Backpacking with the Boys on Grand Island in Michigan's Upper Peninsula
Looking to the west during a brief pitstop in the middle of a four-day backpacking trip on Michigan’s Grand Island
When encountering something for the first time, expectations and reality collide. Sometimes, the bridge needed to bring those two poles together is long; other times, your preconceived notions are nearly spot on. And yet, there is still room for a middle ground to appear from time to time, wherein portions of the imagined circumstances match up fairly well with the actuality of the eventual situation, while other facets you envisioned beforehand couldn’t be further from the truth of what ultimately becomes your lived experience. Somewhere along the spectrum spanning those latter two states of expectation versus reality — that is, from the pair being super cozy with one another to a more liminal hit-or-miss kind of space — is where I would say my first backpacking trip can be found.
When I decided to join my younger brother and his friends for a four-day hike covering 20+ miles on Grand Island in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, there were certainly some known quantities involved. I knew, for example, that spending the night on an island in Lake Superior in October would potentially be a frosty affair, thus packing plenty of layers and proper gear, including a sleeping bag capable of insulating my body in 35- to 40-degree weather, was a must. I knew that it would be extremely dark out there once the sun went down, which could possibly provide awe-inspiring glimpses of starry night skies, but also allow the imagination to run wild, conjuring up ghosts and demons (but, more likely, rabid wild animals) lurking unseen. But I also knew that despite my status as a complete novice in the backpacking world, I was venturing into parts unknown with a young but seasoned crew, most of whom had taken part in this kind of rodeo before.
So what didn’t I know? Well, first I would say I did not realize just how heavy a 45-pound pack can feel when you challenge yourself to carry it for roughly 21 or 22 miles over the course of four days, nor how the weight seems to press down on you more and more as the hours pass. Second — and this is just pure ignorance on my part — I didn’t know that Grand Island was home to such a healthy population of black bears, nor the lengths we would need to go to make sure we didn’t run into one of them.
Lastly, I would say I didn’t know how the overall experience would feel by the time we were done. Yes, my body would be tired. Yes, I’d probably be ready for a shower and a proper meal (although we ended up eating pretty good out there). And yes, I’d likely be ready to sleep in my own bed after wrestling with a sleeping bag and sleeping pad in a tiny, one-person tent for three nights. What could not be foreseen, however, was the sense that the five of us had endured a physical challenge together and were better for it. What could not have been predicted were the particular memories we would make, the jokes we would share, the conversations we would have, and the bonds we would form. What was ultimately unknowable, then, was the lasting imprint the entire experience might have on each of us.
A good way to capture that feeling, the one that I walked away with anyway, might just be to recycle and repurpose a quote widely (mis?)attributed to writer and philosopher Henry David Thoreau: “(We) took a walk in the woods and came out taller than the trees.”
Day 1: Getting Our Sea Island Legs
Distance Covered: 3.75 miles
Campsite for the Night: Hemlock
Location: West side of island near Hemlock Beach
Amenities: Drinking water (0.5 miles south), pre-cut firewood, storage locker, bear pole, open-air pit toilet, beach access
Commentary: Following a six-hour drive up to the U.P. on a Thursday, we had just enough time to grab a pasty or two from Muldoons Pasties & Gifts in Munising before catching the final ferry of the day over to Grand Island. The exceedingly brief boat ride — 4 minutes in total, courtesy of Grand Island Ferry Service — saw us over to Williams Landing around 4 p.m., and then we were off (like a dirty shirt, as my dad would say).
Our hike on that first day, covering just under 4 miles, was but an appetizer to the three-course meal that lie in wait. We reached our campsite, Hemlock, by 6:30 p.m. or so, detouring/stopping only a couple times along the way, including for drinking water at the spigot roughly a half-mile south. Once there, we got to work setting up camp, scrounging up firewood (before realizing pre-cut wood was available), and cooking dinner, which consisted of steak tacos (fancy, eh?) and white rice that none of us could stop raving about (#insidejokes).
Darkness descended in a hurry, but that was quite all right because we got the campfire going early and kept it roaring nearly all night long. As the temperature dropped, we stayed warm around the fire with some “hotty toddies” (see: hot chocolate or tea mixed with Fireball shooters), carousing and reveling deep into the night.
Day 2: The Long Walk
Distance Covered: 6.5 miles
Campsite for the Night: Shelter Ridge
Location: North side of the island near North Beach
Amenities: Bear pole, open-air pit toilet, beach access
Commentary: Everybody was up and moving by about 9:30 a.m. the next morning, Friday, with yours truly the last to emerge from his tent. It was another beautiful day in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, even with a little chill in the air. A few of us strolled over to Hemlock Beach, coffee in hand, unable to get enough of those Lake Superior views — not to mention all of the trees sporting fall colors (senescence!) along the shoreline.
It was shortly after the noon hour that we finally set off for the first of our two heftier hikes. Trekking from Hemlock up to our second campsite, Shelter Ridge, on the island’s north shore was not technically our longest walk, but with the amount of times we stopped for sightseeing and snacking, it certainly wound up feeling like the longest.
Coming up on the west side of the island, where the elevated trail hugs the shoreline in various places, there are more than a handful of scenic vistas to take in, many of them Pictured Rocks-like in appearance. Every cliff face we encountered seemed grander and more spectacular than the last, each more and more deserving of a longer look. But, time being of the essence, we had to pry our eyes away and keep chugging along until we eventually made our way to North Beach on the far side of the island and to the Shelter Ridge campsite just beyond that.
That night, as far from “civilized society” as we could be, with no cell service to speak of and a darkness so complete it would make Bane blush, we risked leaving the campsite unattended for just a short while, hoping Yogi and Boo-Boo wouldn’t show up and rip our gear to shreds, so that we could all go down to the beach and look up at an absolutely mesmerizing sky full of stars with the Milky Way clearly in view. It was easily one of the top moments of our four days on Grand Island.
Day 3: Eastbound & Down
Distance Covered: 7.25 miles
Campsite for the Night: Little Duck
Location: East side of island directly on Trout Bay
Amenities: Covered pit toilet/outhouse, pre-cut firewood, storage locker, bear pole, beach access
Commentary: Saturday morning greeted us with another burst of sunshine and a surprisingly balmy temperature, given it was the beginning of October. And while we had certainly gotten off to a slow start the day before, we were apparently determined to outdo ourselves. North Beach was simply too nice, the shoreline too inviting, the warmer weather too eager, tempting us to take our time, sit, stay, and relax a while. But really, what was the rush?
We finally hit the trail headed east somewhere around 2 p.m. (!). I’m not sure if it was the elevated temp or the fact that it was day three of lugging around 45 pounds on my back, but the hike that day — which actually was the longest of the entire trip — was more of a struggle for me. Hours later, when we happened upon our third and final campsite, Little Duck, which sits directly on Trout Bay, the relief knowing that the hardest part was behind us washed over me like the Rains of Castamere (Game of Thrones anyone?).
And then came the actual rain. Not a lot of it, but enough that we huddled for a short time in the biggest tent we had between the five of us and broke out the playing cards for a little bit of euchre (when in the U.P., am I right?). The real rain wouldn’t show up until the wee hours of the night/morning, but by then we were all dozing, or at least attempting to, inside the relative warmth of our separate tents. What I will remember most from that night, however, is waking up around 5 a.m. still surrounded by darkness and convincing myself that a big black bear was prowling around just outside my tiny, thin-walled shelter (in reality, it was the sound of waves lapping against the shore of the bay (*insert grinning, sweaty-faced emoji)).
Day 4: The Final Sprint
Distance Covered: ~5 miles
Commentary: We woke up on Sunday, backpacks and all other gear marked safe from imagined black bear attacks, and got the fire going again following an Eddie Rabbitt-style rainy night. Coffee was brewed, breakfast items were devoured, beach views were taken in. It was all shaping up to be a standard Grand Island morning as we had come to know them over the last couple days. Only, it was different this time, because we knew it was the final one.
So we moseyed. We dawdled. We moved slowly, not quite ready to let the realities of the outer world creep back in just yet. But time rolled on, as it does, and, knowing the ferry would be making its little 4-minute journey from the mainland to the island and vice-versa “every hour on the hour” only up until 4 p.m., we eventually had to pack it all up, sad as it was.
Our final sprint began errantly. Thinking we could cut across the small spit of land separating Trout Bay from Murray Bay, and then head west along the water before turning south to get back to Williams Landing, we wound up hitting a dead end. The path we followed, which may or may not have been on private property, led us to a rickety wooden dock extending out into Murray Bay, with no discernible route heading in either direction along the shore. And while that particular scene made for a nifty photo op, it also meant we had to double back, turning what should have been around a 3.5- to 4-mile jaunt into more of a 5-mile slog. In the end, though, we arrived back at the dock with a few minutes to spare before the 2 o’clock boat pulled in, no harm, no foul.
That is, until we realized we were but a 4-minute ferry ride from the very real end of our four-day Grand Island expedition. It came and went so fast, as so many things do, but I have no doubt the impression it left on us will last a lifetime.
-LTH