You know us, you love us, and you tolerate our obsessive planning. But, for one reason or another, Erin and I decided we needed to hit the trail and just couldn't be bothered to plan. Normally, we spend months scouting trails, researching backcountry sites, plotting routes - but not this time.
Day 0
I left work Thursday and drove to Traverse City to rendezvous with Mizz E. As is our custom, I store and haul all the gear, so upon arrival, I dumped 12 years worth of equipment on Erin's living room floor to be sorted, checked, and packed for the next day. Plenty of time, no worries... right?
First on our list was a trip to (massive plug) BACKCOUNTRY OUTFITTERS on Front Street for a few last minute purchases - oh yeah, and to figure out why our stove exploded in my face last Sunday. The fact that we even needed to purchase anything the day before a trip was a panic attack in and of itself, but we kept it together. The freakishly handy staff at Backcountry not only exorcised the demons from my stove, but repaired and cleaned them both at no cost. Can't thank them enough - plus Joe is a hottie, and we would never miss an opportunity to oogle him.
After we were fairly certain our stoves would function in a non-lethal fashion, we moved on to yet another loose end: what are we eating?? Yes, friends, we had no food 12 hours before leaving. After a frenetic half hour at Tom's, we managed to acquire all the essentials... and maybe a few extras. Over-packers anonymous here we come.
Day 1
We managed to get everything in decent order that evening and we set out early-ish the next morning. After posing for 2 or 12 departure photos, we bid JuJu adieu and headed toward Gaylord. Now, we did do some research. I called the Pigeon River Country DNR Head Quarters in an effort to grope my way toward an understanding of the trail. We'd been unable to even find a map of the trail, so I figured a ranger would be our best bet. The friendly voice on the line informed me that our chosen path sounded lovely and that, other than a tiny little detour, we'd have a great weekend. She also suggested purchasing a map - what a novel idea! - in Gaylord.
We arrived in Gaylord, acquired said map, but were unable to locate a toothbrush, so we continued on to Vanderbilt and grabbed some last minute junk at the Village Market. We hung a left on Main street and were within miles of the trail head. Suddenly before us loomed a hideous orange sign announcing that the bridge was out, and we had to reverse and follow the detour... oh, that detour. We turned around, and drove about an hour (right back through Gaylord), to the East side of the bridge and arrived at the HQ to receive some more valuable information (what you might even call "unformation"). Did you know the photo in the office of a man in a canoe was taken at one of the sink holes you'll be passing on your route? Wow, I feel so much better now about our total lack of planning. After going over our proposed route - again - with the DNR staff, we felt confident enough to set out.
About an hour later we finally located the trail head, which was marked by a blaze of faded blue paint that must have been applied in 1873 by Lewis Cass himself. This was our official intro to the DNR management style.
Can you spot the blaze??
We were on the trail around 1PM, so we had a short day and camped on the marshy shore of Grass Lake about 6 miles south of the trail head. We were slowed by poor signage (or total lack of signage) that led us astray for a few miles. But the lake was lovely, and gave us some of the only wildlife sightings on this trip. The friendly DNR staffer had told us not to bother bringing our water filter, but we were VERY glad to have it. The southern shore of the lake is a reedy mess completely unsuitable for consumption. To pump just 32 ounces took 10 minutes, and required the filter to be cleaned at least once. The resultant liquid was a shade of amber that had we not been desperate, would have turned us off entirely.
Erin lounges at Charmin Junction.
The one feature of this camp site that was immediately noticeable - and even more off putting then the water - were the welcome banners of TP strewn about the trail and woods as you approached the site. C'mon people, six inches means six inches! That night I dreamt I was shopping at Jay's Sporting Goods in Gaylord, and as I walked by the archery targets (plastic dear and whatnot), I saw a perfectly rolled length of toilet paper resting on a fake log....
Day 2
Perhaps it was because this trip had such an odd beginning, but for whatever reason, we had a really hard time getting motivated for Day 2. We normally power through the miles every day, but this day we had a super slow morning and hit the trail late - we have no idea how late since I packed in such a rush I never found my watch. We hadn't made it far before we happened upon the most peaceful bend in the river. We decided it was an absolute imperative that we stop and have a snack at this spot. Nearly 2 hours later, we reluctantly packed up and hiked on.
Erin soaks up the serenity.
We hiked back into the woods, away from our beloved river bend, and were soon confronted by one of the most spectacular features of the Pigeon River Country, the sinkholes. The name does them little justice, but if there is any reason to tolerate the DNR and their uselessness, it's to come see the sinkholes. We were told the water was amazing on a clear sunny day, but we were plenty amazed at their color on an overcast morning.
Gunner takes a dainty sip.
Shortly after seeing Junction 4 Lake (aka a pretty sinkhole), we were met with a sign indicating that the portion of trail we'd planned to hike that afternoon was closed - yes, the same portion of the trail we asked the DNR staffers if we could hike. It turns out that the bridge detour - yes, that detour - was also affecting the trail. We followed the sign's suggested alternate route instead. This route included a lovely tour of clear cut forest wastelands (yes, the DNR allows logging), and miles of loose, sandy two track roads. Possibly the most memorable aspect of the alternate route was the intense vehicular traffic that kicked up clouds of dust that coated us in a dry film.
We're on track, but to where?
The alternate trail (aka crappy seasonal road) deposited us on the West side of the bridge on Sturgeon Valley Road... and can you guess which side we needed to be on? That's right, the "alternate trail" lead us directly to the bridge we'd spent hours circumnavigating the day before. Yes, THAT detour. We still cannot fathom why 1. the alternate trail ended on the wrong side of a detour and 2. why no one at the DNR HQ mentioned this hiccup... But hey, that is where we found ourselves and we needed to find a solution.
Erin knows how to flag a ride.
Our first thought was to hitch to the other side via that very same annoying detour. As we stood considering our options, several cars wizzed by and - unlike us- did not turn around and pursue the poorly signed detour, but instead hung a left onto the very same dusty two track we'd just left. We decided it would be too depressing to hitch hike 3 miles back to the place you just left, so we headed into the construction site to check out this bridge situation.
Northern Michigan Wilderness.
The bridge was nonexistent, but luckily, we had arrived on a Saturday when all the workers were gone. We helped ourselves to the rickety plywood causeway that had been erected for their use, and happily closed that chapter of our trip. We stopped briefly in Pigeon Bridge campground to rinse the dust off, and plotted the rest of our day. It was already 3PM, and we'd expended nearly all our reserves of mental energy grappling with the detour, so we decided to hike a mile or so north of the campground and make camp. As we left the campground, we again struggled to grasp the DNR's system of trail marking, as various trails would be simultaneously listed on a map and not present in reality.
About a mile up the trail, we found a peaceful little meadow alongside the river (remember that serene little bend?) and toyed with the idea of setting up camp. When we walked in further off the trail, there was absolutely no breeze and the humid air just hung in the tall grass. We hiked another mile and settled on a glade nestled in a pine forest. It was lovely for about 20 minutes - exactly the amount of time it took us to unpack, set up the tent, and start cooking dinner. We were pretty well established in the site by the time a squadron of mosquitoes descended upon us. They were completely unfazed by all attempts to make ourselves less appealing. Being stalwart campers, however, we persevered.
Chef Kate attempts to camouflage herself with a kitchen towel.
It was around this time that we decided we had no interest in sharing another night with the DNR, or the bugs, so we planned to hike out the next day. Thus, we enjoyed some last-night-on-the-trail luxuries including wine and Jiffy Pop (best 8 ounces we've ever carried).
Totally worth it.
Day 3
We had been chased into our tent by 5.30 the previous night, so we were up and out of camp by 6.30AM. We hadn't spent much time planning the day's route - otherwise we would have known better - but we hit the trail with enthusiasm, dreaming of the french fries and milkshakes awaiting us in Gaylord (we'd decided we would be lunching at Big Boy). This day was a total blur of green and brown. We hiked north into a deep forest that alternated between green conifers and green deciduous trees. We considered this mental training for the "Green Tunnel" on the AT. Next was a roller coaster of trail zigzagging up spines and down noses, revealing even more logging sites. We occasionally broke from the forest (mostly because it had been cut down), and traveled briefly along seasonal roads. We found the source of our confusion on Day 1 when we stumbled upon several downed trees bearing blue blazes that had been knocked down by loggers and not replaced by the DNR. We ended up hiking 11 miles and were off the trail by noon.
Holly the Hiker says "We Can Do It!"
With our feet numb and legs in searing pain, we collapsed into the car and promptly drove straight to Big Boy to celebrate.
