Maple Hill

We slept in Monday morning, enjoying the quiet of St. Ignace in the off-season.  There is always something alluring and peaceful about being in a tourist town when the tourists are all gone.  The waterfront seemed quieter than usual and the water shimmered in the morning light.  We paid a visit to Java Joe's for some Nutella Crepes and a few leisurely cups of coffee. 

After our late breakfast we headed north on I-75 for the final hike on our trip.  Near the town of Moran there is a dolomite reef set in a maple forest that is called Maple Hill.  I have been meaning to check this strange geological formation out for a while, but by the time we reach St. Ignace we are usually returning from the far north woods and eager for the comforts of civilization.  Monday seemed like the perfect day. 

The drive out of Moran followed a wide, dusty dirt road for about 9 miles.  By the time we reached the trailhead it was hard to imagine anyone had ever been here before us.  The air was a solid twenty degrees warmer inland than it was near the water.  Loading up my daypack on the side of a hot, dusty road in the mid-day heat really made it feel like summer.  A yellow-rumped warbler hopped from branch to branch of a nearby tree while we put on sunscreen and prepared for our hike. 

The trail from the forest road to Maple Hill follows a stretch of the North Country Trail.  The NCT is a nationally-recognized scenic trail, like the Appalachian Trail, Pacific Crest Trail and Continental Divide Trail, among others.  However, the NCT is a more recent idea, and as such it is still under development.  It runs from Lake Champlain in eastern New York, through Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota and North Dakota.  Many stretches of it still require road walking, and only a few hardy souls have undertaken a thru-hike on this trail. 

The word "trail" was really an exaggeration for this section.  The only evidence of a route through the forest were the occasional blue blazes painted onto the maple trees.  The blazes were frequent enough that as long as we were vigilant in looking for the next blaze before proceeding, we weren't really in any danger of getting lost.  The surface of the trail, however, was the forest floor, with no visible path.  Trillium covered the forest in all directions, although not in bloom yet.  In another week this looked to be a fabulous wildflower hike!  The forest was completely deciduous.  Most of the trees had a colorful splash of buds growing, but no leaves yet.  This created an open, airy feeling, and made the sun feel as it if was beating down directly on us. Occasionally, the forest floor would be flooded, making it necessary to pick our way over downed trees and other obstacles to stay dry. 

The trail crossed a few forest roads as it ambled north-east.  We heard the load hammering of a pileated woodpecker several times during our hike.  A little over four miles into our hike the trail climbed gradually, reaching the escarpment of Maple Hill.  This formation was more impressive in person that pictures can convey.  It ran for about a half-mile, climbing 15-20 feet over the trail.  The air up against the rock formation was noticeably cooler.  This dolomite reef is part of the Niagara Escarpment, a formation that runs from Niagara Falls in the East, all the way to the edge of the plains in the West.  This section really was reminiscent of the parts of the Pictured Rocks Lakeshore that move inland, away from the water.  Similar low cliffs set in a deciduous forest predominate that area as well. 

We took a few picture before beginning the return hike.  The dolomite reef was worth the excursion, but the rest of the hike was a bit monotonous.  The scenery seldom changed, and the forest was hot without the shade from leave cover.  We returned to the Jeep a little less than four hours after we had left, not bad for an 8.6 mile hike.  We decided to take a scenic route back to St. Ignace, driving along Brevort Lake and and Lake Michigan along US-2.  The skies were bright blue and the sun hot overhead.  It really felt like summer had arrived. 

After a stop for dinner at the Mackinaw Grille we made the crossing over the bridge.  The sun was still high in the sky to the west, and Lake Michigan shimmered in a golden light, the water calm and inviting.  It is always hard to drive south across the bridge, but at least in the spring we know that we won't have to wait long to return!  For the moment, it was time to head home and finish our summer planning.  The end of the school year is right around the corner, and we have a bunch of plans to finish.     

A Michigan Moose Book Review: The Windward Shore

A Michigan Moose Book Review:

The Windward Shore:  A Winter On The Great Lakes by Jerry Dennis


One advantage of the cold, miserable weather we've been having in the Great Lakes Region so far this "spring” is that I've had extra time to curl up with a good book.  I often spend so much of my time reading guide books and studying maps that I don't get to read for pleasure as often as I'd like.  I just completed Jerry Dennis's The Windward Shore and was blown away by his latest ode to the region I call home.  I stumbled into Dennis's writing a few years ago when I found The Living Great Lakes on a display bookshelf in Horizon Books in Traverse City.  His prose took the reader on a riveting tour of the great lakes complete with a sailing trip on a tall ship through the Erie Canal and across the Gulf of Maine.  Dennis also provided us with a lifetime worth of stories centered on the majesty, mystery and power of these great lakes.  From tragic shipwrecks to ecological disasters, The Living Great Lakes was a page turner that I tore through in a couple of days!

Needless to say, I was excited to discover Dennis had another book out on a topic that is of such interest to me.  On the surface, The Windward Shore is a narrative of a year spent living on the shores of Lakes Michigan and Superior, both in his own home on Old Mission Peninsula and in a variety of borrowed dwellings in magnificent lakeside locations - locations such Cathead Point on the Leelanau and from a rocky vantage point along the coast of the Keweenaw Peninsula.  Needless to say, this made me more than a little jealous of the amazing experience it must have been to do the research for this book!  Beneath the surface, however, Dennis's book is so much more than a narrative.  In addition to exploring the ecological challenges facing the future of the lakes and their surrounding environments, this book attempts to plunge into the minds of the people that live and have lived in these rugged lands, to better understand what drives the day to day life of an often misunderstood region and culture. 

Beyond this, The Windward Shore takes a swing at understanding some of the heavy themes that dominate all of our lives - the passing of time, the sense of "place" we gain from spending our lives as part of a land and a people, religion and our attempts to understand a higher power and the idea of nature and the role it plays in shaping our lives.  Dennis follows in the footsteps of Emerson and Thoreau and crafts a compelling vision of the world we live in today through a transcendental prism.  Reading The Windward Shore most reminded me of the time I have spent studying Thoreau's Walden, but instead of reading about a time and place foreign to me I was examining the world I live in each day. 

Dennis closes his book by making a challenge to the reader.  "Go forth.  Make tracks, throw stones.  Assume this is the only life we have.  Gather the people you love, and embrace them until your bones crack.  Laugh, cry, get pissed off, howl.  Stand tall beneath the stars.  Sing you heart out.  Here is Creation, right before our eyes." 

A strong proposition for all of us, and one worth seeking to achieve.  The Windward Shore is a must-read for anyone willing to devote a few hours to better understanding the natural world and our place in it, willing to challenge assumptions and confront simple truths.  This is a book worthy of your time.