Trails:
Bare Bluff, Hungarian Falls, Nichole Bloom Memorial Trail, Estivant Pines, and Jacob Falls
Campsites:
Fort Wilkins and Sunset Bay RV Resort and Campground
Itinerary:
Day one we would drive up from Mimi and Papa’s house in Cheboygan, stop at SugarLoaf Mountain in Marquette for lunch, visit Michigan Tech and see moms old campus, stop in Calumet for Mom’s ghost story book, and stay that night at Sunset Bay RV Resort and Campground. Day Two we would go to Hungarian Falls, a quick stop at Jacob Falls, and end the day at Nichole Bloom. We would stay another night at Sunset Bay. Day Three we head to Jacob Falls and Bare Bluff. We would stay at Fort Wilkins and for our last morning we would go to Estivant Pines before heading out.
Our Adventure:
We got on the road bright and early. This trip would be just my mom, sister, and myself. A mother-daughter long weekend in the Keweenaw Peninsula. My mother was a Michigan Tech graduate and had not been back to campus since her graduation. It was a late-night campfire conversation about this that had inspired the trip. Mom shared stories of her college days and how they would pack coolers and hike up waterfalls where they would spend the afternoon swimming in their pools. Upon research, we discovered the trail she was talking about had been closed after a tragic incident of a few Michigan Tech kids drowning in the falls. Although we could not relive her exact college days we discovered a number of other beautiful hikes that existed in the Keweenaw and were determined to get mom back to Houghton.
We had stayed the night at my grandparents’ home in Cheboygan Michigan which put us just 15 minutes south of the bridge. It was still over a 6-hour drive to where we would be camping for the night. We were over the bridge before 8 am. The Mackinaw Bridge itself is probably the top tourist attraction of Michigan, but for us this morning it was simply a part of the journey, a quick toll along the way. We caught the sun rising as we crossed, heavy fog covered the lakes on both sides of us below. The Mighty Mack at her golden hour.
We decided we’d take US 2 before cutting north towards Marquette. US 2 follows along the south coast of the upper peninsula. Giving you beach views of Lake Michigan the entire way. In the summer cars pull over along the side of the highway with beach bags packed to climb the sand dunes and take a dip, but it was late fall leaving our views unobstructed. The drive went fast, probably because mom was doing all the driving, but in a blink, we were already to Marquette and stopping for lunch. We ate at a small brew pub by the shoreline. The food was good, the service was fast, and we were back on the road in no time. Marquette is probably one of the biggest cities in the UP. Not that that says a lot but nonetheless, I could and probably will one day, spend a whole weekend just exploring the area. It has a certain charm to it. Quaint.
We stopped just about 15 miles outside of Marquette at what is known as Sugarloaf Mountain. A quick 2-mile hike straight up a bluff and back. It was a good opportunity to stretch our legs and work off some of that lunch. The hike was staircases all the way up, large boulders lined the way. A stair master with a view, if you will. That’s something you don’t usually see when hiking in Michigan. I put my hand along them as we walked. The work to reward on this hike just isn’t fair, which probably explains the number of people on the trail. There were probably a dozen or so others but for an upper peninsula trail on a Thursday afternoon, that was unheard of. After maybe 15 minutes of climbing we were standing on top of the bluff with Lake Superior stretching out in front of us for miles. We were standing well above the tree line, with a 360 view. The trees were thick and starting to fill with color in preparation for fall. We couldn’t see through them or make out any significant landmarks just the tops of trees for miles. I could have sat on top of that bluff for hours but this was just a pit stop on our adventure, we still had a few hundred miles till we reached Michigan Tech’s campus. After a quick descent following the same route we took up, we were back on the road again.
The Houghton and Hancock area is one of a kind. Houghten sitting on the south side of the canal, Handcock on the north. A small draw bridge connects the two. It is the only sizable town for miles and the furthest north in Michigan. The town is made up of large rolling hills, just like how I’ve always imagined Seattle to look. Little brick roads run through the downtown, the architecture showcasing the town's historic nature. Mom almost crashed the car several times as she drove through town pointing out her old favorite bars and hangout spots. The town hasn’t changed in the last 30 years, it probably won’t change in the next 30 either. I have said it many times before, the UP is like stepping back in time. When you cross the Mackinaw bridge you are leaving behind the modern-day world as we’ve come to know it.
However, this was not the case for the Michigan Tech Campus. Mom took us on a brief walking tour of the parts of campus she knew. It had grown significantly. A computer lab that was once one computer the size of an entire room, was not several desktops and monitors lined up. New buildings now existed on her old walking paths. But even with all the changes made to the campus, the memories still flooded Mom’s head and stories poured from her. As we drove out of town Mom pointed out the Somi Bakery and the window of her little apartment that sat above it. It was exactly how she remembered it. We agreed we would stop on our way back to have lunch there.
The next stop was Calumet, an old mining town that has since dwindled down to about one block in size. At one time Calumet was going to be the capital of Michigan. With the mining industry booming, the capital was in flux. Old run-down mansions surround the area, but you can still imagine what they once looked like. If you have the time, and the guts, I’ve been told the Calumet graveyard is one of a kind. Gravestones built for kings, the last bit of evidence that this town was once flourishing. Before our trip, my mother had purchased a copy of “Insert Book Name” a series of ghost stories from the Upper Peninsula. One of the most chilling comes from a true story of when the mine owners and the union were butting heads. During the miner's Christmas Eve party at the old theater, someone yelled fire. The doors had been sealed shut, with no way out and nowhere to go bodies piled up at the bottom of the stairwell. Over 30 people were trampled to death. 10 of them were under the age of seven. A monument stands in the city center today, it is the original door frame of the theater. Next to it a plaque naming all those who died in the incident. The ghost story goes that to this day if you go to the Calumet theater and press your ears to the door you can still hear the trampling footsteps. We pressed our ears to the walls of the new and renovated theater but discovered nothing. That being said, we didn’t try very hard or for very long. My family has never been one to mess around with spirits.
The last stop of our evening was our campsite at Sunset Bay RV Resort and Campground. We pulled in as the sun was going down. It was absolutely fridged out. Two very sweet old women greeted us on a golf cart, showed us to our site, and gave us some wood for a fire. Our campsite was right on the shoreline of Lake Superior. A small plot of dirt with a picnic table and a fire pit sitting in front of the red pebble beach. Wind gusts pelted us as we fought to get our tent up. It felt like a personal attack. The wind hazing us newbie campers who have traveled too far from home. Then as if the skies yelled “STOP!” it was gone. The horizon turned a glowing orange and the sun slowly dipped into Lake Superior for the night. Its light filled the sky for hours after it was gone. I touched the water half expecting it to be warm from the sun, it was numbingly cold. We poured large glasses of wine to warm us and take away some of the aches of a long day's journey. We cooked hobo pies over the fire. Mom read new horror stories from her book to prepare us for tomorrow’s adventures. We snuggled close inside our tent that night. On the docket for tomorrow were the Hungarian Falls, Jacob Falls, and the Nicole Bloom Memorial Trail.
Our day started at sunrise. We would be staying at the same campsite again that night so there was no need to pack up, simply stuff our day packs with anything we might need for that day’s adventure and take in the view of Lake Superior in the morning. We loaded in the car and headed for the Hungarian Falls. This was easier said than done. As you probably know, there are very few spots that have cell service in the UP and the route to the Hungarian Falls is not one of them. We made our way following printed map directions. We turned onto Golf Rd. The directions said a mile down the road was the trailhead. There was no marking for this, no big map indicating you are here. Just a long dirt road with a couple of gaps in the trees that had the potential to take us to the falls but also the potential to lead us to an unhappy property owner. We decided to pick one and go for it.
We made our way down a trail about a quarter of a mile until we hit a large opening that looked almost like a cory. We turned around in defeat. But on the way back I saw a small piece of orange tape wrapped around a tree, a potential trail marker and I urged the group to give it one more go. They were less than enthusiastic. My sister was outright panicked.
“We don’t know where we are. We don’t know where we are going. We are just wandering around the woods” Iz shouted at me as I was slowly inching toward the new trail.
“Lexi, this could be someone’s property for all we know. I just left our car beached on the side of the road” Mom added.
I kept inching toward the new trail with a nervous smile. “Fine, we will give it a try but no more than half a mile and if there is no sign of the falls we are going back,” Mom said giving in to my childish wide-eyed eager expression. The same look that nine-year-old me had used to convince the family we needed a puppy.
Within one hundred feet or so we came across a large walking bridge that went over a deep carved river. If that doesn’t say trail to waterfall, I don’t know what does. I pointed upstream and declared the trail must cut upstream that way, I could hear falls in the distance. We crossed the bridge and followed a trail right along the river, it climbed up and up as the cliff to the river grew steeper and steeper. Isabelle was still not convinced I knew what I was doing, rightfully so, and she continued to rant about how she wanted to go back. After about a half mile or so my mom looks at me and says, “I think I hear something”.
I dismiss her completely, “Mom we are in the middle of nowhere, there is no one out here. You don’t hear anyone.”
We walked a few more steps and she followed with, “I think it’s snoring”.
I burst with frustration, “Why would anyone be sleeping out here?”
“I never said it was human,” Mom said as we grew dead quiet.
We listened closely. There was heavy breathing coming from nearby. I whispered to Mom.
“What do you think it is?”
The breathing quickly turned to a snarl, snort, and a loud growl. We knew what it was. All of our eyes shot open as we mouthed together, “BEAR”. We slowly backed our way down the trail, not entirely sure of where the sound was coming from. We got back to the bridge, and we started running for the car. As we crossed the bridge, I noticed carved into the side of a tree the word falls with an arrow pointing up. We weren’t on the right trail.
Guys wait. Look at this. They hesitantly made their way back to me and looked at the sign. They are here we are so close. At this point, we were probably almost a mile from where we encountered the bear. And we had a large deep cut valley between us and the side of the river the bear was on. It was not the safe decision. It was not the smart decision. But we tried for the falls one last time. A mile up the trail we reached them. A small fall pooled at the bottom of a beautiful rock formation. From there it streamed over a massive cliff that we stood atop. It might have just been the heavy fog that morning but looking out into the distance it felt like we were on top of the clouds. We walked under the small stream that poured from the smaller fall, it was late in the season so water levels were low. We had the place to ourselves, our own secret world. Well almost to ourselves our furry friend was still somewhere below. We ate an early lunch on top of our massive fall then made our way back to the car. Hike one of the day was complete.
Next, we made a quick stop at Jacob Falls, which ultimately turned into a long stop. Jacob Falls is a small roadside waterfall, that most people drive up to take a quick picture in front of and then keep going. However, what most people don’t know is there is a small, and slightly difficult-to-navigate trail just to the left of the falls. It starts out as a sharp incline as you scramble your way to the top. Major elevation gains right off the bat, but once you are up there the trail goes flat and you are left towering well above the falls. The trail follows the river, mimicking its twists and turns, until it drops you off on the Arnold Mine and Monk Trail loop, a peaceful little nature walk deep in the woods.
Along the way you pass a series of little tiny falls, not big enough to be marked on a map, probably nameless. None the less magnificent. We looped around a small pond and then made our way back down the treacherous trail we had taken in. I would not necessarily declare this a must-do hike of the Kenwaana, but if you are making a stop at Jacob Falls, the view is much cooler and much quieter from above. It is a short and mostly easy hike that brought me a lot of peace and joy. I am not sure if the place was ever actually used as a monk sanctuary but it could convince me.
Our last stop for the day was the Nicole Bloom Memorial Trail, also known as Mount Baldy. The work-to-reward ratio of this hike just isn’t fair. After a few miles on a gradual incline, we found ourselves on the side of a massive bluff. To our left Lake Superior, to our right endless tree line. With the autumn colors in full force, a tapestry of color sprawled in all directions. Our excitement for the view made our pace increase tenfold until we were on the very edge and what felt like the top of the world. Time stood still, no one and nothing could reach us atop that bluff we had just conquered. We sat up there for as long as we could. When the sun started to go down we made our down with it. I bet the sunset from the top is spectacular, one day I’ll have to go back and let you guys know for sure, but I knew it would make the group nervous hiking back in the dark. Plus we had all the ingredients for hobo pies over the fire waiting for us back at camp, and we had definitely worked up the appetite.
The next morning was Barebluff. This was the hike I was most excited about, and I was right to be. I don’t like to pick favorites when it comes to hikes, I like to believe that every hike has its own special purpose and unique lesson to teach you. But, Barebluff is definitely something special. This hike is a loop and one side of it is significantly harder than the other. The left side of the trail is the easy one. If you want to hike the full loop go up the right and down the left, counterclockwise. We did not do this. We made great strides up the east side of the trail making it to the top of the bluffs in under an hour. We stood atop large rock formations that overlooked the only calm bit of Lake Superior, the little bay created between the Keweenaw and the top of the UP. It might just be the best view in all of the UP.
We ate a brief lunch atop the bluff and walked around the rock formations a bit before starting our trek down. That is where we discovered the other side of the trail was much more challenging. When hiking you almost always want to take the harder part of the trail up. Down is usually more dangerous. We moved slowly, grabbing tree branches as we scrabbled over roots and boulders. It was steep and for our group a real danger. I don’t want to discourage too many from venturing onto this side of the trail it truly is magnificent and holds its own wonders. But I was hiking with my almost 60-year-old mother, and my (love her to death) incredibly uncoordinated sister. We reached a point in the trail where it appeared a rock slide had happened. It wasn’t so severe that I didn’t think we could cross it, but my group looked worried and I was starting to worry for them. I told them to stay put while I go ahead and look for another clear trail marker. I moved fast but carefully. I didn’t want to leave them alone too long but wanted to make sure I scouted a good amount of the trail.
I did find the trail again, but the markers had switched from blue to an off-white much more weathered-looking marker and I wondered if it was not the same trail and perhaps an old one from before the rock slide. I went down it for a bit. It was equally as treacherous as the one we had been on, and I thought about my group trying to proceed down it. It was likely that even if it were an old trail it would take us back down the bluff. But if I were wrong I didn’t know how much further down I could lead our group before we reached a point where they could no longer make it back up. We had already reached a point where it was not going to be comfortable to turn back. Down felt easier but up felt safer. I decided up it would be. I went back to my mom and sister, they were sitting on their backs, and they looked defeated and distraught. That’s something no hiker ever wants to see from their group. I told them about my findings, and what I thought would be our best move. They trusted my judgment. Going down was hard, but backtracking all of our hard work felt impossible. We moved slowly. The beauty of the place had lost its charm in our struggles and fears. Small sections at a time I got my mother and sister back up to level ground. We made our back to the car with no trouble taking the easier route we had come in on.
I believe we made the right call that day. Safe is always better than sorry in the wilderness. It was a very scary moment, but it was a moment of growth for me. I am someone who likes to push boundaries. I like the harder route. I want to walk up and look over the edge of cliffs. I enjoy a little risk. But when I am part of a team, more importantly when I am leading a team it’s no longer about what I want. It is what the group needs. I should have recognized sooner that we needed to turn back. That path was difficult for me, I can’t imagine how my mom and sister were feeling. I have been that person in the back of the pack, too scared to admit that I felt unsure of my abilities. It is not a good feeling. I learned something about leadership that day. I would not make that mistake again. I will always check in with my group. I will always assess the situation from the perspective of our least experienced hiker. Someday I’ll have to go back and hike that trail again in the opposite direction. See if we really had lost the trail or if we were on track the whole time.
By the time we got back to the car, everyone was beat. The original plan was to go on to the Montrella Falls just up the road, we weren’t going to have the stamina. We decided to just go back to Copper Harbor, set up camp, and find a restaurant to rest from the day's challenges was our best bet. I did go back to Montrelle Falls a few years later, and we probably could have done it with ease even after all our hardship that day. The trail is flat and follows the shoreline until it dumps you into a beautiful rolling waterfall that pours into Lake Superior. It was just a brief stop on our trip that year but if I were to go back I’d make a whole day of it. Back a light cooler, some lunch, and spend the day swimming in the falls, and taking in the view.
Our spirits quickly revived after a few protein bars and laughs on the ride back to Copper Harbor. Dinner was fabulous, we had burgers and beers and deep-fried mac and cheese balls. We wandered back to camp that night and slept hard.
I woke up at about 1:30 in a dire state. I was soaking wet and absolutely freezing. I turned on a headlamp and looked around. A massive storm had rolled in, and our tent was absolutely not waterproof. I was probably sitting in about three inches of water, it was still pouring in, and it was cold enough I could see my breath. Luckily for us, we were not in the backcountry that night. Our car was nearby and we were able to pile in, put on dry clothes, and warm up. But this was nonetheless a learning moment for me. I have taken that tent into the backcountry many times in my life. By the grace of God, I have been lucky enough to have the right weather. But if this night were to happen while I was in the backcountry the stakes could have been much higher, they could have been deadly. Always, always, always test your gear.
We woke up bright and early after a night of little to no sleep. It was our last day in the UP, and we had planned an easy one. We would do a light stroll through Estivant Pines then hit the road. A good 7-hour drive to the bridge another 4 to home from there.
Estivant pines were wonderful. A quiet walk in the woods, with massive towering pine trees all around. We walked casually and reflected on all the wonderful things we had done and seen in the last three days. An easy wind down before we would return to reality. We stopped at Sumi bakery on the way home for some pasties, and to give mom one last chance to reminisce on her life in Houghton.
Quality time with your mother might be one of the greatest gifts a girl can ask for, which is why I am so very grateful to have this hiking trip tradition that the three of us can share. From the chaotic moments of running from bears in the backcountry to the peace and quiet by the fire sipping our wine, and even the arguments that break out in those high-stress moments mean so much to me. To have one another’s undivided attention; no phones, no computers, no other distractions whatsoever is something that is damn near impossible to come by these days. You really do have to seek out moments like these. I am so lucky to have a mom and sister who are willing to drive 9 hours up into the middle of nowhere just to wander around in nature with me. There is no one in the world I would rather run from bears, swim in tents, and scooch down the side of bluffs with.
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