The Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore is one of my favorite places on earth. It’s got clear blue water, rivers and forests, some of the best beaches in the world, and of course, the dunes themselves.
In the summer, the water is warm enough to swim and the beaches fill up. Fall sees the leaves change color, and by winter most tourists have filtered out, and the park becomes a snowshoe and cross country ski play ground.
Sunset from over Lake Michigan from Overlook 9 in July, looking like something out from Planet Earth.
The same overlook in the winter, with South Manitou Island obscured by snow and fog, small human for scale.
Overlook 9, basking in that post sunset purple glow.
Looking down into the water from the tops of the Empire Bluffs Trail in August, Lake Michigan looks practically tropical!
The Manitou Islands from Pyramid Point, a short mile hike up to a bluff over Lake Michigan.
Otter Creek flows into Esch Road beach on a still, cloudy day in October. In the summer, this beach is teeming with people, but as soon as September hits the crowds filter out.
The flowers in early June at the top of the Empire Bluffs Trail on a cloudy day.
The North Bar Lake Overlook in fall, winter, and summer– in the fall, spring, and summer you can take the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive out to this overlook, but in the winter you have to cross country ski or snowshoe.
At Point Betsie, the wind kicks up turquoise waves.
Colors change out over the D.H. Day Farm, looking out from the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive.
Winter and windy vibes out over Lake Michigan.
Empire Bluffs looking bright and hot in late August.
2017 has been an eventful year for me. I had the opportunity to experience some really amazing things, from interning at the Kellogg Biological Station to playing around in the Blue Ridge Mountains and Glacier National Park. Social media tends to give the impression that all things—travel, our personal lives, camping—are always fun and easy, not ever super embarrassing.
I assure you this is false. For every awesome experience I had, a tent leaked, or I ended up leading a group friends down the wrong trail, or I made myself look like an idiot. (Okay, the last one happens more often than not.)
So, in order to fully appreciate 2017 in all her beauty and grace, I have complied a list of my most ridiculous, humiliating, and funny travel/outdoor stories and misadventures from 2017.
The time we ran for a flight
On the way back from a family trip to Whitefish, Montana, my dad, two younger sisters, younger brother and I all found ourselves running through the Salt Lake City airport to try and catch a flight back to Detroit.
Our previous flight out of Portland had been delayed, and we had about five minutes to make it across the airport once the plane landed to catch our next flight. We looked ridiculous (but like, relatable) running through the airport, and even more ridiculous when we ended up making the flight and all high fiving each other, but I don’t think I have ever been happier to be anywhere in my life than I was to be on that plane.
The time we could not find the trailhead, so we got lunch instead
In early January 2017, my sister Claire and I went out to go find and snowshoe the Brown Bridge Quiet Area near Traverse City, Michigan, but for the life of us we could not find the trailhead. Both Apple and Google maps sent us in the wrong direction, and I couldn’t figure it out from the map I had saved to my phone.
Eventually, we found a trailhead that we thought (incorrectly) was the trail we were looking for, and snowshoed there for about 20 minutes before deciding it was too cold and we were lost. We packed up, and rather than workout, we opted for sandwiches.
The time I forgot my stupid camera battery
I think I reached peak self-loathing when I screwed my camera into my tripod at Torch Lake for sunset, went to turn it on and nothing happened. Because I had forgot my camera battery. On the table. Three hours south. For better or worse, I went without a camera for the remainder of that trip.
I missed out on a lot of photos by not having my DSLR, tripod, and telephoto lens, but I did pick up quite a few things about how to get the most out of a phone camera, and I got to hike a lot lighter had way more room in my pack for extra food.
The time some fisherman thought I wouldn’t know the difference between a bass and bluegill
This one is my favorite.
I was out paddle boarding alone on a small lake near Bellaire, Michigan when I stopped to make small talk with some guys who were fishing. They were probably in their late 20s, and seemed nice enough.
I told them that if you go around the next bend, and then stick to the West side of the lake until it narrows, it’ll open up into a smaller cove that has lots of fish; not many people fish there, because it’s harder to find.
One of the men narrowed his eyes and looked at me. “Were the fish long and fat or short and small?”
I frowned for a second, not really sure what he was asking, until I realized he literally was asking if I knew that they weren’t fishing for bluegill. I tried not to laugh.
Unreal, I thought to myself.
“There are large and smallmouth bass, and there should be some trout too. The DNR stocks the lake.”
The time I ate a fistful of Lake Michigan pebbles
I knew this one was going to be embarrassing long before I got anywhere near the water. My friend Kasidy and I had decided to try out Lake Michigan surfing through Sleeping Bear Surf and Kayak.
I took one look at the nine foot boards, the two-foot surf, and the line of rocks just beneath where the waves were breaking, and could see exactly where this was going. We had a great day— both of us ended up getting up for more than five seconds at a time, and I took some of the least graceful falls of my life.
The best part of this was when I was sitting out in the water, straddling the board, I turned into a small—and I do mean small—wave. The wave pushed the board up under me and smacked me clean in the nose, cutting me off mid-sentence. Real cute.
Doing that stupid Dune Climb again
There is no hike in the world I have as deep a resentment for as the Sleeping Bear’s Dune Climb. It’s only about four miles out to the Lake and back, and it’s a sort of inaugural, very “Michigan” hike, but four miles up and down over hot sand is kind of the worst.
This spring, early enough that we thought maybe it would still be cool out (wrong), my good friend/roommate Hannah and I went out to tackle the hike and “initiate” her to Michigan. Han is an Illinois native, but she’s spent the last four years living in the good old mitten state.
Nothing super eventful or particularly embarrassing happened, I just included this because I want you all to know how much I hate that hike.
The time we couldn’t find parking in Glacier
There’s a pretty clear lesson here, and it’s two-fold. The first part is that you’re better off visiting national parks in the off-season; the second is do your research. When visiting Glacier National Park, my family spent almost two hours aimlessly driving the crowded Going-to-the-sun Road after trailhead parking in the Avalanche Lake area was too full—we got up earlier then next day, getting into the park at 7am instead of 11am, and had no trouble at all and the park nearly to ourselves.
The times we didn’t see stars at dark sky park
This was a regularly occurrence for my friends and I in 2016 as well as 2017. There have been several occasions where we have trekked out to the Headlands International Dark Sky Park and had clouds and no sky at all.
Clearly, we haven’t really learned any lesson here, because we keep doing it, but we always have a good time up on the beach.
The time we almost literally died
(This is an overstatement.)
This August, when on an early hike through Glacier National Park, my father, sister and I spotted a grizzly across the Lake from us. There were a few other people at the lake, and the bear was probably a hundred yards away, which was really too close.
We booked it out of there pretty darn quick. The bear probably wasn’t interested in us, and bears don’t really seek out humans, but grizzlies are fast, huge, and not something to mess with.
The time I sunburned exactly one shoulder
I love kayaking, and being on the water period, and because of that I always end up staying out longer than I really planned to. On this particular occasion, my dad and I were out on Torch Lake one morning, and decided to paddle South to the mouth of the Torch River—about a 6 mile trip.
I realized about halfway back that not only did I forget sunscreen, but because we headed back around noon, the left side of my body had been facing the sun the entire trip. I’ll leave the burn lines to your imagination.
The time we got followed
This misadventure is less fun, but still important.
Last March, my friend and I were hiking at Tahquamenon Falls State Park, when some men, probably not much older than us, caught up to us at an overlook started whispering to each other and looking at us. We didn’t think much of it at first, and quickly moved onto the next overlook to give them some space, thinking that they were waiting for us to leave. Rather than stay at the overlook a normal amount of time, they immediately followed us, continuing to whisper and look our way.
Maybe they weren’t talking about us, and maybe they didn’t mean to follow us, but sometimes you just get a bad vibe, and better safe than sorry.
I pointed out their behavior to Estee and we turned and went back to the previous overlook. They followed again. At this point, we turned and walked quickly back to the car, the two men following us the entire way. The parking lot itself was crowded with other hikers and tourists, and they went to their own car. We hung out there for a while, waiting for them to drive off first.
There’s a lesson here, and it isn’t about us being paranoid, or about how women shouldn’t hike because it’s too dangerous. If you are a male, and you are interested in a female in any setting, be aware that while you may think behavior you exhibit is harmless, it can still seem threatening. This is not an attack. I’m telling you this because if you are actually interested in someone, you should respect them enough to not want them to feel threatened and behave accordingly.
As a general rule, talking to someone is 100% less threatening and creepy than following them.
The time I let the 15-year-old drive
On our way up to camp at the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, my brother reminded me that I promised he could practice driving once we got off the highway. He had had his learner’s permit for a while, and was objectively already a pretty good driver.
I handed him the wheel, and started going through our trail plans for later in the day.
“Hey when do I turn?” Joe asked.
“Um, it should be a right at the next intersection.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, totally,” I lied.
So while I was deep in a trail guide, Joe made a right onto some small, flooded seasonal road. We hit a pothole and I looked up.
“Are you sure this is right?” he asked.
“Let me see the map.” It sure looked like this road got us where we wanted to go, and I was fairly confident my car could handle it.
We drove down the sketchy seasonal road for about five more minutes before it narrowed and I had Joe turn around and head back to the highway. After that, we abandoned iPhone directions and stuck to the Michigan road map.
The time I almost got frostbite
The original misadventure, and the first post I wrote, was probably the dumbest thing I did all year.
Rather than drive to the shoreline at the Headlands Dark Sky Park, Estee and I opted to walk a mile in. We had been out in the cold hiking all day, and weren’t too worried about the temperature. Nevertheless, we piled on a few blankets and extra layers.
Lake Michigan was frozen and beautiful, and the sunset was one of the best I’ve ever seen. My mistake was forgetting that once the sun goes down, the temperature drops quite a bit. That, and letting snow melt into my boots, soaking my socks. (I had a spare pair. Soaked those too.)
I didn’t realize I couldn’t feel my feet until I stood up and we started to pack up for the walk back. Then my feet started to burn—not just tingle, and not even feel cold. My feet felt burnt, like I had accidently stepped in the campfire. Burnt and bruised—It hurt to walk, and we had a good mile to walk back to the car.
Lucky for me and very lucky for my toes, we ran into a nice couple who offered to drive us back to my car. I was in pretty bad shape; Estee had taken both my bag and hers, and was helping me walk; we were happy for the ride.
In hindsight, it’s kind of a funny story, though at the time I was mostly just embarrassed that I hadn’t planned better.
Since then, I’ve been more careful about the cold, but even more so about the wet; it’s one thing to be cold, but being wet can lead to hypothermia and frostbite a whole lot faster.
Got any misadventures, or just adventures from this year? I’d love to hear them! Write in the comments below or shoot me a message. Wishing everyone a safe end to 2017, and a great start to 2018! May you avoid all frostbite.
Michigan’s Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore is known for its waterfalls, clear water, and of course, it’s cliffs. There are many different ways to experience the rocks, ranging from boat tours to backcountry hiking.
Last week, my brother and I spent a few days kayaking, hiking, and adventuring in the area. Here’s what we did, and what we would recommend!
Kayak Lake Superior:
Kayaking Lake Superior and the Pictured Rocks has always been a bucket-lister for me, and I am glad to have had the chance to check it off. Lake Superior can be unpredictable and choppy—record wave height on Lake Superior was 51 feet recorded in Whitefish Bay.
That being said, only sea kayaks should be taken out on the Lake—not canoes or recreational kayaks. Before you kayak on Lake Superior, check out the information available on the NPS site.
Rather than rent a kayak, we opted for a morning tour with Paddling Michigan. The waves were an average 3 feet when we went. We had a blast, paddling to Miner’s Castle from Miner’s Beach, then past that along the cliffs a ways further. Through Paddling Michigan, you can take a smaller, “soft” adventure tour—this is what I did with my younger brother, and it was plenty—or you can take longer, full trips or even overnight trips down the Lakeshore.
Kayaking offers a different perspective on the rocks, and the chance to see sea caves and waterfalls. You can get a similar experience from a boat tour, but a kayak gets you closer to the rocks and gives you the sense that you explored the rocks, rather than took a tour.
Visit Waterfalls/ Overlooks:
A good place to start water-falling is Miner’s Castle road. Here, you can stop at Miner’s Falls, a one and a quarter mile round trip hike from the parking lot. From here, driving farther down Miner’s Castle road, you can visit the Miner’s Castle overlook. If it is a hot enough day, Miner’s Beach is just off the same road too, and is a good place to picnic and swim.
Just outside of Munising is Munising Falls, a short hike with two different viewing platforms.
Chapel and Mosquito Falls can both be reached from the Chapel-Mosquito area trailhead, with a three mile round trip hike to Chapel Falls, and two miles round trip to Mosquito Falls. The two can be hit together in the Chapel Basin Loop hike, detailed below.
Hike the Chapel Basin Loop:
We took an afternoon to do this hike, but could have easily taken longer with all of the great places to take in the view or stop and swim! The loop is 10 miles roundtrip if you want to hit Chapel Falls, Chapel Beach, Mosquito Falls, and Mosquito Beach (NPS map linked here).
Chapel Falls is a cool stop, with an opportunity to get up close to the falls before they plunge of a rock shelf into Chapel Lake. The trail continues along to Chapel Rock and Chapel Beach. This is sometimes treated as an out and back to the Beach, where you can swim both in Lake Superior and Chapel Creek. Chapel Creek meets Lake Superior in a small waterfall that you can slide down and play in.
From here, you continue down the beach along the North Country Trail toward Mosquito Beach. This portion of the hike is along the cliffs, and one of the coolest stretches of trail I have ever hiked. There are countless scenic overlooks, and almost all of the 4.5 miles are along the cliffs.
When you reach Mosquito Beach, the trail becomes a little more difficult to follow due to poor signage and about 800 side trails leading to the beach and to the backcountry campsites. You are going to want to cross the Mosquito River, then follow the sign posts to Mosquito Falls rather than continue hiking on the North Country Trail.
Rather than hike the full loop like we did, I would recommend cutting Mosquito Beach and Falls, and hiking out to Grand Portal Point from Chapel Beach, and then returning via the Chapel Lake spur from Chapel Beach. The majority of the impressive cliffs were all before Grand Portal Point, and all worth seeing twice. After this point, the cliffs are less impressive, and the trail is muddier and less maintained. Hiking from Chapel Falls to Chapel Beach, then on to Grand Portal Point and then backtracking until the Chapel Lake Spur makes for a 9.5 miles roundtrip hike.
Hike to Spray Falls:
We hit this hike around 5 pm made it back to the car around 9, and the lighting was beautiful. Even in August, the trail was empty, and the Coves, a worth stop along the way to Spray Falls, offer some of the best swimming in Lake Superior.
Spray Falls plunge 70 feet from the cliffs into Lake Superior, and can be viewed from two different overlooks as well as from behind.
We started at the trailhead at the Little Beaver Creek Campground. From here it is a 1.5 mile hike out to Lake Superior, and then 2.5 miles out to Spray Falls, making for an 8 mile out and back. Check out the NPS maps here (scroll down; it’s the second map).
Swim in Lake Superior:
Lake Superior is cold even in the summer, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t swimmable! The water feels great after a long hike.
One popular location is Chapel Beach—a 3-mile hike in on the Chapel Basin Loop (above) offers a sandy beach, waterfall to play in, and backcountry camping sites nearby. Accessed from the same trailhead, Mosquito Beach is a rocky rather than sandy beach and can be slippery.
Miner’s Beach off Miner’s Castle Road is a popular kayak launch point as it is sheltered by cliffs, and an easily accessed swimming spot. From here, you can hike east to Miner’s Beach Falls (or Elliot’s Falls), a small waterfall on the Beach.
My favorite swimming spot we visited was The Coves, along the North Country Trail on the Spray Falls out and back. The water was clear and calm, and there were even good spots to jump off rocks into the water.
We didn’t get a chance to backpack, do a boat tour, or surf, but all of those are other adventures to have in the Pictured Rocks area. Check out the National Parks Service’s more comprehensive list of activities here, and visit Paddling Michigan for more information on Kayak Tours!
The Sleeping Bear Dune National Lakeshore is arguably one of the most scenic locations in Michigan. It boasts beautiful blue green water, stunning overlooks, and beautiful beaches. The Dunes offer a lot to work with, but it can be hard to know where to start.
From Pyramid Point by Leelanau, south to Point Betsie by Frankfort, here are scenic locations in the Sleeping Bear Dunes.
Pyramid Point is located in the northern portion of the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore, and is a quick walk from the parking lot out to the overlook. On a clear day, you can see both the North and South Manitou Islands from the bluff.
Glen Lake Overlook
One of the first stops on the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive, this overlook offers a view of Glen Lake in one direction, and the dunes themselves in the other direction. The last time I was there, I was able to see clouds weaving in and out of the hills and lake below me.
Overlook 9 is the most popular stop on the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive and with good reason. The overlook is perched high above Lake Michigan and offers views of both dunes, bluffs, and the Lake in every direction. This overlook is the perfect place to watch the sunset over Lake Michigan.
North Bar Lake Overlook
While Overlook 9 gets most of the attention, the North Bar Lake Overlook is my favorite. You can see both M22 below, North Bar Lake, and the Empire Bluffs in the distance all at what feels like a bird’s eye view.
Empire Bluffs Trail
By far my favorite hike in Michigan, the Empire Bluffs are also a good place to watch the sunset. It is a 1.5-mile roundtrip hike out to the bluffs, and the majority of the hike is wooded.
Point Betsie Lighthouse
South of Sleeping Bear, Point Betsie Lighthouse is a fun historic lighthouse to visit and another pretty place to watch the sunset, this time from the beach rather than an overlook.
Want more in Northern Michigan? Check out some of my other posts:
The Dune Climb is one of those hikes that everyone tells you is hard, and you believe them, but it still doesn’t stop you from going. The idea of climbing over the sand until you reach the water is too appealing to stop most people, especially since that first dune sticks out like a sore thumb when you’re cruising M22. And even if you’ve done the Dune Climb before, and actually know how long it is, odds are you’ll forget the next time you’re out there.
So what do you need to know before attempting of one of the more difficult hikes in Michigan?
Mileage: It’s 3.5-4 miles roundtrip, depending on which trail/ detours you take—but it’s over large dunes for the majority of the hike. The hike will usually take 2 to 4 hours, depending on skill level and time spent at Lake Michigan.
What you should know: While you might want to start the hike off barefoot, you will want to bring a pair of shoes or socks for the section of the hike that is closer to the lakeshore—here there can be sharp rocks and even broken glass.
You will not be able to see the lake immediately. Not after the first dune, or the second, or the third. When you do finally see the Lake, you are about halfway there.
If it is cool enough to have a comfortable climb out, it is probably too cold to swim in the lake. This is probably the biggest catch 22 of the hike—ideally, the hike would be cool and the lake would be hot, not the other way around. Unfortunately, the Dunes are about ten degrees hotter than the Lakeshore, so you could easily be hot hiking, but cold by the time you get to the water.
You will probably be sore the next day. Hiking up sand is a different type of work out than running or hiking.
What you should bring:
Water: this hike is hot, hard, and in the sun. I have done it without water before, but it was back when I was running cross country, and even then it was a mistake.
Shoes: you might want to take off your shoes at the first hill, but the second half of the hike is rockier, and sometimes even has broken glass.
Sunscreen: There is no tree cover in the Dunes—this entire hike is in the sun
National Parks Pass: To access the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore, you will either need a National Parks Pass or a Sleeping Bear Dunes pass, both of which you can purchase at the entrance to the Dune Climb.
Is This Hike Worth It?
If your goal with this hike is to swim in Lake Michigan and experience some incredible views, this hike probably isn’t right for you. You can just as easily visit one of the many other trails or beaches in Sleeping Bear and get a much better result for less work.
However, if your goal is to get a good workout or check this one off your bucket list, I would absolutely recommend this hike!
We left Alden a little before noon on a relatively spontaneous drive north towards the Straits of Mackinaw early this April. Wilderness State Park sits on the tip of the mitten, and is one of the largest undeveloped tracts of land in the Lower Peninsula.
That is part of the draw for me—the undeveloped land. That, and there is very little online about the park, and miles of under-trafficked trails. I’ve got a thing for obscure places, and sights that haven’t graced my computer screen. There is no thrill in seeing a place in person that I have seen over and over on the internet. This isn’t to say that I don’t want to see those well-photographed places— but they don’t give me the rush that exploring does.
For me, this was the draw of Wilderness State Park. There is no iconic place to capture, no roaring waterfall or scenic overlook. There isn’t even an easily accessible lighthouse.
There’s only miles of untouched shoreline, and loop upon loop in the woods, and I wanted to know what that looked like.
We parked at the farthest west parking lot we could find and hiked along the beach from there. The Lake Michigan ice had begun to melt, and small icebergs floated in the clear water. The ice melt this year was much sooner than it had been in the past, and the look of the ice in the sandy waters came as odd to me.
It’s only just this year that I have made a trip out to the Lake in the winter, and the last I saw it, it was frozen enough that we couldn’t see the sand. The sun was out when we went, so the water was clear and inviting; an odd juxtaposition to the chunks of ice.
The coastline in Wilderness State Park reminds me of Maine, or Canada, or some other east coast beach. It’s easy to forget that the lake isn’t the ocean, with its tide pools and bug horizon line, and the outlines of pine trees.
We had walked for maybe a mile when I saw blue ice— blue ice is created high density and compression, and is usually found in glaciers, but sometimes on the Great Lakes. This particular patch of blue ice looked accessible, piled up on the shore past a small tidal stream. So naturally, I took off my hiking boots and socks and slung them over my shoulder while my friends watched somewhere between skeptically and judgmentally as waded barefoot across the rocky calf-deep melt water.
I should mention that this is normal for me. If ever there is clear, sandy water no matter the temperature I, or at least my feet, will be in it. About a month ago, I did it at Esch Road Beach. It was cold, but worth it.
I quickly jammed my feet back into my hiking boots on the other side of the stream, and hiked out to the blue ice.
Whether because of the harsh lighting, overhyped expectations, or just lack luster photography, my photos of the blue ice didn’t turn out how I had hoped. I had a good time getting out there, though, and it was pretty in person.
We hiked further west from there, eventually flopping down at a small bay and chatting. It was cold out, but mostly only when the sun went behind the clouds and the wind picked up. While we sat it was sunny and sandy.
After, we only walked a little farther along the beach from there before headed back to the parking lot and driving pack down Wilderness Park Drive. Before we left, we did a loop in the woods on Big Stone Trail out and around Goose Pond.
We walked for a good four hours and didn’t even touch a quarter of the trails and land available to explore in Wilderness State Park, but that’s sort of exciting. There’s more to explore, and I’m sure I’ll head back soon!
The cool thing about beautiful places and geology, be it lakes, rivers, mountains, or waterfalls, is if there is one interesting feature, there are probably more nearby. There’s never really just one mountain view, or one beautiful beach, but it’s only the most impressive that makes our bucket list.
The Upper Tahquamenon Falls in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula get a lot of love. Don’t get me wrong, they are impressive— but even when Estee and I visited in early March they were crowded, and after seeing them plastered across every Instagram feed and Pure Michigan advertisement, they felt impersonal and overdone.
This isn’t to say that the Upper Falls aren’t worth the visit; the falls feature an impressive 50 foot drop and coffee-colored water. You can stand right at the edge of the falls and let the spray hit your face, which is a cool feeling. In the winter large icicles form at the waterfalls sides.
But the Lower Falls are so much better.
For starters, they aren’t over-photographed. When you walk out to them you don’t really know what to expect. It feels like you are discovering the falls rather than visiting a geotagged location to add a popular photo to your own collection.
Better yet, the falls are a series of five smaller falls, with more area to explore. There is enough of the Tahquamenon River, the Lower Falls, and the surrounding area to get thousands of different angles in a photo, and to actually feel like you know the falls yourself.
The hike out to the Lower Falls is longer. In the summer, it is about a mile round trip to the Falls and back. In winter, the summer lot isn’t open, and it was closer to two miles round trip.
The hike is rewarding. There are small bridges over streams and the path is heavily wooded; by the time we reached the falls we felt like we worked a little for it—more of an adventure than the Upper Falls. There was no one else around for a good portion of our hike, and only one other person on the platform.
Other than the header photo, I didn’t include any photos of the Lower Falls. The first reason for this is it was really too bright when I went to get any good photos. The second is that the Lower Falls are worth discovering for yourself.
Fun Story about the first Upper Falls Photo: Immediately after I took this, a dog came over to visit me and Estee! The Upper Falls might be crowded, but I will brave any crowd to pet a puppy!