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

Solo = Speed?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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. 

Day 2: 28 Miles Later

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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...

Day 3-5: Recovery

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.

And at the cabin it was business as usual- boats, birds, and many many cameras.

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!