Grand Adventure at Pictured Rocks - True Story

 

I gazed at my reflection in the mirror and saw a bulging muffin-top belly. I had spent the entire summer hiking and eating healthily, yet it still stubbornly persisted. Our most recent hike through the Allegan State Game Area spanned a challenging 14 miles, and it left my son Gabe and me feeling confident that we were ready to take on the moderately difficult Pictured Rocks section of the NCNST.

We rose before sunrise and broke camp in the pitch-dark morning of the Upper Peninsula. The Alger County Transit shuttle was waiting for us in Munising. It took us to the beginning of the trail at the east end. The driver kindly went a little further to drop us off at Sable Falls.

Starting toward the falls, we had a pep in our steps and a song in our hearts. The foliage was wet with morning dew but we welcomed the feeling, we were in the wilderness and it would be amazing. 

Upon arriving at the visitors center we were already wiping the sweat from our brows, the sun had risen and was becoming uncomfortable. We were at the official start of the Picture Rocks Trail and it would be 42.4 wonderful miles to the end and we would complete it in four days.

The first part of the trail was a slow walk through a wet field with chest-high grass. I couldn't help but think about bears and how easily one could hide in that field. After a quick right bend, we lost the trail for a moment, but we found it again without much difficulty and eventually came out onto the road.

We hiked around a lake that was crystal clear, entered the forest, and started uphill. At the top, we decided we needed a rest as our shirts were wet with sweat. We indulged in a delectable chocolate peanut butter trail mix. After the break, we descended the hill behind Grand Sable Dunes. This was a beautiful hike through tall trees shading us all the way to Log Slide which is only 5.8 miles from the visitors center. 

The scenery was breathtaking, white sands and teal blue waters of Lake Superior stretched for miles into the distance. The rest of the trail would have cliffs and dunes to our right and deep forest wilderness to our left.

We carried on enjoying the splendor of the trail. We soon found a spot to eat lunch at an empty campsite. We enjoyed “Ramenbombs” a hiker delicacy according to Youtube. The ramen and instant potato mixture was a bit too heavy on my stomach and little did I know this would be the last thing I ate for the trip. My head began to pound and the trail became less fun, less captivating. I talked to my son Gabe about it, he was fatigued as well. We agreed that the Upper Peninsula was supposed to be a lot cooler, especially on the shores of Lake Superior. We didn't know a short heat wave would be hitting the area.

We continued forward, staying hydrated. We added electrolytes to our filtered water; however, they were cheap packets that did no good. We struggled our way to Sevenmile, our reserved camp for the night. The sun was setting already, approximately 15.6 miles was too much for a 45-year-old overweight man and his son who had never hiked that far with a heavy pack. 

Heat exhaustion was overtaking me even while drinking a gallon of water that day. Gabe needed to help me set up my tent as even that simple task proved to be too confusing. We were both too nauseous to eat dinner. We dared do nothing that may make us lose more water, like vomiting. My skin burned as I lay shivering in the tent, we drifted off to sleep as the darkness of the wild settled over us once more.

The next morning found us in much better spirits. My body temperature had returned to normal during the night and I was able to have a nice cup of coffee. My imagination ran wild as I sat on the unwalled vault toilet in the woods, pondering the barred owl and tree knocks I heard in the forest in the middle of the night.

We packed up camp and gathered more water from Lake Superior. A small stream serenely issued into the big lake after meandering across the beach. Another crystal clear and ice cold water source. ‘Nothing like going up north’, I thought to myself.

We forced ourselves to suck on some chocolate for added energy and drink at least a half liter of water with electrolytes before setting out. The packs were still heavy but we headed out once again with vigor. We met up with some other hikers and chatted but soon outpaced them. We had fewer miles to hike today and thought we could make it to camp early and spend more time recovering. That was short-lived as our energy quickly evaporated. The temperature once again rose to near 90 degrees. The average temperature for mid-August is only 69.

Again, we couldn't eat and now Gabe was feeling sicker and more tired than ever. The trail was harder as we were re-routed into the forest time and again because of deadfall from storms and eroding cliffs. We had to cautiously navigate a root-bound trail and climb over rock formations and up sandy inclines when we could barely lift our feet. 

My body began to spasm, painful charlie-horses wracked my legs and sides. We considered poaching a campsite and splitting the distance across more days but after resting we decided to press on. 

Finally, we finished the 11.6 miles to the Chapel Creek campsites. Of course, our site was taken, probably poached by someone like-minded as we were earlier that day. 

I heard Gabe calling me, “Dad there’s a spot over here!”

This was not a camping spot but the convergence of two trails and it had a wider area in the corner with enough room for our tents. It was good so we set up camp. It was a beautiful area overlooking the lake below. The winds were strong though, probably gusting around 50 mph. Gabe nearly lost his tent as he tried to stake it in, he caught the edge of it just before it got blown over the edge and into the water.

It had been more than 24 hours since we had anything to eat and it was going to be longer as our nausea persisted. On top of that, we were warned by other campers to batten down the hatches because a storm was coming. The rain the night before proved our tents were up to the challenge so I just curled up in my sleeping bag and said goodnight to Gabe. 

In the back of my mind like a distant dream, I thought of what awaited us in the next two days if we continued. Would we be fine in the morning or would our bodies suffer something catastrophic? This was supposed to be the time of our lives, but now we were both sick and in pain. 

A small while later Gabe rose, nearly sliding down to the beach and with what strength I do not know. Waving his arms wildly he hollered at a passing ship but to no avail. It vanished in the distance. Downtrodden in this overwhelming predicament he climbed the dune once more peering over the choppy sea. 

With yet another great surprise he repeated his steps signaling another passing ship but this time he had brought a headlamp. With the flashing light, he made contact. They asked him over a loudspeaker if he needed help to which he replied with a thumb’s up. The Pictured Rocks tour boats announced they would notify the Park Service and then left. It seemed our perch, fate or God had brought us to, was the only overlook at which we could have found our rescue.

Gabe spoke softly into my tent asking, “Dad, ya wanna go home?” 

“Yeah Gabe, I think I do.” I was so saddened by our defeat, but I knew this was divine intervention.

An hour passed when we saw a spotlight shining across a darkened beach. A small crew of brave young men unloaded and made their way up to us. They loaded our gear and helped us onto the vessel. They were Yoopers through and through, hardened by the elements and unafraid to dance with the Lady. For an hour we bounced over massive waves, crashing over one and into the next. I held on hard to just stay in my seat. Lightning flashed in the distance as I pondered which direction to swim if we sank.

Finally, we arrived at the dock in Munising. They had an ambulance waiting for us if we needed it. They took our information, we declined the ambulance but took a ride from a kind police officer back to our car. 

We were shivering, cold and wet, starving and dehydrated but we lived to tell of our grand adventure. There will be another attempt and this time I will be prepared. I’ll take my time and enjoy the trail for all the beauty it holds.

I want to thank my son Gabe for being a hero and rescuing us from a possibly fatal situation; the National Park Service; Pictured Rocks Cruises; the Munising Police Department; and the volunteers who pulled us out of there.

PS - This article was submitted to the North Star, a North Country Trail magazine. It was accepted and edited. The following link will take you to my edited, published story renamed "Peril at Pictured Rocks" page 29.

https://northcountrytrail.org/files/north%20star/43-3.pdf