The End of The Story…But Not The Journey!

Even though this story is too long already, I will continue, because it's almost over, and I promised my readers I would finish it this time, so here we go…

After spending eleven hours in the wilderness, lost at times, and completely unprepared, we had finally returned to the old Airstream and settled in for the night.  However, when I turned the light off at midnight, I found that I couldn't sleep.  I could hear Debbie flipping and flopping in her bed, and I was suddenly wide awake.  Calling to the front of the tin can, I said,

"I'm wide awake."

Debbie replied,

"Bonfire?"

We jumped up, went outside, lit the torches again, stoked up the fire, and got our camp chairs out.  Rooney chose to stay in the camper, and I made hot chocolate which may or may not have had a little Peppermint Schnapps in it.  

Because we were now safely in familiar territory, we began recounting our day with a different spin on it.  Looking back, we found it to be rather hilarious.  I'm not sure if the memories we made that day were really that funny, or if the exhaustion had finally demented our minds, or if the alleged schnapps played a role, but we laughed hysterically for the next hour and a half.

During the course of this very long day, we hiked to Clark Lake, we saw Culhane Lake, we explored Crisp Point Lighthouse.  We saw bear tracks.  We walked the beach where my dog ran free.  We met an old and bitter woman, and saw a phone booth where no phone booth should be.  We searched for cell phone reception and forget about OnStar.  We never saw a snake, a bear, a moose, or a mountain lion, but we saw the effects of a recent forest fire, and walked on a bouncy bridge.  We breathed in the Two Hearted River.

It was a good day, the best kind of day, because very little went according to plan.  

We learned to throw away the plan, and let the wilderness take us down a new path.  Debbie learned to trust me again, and I learned to trust her, to trust that she is stronger than she believes.  When I finally went to bed for the second time that night, I slept deeply.  I no longer dreamt of the Two Hearted River, because it was now a living thing inside of me, the river became part of me.  I was so filled with its delicate balance that I became balanced.  It is the reason I came to the U.P. and the reason for my memorable adventure with Debbie and Rooney.  I will hold on to that memory forever!

So this is the end of the story, but…we still had a few more days to go, and trust me (you really can you know) I have new stories to tell!

You've Got Four Wheel Drive, Right? - Part 1

Two women set out on an adventure.  It was supposed to be a three hour tour, but like the Captain and Gilligan, things didn't quite turn out that way.  We got hopelessly lost in the wilderness of Michigan's Upper Peninsula, where friendly strangers who give helpful directions are few and far between.  We did, however, encounter a few strangers who gave bad directions.  They were lost, too.

But being lost in the wilderness isn't always a bad thing, if you are prepared.  We were not.

As we gathered ourselves that morning, we discussed the plan.  Debbie was really nervous about retracing my earlier steps to Clark Lake, but I was being stubborn because I so wanted her to experience it.  I promised her a quick ten minute hike, since I now knew I could drive to the parking area instead of walk to it, take in the beauty of an uninhabited lake, walk ten minutes back to the car and she would be done.  I compromised on the rest of the plan, promising that we would drive more and hike less, and she could stay in the Yukon any time I set out to explore.

I gave us an hour in the plan to see Clark Lake, then we would drive another 30 minutes or so, according to my map, to the Two Hearted River.  This was a very personal quest for me; when I was a young child, my parents took me there, but due to a series of mishaps we only spent a few minutes at the river and I have always dreamed of going back.  Debbie planned to stay in the car for this part, so I gave myself an hour to explore the river, then another 30 minutes back to civilization in the form of a brewery at the Upper Tahquamenon Falls.  I said to Debbie,

"Trust me.  Three hours from now you'll be sipping wine and surrounded by people".

This isn't my idea of exploring the wilderness, but I was so happy that Debbie had agreed to join me, I was willing to alter my adventure to give her some peace of mind.  I wanted her to enjoy it, pushing a little bit outside of her comfort zone without ruining her recent appreciation for camping.

I put a couple of bottles of water in my Yukon, a blanket, my hiking stick, and my gun.  Debbie came out of the tin can wearing designer boots (at least the heel was flat), a ski jacket beautifully accessorized with a silk scarf, and carrying a telescopic pole in one hand, a can of pepper spray in the other.  Huh.
I once again reassured her that we would not see any snakes or bear, or moose, or mountain lions.  Trust me.

Rooney jumped in the back of the Yukon and we set out.  The road to the Clark Lake trail head was only two miles away, but the two-track to the trail was not in very good shape, so it was slow going.  Once we parked, Debbie did not want to get out of the car.  She was a bit dismayed by the fact that we really were in the middle of nowhere, and far removed from civilization.  She admitted to being really scared, but took a few deep breaths and got out of the car.  It wasn't until we had been on the trail for a few minutes that I realized just how frightened she was.  I started regretting my decision to push her, but in the spirit of adventure Debbie forged on.

She kept up a constant stream of noise, holding her pepper spray out in front of her.  She called out to the bear, "Yoo hoo, bear, we're coming!"  She whistled.  She talked.  Loudly.  Finally I begged her to just take in the incredible quiet and beauty around us, but she was incapable, so I joined her by singing patriotic songs at the top of my lungs.  There we were, hiking up a stunning trail in the wilderness, me with my gun at the ready, Debbie calling out and pointing pepper spray in every direction, pointy pole poised in front of her, singing "God Bless America".  Rooney looked back at us like we were crazy.  Maybe we were, but Debbie was out there, putting one foot in front of the other, and I was about to show my friend a place of untouched natural beauty and calm.

Prepper Debbie!

As soon as we came within sight of Clark Lake, Debbie fell silent.  Our surroundings made her fear fall away and her exhilaration return.  Clark Lake is that beautiful!  We sat on the ground at the top of a steep bank overlooking the lake.  There was total silence, broken only by a quick wind.  Even Rooney stopped panting and simply stared at the water.  This is what I wanted Debbie to experience, to feel.  I wanted her to breathe in her surroundings and feel the touch of God on her shoulder.

I think Debbie was a little less scared on the hike back.  Rooney's escapade of stealing the bowl of butter toffee peanuts came back to haunt him several times on that walk.  We never found out if a bear shits in the woods, but Rooney definitely does.  Debbie was visibly relieved to see the car, but she was quieter as we walked, and I hope that she was feeling a bit of what I feel when hiking in the wilderness.

Me, Rooney, and Clark Lake

It wasn't until we drank some water and were safely driving back out the two track that I confessed my dirty little secret to her.  When I had hiked out here a couple of days ago, I saw a snake.  So much for trusting the firewood guy.  Or me.

Rooney tangled around a tree

We were headed to the River!  I was so excited to see it again!  I turned onto a dirt road, County Road 500.  Having studied Google Maps for hours, I knew right where to go.  As we drove north, we passed a turnoff for Culhane Lake.  It looked intriguing.  We turned around and went back to take pictures, encountering three men who were scouting out fishing places.  Chatting with them, I mentioned where we were going, and they remarked that they didn't know where the Two Hearted River is, but assumed we were heading to Crisp Point to see the lighthouse.  Since Debbie has never seen a lighthouse, I asked them how far away it is.  They said it was just seven miles up the road, saying,

"You've got four-wheel drive, right?"

We altered our plan a bit and followed signs for Crisp Point.

Crisp Point was one of four original Lake Superior Life Saving Stations.  Fifteen acres of land with a quarter mile of Lake Superior frontage were purchased in 1903 for $30, and the light became operational in 1904.  Since then, the severe weather conditions of Lake Superior have decreased the acreage through erosion to less than 3 acres today.  The tower stands 58' in height, and the station included a service building attached to the tower, a two family brick keepers house, a fog signal building, a boat house, oil house, and barn.  Over the years, all buildings have been so vandalized that in 1965 the Coast Guard destroyed all buildings except the lighthouse tower and the attached service building.  Storms and erosion have also taken a toll on the structures.  In 1993, the light was decommissioned, but since then the Luce County Historical Society has taken over the lease and raised funds to restore the service building, build the visitor center, construct boardwalks, and bring in large boulders and vegetation to slow down the effects of erosion.  Today, it stands as a reminder to days gone by, and is wonderfully restored for visitors to enjoy.

The dirt county road 414 to Crisp Point was treacherous as soon as we left 500, but well marked with signs telling us how many miles we had to go.  About a mile in, I had to stop and engage four wheel drive, then we blundered onward.  Those seven miles took about 45 harrowing minutes to drive, but worth every second of panic when the wheels spun and  the car slid around hairpin turns.  All of a sudden the road ended and we were staring at a concrete building with a parking lot.  I said to Debbie,

"Oh, thank God, there's a bathroom!"

We parked, and as I approached the bathroom I burst out laughing at the sign on the door.

Debbie and I went into the Visitors Center, where there is information about the Lighthouse and sweatshirts and other trinkets.  We each bought a Crisp Point sweatshirt to always remember our adventure by, then Debbie asked the keeper about wildlife.  He took us outside and showed us the tracks of a very large bear that had walked through that morning, with her cub.  Debbie's eyes got very big at the sight of them, and she asked the keeper about coyote (yup) and foxes (yup) and moose (plenty) and mountain lions.  The keeper replied, "We have cougars.  Those are mountain lions".

"Trust me?  TRUST me?" she said to me.  I'm pretty sure Debbie will never trust me again.

Debbie and the Bear Track

The Keeper's Camper

Crisp Point Lighthouse is immaculately cared for by a procession of keepers who have the privilege of guarding over it for a 5 day stretch.  This keeper had his motorhome parked by the shop, he told us he was only able to get it there because the road is in such good shape at the moment.  That was the road in good shape?  I wouldn't be able to drive it if it was in bad shape.  We walked out to the lighthouse, climbed to the top, and snapped pictures of the breathtaking view.

Boardwalk to Lighthouse

Back at the car, I let Rooney out and asked the keeper if he could walk on the beach.  Normally, that's not allowed, but there were so few people around, he said it would be okay.  Of course, he was unaware of Rooney's digestive problem, and I forgot about it.  Rooney and I joined Debbie on the shore of Lake Superior, I unsnapped his leash, and he had the time of his life!  Running head down into the waves, diving, swimming, running out onto the beach, up to the woods, and back again.  He acted like a puppy, and I loved being able to allow Rooney to have his own adventure!  As we walked, he ran down the beach when suddenly I saw him stop, back up, and squat.  I yelled "Nooooooooo!" but it was too late.  Marking the spot with a piece of driftwood, I later had to walk back with a plastic bag.  Damn butter toffee peanuts.

Rooney Enjoying the Beach!

Walking back to the parking lot, we encountered an older couple who called out "Hey!  It's Rooney!"  Wondering how my dog got to be so famous, I then recognized the couple from the campground.  They couldn't remember my name, but they knew my dog's.  Whatever.

We spent two hours at Crisp Point, and even though we were way off schedule, it was worth it, because the beauty and the peace we experienced walking on the beach rejuvenated us for the rest of the day.  Debbie got to climb to the top of her first Lighthouse, we took our shoes off and let the frigid waters of Lake Superior numb our feet, and Debbie didn't make any noise walking on the beach.  It was blissful.

As we were leaving, I asked the keeper if he knew how to get to the Two Hearted River from Crisp Point.  He had never heard of it (apparently he doesn't read Hemingway either) but I thought if we retraced our route back to 500, I would be able to get us there.

Rooney was passed out in the backseat, the sun was warming our faces, and this unpredicted gorgeous day in October was just about perfect.  Our water bottles were empty, we were getting hungry and didn't have any food, but we would still make it to the brewery by 2:00pm, I assured Debbie, and with my four wheel drive engaged, we left Crisp Point for the Two Hearted River.   Only 30 minutes, and I would make another dream come true!

That 30 minutes turned into 6 hours, but that's a story for another day.

The Toll Booth Is On The Wrong Side!

Debbie is coming, Debbie is coming, Debbie is coming!  Today was the day my friend Debbie would join me for a few days, and I was so excited for her arrival!  Let me tell you a little bit about my friend.

Courtesy of Google Images

Back in the day, when Debbie and I were stalking members of Fleetwood Mac during their "Say You Will Tour" and beyond, we would take long road trips to follow the band to various states for concerts. While I drove (because I'm OCD and I have to be the driver) Debbie would pull magazines from a huge satchel, flip through the pages, and tear out any page that had something pretty on it.  This…drove…me…crazy.  One simply does not destroy a perfectly good magazine by ripping out pages.  She would then remove the mailing label and save the magazine carcass for recycling, filing away the ripped out pages.  Debbie has boxes and boxes full of files for "pretty things".  I was grotesquely fascinated with her obsession, like when you have to slow down to look at a car wreck.  With the advent of Pinterest, Debbie now has more boards than anyone I know, with a board for every color, every room of her house, every outside area, every accessory, even a board for different types of clothes.  She will pin one picture to umpteen different boards.  Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, and I asked her why.  Why, in the name of all that is good on God's green earth, does she file away all these pictures?

Her answer is simple.  She likes pretty things.

Debbie takes the challenges she has faced in life and turns them into opportunities to grow, and she seeks the positive lesson in every situation.  She knows the world can be an ugly place, so she wants to make it pretty.  She is even dreaming of starting a website that connects people with pretty things, hence all the Pinterest boards and files full of ripped out pages.  She believes in beautiful things, and wants to share them.  I will only grudgingly admit that I admire her for it.

I like to simplify my world, remove all the clutter so I can clear my mind and my time to focus on things that matter.  Debbie likes to fill her world with beautiful colors, textures, fabrics, art, and music to fill her mind and heart with beauty.  I run away from the world; Debbie runs into it full-speed and embraces every moment filled with the good, the bad, and the ugly, because she has the amazing ability to find something good in everything.

Debbie is a beautiful, smart, strong, and joyful woman.

That being said, Debbie is also kind of a wimp, though I had no comprehension of the depth of her wimpiness  prior to this trip, and I've known her for 20 years. She claims she is not a camper, but I know she likes camping with me and Rooney.  Because she loves pretty things, which I really mean as a compliment, when Debbie comes, I glamp up the campsite.  For her, I'd do anything.

Having previously set up my glampsite, I woke early on Sunday to freshen things up and take care of a few necessities before she arrived.  I started inside the camper, kicking an unhappy Rooney outside and cleaning all the surfaces with organic orange cleaner (not so much because I'm an environmentalist, more because it smells really good) then vacuumed the significant amount of dog hair left by Rooney in the rugs and on Rooney's, oops! I mean, Debbie's bed.  Then I showered, started a fresh pot of coffee, and headed outside.



Rooney had been howling the entire time I was in the camper, because he gets very upset when he can't see me.  So I gave him a bone to chew and went to work cleaning the tables outside, adding water to the wildflowers in a vase, watering the mums, and sweeping the mats.  I filled the empty wine bottles with lamp oil, put the hurricane lamps on them, and took a final look to make sure everything was pretty and perfect, just like Debbie.

Courtesy Google Images

I then made five trips to the water pump with my 7-gallon water jug to use it to fill the tin can with water.  Of course, every time I walked away with the empty jug, Rooney howled until I returned to the campsite with a full jug.  I kept thinking there has to be a way to design a harness for Rooney to carry the jug on his back.  Then I could just walk him up to the pump, fill the jug, and let him carry it back.  Maybe next year I'll figure that out.

Courtesy Thetford.com

Then I had to perform the unpleasant task of dumping my black tank into an external tank, and hauling it up that steep hill in the campground to the dump station.  Last year, I invested in the Thetford top-of-the-line external dump tank, a spectacular device that makes this "crappy" chore much easier.  I love the swivel wheel in the front which makes it so easy to maneuver the tank away from the camper and over to the car, and the design which allows me to raise the handle on the tank and hook it over my vehicles hitch, without having to lift the tank.  I drove to the dump station pulling the Thetford tank behind, dumped, and after hosing down the tank, drove back.

Whew!  By now it was noon, and I only had a couple of hours before Debbie arrived, so I loaded Rooney in the car and drove to Paradise for firewood.  Filling the back of my car with loose wood, I inspected each piece for snakes before throwing it into my vehicle, and again the guy who sold me the wood said,

 "It's too cold for snakes, trust me."

I arrived back at camp with a good supply of firewood, stacked it all outside, then surveyed my surroundings.  Debbie would arrive any minute, and as I looked around at my clean glampsite, with the river running swiftly below us, the sun shining through the trees, and a fire crackling, I knew she would be happy here.

Okay, I don't actually stack my firewood like Gary Tallman of Montana, but his website has inspired me!

Filling a basket with butter toffee peanuts, I put it on the table by the fire, grabbed a book, and sat down to read and wait for my friend.  I didn't wait long, for five minutes later she pulled in!  Debbie is here, Debbie is here, Debbie is here!

Courtesy of Google Images

She didn't even unload anything from her car, instead Debbie went straight to her camp chair to unwind and enjoy the fire.  I asked about her trip up, just to be polite, and was shocked at her level of anxiety regarding this trip.  By the time she reached Clare, two hours south of the Mackinac Bridge, she was having panic attacks about driving over the bridge.  She had never driven over the Big Mac and was terrified.  She said she kept envisioning the conversation she would have with the toll booth attendant where she expressed her fears and the attendant kindly offered to drive her vehicle for her.  I thought, "Uh oh, she was in trouble".  She then rather indignantly told me that before she knew it, she was actually on the bridge, thinking, "where is the damn toll booth?!"  I had neglected to include, in my pages of instructions for Debbie, the fact that the toll booth is on the other side of the bridge, in the U.P.  Debbie proclaimed, 

"Well, the toll booth is on the wrong side!"  

Courtesy of Google Images

She made it over the bridge without plunging off the side by focusing on the taillights of the car in front of her.  Good call, Debbie.  Once she reached the other side, her relief at having crossed the bridge was so great that she stopped to buy a Diet Pepsi and celebrate.  Per my instructions, she knew that the rest of the trip would be unencumbered by McDonald's and Gas Stations at every corner, so after fueling her thirst and her gas tank in St. Ignace, she began the best part of the journey, driving up M-123 to Paradise.

Debbie enjoyed the rest of the drive, but as is normally the case, she was unable to take in much of the surroundings because she was busy following my pages and pages of directions.  She did comment that the only restaurant she saw on the way was called "The Bear Butt Bar and Grill".  At this point, Debbie was really wondering what I had gotten her into!  

Courtesy of Google Images

I told Debbie of my desire to retrace my hike to Clark Lake with her.  Because I had managed to post the picture of the bear from Oswald's Bear Ranch, with no explanation, Debbie had seen it and assumed, as I hoped she would, that I had seen the bear while hiking.  I began telling her a rather embellished story of my quest for the bear, when she interrupted me with objections to following in my footsteps.  When I got to the part about seeing the sign on the side of the road for Oswalds, she was visibly relieved, but still nervous about the next day's hike.

I had talked to so many locals, and DNR officers, about the bear, and repeated to Debbie what I had learned from them.

"We won't see a bear, Debbie.  Trust me."


Debbie reminded me that I had neglected to tell her the toll booth is on the wrong side, so trust was apparently becoming an issue for her.  She was far more nervous about our foray into the wilderness than I realized, and started expressing all her fears.

Debbie:  "What about mountain lions?  My husband said there are mountain lions here."

Courtesy of Google Images

Me: "Your husband is just trying to scare you.  There are no mountain lions here.  Trust me."

Debbie:  "What about snakes?"  (She shares my phobia)

Me:  "It's too cold for the snakes to come out.  Trust me."

Debbie:  "There are moose up here.  What if they charge us?"

Me:  "We would be lucky to see a moose, but we won't.  Trust me."

Courtesy of Google Images

Debbie:  "What if we get lost?  There are no cell phone signals here!  What if we bump into evil hunters?  What about foxes and coyotes?  And WOLVES?"

Me:  "Trust me, we will be fine."

Later, Debbie unloaded her car, and carried in a lot of food.  Why did she bring all this fancy food?  I have nuts and M&M's and soup, what more do we need?  But she brought fancy cheeses and crackers, pasta salads, veggie salads, scrambled egg casseroles, and wine.  Lots of wine.  I don't even drink wine.  When she stepped outside to get more things from her car, she called out that Rooney was eating the entire basket of butter toffee peanuts I had set out for us.  Uh oh.  This could be bad.

My Bed

Once we had her all settled in, I showed her how to make her bed.  Sleeping in the tin can is an almost holy experience for me.  My bed is in the back of the camper, and stays made up with my bedding all the time.  I have very nice bedding for the tin can, it is my one weakness for "fancy", and my bed is heavenly.  For Debbie, I have to put down the table and pull out the couch in the front of the camper to make her bed each night, but this year I left the sleeping bags at home and also made her bed with fancy bedding.  Once we were both comfortably resting in our beds, with Rooney giving Debbie dirty looks from the floor, she called out to me,

"I brought a wilderness survival guide.  I am going to read a few things to you."

Debbie's Bed

Oh boy.  For the next hour, Debbie read to me the safe and proper way to handle many situations.  We learned the following procedures:

1. How to Scare Away a Bear (You know, the bear we won't see?)
2. How to Avoid a Charging Bull (we substituted Moose for Bull, but I had a hard time picturing Debbie in black pants and shirt waving a red flag at a Moose)
3. How to Defend Against a Mountain Lion Attack (if a mountain lion jumps on our backs from a tree, I'd say this section was pretty useless)
4. How to Survive in Quicksand (Hmmmm….)

This isn't really the Mackinac Bridge, but you get the idea!
Courtesy of Google Images

5. How to Survive in a Car Plunging Off a Bridge (Remember the photo from my earlier post of a barge passing beneath the bridge?  Well, now if a barge is too tall and hits the Big Mac while one of us in driving over it, we will know what to do.   Scream.)
6. How to Survive a Jump or Fall from a Bridge (As if either one of us would be in the right frame of mind to remember to clench our butt cheeks as we hit the water.  Seriously, that's what the guide told us to do.)
7. How to Survive a Poisonous Snake Bite (Doesn't matter, we will both have died from a heart attack at this point)
8. How to Survive a Bullet Wound (Okay, so I do carry a gun, but I really don't plan to shoot Debbie with it.)

There were more, but you get the idea.  Debbie was scared.  Wimp.

Before we fell asleep, I commanded Rooney not to throw up half-digested butter toffee peanuts in my camper, and I revised my plan for tomorrow.  I promised Debbie I would drive us all the way to the parking area (I was pretty sure I could make it with four-wheel drive), and from there it would only be a quick ten-minute hike to Clark Lake.  I told her that the other places I wanted to explore could be driven to, instead of my usual hiking, and that she could stay in the Yukon anytime she felt uncomfortable getting out to explore.  I had a full tank of gas, we weren't going that far, and we wouldn't see any wild animals.

"Trust me."

Courtesy of Google Images

Part 2 - We're Not In Kansas Anymore

I left you last with the image of a beautiful campsite and a peaceful night.  This trip to the U.P. was one that I had planned for a long time and looked forward to with much anticipation, and like so many things you dream of, the reality did not match the fantasy.  It was way better!

Friday morning I had to drive 38 miles to Newberry for gas.  Every place I stopped, I asked the locals about bear sightings.  I told them that I planned to do quite a bit of hiking and was hoping to see a bear in its natural habitat.  They all had wonderful advice for me, but always ended with "But you won't see a bear.  They're here, but trust me, you won't see one".  I guess bear sightings are not common, because the bear have not become habituated to humans and will hear and smell us long before we see them.  Still, I remained hopeful.

Heading back up 123, I passed Tahquamenon's Rivermouth, and pulled into the rustic camping area there to check it out.  I am a huge fan of rustic camping, though I rarely do it much anymore, because I'm getting older and sleeping on the cold ground with the snakes and a pesky shoulder injury is not as fun as it used to be, but the beauty of this camping area could be enough to make me give it another try.  Then I drove through Paradise, headed west, and Rooney and I arrived back at camp by 2:00pm.  We explored the riverbank for about three hours, made our way back to camp, ate, and I settled in with a good fire and my laptop to plan the next day.

On a side note, internet service in the U.P. is…well, honestly, it isn't.  I have a mobile hotspot app on my phone, but cellular service is almost non-existant.  Almost, but if you're lucky, and the clouds are hanging at the right altitude and the wind speed is between 5-7mph and there are enough breaks in the clouds and you place your phone in one spot (the trick is finding that one spot) and patiently wait, you can get a signal, only if you are a Verizon customer, for brief flashes of time.

Which is what I did.  I found that in the evening, if I placed my cell phone upright in the front right window of the tin can, I could get a weak signal, but only if the light switch for the camper was turned on.  Don't ask me why, but if I turned off the light, I lost the signal, and the phone wasn't even plugged into the charger.  So with the light on and the phone strategically placed, I enabled the hotspot and fired up the internet on my laptop to check satellite maps for unmarked trails of interest.  As I drew a crude map to use, the wind blew and the signal went out.  In order to restore the signal, I found, through trial and error, that I had to shut down the computer, shut down my phone, wait five minutes, turn the phone on first, wait for the signal, activate the hotspot, then turn the laptop on, manually search for the internet signal, then I was good to go!  I filled in a few more spots on my hand-written map, sneezed, and the signal went out.  Going through the whole process again, fifteen minutes later I was once again online until a cloud covered the moon and I lost the signal again.  I gave up, threw my map into the bonfire, and decided to wing it.  Rooney and I went to bed early, because tomorrow was the day I had waited for, the day I had dreamed of for months, the day I would walk the northeastern corner of the U.P.

Saturday dawned bright and cold.  The temperature was perfectly chilly, since I have heard tales of large poisonous flesh-eating snakes that attack without warning by dropping from trees (maybe I wasn't told that, it could be my imagination) and the guy I bought firewood from in Paradise assured me that it was too cold for snakes, and "snakes won't come out unless it hits 70 degrees, trust me".  So I plugged in my little TV, played with my antenna, and got fuzzy reception on the only station available, in Canada.  Keep in mind, Canada is on the metric system, so while I obsessively waited for a local weather report on a station with spotty reception at best, I neglected to consider that the predicted temperatures would be measured by Canadian standards.

When the weatherman predicted a high this day of 17 degrees, eh? I did not know what that meant.  Would it reach 70 F or not?  I could have gotten on the internet to convert the prediction, but that would have taken an hour, so I decided it felt pretty cold and I would be safe from gigantic snakes with a personal vengeance for women and Newfoundlands.

I was so excited to begin my journey!  Rooney and I drove just a few miles up the road to a two-track, where the map had indicated a parking area just off the road.  Michigan's DNR is usually reliable for marking trails and parking areas, so I was a little surprised when I started down the track in my Yukon and did not find a parking area.  I drove a bit, wondering "Where is the damn parking area?" The surface was getting a bit dicey for driving when I came upon a small clearing to the side, big enough for about 4 vehicles.  Even though there was no sign, I assumed this was the parking area and pulled in.  I gathered my pack and extra water for Rooney, then set off on foot.

What a glorious day it was!  Cool, but with clear skies, the sunshine bouncing off dew-laden leaves and sending out pinpoints of jeweled light.  It was so quiet, too, with only the sounds of birds I had never heard before calling, and the occasional quail skittering about in the brush.  Rooney and I walked at a relaxed pace, and we had not gone far when I noticed a track in my path.  Bear!  How exciting!  The bear tracks went on for quite some time, sometimes veering off to the left or right, then showing up again 10 -15 feet further down the path.  Rooney stopped to sniff, discovering a fairly recent pile of droppings.  My excitement growing, I thought we were about 30-60 minutes behind the bear, and I had high hopes of seeing one and crossing another item off my bucket list.

We had been walking for about 45 minutes, following the bear tracks, when suddenly Rooney froze!  The hair on his back stood straight up, he lowered his head, and from his throat came a low, quiet growl.  At this very same instant, I was filled with a scent, not a particularly pleasant scent, that was unfamiliar to me.  It was a heavy, musky odor, kind of dirty but with a sweet smell behind it.  I knew, I just knew, it was a bear.  The tracks at my feet veered off into a low field, and Rooney was pointed that way.  I hooked his leash up, stood very still, and listened.  The scent was still very strong.  My eyes scanned the field with tall wildflowers and a few shrubs, looking for anything that seemed out of place. Was that movement?  I couldn't be sure.  Where is the damn bear? To be safe, I scanned the trees behind me, seeing nothing, and turned my attention back to the field.  Rooney whined and strained against the leash, but I held him tight and close to my side.  After a time, he relaxed, and we moved on.

A while after that, having seen no more bear tracks and wondering if I had been close, we came upon the parking area that the map had shown as being just off the road.  I had just walked an hour's worth of two-track that I could have driven, but I never would have seen those bear tracks from the vehicle so I didn't mind.  A large sign announced the beginning of the single-track trail to Clark Lake.

My quest to Clark Lake has a story behind it that is deeply personal.  For years, I was part of a community at a different Clark Lake, downstate, but recently experienced a world of hurt there.  I was seeking, more philosophically than literally, a new Clark Lake, a place that could heal me and restore my faith in people.




On the path, I had to pay attention to my footing, because it was a steep and sandy trail punctuated with gnarly tree roots and stones.  I reached the top of a steep hill, coming upon a man-made shelter that beckoned me to come inside and rest.  I caught a glimpse of the lake from this natural campsite, so after giving myself just a few minutes to explore the shelter, I forged on.  When I finally got my first clear view of Clark Lake, I was awed!  It's much bigger, and far more beautiful, than the other Clark Lake.  Finding a spot to sit, Rooney and I took in the stillness, the peace, the beauty, the quiet, and I was able to open my heart to God and have a good long talk with Him about my path to forgiveness.  This is the Clark Lake I want to live on!  But God, and the DNR, have different plans, so I stayed as long as I could, listening to the wind and hearing God's healing words, feeling His loving hand on my shoulder, crying a little bit, and asking Him for a sign to guide me.  As I was standing up to leave, I practically stumbled into another hiker, who was as shocked to see me as I was him.  He came from the direction I was headed, and explained to me that he and some friends were backcountry camping on the bluff overlooking Clark Lake, and he asked me what I was doing there.  As I tried to explain, he said to me, "Wait, are you talking about the Clark Lake near Brooklyn?"  It turns out that not only was he from my hometown, his job as a local official led him to inspect and give the license to our family business on the other Clark Lake, the one I was running away from.  Are you kidding me, God?  I ask You for a sign, and the only person I see in two days of hiking would have ties to Clark Lake?  What does that mean?

But he was a nice enough guy, and we talked for a long time about the serenity of this Clark Lake, and his experience camping in a tent that hangs from a tree overlooking the lake in a place where few people ever venture.  As I continued on, I saw his campsite, it was heavenly.  I have yet to figure out why I ran into that guy, at that time, in that place, but eventually I suppose it will all come to light.

I wandered off the single track from time to time.  For the next 5 hours, I explored, I listened, I saw beautiful things.  A few times I think I was lost, but I'm pretty good with direction and eventually found my way back to the two-track I drove (walked) in on.  During the day I had come upon several smaller lakes that weren't on any map, some beautiful wildflowers, and many interesting birds.  I scared a few deer, which had Rooney off and running, but he couldn't catch up to play with them.  Once I got back on the two track, I retraced my steps and followed the bear tracks once again, but never saw one.  I know it was somewhere near, but would not allow me to see it.

By this time, Rooney was worn out.  After drinking some water, we reached the Yukon to drive to the next trailhead.  We only had about 3 hours of daylight left, I thought this might be a good time of day to see a moose or a bear.  I really, really wanted to find a bear.  Driving northwest, I parked at a snowmobile trailhead, left Rooney passed out in the car, and hit the dirt in search of wild animals.  Again, I followed some bear tracks, this one smaller, and held out hope that I might see one.  I walked for about two hours on parts of the Wilderness Trail, then looped back to the car, feeling dejected that no bear chose to reveal himself to me.  Where was that damn bear?

I drove up to Muskellunge Lake, spent some time walking around, then took a dirt road as a shortcut back to camp.  It was then, late in the afternoon, when I wasn't even looking, that I saw it.  It was shockingly right in front of my Yukon, on the side of the road.  With awe and reverence, I slowed down for a closer look…and saw….






Wait for it……..

YES!  I saw…….

!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I did a quick turn onto the dirt drive to Oswald's Bear Ranch, parked, paid my $10, and spent the next half hour standing on a viewing platform just waiting for a mama bear to walk far enough away from the 20 ft. high perimeter fence that held enough voltage to kill…well, a bear.  Finally, I got my photo of a bear in it's natural environment to send home and freak out my family and friends.

Oswald's Bear Ranch is a popular place to go, with good reason.  The owners accept bears from the DNR and other agencies who will not survive in the wilderness without intervention.  They care for them and give them a home in their natural environment (even though it's fenced in) so that the bears can live the way a bear should live.  Of course, they do become accepting of humans and will beg for visitors to throw an apple over the fence, but that's unavoidable in such a setting.  It was fun to watch the males defending their territory, watch the females nose around hidey-holes, and the cubs growl at each other, play-fighting.  There are distinct roles each of the bear plays at Oswald's, much like they would if they were roaming free, and it didn't take long to identify their roles.  The day after I was there, they closed for the season so the bears could be allowed to clear their dens, which were all part of the natural habitat, and prepare to hibernate.  In the Spring, Oswald's will re-open.  I think I'd like to go back then.

Rooney was not allowed out of the car at Oswald's (I think the owners were worried someone would mistake him for a bear and be frightened) but he was still pretty tired from all our hiking, so he was fine.  We arrived back at camp after dark, exhausted but content.

It had been a great day.  My dream was to explore the wilderness on foot (mostly) and see things I hadn't seen before, immersing myself in nature with no intrusion from people, and except for the man-sent-from-God-as-a-sign-I-don't-understand, I saw no one on my hikes.  How lucky I am to have a place in my own home State that is so pure, so beautiful, and so peaceful.  I am not in Kansas, I am in the "other" Michigan, where TV's and computers and cell phones don't work, convenience stores are impossible to find, the bear hides and the eagle soars and lakes are clean.  It was a good day for leaving everything behind while focusing on what is around me, that which God made and man has not ruined yet.  It was a day for thinking about all the things I can learn out here, lessons that will stay in my heart and help me be a better person when I return home.

I have struggled to express the magnitude of what I learn about myself in the wilderness.  What I can say is that my time spent hiking alone, with my dog at my side, strengthens me and frees my mind to consider the role I play in my own life and that of my family and friends.  It allows me to not just see myself more clearly, faults and all, but to see myself the way I want to be as a more generous, kind and patient woman.  I am a solitary soul in the woods, but I am not alone.  It is here that I can see God, and be inspired to do more and love more and be more.  It is here that I find peace, and every time I go, I carry that peace with me when I return home.

I hope you are enjoying my story so far.  I still have so much more to tell!  For now, I will give you a little teaser…

When someone says "Trust Me", don't!