world.  We couldn't see what was inside the boxes, but had fun guessing!

I had promised Debbie we would go to a lighthouse.  The previous year was the first time she had seen one, and after falling in love with all the lore about Michigan Lighthouses, Debbie made a pledge to see as many as possible.  We drove 7 miles to the Point Iroquois Lighthouse, and by this time I had to use the restroom, like now.  (This seems to be a recurring theme on my travels with Debbie).  As we pulled into the parking lot, I spotted a restroom building on my right and parked in front of a sign that read "Due to the government shutdown, this facility is closed".   Noooooooooooo!  The Point Iroquois Lighthouse is federally owned.  Did not know that.  We got out of the car, and with a certain amount of envy I let Rooney pee on a bush.  An old man came ambling over to us, asking if we needed to use the restroom.  I guess his first clue was the fact that I parked right next to the door to the Ladies' Room.  His second clue may have been the fact that I was walking with my legs crossed.  He explained that he was a volunteer light keeper, and had keys to the bathroom.  

Google Images

"What are they gonna do?  Fire me?  I'm a 78 year old volunteer, I don't care what they do!"  I fell a little bit in love with the old light keeper.

We couldn't tour the lighthouse, but after gratefully using the restroom Debbie and I walked down to the shore of Lake Superior.  The lake was whipping herself into a fury, with cloudy skies and a fierce wind.  Wearing my Hunter rubber boots, I was able to wade the frigid waters to find a few interesting rocks, while Debbie braved going barefoot.  It was a beautiful area and we happily spent some time rock hunting and letting Rooney swim.  As we were leaving, we saw a sign informing us it is a Federal Crime to remove any rocks from the beach.  We ran for the car, laughing and emptying our pockets along the way, lest some Secret Service Agent was hiding in the trees with binoculars, waiting to slap the cuffs on us and haul us away to Leavenworth.  

That pretty much ended our exploring for this trip.  The weather really was miserable.  A bonfire and a good book sounded just right, so we headed back to the campground.

I always try to keep moving on these trips, because I am well aware of what habits we will fall into at the campsite.  Sit, and eat.  Sit some more, eat some more.  Watch the clock until it's 6:00pm, then add drink to the routine.  To be honest, sometimes I enjoy doing nothing for a while, but then I get bored.  That's when the trouble usually starts.

I was restless.  The rain had started up again, this time harder.  There are no trails in Brimley, nowhere to hike.  The beach behind our campsite was cold and wet.  The campground was just about full with Halloween campers, people were outside around campfires with massive tarps over their sites, children were running and laughing, families shouted back and forth, and here sat Debbie and me, anti-social, alone.  Boring.

Then I realized that the official campground Trick-or-Treating had begun!  If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.  Debbie rudely ignored my newfound enthusiasm as she stayed right next to the fire reading, but I went out to the front of our site with a bowl of candy and my Martha Stewart decorations to greet the families.  While I wasn't technically wearing a costume, Debbie pointed out that the wind and rain had done such a number on my hair, I easily could pass for a scarecrow.  

I spent an hour exclaiming over the kiddies' costumes, calling out to Debbie who pretended she couldn't hear me over the wind, and passing out all the candy.  By the time the last of the trick-or-treaters moved on, I was restless again.  Then the rain picked up, coming down hard enough to make the fire sizzle, and we were forced to run into the tin can.

If you've never seen my tin can, let me explain how this works.  Even though the trailer is 22' long, there is about 4' of empty floor space inside.  Within that 4' space, I have a chair and table.  Now, add my 130lb dog to the 4' space.  You start to get the idea, right?  It was crowded in the tin can.  

Between leaving the mountains too soon, the crappy weather, no trails, a crowded camper and a full campground, I was starting to get a little crazy, and Debbie was not a happy camper.  It was time for a change.

The rest of our evening definitely involves shenanigans, probably involves a little rule-breaking, but I will neither admit or deny the involvement of Captain Morgan.  That's for you to decide.  It began when I heated some apple cider and pulled out a booklet called A Troll's Guide to the Better Understanding of the Yoopanese Language.  Things really started looking up when, after the third mug of hot cider, which may or may not have been embellished by the Captain, Debbie challenged me to speak nothing but Yoopanese the rest of the night.  I double-dog dared her to do same.  All of that would have been great for a few laughs, but we upped the ante when we decided to take our skilled language use to the streets…or at least the drives in the campground.  Donning raincoats and flashlights, we left the warmth and safety of the tin can to visit the four-holer (a bathroom with four stalls) and speak to as many people as possible in our acquired language along the way.

At each decorated site we passed, we called out to the groups of hardy campers huddled under their awnings with kegs of beer, "Lookin' spooky over there, eh?"  If the campers replied with "Oh ya, you betcha!"  Debbie and I laughed and high-fived each other, knowing we had found real Yoopers.  We easily conversed with natives about such important matters as terrorists (people from Detroit who only come to the U.P. during deer season), Chicquito Repellant (12-gauge shotgun), Nubbas (knitted hats worn by Yooper grannies), Camp (Yoopers' second home), Side By Each (standing next to each other), and Kits (children).

One such conversation went something like this:

Yooper:  "I see yer wearing da Kromer" (Official hat of Yoopers, a Stormy Kromer)

Me:  "Oh, ya, you betcha.  Youse guys dem guys wit ta Yooper Caddy?"  (Chevy Impala with no rust)

Yooper:  "Ya.  She was in da crotch, (garage), but we git her runnin"

Me:  "She do a Yogi?" (a controlled 360 degree skid)

Yooper:  "Oh, ya, you betcha.  Not wit a Trooper doh"  (Meaning a student from the lower peninsula who attends a U.P. college should not attempt a Yogi, even in an Impala)

Me:  "Youse got sinkers dere?"  (asking for one of their donuts)

Yooper:  "Ya, but dey got hard.  Need mud"  (coffee)

Me:  "I got mud.  Need sinkers"

Everyone:  Laugh

I must say, Debbie and I got pretty good at Yoopanese.  Or in udder words, we was reg-you-lar Jackpine Savages, eh?  All we needed was plaid shirts and no one would have ever guessed we were Lopers.

We weren't making fun of Yoopers.  I love the way they talk, and the way they laugh with us, not at us.  I love Yoopers because they are cheerful, positive, and hardy.  They welcome even a Troll like me, make me feel like I belong.  They are helpful and creative and strong.  Maybe, that's the real reason why I keep dragging Debbie to the U.P.

Maybe I wasn't really trying to force Debbie to love the wilderness.  I think, all along, I wanted to introduce her to a place where community is everything.  Perhaps I wanted Debbie to know that when I leave home, I go to a place that is its own little country, with its own rules and language, its own culture, and its a good place, with good people.  I just want Debbie to know she is welcome here.

We get so caught up in everything in our real lives at home.  Cell phones, iPads, and internet govern our time.  Throw in a few meetings and a crisis or two, teenage kids' drama, and the PTA, and it's easy to forget about the people in your life as you are overwhelmed by the problems in your life.  But in Michigan's U.P., the information age still consists of neighbors visiting neighbors.  The problems arise from a fickle Mother Nature, and life's joys come in the simplest packages.  Yoopers are slow to judge, quick to help, hard to offend, and easy to know.  For one hour that night, Debbie was one of them.  She walked in the rain.  She laughed.  She ended sentences with "eh?".  She left all her fears and worries in the tin can and put herself out there with no pretensions.  This is what I wanted to share with her.

The tin can is a means of travel.  It makes it possible for me to find peace.  But perhaps Debbie and I are cheating ourselves by hiding in a corner of a campground.  The peace isn't found in the tin can, it is found when we leave the tin can, put ourselves out there, and join a community of good people.  We are already talking about where we might go next year.  She still has her list of requirements for our location, with things like water and electricity listed as a high priority.   I have only one condition:  we must go to the U.P.   It's where we belong.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  The title of this post uses two Finnish words commonly heard in the U.P.  

Tytto means "girl", and Kaymala means "toilet".  

The Not-So-Adventurous Adventures of Two Anti-Social Introverted Recluses

In October 2012, I tried to ignite a passion in my best friend Debbie for outdoor adventure.  It was an epic fail.  To be fair to Debbie, getting her lost in the wilderness for 11 hours probably wasn't the best way to introduce her to my love of adventure.  She gave it her best shot, but Debbie will never share my love for hiking in the middle of nowhere among the wild animals, though somewhere out there is a hibernating bear who can't get "God Bless America" out of his head, thanks to Debbie's attempts to warn him of our presence.

Our annual Fall Camping Trip had become such an important part of our friendship, that despite her fear, Debbie agreed to join me again in October 2013, though she offered up a few rules, contingencies, and guidelines.  She would come, but if I wanted to set foot on a trail, she would be happily waving me on my way from the campfire.  If I wanted to venture any distance from the campground, she would only accompany me if we were going someplace with lots of people.  And electricity.  During our travels, she must have the opportunity to take a break from exploring and eat real food, not the leaves from a plant that is probably not poisonous, if I'm reading the Field Guide correctly.

Ok, it's not quite the way I camp, but for Debbie, I would do anything.  After exploring the Porcupine Mountain Wilderness area for a week on my own, I agreed to meet Debbie at Brimley State Park in Michigan's Upper Peninsula.  Brimley is a little more connected to civilization, has hot showers in the Bath House, and is close to the Bay Mills Ojibwe Indian Community.  After experiencing temperatures in the 80's the week before, we arrived during a steady rain and 40 degrees.  Brrrrr.

I got there first, and found a deserted campground located on the shore of Lake Superior, just north of Sault St. Marie.  Much to my delight, I only saw three other campers in the entire park.  Then the park ranger informed me I had arrived on the busiest and most fun weekend of the whole year, HalloweenFest!  Within a day, the campground filled up, happy campers turned their sites into haunted houses and cemeteries, and echoes of eerie halloween music and owl calls were ringing through the air.  Lovely.  The two introverted anti-social recluses on Site #55 didn't stand a chance.

I like to join the spirit of things, so I ran back into town, and on a meager budget, did what I could to decorate our campsite.  I thought it looked nice, until
another camper remarked, somewhat snidely, that my decorations were "very Martha-Stewart".  I don't think it was a compliment.

By the time Debbie arrived, I had the camper all set up and a fire going.  It was drizzling rain, but the massive tree in our site kept most of the rain at bay.  I grilled the Salmon, brought by Debbie, over the fire, while she used her legs as a barrier to keep Rooney from stealing our dinner.

Debbie and I could easily spend days doing nothing more than sitting by an open fire, reading, talking, laughing, eating M&M's, and enjoying the outdoors.  But there were a few things in the area worth seeing.  On Friday morning we took our time getting ready.  It was very chilly and rainy outside.  I think we both were reluctant to tell the other we really didn't want to go anywhere, so we each showered and prepared for the day ahead, reluctantly getting in the car to go explore the nearby civilization.

Our first stop was at a delightful coffee cafe in Bay Mills.  Owned by an authentic Ojibwe Indian woman and aptly named "Coffee House", the ramshackle building held the promise of intrigue and treasure within.  The owner proudly explained to me her ways of growing organic beans and preparing the purest cup of coffee I've ever tasted.  She did not disappoint.  Debbie and I enjoyed fresh bowls of soup while we surfed the internet - yes, I said internet, while camping, no less - for the timetables at the Soo Locks.  Then, after a leisurely exploration of the local art for sale in Coffee House, we left to watch the big boats go through the time honored tradition of transferring from Lake Huron to Lake Superior through a 21' drop in the St. Mary's river.  Canada lies on one side of the river, Michigan on the other.  In Sault St. Marie, visitors can view the ships passing through the lock system from a platform, and the Visitor's Center provides schedules, information about each vessel, and an in-depth look at the history and construction of the locks.

If you have never been to the Soo Locks in Sault St. Marie, it is worth the trip.  While the two oldest locks are no longer in use, vessels carrying iron ore, coal, cement, limestone, grain, salt, or sand use the MacArthur Lock, built in 1943, which accommodates vessels 800ft long, 80 ft wide, and 31ft deep.  The big Lakers need to use the Poe Lock, added in 1968, built 1200ft long, 110ft wide, and 32ft deep.  Debbie and I were lucky enough to watch the largest vessel on the Great Lakes, the Paul R. Tregurtha,
go through the Poe Lock.  It was an awesome sight to see, even though we had lost all feeling in our fingers and toes and our noses were turning blue from the cold rain.  We toughed it out, then walked across the street to a local bar and had a hot lunch, which had no leaves, berries, or twigs whatsoever on the menu.

We agreed that seeing the Soo Locks was a
worthy experience, but we were ready to head back to the tin can for heat, naps, and dinner.

Even though Brimley State Park isn't exactly in the wilderness, there is something about walking
through the door of the tin can when you are wet, tired, and cold, feeling her warmth descend over you, and welcoming you to rest.  I crawled into my bed, Debbie fought with Rooney over the couch and won, and as we drifted off to la-la land, the rain was singing a lullaby on the tin roof.

When we emerged once more into the rain, Debbie, Rooney and I spent a relaxing evening by the fire, admiring the campers who strung huge tarps over their campfires while we huddled in our chairs with blankets and umbrellas.  Debbie will be the first to tell you, it is hard to pour more wine when you're hanging onto an umbrella and fighting off the glowing embers that keep landing on your lap, but she rose to the challenge.  We watched with some dismay as the new campers continued to arrive late into the night, setting up their rigs in the rain and cursing their spouses loudly.  (That's what happens to otherwise loving couples when setting up camp in the dark and the rain while the kids are running loose, wreaking havoc).  Halloween lights were being strung, dry-ice fog machines were fired up, and the general atmosphere of the campground was a spooky forest surrounding my Martha Stewart decorations.

The next day, however, and in true Kiki-Debbie form, things got much more interesting.  Unfortunately, children are about to descend into my quiet writing space, so you'll have to wait to hear the rest of the story.  Suffice it to say, it was a cold and blustery day, and our good friend Captain Morgan made an appearance.

The Snow Day That Shouldn't Have Been

Yesterday was not a fun day.  Or it was.  It depends on how you look at it.

I started my day the same way I start every week day.  Up at 4:45am, prepare my hockey coach husband a cup of coffee to go, start his truck, send him off at 5:00am to hockey practice, then with a hot cup o' Joe for me, sit down at my laptop and have some fun.

I turned on the TV, because even though the most recent snowstorm had blown through on Saturday and I assumed that by Monday morning the roads would be clear and the kids would go to school, I never underestimate the power of the IIC (Idiots In Charge) to cancel school on a whim.  Hmmm…two school districts north of town had already announced closings.  No worries, they are rural areas, probably not plowed yet.  We will have school.  Definitely.

Scuba called me on his way to the rink, said the roads are clear, they will have school.  Definitely.

But the "others" on Facebook disagreed.

The "others" are the hockey moms who also get up long before the sun rises to make sure their hockey players leave on time for practice, then snuggle back into bed with cell phones and tablets to have lively interactions on Facebook.  I also throw my bff Debbie into the "others" category.  She doesn't have a hockey player, she just never sleeps.  One of the most interesting parts of my day is the early morning discussions on Facebook with the "others".

But yesterday, the "others" were being very vocal about wanting a snow day.  I am in the minority among moms who hate snow days.  God made schools for a reason, and kids should go there 5 days a week.  So with caution to push the limits without being offensive, I began a lively banter with the "others" about whether the kids should have a snow day.

A Road in the U.P.

They worry about their teenaged kids driving on slippery roads.  I worry that we are raising a generation of kids who will believe that, even though they live in one of the northern most states in America, a few inches of snow means everything stops.  The "others" wouldn't last a day in the U.P.!

At this point the TV has added a few new announcements at the bottom of the screen.  I started counting school delays and closings, because there are certain rules that the IIC is supposed to follow regarding snow days.  My kids go to Catholic Schools, and the general rule is that 4 other districts in our county have to have a delay or closing in order for us to follow suit.  At this point, the count was 2 closed, 2 delayed, but the city schools were still open, which means we have busses.  So we're still ok.

As the "others" and I continued our argument about whether our kids should go to school, one of the hockey moms posted a comment about something making noise outside her window.  Though Jo was mildly concerned, she did not want to get out of her warm bed to investigate.  I suggested it might be a bear, even though we have no bears this far south in Michigan.  That got her going!

Now another school has announced a closing, and one more delay.  But city schools are still open, and the count was at 3 closings and 3 delays, so we're good.  Surely, we would have school, right?

I offered to drive over to Jo's with my camera to capture her bear in the act, but mostly to prove that the roads in her neighborhood were fine.  She insisted the bus could not drive on her unplowed road.  Wimps.  But it was 1degree outside, and my car had 10 inches of snow piled on it, so I stayed put, eyes glued to the TV.

Our Road

By 6:15, no announcement had been made regarding our schools, so I prepared to wake Bean and get her ready for school.  5 minutes later, they cancelled school.  Really?  But the roads are not that bad.

I was incensed, and took it out on all the "others" who were waiting, wishing, hoping for a snow day.  Two minutes later, Bean sent me a text message from her bedroom asking if she could get up since she already knows school is cancelled.  My day just went down the toilet.

Bean and I went to the grocery store.  I drove her to another town 30 minutes away to play in the snow with a friend.  I ran errands.  The roads were clear, and there was absolutely no reason the kids should have a snow day.  This bothered me so much that I couldn't get past it all day.  Why aren't they in school?  Who makes this decision?  I want answers!

I became so agitated at the spineless, nameless person who is teaching our kids to be lazy and fearful, I finally had to find a way to seek some peace.  I grabbed my camera, and did what I do best; I went outside.

There is something special about being outside right after a snowstorm.  The air is so clear and crisp, everything is blanketed in white, and sounds are muted.  The quiet is complete and all senses are awake.  I walked, I took pictures, I breathed.  I listened, and filled myself with the clean scent, felt the cold air.  It made me feel so alive!  I needed my own snow day, a day to experience the elements of a Michigan winter and remember why I choose to live here.  It helped me to understand that maybe the kids need a snow day, too, not to sit in a stuffy classroom and stare out the window, but to bundle up and go outside to build a snowman, jump in a snowbank, run and play, and nurture a love for nature any time of year.  Bean was off with a friend, staying outside
and laughing, not like a teenager, but like a kid who delights in something as simple as snow.  I was a solitary soul embracing the woods, the wind, the cold, and I found my peace, painted white and waiting for me to leave my footprints in its virgin ground.  When you walk in the snow, you leave a message to Mother Nature that says "I was here".

Later, when I picked Bean up to bring her home, her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were bright.  All the way home, I listened to her excited chatter about what she did outside all day, and she reminded me of…me.  It was a good snow day.

This morning on Facebook, Jo informed me that even though we got an additional inch of snow last night, the kids would have school and her bear did not make a return appearance.  All I had to do was plant the tiniest seed of thought, and I've got Jo snuggled in her bed listening for a bear that could not exist here.  Ain't life grand?

I hope that today, wherever you are and whatever you're doing, you find your moment of peace.  Just go outside, peace is waiting for you.

Guest Post from Girly Camping: 5 Reasons You Should Go Camping

Camping is a great and affordable way to get away, any time of year.  Today, I am sharing a guest post from one of my favorite blogs, Girly Camping.  The author is witty and always gives me a new insight into why I camp, sharing her own tips, gear reviews, and stories from the outdoors.  In this post, she gives us the top five reasons we should go camping, whether we are experienced campers or just starting out!

5 Reasons You Should Go Camping  Posted by Mandie GirlyCamping in Camping Trips

I love camping! I love the outdoors! But I haven’t always been a fan! If you would of told me a few years ago I would be writing an outdoor blog, I would have laughed in your face! But I love it and I wish I would have discovered that a lot sooner! Here are 5 reasons you should go camping:

1. Being one with nature. Have you ever taken a hike… like a real hike into the mountains? Its beautiful and peaceful! You really start taking a look at the beauty around you! And bring your camera along! You’d be surprise at the rad pictures you take! I know there’s an inner photographer inside!
2. Exercise. One thing great about being outside is the exercise you get! Get moving by hiking in to a spot, setting up your tent, going for a hike, playing games- there are tons of things to do outside! I find being outside makes me motivated to not be lazy!
3. Quiet time. If you run out of things to do, just relax! Turn that cell phone off, put the iPod away, and just soak it up! You work hard anyways- you deserve a break and some peace and quiet! Listen to the river running, breeze blowing through the trees, crickets chirping, the bears growling- just kidding! But the other stuff is pretty awesome 
4. Its cheap. Ok, let me rephrase that- its cheaper than planning a vacation and once you get your gear, its practically free every time! We save money by going camping on the weekends rather than going out with friends and eating at restaurants!
5. Rekindle that relationship. My favorite part about camping is sitting around the camp fire talking about good old times and discussing life! No distractions- just conversation. Its something we don’t see too often any more and we so desperately need!

Happy Camping!!

Be sure to check out Mandie's blog, Girly Camping, for more stories.  

The Porcupine Mountains Series Part 1: Hallowed Hollow Ground

I like trees.  This is a bit of an ongoing argument at my house, because Scuba likes to cut down trees.  I understand his concern with things like pine needles and leaves clogging eaves troughs, and roots
infringing on the driveway.  However, I always point out the trees were here first, so I win.

If I could get Scuba to take a day-long hike through the Porcupine Mountains, I might be able to change his way of thinking.  A long time ago, before settlers arrived in Michigan, Wisconsin, and Minnesota, those lands contained 81 million acres of undisturbed, closed-canopy forest.  About half of this land consisted of forests of sugar maple, eastern hemlock, yellow birch, American basswood, northern red oak, and eastern white pine.  Today, less than 0.2% of these hardwood-hemlock forests survive as virgin (never been logged) forests.  The largest of these virgin forests is in the Porcupine Mountains, with 35,000 acres of relatively undisturbed hardwoods and hemlocks.*

I only saw a fraction of that while hiking the Porkies, but it is really something to see.

It's not that portions of the Porcupine Wilderness has never been logged.  In the late 1800's, tracts of land were purchased to log the white pine and cedar stands.  Sadly, remnants of the logging era still remain today, where century-old pine stumps can be seen all along the Lake Superior shoreline.*  But the difficulties of logging in this wilderness area pushed the logging barons to other places by the early 1900's.  As technology advanced, some logging activity took place until the early 1940's.  The last logging operations in the Porcupine Mountains occurred in 1953-1954, after a wind storm left a blowdown of centuries-old trees between the mouth of the Big Carp River and Summit Peak.  After the storm, park officials contracted with Connor Lumber and Land Company to salvage the timber in exchange for land the park wanted.  When the salvage of the timber was complete in 1954, the Michigan Conservation Commission declared the Porcupine Mountains a Nature Reserve, thereby protecting the remaining virgin stands from further logging.*

Darkness in Daylight

My favorite tree is the Hemlock.  When hiking on Government Peak trail to the top of a
mountain is halted by a majestic 400 year old tree, I can't just walk around it.  I must take a moment to study its solidity, its gnarled roots visible below my feet, yet stretching deep into the mountain rock for stability.  Standing under its branches, I am awed by the darkness at the height of day, the mighty Hemlock blocking the warmth of the sun, yet radiating its own heat down on the earth.  I am humbled by its strength, inspired by its endurance, and joyful at its beauty.

As I hiked, I noticed from time to time my footsteps made a hollow sound, like I was walking on a drum, and I wondered about it.
Later, a visit with Bob Wild of the DNR shed some light on this phenomenon.  The mountains are a result of millions of years of volcanic eruptions and tetonic plates moving around, and have a strong foundation of rock.  The Hemlocks traveled through pollination and took root in the glacial deposits and rock, but the roots necessarily grow down through the earth.  In various places, especially where the virgin Hemlocks stand, the root formations under the rock have created pockets of air, or hollow places.  At first I found this unsettling, but Bob explained that the roots serve to strengthen the framework under the ground.  He pointed out that the "hollow" ground on which I walked felt very hard and solid.  As my time progressed in the mountains, I came to think of these areas as walking on hallowed, hollow ground.  Bob liked my description.

Those same roots, exposed above the crust of the mountain, act like fingers, reaching out to claw and grab.  It is entirely possible that a lone hiker could find herself having some difficulty navigating the Hemlock roots, which brings up the age old question; if a hiker stumbles and trips her way up (and occasionally, back down) a trail, but no one is there to see it, did it really happen?  So I found myself being quick and light of foot, following in the steps of my American Indian ancestors with speed and agility on my hike.  That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

The entire 7.3 mile hike up Government Trail was made worth it by the rest stop I took at Trap Falls.  Stumbling…um, I mean, gracefully stepping, into a designated backcountry campsite, complete with a bear pole, and finding a rustic outpost of the most delightful design, was a much welcome respite from the hike.  Many others who had traveled this way before me had created an outdoor home complete with chairs, tables, fire pit, and the soothing sound of Trap Falls cascading into the Carp River.

Rooney ran down the steep bank to drink from the cool, clear water, while I sat on a log and drank my bottled water.  I looked up, at the mighty Hemlocks.  I looked over, at the bear pole where countless hikers have hung their food.  I looked around, at the natural impression in the mountain that gives a small but flat place to set up camp.  I looked down, at the water flowing over and around ancient rocks, and I thought "God is good, and Michigan's DNR is awesome."

I stayed longer than I should have, but found it difficult to leave this magical speck of earth.  As I climbed up the steep bank back to the trail, a Hemlock branch was there to give me a hand up.  In gratitude, I saluted the tree, and envied its post.  To be a sentinel over this beautiful mountain, and this very spot where people seek shelter, is a duty that can only be given by God.

Eastern Hemlock can be found throughout the park.  They can live 500 years or more, and reach 100 feet in height.


Arriving here from the eastern Allegheny forests 3,000 years ago, their thick canopy of needles provides not just shade from the sun, but shelter in the winter, attracting deer in the snowy months.  Hemlock stands become deer yards during the winter, where the deer feed on buds and needles.  The tannins in the needles and bark of the Hemlocks also creates the reddish-brown color of the streams and rivers in the park through runoff.*  All through my hike up to Government Peak, I marveled at the Hemlocks, seeing the effects of them everywhere I looked.  They are a living, dynamic presence which urged me to keep going, even as I tired.

Root growing over Rock

I found a sense of inspiration in the woods.  The Hemlock will not be daunted, giving me the idea that the next time someone challenges me to a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors, I want to be a Tree!

Throughout my hikes up the mountains, I forged ahead, I reached the top, and I came back down.  I followed the rules, carrying out my empty water bottles and granola bar wrappers.  Because God has given us this amazing place, but the DNR, hikers, and nature lovers are bestowed with the responsibility of keeping it amazing, I was careful not to disturb the balance or leave anything but footprints, and possibly a little bit of flesh and blood from my leg, but that's a story for another time.  I hope that someday, my husband will walk the mountains with me, and see what I've seen, and never cut down another healthy tree again.  Then again, he usually cuts them down when I'm not home, so if I'm not there to see the tree fall, did he really fell the tree?  That's his story, and he's sticking to it.

*All of the historical and environmental information in this post comes from The Last Porcupine Mountains Companion, Fifth Edition, by Michael Rafferty and Robert Sprague, published by Nequaker Natural History Associates, 2012.   I strongly recommend reading this book prior to a visit to the Porcupine Mountains.  It will not only give you helpful tips for exploring the park, but will also enhance your understanding of what you will experience here.