Labor Day 2023
Dates: 8/30/23 - 9/04/23
Locations: Pictured Rocks Natl. Lakeshore, Tahquamenon Falls State Park, Pere Marquette Natl. Monument, Hiawatha Natl. Forest
After backpacking in Olympic, climbing Rainier, and backpacking Wyoming this summer, I was feeling strong and fast and wanted to give myself a little challenge. Knowing that solo hikers tackling long-distance trails regularly do 20-30 miles a day, I was curious how that felt and if I would even enjoy solo backpacking. Since I was coming back to Michigan for Labor day and Mom, Dad, Sophie, Leah, and Copper would be camping in the U.P, I devised a plan to knock out the 43-mile Picture Rocks hiking trail on the shore of Lake Superior in just 2 days, then go join them at Tahquamenon Falls, then head south to join festivities at Gavin's cabin.
I lined up my logistics perfectly- leaving Brighton after a day of remote work on Weds, 8/30, I would beeline for the Mackinac Bridge, then up to Munising where the Pictured Rocks trail starts/ends, sleep in the car for the short remainder of the night and catch the first shuttle from the Munising Falls visitor center to the Grand Sable Visitor center at the far end. 2 days of crushing 20-22 miles a day would get me back to the car, then an hour+ drive to the campsite for relaxing trailer camping. I packed light, mapped it out, and was ready to roll.
The backcountry trail map.
I left Brighton at about 6pm, making it to the Mackinac bridge at about 9:30. It was already well dark out, but the full moon was bright and the bridge lights reflected on the black waters of the straits. After crossing, I pulled off at the Pere Marquette National Monument area to take some pictures from the bridge viewing platform. It's one of my favorite sights, and that lake breeze was like a breath of life after the swamp water air of Houston.
Light painting on dark water canvas.
Full moon (not very well magnified with my 45mm lens)
The Mighty Mac.
Another 2 hours got me to Munising, nearing midnight and pitch black on the abandoned UP highways. I pulled in at the Munising Falls visitor center and had to get in my sleeping bag in the drivers seat to stay warm through the long chilly night.
Waking up to a dewy chill in the air, I had the shuttle to Grand Sable all to myself and promptly started hiking at 9. The trail led me through some extremely wet long-grass meadows and past Grand Sable Lake before the trail pointed towards Lake Superior. A beautiful morning was unfolding with clear blue skies and mild temps. After 5 miles, I was finally rewarded with a view of Superior's sapphire waters from Log Slide overlook- 500 feet above the lake, these tall dunes were formerly where logged trees were slid down to be collected.
Grand Sable Visitor center at the far end of the trail.
Looking back to the Grand Sable Dunes' expanse of sand.
Log Slide, 500 feet above water level
From here, the trail would largely trace the shoreline as I descended towards Au Sable point, an outcrop with a lighthouse, shipwreck, and water access.
Above and below: fun with fungus
Dune-top view toward Au Sable point, with the lighthouse visible as a tiny white speck.
Closer look at Au Sable point.
7 miles into the journey, still feeling strong and moving fast, I came to the Au Sable lighthouse, a classic white-and-black lighthouse with an attached brick dwelling. It sits on a bluff adjacent to the trail, with an optional detour down to lake level to see a shipwreck. Of course I took that, and soon came on what's left of the wooden ore freighter Mary Jarecki, circa 1883. The wreck is hardly a ship anymore, but presents a fascinating look- parallel oak keel planks emerge from the beach sand, with a forest of iron treenails arranged in a grid, rearing out of the beach. Twisted pieces of iron jut here and there, showing the violence they endured to end up here.
Au Sable Light station
Viewed looking out over Superior.
A forest of giant iron nails in the beach.
Oak keelsons lead into Superior.
It was about noon so I ate lunch on the beach and then got up to keep moving- the Coves group campsite I had my permit for was 23.2 miles from Grand Sable so I still had 16 miles to go. Another couple miles had me crossing the hurricane river, where I refilled my water and had my first sign something was off- my legs were suddenly extremely sore, painfully sore in a way 10 miles of hiking has never hit me before. I tried to shrug it off and keep going- coming to the next stretch of the hike- the Twelvemile beach section, stretching for (you guessed it) 12 miles all the way to my campsite.
As I kept pushing, my leg pain got worse and worse, and then spread to my midsection and arms. Soon my whole body was achy and I realized my skin was extremely sensitive- exactly how I feel when I get a bad fever. I rummaged through the woods for sticks I could use as hiking poles, and started relying on them heavily to keep the incredible pain of my legs and now feet away. It turned out the insole of my trail runners had kinked and was also digging a blister into my heel, making me modify my gait and compounding the issues.
With my pace slowed to a crawl and everything hurting, I also realized I had no service anywhere. I kept trudging, my whole body now feeling chilled from fever- in the middle of the day in summer I had to break out my down jacket and beanie as I hiked, and I'm sure I looked ridiculous bundled up and leaning on my two sticks. For nearly 8 hours I went along like this, only drawing strength from the Fellowship of the Ring audiobook I had downloaded.
A ghost from days long gone.
As I kept stumbling along, I passed surreal sight in the woods with no sign of roads or civilization anywhere- a 1940 Hudson business coupe just immersed in the beech stand. Possibly an old logging road ran along the lakeside here? It warranted a few pictures, the only ones I would take the rest of the day in my deteriorating state.
Finally at about 7:30pm I crawled to a halt in my campsite, somehow having made it the 23 miles as planned. I hurriedly tried to make dinner and realized I had no appetite whatsoever, strung up my hammock, and bundled in everything I had with me for warmth as I crawled in. I could see the glow of a really good sunset taking place at the lake just a few hundred yards away, but had no desire to get out of my cocoon and walk a single step to see it. Shivering, achy, and miserable, I eventually found some sleep.
Unfortunately I didn't feel much better in the morning. With no idea how I was going to survive the 20 miles back to my car, I considered finding the nearest offshoot trail to any parking lot and trying to hitchhike back, but either way had to start hiking again first. A slow start (and a painful one) had me once again tracing the lakeshore from 50 feet above, at the top of cliffs most of the time.
Long morning shadows fall on the water 50 feet below.
A small creek flows serenely into the lake.
By some miracle, as I traced a small cliffside outcrop of the trail, I checked my phone and was able to get 1 bar of cell service. I called for help from Mom and Dad, sitting at their campsite at Tahquamenon Falls. We were able to devise a rescue plan- I would push just a few more miles to Chapel beach, then inland to Chapel falls and their parking lot, and could be mercifully picked up to end my plague pilgrimage.
Today's trail was also much more interesting, passing along cliffs and through strangely eroded areas of sandstone forming coves, arches, caves, and inlets.
Above: strange sandstone erosions.
Below: Miniature sea arch forming.
A dopping of Common Merganser bobbing in the tide (aren't bird plurals so fun?).
Not long into my hike I came to Spray Falls, one of the best sights of Pictured Rocks. The creek reaches termination at a 70-foot cliff and plunges into green-blue water, with striking contrast from tan and orange sandstone cliffs stretching for miles around it. Even with my bad hearing, I could hear it thundering down too.
Spray Falls pours off its cliffside.
Close-up on Spray Falls
Cliffside caves.
And then there was Chapel beach, where I could turn inland and make my escape. With about an hour before I expected Dad to show up, I soaked my legs in the cold water to numb the aches, and relaxed on the rocky steps. Chapel rock is a cool sight here too, a delicate tower of sandstone with numerous weathered holes in it, supporting a large tree growing right out of the top.
Cool bridge crossing Spray Creek.
Chapel rock's tenuous position.
The miles of forested cliffs and bright teal water.
After an hour I hiked in to the Chapel Falls viewing platforms to wait, and accidentally fell asleep leaning against one of the wooden platforms. Turned out Dad showed up around that time too and was wandering around literally asking strangers if they'd seen his sick son like something out of Finding Nemo. Eventually he found me sleeping there with a very interested chipmunk trying to get at some of my food.
Chapel rock head-on.
Superhero posing chipmunk
Chapel falls.
I set my step record by a good bit.
The first signs of fall already!
The rescuers!
A short hike out past the falls, drive back to the Munising falls center, and drive from there to Tahquamenon Falls State Park, and I was finally able to relax and collapse into a camp chair by the fire at their site. I was disappointed not to complete the hike, but pleased I still managed the 23 mile day and really believe I would've had a ball if I hadn't gotten sick. Despite how rough it went, I decided this couldn't be used as a data point against further speed or solo trips...
A cascade in lower Tahquamenon.
Twilight at the falls.
I woke up the next day feeling almost entirely better- so either I had some kind of 24h virus or my body was just very angry at me for attempting something so cocky. Either way, I was up for a hike to the upper falls with the fam before I stuck to my plan and drove down to the mitten again.
Above: Mom and Leah
Below: the veil
Upper Tahquamenon Falls
Seen from the lower viewpoint - the brown water is from cedar swamp tannins that the river sweeps up.
And at the cabin it was business as usual- boats, birds, and many many cameras.
Before and after dueling a sailboat in a kayak.
Roadkill.
The first sunset of the trip for me.
Indian Pipe, a rare parasitic wildflower
Great Blue Heron wading.
Gavin and I spot reid off the port bow.
Reid and I spot Gavin off the other starboard bow.
A tragedy...
in three...
(cold and wet) parts.
Above: Loon rearing up
Below: Juvenile Loon
Summary of the trip.
In the end it was a more grueling trip than I'd hoped for, but everything worked out alright and fortunately i was over my illness before heading back home to Houston. That was good, because only a week stood between me and my next adventure- and spoiler alert, that one becomes just as grueling. Tune in soon!