Porcupine Mountains | Day One

Big Carp River Trail

View from Big Carp River Trail

Monday morning we shuttled our car to Presque Isle campground – the finish line of the trip at the park's western end – then stopped at the park HQ to pick up keys for each of the cabins we would be using over the next six days. The park ranger on duty was surprised to find so many keys reserved for us. It is apparently not very common to hike cabin-to-cabin over so many days. He then gave me a heap of park information to take along, including a flyer about black bears. A bear had been sighted frequently along one of the trails we would be hiking, and he advised extra caution.

Enjoying the view from the escarpment

The hike would begin at Lake of the Clouds overlook, the most popular destination in the park. Our shuttle driver pulled away after leaving us alone in the parking lot, and we experienced that exciting moment of realization of what we were about to do. We now had no means of communication (our phones lost their signals as soon as we left the resort that morning), and six days of hiking stood between us and our car. We started up the path to the overlook to find the trailhead and leave the tourist scene behind. It was 11:30 a.m., sunny, breezy, and felt like low to mid 60's: perfect hiking weather.

Another view from the escarpment. Lake of the Clouds is in the distance.

After snapping a few photos at the overlook (including a shot of an interpretive sign that some insane creationist had defaced by scratching off each reference to the length of time it took for the landscape to form), we struck out on Big Carp River Trail. At 9.6 miles, BCRT follows its namesake river from Lake of the Clouds to its mouth on Lake Superior.

Geology - it's amazing what can happen overnight!

High above the river valley, BCRT starts out along the escarpment that is a geologic highlight of the park. The escarpment was formed by ancient lava flows. A tilted layer of basalt sits on top of a layer of sandstone, and as the sandstone erodes away, chunks of rock fall down the cliff's face and pile up as talus. The trail begins by following the edge of this steep ridge and offers view after view of mountaintops, endless forest, and the river valley below. If we would have been able to push our trip back a month, the fall color in October would have been stunning.

Frogs are awesome. (This might be a toad. Either way - still awesome)

About two miles from the trailhead, the trail descends into the forest. Here the shaded understory cools the air, and sunlight filtering through the forest canopy creates a wonderful green glow above. Car-sized boulders sit along the trail, and enormous hemlocks and pines, many hundreds of years old, tower overhead.

Big Carp River Trail after descending from the escarpment

For the next four or five miles, BCRT has a few steep climbs and descents as it follows the river valley. We passed a handful of very nice, spacious backcountry campsites along the trail. For our lunch break, we rested on a fallen tree and made peanut butter and jelly tortillas. We started eating this meal on our first backpacking trip, and it has remained our favorite trail food. The materials are very easy to pack, there is no mess to clean up, and peanut butter and jelly always tastes great after a few hours of hiking.

Best trail lunch ever

Shortly after lunch, we finally reached the river and came to the first of the day's two river crossings. A footbridge guided us over the first one; the second one came a mile and a half later and was a bit more interesting. Here the river had to be forded, but it was only about ankle-deep. Not wanting to push our luck with the waterproofing of our boots, we slowly made our way across, stepping from one slippery rock to the next.

Fording Big Carp River

We passed a few more impressive backcountry sites, the best of which was at Shining Cloud Falls. At this point, the trail follows a steep ravine, where a series of 2 cascades can be heard rushing down the valley. The campsite in this spot is near the river and within earshot of the falls. This would be a terrific place to spend the night, and if we hadn't made plans to stay elsewhere, we would have happily pitched our tent. Unfortunately, we were so tired at this point that the steep and slippery descent to the water in order to get a better look was not appealing. Continuing on, a few more small unnamed waterfalls provided points of interest along the remainder of the trail.

Lake Superior at the mouth of Big Carp River

We reached the mouth of Big Carp River around 5:30 p.m. Our cabin, Big Carp River 4-bunk, was located upstream, away from the lake. Because it was tucked back in the woods, not much light penetrated the windows, and it was fairly dark inside. The river bubbled past the side of the cabin, and a short walk from the front door led to Lake Superior's rocky shore. In the cabin log book, the previous guest left a note to “enjoy climbing Kilimanjaro” to go to the bathroom. He or she was not exaggerating much; the outhouse was located at the top of an extremely steep and intimidating hill. I had managed to develop a blister on my left big toe, which added a thrilling element of pain to the nearly vertical climb.

Big Carp 4-bunk Cabin

The previous guests had left a little firewood inside the cabin. We collected a bit more, but nearly all of it was damp, and we had some difficulty getting a fire going in the wood burning stove. We settled for a very small fire and made use of a few candles that had been left behind. Dinner was made and eaten quickly, and we went to bed soon after. The thin mattresses on the bunk beds were rock hard, which made us feel a little less like sellouts for not tent camping on this trip. High winds, rain and thunder woke me up frequently throughout the night, and I wondered what tomorrow would bring.

Interior of Big Carp 4-bunk Cabin at night

Miles: 9.6
Wildlife sightings: 1 eagle, 1 frog (or toad)

To be continued in Day Two:
Little Carp River Trail - From Lake Superior to Greenstone Falls

Porcupine Mountains | Intro Pt. 2

The Journey North

Crossing the Mackinac Bridge under stormy skies

We took our time and spent 2 days driving north to the UP, then west to the Porcupine Mountains. The first day was rainy and shockingly cold considering the intense heatwave Michigan had recently endured. Storm clouds hovered over the Straits of Mackinac, and rough waves crashed on the Lake Michigan shore along US 2. Just after crossing the Mackinac Bridge, we stopped at Lehto's for a couple of their delicious pasties. The hearty combination of beef and potatoes contained within a warm flaky crust energized us after the long, boring drive through the Lower Peninsula.

A pasty from Lehto's

The plan was to camp for the night at Mead Creek - a small, off the beaten path campground on the Manistique River near Seney National Wildlife Refuge. All sites were empty, and based on the registration tags that remained on a few posts, it looked as though no one had been there in a month. It was still very cold, and camping in the rain lost its appeal once we discovered the fish weren't biting. We decided to push on and head toward Munising. At the intersection of M77 and M28, a rainbow curved into the sky, and a couple of pairs of sandhill cranes walked in the grass along the edge of the refuge.

Fishing at Mead Creek Campground - Sept. 4 and I'm wearing gloves

It was Labor Day weekend, so all motels around Munising were booked. We pulled into Bay Furnace Campground in Christmas, across the bay from Grand Island. The campground is located at a historical site where a blast furnace converted iron ore for shipping back in the 1800s. Daylight was fading, so we quickly chose a site and set up our tent in the rain. It had been a long time since I'd gone car camping; compared to our backpacking tent, the old REI Campdome 4 was a palace! I spent the near-freezing night completely zipped up in my +15 mummy bag, wearing long underwear and a winter hat, and with the sleeping bag's hood cinched tightly around my face. My nose suffered in the cold air, but the rest of me was well-insulated.

Getting ready to hunker down for a cold night

The next morning we continued west and stopped for breakfast at Peggy Sue's Cafe in Negaunee. A bald eagle swooped across US 41 near Craig Lake State Park, and I may have spotted a golden eagle above Hwy 38 as we approached Ontonagon. Golden eagles aren't common here, but they are seen in the western U.P. now and then. Another fishing attempt was made on the Sturgeon River somewhere between Baraga and Ontonagon, but without any luck.

A couple of regulars at Peggy Sue's Cafe

We checked in to Superior Shores Resort on the outskirts of Ontonagon. Owners Don and Linda are very helpful and are involved in the Peter Wolfe chapter of the North Country Trail Association. Don loaned us a handful of books and a detailed map of the area. We took his advice and visited Bonanza Falls – a section of Big Iron River where a series of small waterfalls cascade over layers of shale. The bright midday sun made it difficult to capture good photos, but it was an interesting spot, and we spent about an hour wandering along the river.

Bonanza Falls

We ate an early dinner at Syl's Cafe in Ontonagon, then headed back to our room on the shore of Lake Superior to make sure we were organized and ready to go the following morning. Amazingly, neither of us had worn a watch. In addition to being in an area remote enough that our cell phones couldn't get a signal, we were also close enough to the border between the Eastern and Central Time Zones that the phones were caught in some kind of time vortex. Their displays kept switching from an hour ahead to an hour behind. One minute it was 8pm, the next it was 9pm. Could we trust the car's dashboard clock, or were we supposed to have switched to Central Time at some point during the day? We had completely forgotten to check the time zone situation, and suddenly our 5 months of planning seemed inadequate. We didn't want to go to the resort office and admit that we couldn't tell time, so we took a guess and set an alarm for the morning.* I made a note of the weather outlook for the next 6 days:

Monday: High 72, sun/clouds
Tuesday: High 55, rain
Wednesday: High 61, sun/clouds
Thursday: High 61, sun/clouds
Friday: High 64, sun/chance of rain
Saturday: High 68, sun/chance of rain

Rock layers at Bonanza Falls

* If we'd just consulted our road map, Ontonagon is clearly shown in Eastern Time.

To be continued in Day One: Big Carp River Trail

Porcupine Mountains | Intro Pt. 1

After some researching, Craig and I decided on Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park for our September backpacking trip. We visited the area back in 2004, but only for a short time, and we've always wanted to go back and see more of the park.

Manabehzo Falls. Old photo from 2004 trip.

Including an extensive tract of old-growth forest, the 60,000 acre park was created in 1945 and is Michigan's largest state park. It includes impressive vistas, several waterfalls, rocky Lake Superior shoreline, and lots of black bears. 90 miles of hiking trails provide opportunities for short day hikes or long multi-day journeys into the park's backcountry. In winter, snowshoeing as well as both Alpine and cross-country skiing are possible. 

The difficult part of planning was choosing which trails to hike. We decided to make the most of our time by combining 2 short trips that could be linked together to create one 6-day hike. The first trip is a 27-mile loop consisting of the Big Carp River, Little Carp River, and North Mirror Lake trails deep in the heart of the park. We would spend 3 nights along the this route, completing the loop on the fourth day. Then we would walk about a mile to another trailhead and transition right in to the next segment: Lake Superior Trail. A rugged 17-mile route along the lakeshore, LST ends at a scenic spot where the Presque Isle River flows into Lake Superior. Total miles: 45.

Since we planned this trip nearly 5 months in advance, we discovered that we had an option open to us that we had never considered before. Backcountry cabins were located near each of the sites where we planned to camp along our route. On a whim, we checked the availability and found that we could stay in a cabin each night if we reserved them with the DNR. The decision would have to be made right away because these cabins are in demand and get booked up quickly.

Enormous boulder along Big Carp River Trail

The idea of not using our tent made us a little uncomfortable, but we also thought it might be fun to do a cabin-to-cabin hike. The cabins are rustic – no electricity, running water, etc. - so we would still need to do most of the things required of tent camping. Water would still need to be collected from streams or lakes and filtered, and wood would have to be gathered if we wanted to have a fire in the provided fire ring. An advantage the cabins have are wood burning stoves, which we could use if the weather was cold enough.

One of 18 rustic cabins in the Porcupine Mountains

We debated. Are we sell-outs for exchanging hard self-inflating mattresses for hard bunk beds? Will we feel like we're missing out if we don't sleep in our cramped but trustworthy Kelty backpacking tent? Will we miss the paranoia of potential food smells lingering on our clothes while tucked semi-safely behind a wooden cabin door? Eventually we decided that the hiking and scenery were the goals, and since the opportunity was there, why not try something new?

Spontaneity won and reservations with the DNR were made. Now we just had to wait five months.   

To be continued in Prologue Part 2: The Journey North

Tahquamenon River Trail

Tahquamenon Falls State Park

Upper Falls. Beautiful, but not the only reason to visit!

The 2nd largest state park in Michigan (#1 is Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park) boasts the 2nd largest waterfall in the U.S., east of the Mississippi. Tahquamenon Falls State Park receives 500,000 visitors a year due primarily to the two waterfalls that call the park home. Not to discount the park's other draws, the falls are far from the only reason to stop by.

Snowshoeing the Tahquamenon River Trail

Undisturbed forest, some of it old growth, surrounds park explorers, and it is the tannic acid from the many hemlock and cedar trees that give the falls their unusual brown tones. Evidence of beaver activity presents itself in the gnawed-on trunks of many of these trees along the river. Year-round presentations and workshops educate visitors, such as a snowshoe making workshop, in which participants weave their own pair of traditional snowshoes.

Tahquamenon River

Winter is a spectacular time to visit Tahquamenon Falls State Park. The droves of loud snowmobiles tend to wipe out any chance of seeing moose; however, the 40+ miles of hiking trails ensure plenty of opportunity for peaceful winter hiking. Many miles of cross-country ski trails are groomed, and some of these are lit with lanterns for night skiing.

Lanterns have been lit along a ski trail in preparation for night skiing

Backcountry campsites have recently been added to the state park and more are in development, providing year-round camping opportunities. The North Country Trail uses the scenic Tahquamenon River Trail as it winds through northern Michigan before eventually making its way south to the Lower Peninsula.

Tahquamenon River Trail follows the river for 4 miles
between the 2 waterfalls

For hikers with a lot of vacation time, the North Country Trail Association recommends a 102-mile stretch through the Upper Peninsula - beginning at Munising Falls in Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore and ending at Lower Falls in Tahquamenon Falls State Park - and considers it a premier segment of this 4600 mile multi-state hiking trail. A couple of weeks could not be better spent!

Smokey should have worn a sweater. He looks nervous.

With an average of 200 inches of annual snowfall, winter enthusiasts of all kinds are guaranteed not to be disappointed when traveling to this park. Snowshoeing is an ideal way to explore the area in winter, and on a recent trip to the winter wonderland that is the Tahquamenon River Trail, snowshoes were a must.

Enjoying the winter wonderland

A 4-mile, one-way route between the Upper and Lower Falls, the TRT is possibly the most beautiful trail I've ever hiked in winter. Beginning at the Lower Falls, we were greeted by the roaring sound of the fast-moving river. Mist filled the air above mounds of snow and ice, which had accumulated along the river bank and around the island that splits the river and causes a series of cascades.

A section of Lower Falls - mostly hidden under snow and ice

True to its name, the Tahquamenon River Trail briefly leaves the water to climb a ridge, but quickly returns to hug the river for the majority of the trip. As we walked between the river and snow-blanketed forest, the only sounds we heard depended on the mood of the river – serene bubbling in calm areas, or loud roaring where the the current was more forceful. Light intermittent snowfall added to the beauty of the day, and reinforced my philosophy that most things are better with snow.

Snow-blanketed forest along Tahquamenon River

The festive looking Interpretive Gazebo
Snowshoes were made available for park visitors who wanted to try them out

The Upper Falls can be seen along the trail from the top of the canyon in which the river flows. A staircase then leads visitors to a viewing platform near the top of the waterfall for an up close view of the 200-feet wide by 50-feet high drop. Near the Upper Falls parking lot, an interpretive gazebo provides park information, and is a hub of activity such as the guided snowshoe that was taking place on this particular weekend. Tahquamenon Falls Brewery and Pub is the perfect place to finish off the day with a bowl of wild rice soup, a whitefish sandwich and a pint of Porcupine Pale Ale by the fireplace.

A beautiful moonrise over Tahquamenon Falls Brewery & Pub

Press Play on the 2 videos below to see the Upper and Lower Falls in action!

Upper Falls:


Lower Falls:
(video temporarily unavailable)

Mosquito River Snowshoe

10+ miles The Chapel / Mosquito trailhead is not accessible by car in winter. Roads are plowed only to certain points, and from these spots it is necessary to rely on other means of travel. Some areas of Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore are accessible by snowmobile; other locations forbid any type of motorized vehicle. Cross-country skis would be very handy in some of these areas, as it is sometimes necessary to travel a significant distance on foot, which would normally by covered by car. Since I have not yet ventured into the world of skiing, snowshoes would have to suffice when my sister, Andrea, and I set out to hike to the Mosquito River and Falls.

On the way to the trailhead. Snow blankets Lake Superior State Forest.

Leaving Munising, we headed east on H-58 around 8am. I channeled the stoic nerves of an ice road trucker as I slid around on the solid sheet of snow-covered ice disguised as a road. Luckily, we appeared to be the only people awake and moving about, so we did not have to be careful of other drivers. Also in our favor was the fact that the local deer seemed to be sleeping in.

Andrea descends a steep slope into a valley.

This was the first time I have driven this route in the winter, and once we entered the birch forest, the scenery became a winter wonderland postcard. Around 9am, we reached the end of the plowed portion of the road and parked off to the side. Based on the park service road closure map, I guessed it was about 3 miles to the Chapel / Mosquito trailhead, where hikers would normally park and begin walking.

Snowshoes on and trek poles in hand, we left the car behind and continued on foot. A layer of light snow covered older snowshoe and cross-country ski tracks, which looked to be resting atop a layer of snow 18” – 24” deep. After a mile, I was feeling pretty good about being 1/3 of the way there. Then we passed a sign indicating that we still had 3 miles to go. I may need to invest in skis.

We pressed on, and eventually reached the trailhead where I engaged in my favorite winter challenge: using an outhouse while wearing snowshoes. Foolishly, I was not able to determine how long it took us to reach this point from the car (and, also, how long we would need to get back) because I was not wearing a watch. Although I was fully aware that there is no cell phone reception in this area, I stupidly forgot that this would also affect my phone’s clock. When I pulled my phone from my backpack and found the battery draining while searching hopelessly for a signal (and not displaying the time), I felt like an idiot. I may also need to invest in a watch.

Photo by Andrea

The first section of Mosquito Falls is approximately one mile from the trailhead. I had not hiked this trail in 3 or 4 years, so it was almost a new experience. Luckily, Andrea had been there in autumn and the details were fresh in her mind.

For close to ½ mile, no previous tracks were visible, but the fresh snow looked slightly depressed where it had coated the path. The trail is not blazed, however, and after the first ½ mile, it disappeared altogether. If I had been alone, I would have had no idea where to go, as the trail climbs ridges, then descends into steep valleys, and the river is not always audible. Andrea knew exactly where to go and led us to the shallow canyon overlooking the first section of Mosquito falls without incident. Due to the steepness of portions of this trail, the crampons on the bottoms of our snowshoes were invaluable and I definitely recommend using trek poles.
In warmer months, it is easy to climb down to the river’s edge. This appeared impossible due to the snow and ice, so we remained at the top of the cliff overlooking the river. Mosquito Falls consists of four small cascades, which are very subtle even in peak season. Icicles hung along the canyon walls, and the heavy blanket of snow did not leave much of the falls visible.

The first section of Mosquito Falls is mostly hidden by snow and ice.
Photo by Andrea

We explored along the river for ½ mile or so, then began the long trek back to the car. Although I did not remember the hike to the trailhead being downhill, the walk back felt like a slight but never-ceasing incline which made the journey a very slow trudge. Andrea is a stronger hiker than I am, and before long she was leaving me in her powdery dust while I wheezed along.
We finally reached the car and I was surprised at it being only 3pm. Hiking a little over 10 miles in 6 hours is really not bad at all in snow, especially with much time spent gazing at the river and taking pictures. We headed back to the motel to eat a quick late lunch before heading back out to visit more icy areas in Munising before the sun went down.
Video below:

Click the play button to see a small section of Mosquito Falls

Munising Falls

It is tradition for me to visit Munising Falls whenever I’m near the western end of Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. Even in summer, when not much more than an unenthusiastic trickle of water drools from the top, I still must see it.

For me, most of the attraction is the sandstone formation that the water falls from. I am fascinated by the eroded cliff formations and canyons that were formed in the region when it was covered by glaciers. Here, Munising Creek drops 50 feet into the canyon below on its way to Lake Superior, a short distance away.

I could spend hours examining the layered walls of rock that surround me while walking the short path from the interpretive center to the waterfall. I am mystified by the people I have seen walk briskly toward the sound of splattering water, never once look from side to side, stop for a moment at the first viewing spot, snap a photo and turn around. I lose sleep over this kind of thing; it is the curse of the obsessive rock nerd.

Barriers have been put in place fairly recently in an attempt to stop visitors from walking under the cliff and behind the waterfall. Signs posted warning of the potential danger of falling rock lend justification to these measures, and in warmer months it is not unusual to see a park ranger keeping a casual eye on potential adventurers.

During winter, Munising Falls creates a different, possibly even more spectacular scene. A massive column of ice is created, giving the falls a much bigger presence. Unfortunately, lack of funding does not allow the interpretive center to remain open through the winter months, but the smaller number of visitors allows more freedom to explore and photograph the area without having to wait for people to get out of your frames. You are also less likely to get caught climbing over the barricades. Normally, I obey the rules about this kind of thing. I respect the desire to keep natural areas untouched and keep erosion to a minimum, but it is really hard to resist getting closer to that column of ice.

I speculate that when rules are broken and the ice is observed directly, the sound of running water can still be heard from within the frozen waterfall. I imagine that the trickling echo could lead someone to look down past the base of the ice to see the stream of water rush out to continue its journey. I can’t say for sure, though, and I have no idea where these photos came from.

The North Country Trail (also called the Lakeshore Trail along this stretch of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula) can be accessed directly behind the interpretive center. For backpackers through-hiking the NCT - a 4600-mile footpath running from North Dakota to New York - Munising Falls would be a nice rest stop. It is also either the starting or ending point for those hiking the 42-mile Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore section only. This route is a one-way trip from Munising to Grand Marais (or the other way around) and features some of the most awe-inspiring scenery of the entire multi-state trail. I am considering this option for a fall backpacking trip later this year.

Eben Ice Caves

Rock River Canyon Wilderness

Stalactites of Ice

I recently returned from three days of snowshoeing in the Upper Peninsula with my sister, Andrea. We dubbed our trip 'Frozen Ice Crystal Palace Adventure 2010'. In addition to being fanatical rock nerds, we are also certified ice geeks and had been looking forward to visiting some icy hot spots in the far north of Michigan.

Photo by Andrea
Our first destination for FICPA 2010 was the Eben Ice Caves, located in Rock River Canyon Wilderness in the western section of Hiawatha National Forest. Rock River Canyon is 150 feet deep and lined with sandstone outcrops, which have been eroded to form concave overhangs. During winter, ground water seeps over the edge and down through the sandstone where it freezes, creating huge curtains of ice and closing off the front of the outcrops to form caves.

In winter it is possible to access the ice caves from the south side of the wilderness area. A few miles north of Eben Junction, visitors can park their cars by the side of the road and cross an open field to the forest. The field is private property, but the owner allows for its use in winter to access the ice caves.

Photo by Andrea

After checking in at the Sunset Motel in Munising, we headed west on M-94, drove through Chatham, turned North at the Eben post office, then right onto Frey Road. We parked the car where the road curves left at the open field and headed to the first phase of our Ice Adventure.

Rock River Canyon

It felt much colder than it actually was. The temperature was somewhere in the low-mid 20's, but the light wind felt like an arctic assault to the face. Shortly after entering the woods, the effects of the wind tapered off and an interpretive sign welcomed us with information about the wilderness.

First Glimpse of Ice

From there the trail is easy to follow; the path has a few steep spots, but doesn't really require much work for such an awesome pay-off. Shortly before the caves, a short bridge cuts across a stream, then the trail curves to the right and begins to climb. The ice becomes visible at the center of the “V” created by the hills on either side of the path.

The Ice Cave

We had both seen a few photos of the ice caves, but none of them really captured the size of this phenomenon. It was difficult to decide where to begin to tackle it photographically, and we immediately began climbing around the hillsides to get a more expansive view, and crouching and crawling around at the base of the ice to see every possible angle. Unfortunately, my camera malfunctioned shortly after our arrival (I was able to fix the problem later), but luckily I could rely on Andrea to capture every square inch of the area and give me copies later.

Blue chandelier

What we weren't able to capture, however, was the amazing sound inside the cave. The drips of water falling from above created wonderful echoes and added to the cave atmosphere. There is much variation of color and texture to the ice in different parts of the cave. Some formations were smooth and clear, others were bumpy and hollow-sounding, and there were some columns that looked like dripping candle wax.

Waxy Ice Column

The ice was mostly white or had a yellowish tint from the sandstone. Light shining through from outside of the cave gave other areas a blue or green glow. The cave floor consisted of waxy-looking pools of frozen water in some areas, and exposed earth in others.

Inside the cave - Photo by Andrea

We spent at least an hour at the Eben Ice Caves, and could have lingered a lot longer had it not been for the cold catching up to us due to lack of activity. We had intended to hike to a nearby waterfall after leaving Rock River Canyon, but it was now close to sunset, so we tabled that for later in the trip and headed back to Munising to drink hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps and decide on the following day's hike.

"I could happily die in this cave." - Andrea

More photos of the Eben Ice Caves can be seen here.