Badlands National Park 2015 | Part Four

Castle Trail/Medicine Root Loop
4.22.15

Castle Trail

It was still a ghost town at Cedar Pass Lodge when we left our cabin on our third morning at Badlands National Park. Once again we walked over to the Cedar Pass Restaurant for breakfast before heading to the trailhead. We planned to hike Castle Trail, an out-and-back hike by itself that can be combined with another trail—Medicine Root Trail—to make a loop of 6.6 miles.  It’s a nice day hike provided the weather isn’t too hot, which...you know.

Left: Indian Fry Bread with berry pudding   Right: Cedar Pass Lodge

Castle Trail/Medicine Root Trail loop combo

The weather today was actually much better. Although it was still windy and freezing in the morning, it was sunny and the temperature would eventually rise into the 60s in the afternoon. We started out hiking in warm layers and wool hats, but eventually we were able to take our jackets off as it warmed up.  

We returned to the parking lot where most of the park’s trails are accessed and found only a single car parked in its long expanse and no other sign of human activity.  Two turkey vultures were perched high on the Badlands Wall. Lurking. Waiting.

It happened to be Earth Day.  I hope everyone took a few minutes to show their eroded sedimentary rock formation how they feel.  

At the beginning of Castle Trail, there is a bulletin board with trail descriptions and safety information regarding heat, dehydration, the lack of shade or water on the trails, cacti, and rattlesnakes. There is also a backcountry registration box for those venturing into the backcountry. Backcountry camping does not require a permit here, and backpackers can set out off-trail and camp anywhere in the park.  There are no trails to follow in the backcountry, and due to the severe nature of the landscape—extreme heat in summer/cold in winter, violent summer storms, non-availability of water anywhere within the park—exploring far into the backcountry should be attempted only by experienced, well-prepared hikers.

Left: Cautionary messages  Right: Red stakes mark the way along Castle Trail

The backcountry registration box had been defaced—with good intentions—by other hikers.  Scribbled notes regarding Castle Trail offered pointers on how to avoid getting lost immediately. This appears to be a frequent occurrence; messages scrawled with escalating urgency gave advice like “Go left,” “Look up,” “Don’t go down river bed,” and “Don’t proceed until you see red marker,” and were accompanied by “Listen to these people,” and “Pay heed people!” with arrows pointing to the previous notes. This stood out as not run-of-the-mill graffiti, and it grabbed our attention.  

Paying heed as directed, we took a minute to look around, stopping ourselves from proceeding to the right, down what looked deceptively like a trail but was likely the riverbed mentioned in one of the cautionary notes. We looked to our left and eventually spotted the first red trail marker up a hill in the distance.

Castle Trail starts out in a dry grassy area, winding past the occasional rock formation. Before long the formations become more frequent, sometimes appearing majestic, rising in pyramids and turrets, and other times looking decrepit, like an unearthed, ancient crumbling canyon.

The trail itself follows pretty easy terrain; there are some rolling hills, but no steep climbing. The ground can be a bit rough, and prickly pear cactus grows within the grass in some areas (not to mention rattlesnakes can be present when it’s warm), so appropriate hiking shoes should be worn.  We saw several female bighorn sheep throughout the hike, and they watched us with cautious curiosity. Only four other hikers crossed our path. 

Around three miles in, at the intersection of three trails—Castle, Medicine Root, and Saddle Pass—we headed northeast on Medicine Route Trail to begin the loop back.  This trail guides hikers through a flatter, grassier area, with Badlands formations to the south, and prairie to the north.  It is interesting hiking between these two extremes; the jagged peaks and spires of the Badlands formations in the distance on one side, and on the other side, a mostly empty, flat grassy expanse.

Green stakes mark Medicine Root Trail

Standing out oddly in a landscape otherwise devoid of such features, fields of a variety of rocks suddenly appear in a few locations on both Castle and Medicine Root Trails.  These rocks do not look like they belong; it is as if they were dumped here from another location and then spread out across a few open areas.  After doing some reading of the geological information available on the NPS website, it appears this actually is the case.  If I understand correctly, these rocks are part of what is referred to as “Medicine Root Gravels”: rocks that were carried here from the Black Hills and deposited in this area a few million years ago by fast-flowing rivers.  (If anyone knows of another explanation for the existence of these rocks, let me know.  But I will probably cover my ears and not listen because this scenario is mind-blowingly fascinating to me.)

There was still just one other car in the trailhead parking lot when we got back.  When we returned to Cedar Pass Lodge, we discovered another cabin was now occupied.  This place was getting far too warm and crowded; it was time to go.

We decided to stay at our cabin for dinner, and we dug into the contents of our box of camp food for various meal options.  I chose my favorite dehydrated meal, Mary Jane’s Farm Chilimac, which I prepared on our front porch with our Jetboil stove.  It was still windy, but the sun was warm, and I stayed outside on the porch for as long as I could tolerate the wind and I started developing a nice sunburn above the v-neck of my t-shirt to compliment my windburned face.

Sunset at Cedar Pass

As was the pattern on this trip, the wind died down in the evening, and I walked around the Cedar Pass area, enjoying the surroundings on our last night in the park.  The grassy area across the road from Cedar Pass Lodge was a good spot to watch the sunset, and I watched the sky turn magnificent shades of orange behind a silhouette of Badlands peaks. Afterwards I returned to our cabin and sat outside as the sky darkened and the crescent moon rose, and watched stars break out across the black expanse of the big sky.

I don't have proper equipment for night photography, so this is the best I could do.

We left Badlands National Park the next morning, taking a northern route home through South Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana, and finally Michigan.  I fell in love hard in Madison, WI with a huge black Labrador retriever that was waiting patiently outside Gotham Bagels, wearing the most solemn expression I’ve ever seen on a dog.  A year and a half later, I’m still not over it.  

Left: Lonely road in South Dakota.  Right: This dog tried to mesmerize me into buying it a lox bagel in Madison, WI.

Craig Lake State Park | Fall 2015

Part Two: Craig Lake Trail

Craig Lake

Craig Lake Trail is known as a rugged hiking trail.  I found it to be a perfect day hike—8 miles of rolling terrain in a beautiful forest circling the quiet lake.  The landscape is hilly, with a bit of climbing here and there, but nothing extremely strenuous.  We finished the hike in just over 3 hours; it was a beautiful, chilly fall day, and I would’ve been happy to hike a little longer.  

Blue blazes on Craig Lake Trail

We left the yurt at Teddy Lake and drove to the Craig Lake Trailhead, about a mile away.  There is no outhouse at the trailhead parking lot, which is unusual and a bit of a buzzkill if you arrive with nature already calling from an excess of morning coffee.  After wandering around for a few minutes, I accepted defeat and ventured into the woods.  There were only a few vehicles parked at the trailhead, and it was very quiet.  

Old school sign

Some of the signs along Craig Lake Trail have obviously been there for a long time, sporting a weathered, mid-century look.  Trailhead signs point hikers to various spots along Craig Lake Trail, and toward the North Country Trail, which also meanders around Craig Lake on its 4,600-mile journey from North Dakota to New York.  Our longest national scenic trail, the NCT shares a path with Craig Lake Trail along the east side of the lake before veering east toward its route through the McCormick Wilderness, then on to Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, Tahquamenon Falls State Park, and beyond.

The full Michigan DNR map can be found here: http://goo.gl/ydlEKX

We decided to head west and circle Craig Lake in a clockwise direction.  Craig Lake Trail starts out following an old two-track road, which is used as a private access road for park employees to service the park’s two rustic lakeside cabins.  During our visit, it was buried in fallen leaves that rustled as we walked, making the only sound in the otherwise silent forest.  

The trail begins on an old road

In about a quarter-mile, the trail leads to an open area along the shore of the lake that is a popular canoe put-in spot with a few campsites.  There are also two outhouses, which I took advantage of on principle.  From there the trail hugs the lake and heads north toward the park’s two rustic cabins - Miller Lodge and the Caretaker’s Cabin.  Built in the early 1950s by Fred Miller of Miller Brewing Company in what was then his private fishing retreat, the cabins are now state park property and can be rented through the Michigan DNR. 

High Life Creek

About a half-mile before the cabins, the trail/road crosses over High Life Creek on a short, one-lane bridge.  The Caretaker’s Cabin is reached first; no one was there, so we spent a little time checking things out.  The front of the cabin faces the trail, with a woodshed off to the side.  In the back there is a fire ring and picnic table, and a nice view of Craig Lake.  A rowboat was overturned and secured at the shore, waiting for the next guests to take it for a spin. 

The Caretaker's Cabin

We moved on and reached Miller Lodge about a minute later.  There were people at this cabin, so we didn’t explore it.  Here the overgrown road ends and the path continues north, becoming a proper hiking trail, disappearing into the trees behind the cabin and beginning to curve around the north end of the lake.  The forest was aglow with color—a variety of green, yellow, orange, and red shone around and above us, and blanketed the trail below.  Every once in a while I looked up to catch glimpses of the vibrant blue fall sky framed by multi-colored leaves.  Enormous boulders appear here and there along the trail—glacial erratics deposited during the last ice age.    

Blue fall sky and a splatter of red

Red and yellow maple leaves

Glacial erratic. I love these guys.

At the north end of the lake, we reached the backcountry campsite near the portage to Clair Lake.  There is a fire ring, small area to pitch a tent, and a wonderful view of Craig Lake.  The trail passes Craig Lake Portage and crosses a small stream over a wooden footbridge before climbing to a rocky bluff providing another nice view of the lake and surrounding trees sparkling in the bright sunlight.  The trail descends back into the forest and to the Peshekee River, which is crossed via a suspension bridge that was built in 2014.  Before that, hikers crossed the river using a fallen log.  

Backcountry campsite near the Clair Lake portage

Fall color on Craig Lake, seen from the Backcountry campsite near the Clair Lake portage

Rocky bluff at the north end of Craig Lake

The trail heads south along the east side of the lake, over hilly terrain.  This part of the trail wanders through stands of tall maple trees, whose leaves were a striking, luminescent yellow at this time of year.  It passes more backcountry campsites on Craig Lake and crosses the portage to Crooked Lake, where additional campsites can be found.  The trail curves around the south end of the lake and passes a path to more campsites on the shore of Craig Lake, referred to as the Sandy Beach Campsites.  Shortly after, the trail arrives back at the beginning of the loop.  Turning left brought us back to the trailhead parking area in about a quarter-mile.

Towering yellow

We returned to Teddy Lake and spent the rest of the day at the yurt, eating hotdogs, reading, and keeping warm near the wood stove.  It was a day well spent.

Craig Lake State Park | Fall 2015

Part One: Teddy Lake Yurt

Teddy Lake in Craig Lake State Park

The state park boat floated in absolute silence on the small lake.  Not a single bird chirped in the surrounding thick autumn forest; no fish splashed and broke the perfect, colorful reflection on the water beneath.  Absolutely nothing stirred.  I strained to hear any sound, but only stillness pushed back against my ears.

This would be a decent place to spend my last day alive if the world was ending and the circumstances didn’t allow for my optimal method of passing.  (If given the choice, I’d prefer to be killed in a volcanic eruption.)  Note to self. 

The path to Teddy Lake Yurt

This moment of eerie Zen took place on Teddy Lake, located in the most remote state park in Michigan—Craig Lake State Park.  A designated wilderness area approximately 45 miles west of Marquette, Craig Lake has no park headquarters or DNR facility of its own.  Registration and information must be obtained at Van Riper State Park, about 8 miles east of the entrance to Craig Lake.

A rowboat awaits behind the yurt at Teddy Lake

Craig Lake is reached via a one-lane logging road, which, until fairly recently, was often impassible without 4-wheel drive and high ground clearance.  High clearance is still advised, but recent improvements to the road have made the park more accessible to visitors with standard vehicles.  The road can still be a bit hazardous, with large rocks lurking over hills and around bends, and drivers should stay alert and drive slowly to avoid surprises and undercarriage damage.  It’s a good idea to call Van Riper State Park to check the road conditions ahead of time. 

This is the only road through the park, and it creeps through the forest for 7 miles to reach the Craig Lake Trailhead—the starting point of the park’s trail system—and another mile to reach Teddy Lake.  As soon as one turns off US 41 and onto the dirt road, a large, no-nonsense sign warns visitors of the rustic and remote nature of the park, and its lack of cell phone service, flush toilets, or modern “camping” hook-ups, and offers unprepared visitors an out by advising that it’s ok to turn around now and try again another time.  No hard feelings.

The road into Craig Lake State Park

Once at the trailhead it’s foot traffic or paddling only.  A network of trails loops around Craig Lake and forms various canoe portages connecting it to Clair Lake and Crooked Lake.  The North Country Trail also winds through the park on its route through the U.P.  There are backcountry campsites throughout the park, as well as two yurts—one on Lake Keewaydin and another on Teddy Lake, and two rustic cabins on Craig Lake.  The cabins were built in the early 1950s by Fred Miller of Miller Brewing Company; what is now state park land used to be Miller’s private fishing retreat, and Craig, Clair, and Teddy lakes were named after his children.  Not to snub the family business, there is also a High Life Creek, which leads to High Life Lake, outside of the park boundary.

The Miller cabins and the two yurts can be reserved through the Michigan DNR.  They do not have electricity or running water, but they do have wood-burning stoves for heat, and the park service keeps them well-stocked with wood.  The park’s only water pump is located near the larger of the two Miller cabins.  If staying anywhere else, water must be carried in or obtained from a lake or a stream and then purified.

Driving the eight miles to the Teddy Lake Yurt took almost an hour, but it was beautiful.  It was the first week of October, and fall colors were peaking in this part of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.  Aside from a few trucks parked at the trailhead, we didn’t see a single other vehicle.  Once at Teddy Lake, there is a spot to pull off the road and park, but the yurt is at the end of a footpath, a few minutes’ walk through the woods. 

We took a few trips back and forth to load our things into the yurt—standard car-camping stuff: sleeping bags, lantern, a month's supply of food for 2 days, etc.  The thick blanket of fallen leaves rustled on the path as we walked, and sunlight filtering through the yellow and orange foliage above gave the forest a golden glow.  It was a crisp, gorgeous fall day.

The path to Teddy Lake Yurt. The outhouse can be seen in the trees.

The yurt sits on a hill above Teddy Lake.  It is small, with just enough space for the essentials: 2 sets of bunk beds, a small table and chairs, and a wood-burning stove. The space is ideal for 2, or parents with small children.  Four adults would be cramped if spending significant time inside, but it’s doable.

Teddy Lake Yurt

A cabinet just outside the door contains various cooking supplies, some provided by the park service, others left behind by previous guests, and a long picnic table provides a good space to cook and eat meals.  A well-stocked woodshed sits nearby, and there is an outhouse along the path to the road.

We each claimed a bunk, then went for a paddle around the lake.  Teddy Lake is one of six lakes located within the park’s 8,500 acres.  The park provides a rowboat, paddles, and PFDs at the yurt.  With the exception of Lake Keewaydin, no motorized boats are allowed on the lakes within the park.  According to the park map, a backcountry campsite is located on the opposite side of the lake, but we could see no sign of it.  This location is known as a good spot to hear the common loon—my favorite sound on Earth—but we heard absolutely nothing.  The lake was utterly still during our visit.  I have never experienced such complete silence during other trips to the backcountry.  Something somewhere almost always stirs—a raven squawks, a toad croaks, a dragonfly buzzes.  Here: nothing. 

Looking at Teddy Lake Yurt from the lake

We returned to the yurt and browsed the visitors’ log.  Like other rustic wilderness structures, the yurt was prone to mice invasion, and the log book told stories of battles won and lost against the tiny, relentless intruders.  A single mouse trap lay on the floor behind one of the bunks—a lone artifact of the previous warrior-guest, who had taken it upon himself to wage an organized attack, apparently arriving prepared for an offensive and setting up traps all over the yurt, racking up impressive body counts according to his epic retelling.  Those who came before him wrote of their efforts to deter the nightly storm of mice, only to find rodent droppings on nearly every surface each morning.  They even provided an illustrated storyboard of what they imagined was happening under the cover of darkness

Despite having stayed in rustic state park cabins before, we had forgotten about this issue.  We were relieved that we happened to have packed all of our food for this trip in a plastic bin with a lid, and we secured the rest of our supplies as well as we could.  If mice want to get in, there isn’t much that can be done.  The best we could do was not leave any food lying around to encourage them, and hope they preferred the cold outside to the warm yurt when night fell. 

With daylight fading and cold creeping in, we started a fire in the wood-burning stove.  The yurt warmed up immediately, and the dome window in the center of the ceiling had to be cracked open to regulate the heat.  I unloaded some supplies on the picnic table outside, opened a Blackrocks 51K IPA, and made quesadillas on our Jetboil stove.  It was a clear night, and the small opening in the tree canopy directly above allowed just a small glimpse of the night sky and its infinite stars.  We turned in early, planning to hike Craig Lake Trail the next day.

To be continued in: Day Two - Craig Lake Trail
 

Partial map.  The full MIDNR map can be found here: http://www.michigandnr.com/publications/pdfs/RecreationCamping/craig_lake_map.pdf