More Up North Adventures

Music: 'Lumberjack', Jackyl

We're back from a week-long camping trip. The filthy laundry is all done, and everything is put away. The only thing that really needs to be done yet is to wash the truck. It's covered with a fine layer of dust and garnished with a sprinkling of sticky chokecherries from the tree we had it parked beneath for 4 days. Those little stain bombs welded onto the tonneau cover in the heat, and stuck on for nearly 300 miles.

From Friday September 2nd until Monday morning the 5th, we camped with friends at Rifle River State Park near Rose City, MI. It's become one of our favorite campgrounds because it's fairly small (only 80 sites) and near places to canoe, kayak and hike. And it's only 3 hours away from home, not really a bad trip. We were the last to arrive (as usual), but at least we had a supportive peanut gallery. Rodney and Dave and Bob helped set up the camper, and Rodney investigated why we were getting no hot water running out of the faucet. I should have taken a pic of him wedged inside the front cargo bin with only his legs sticking out as he found the source of the problem: a small valve in the water line to the hot water tank simply needed to be turned on. The guys also helped rivet our propane tank cover on with their wealth of tools and experience before we went our separate ways Monday. These people are always more than willing to help out with any problem big or small.

And when it comes to preparing meals, all 8 of us are more than willing to roll up our sleeves and help put together a feast. Needless to say, we ate well every meal all weekend, and a few comments from neighboring sites came our way in regards to the cooking aromas we generated. We enjoyed grilled bratwurst, grilled steaks, smoked salmon, smoked turkey, Mountain Man breakfast, corn on the cob, corned beef hash and breakfast burritos just to name a few items.

A fair amount of drinking went on of course, but nothing unreasonable. I mixed up batches of Bone Relaxers both Saturday and Sunday. We put away a number of beers, both domestic and imported. I brought jello shots (BTW, these are good cut up and topped with a dollop of whipped cream...!) Mostly we just sat around the campfire and enjoyed each other's company.

Tim and I had planned on kayaking down the Rifle River at some point, but we never got around to it. We did hike a few miles on Saturday, and at different times the 5 dogs with us needed to be walked, so some physical activity did take place. We had a St. Bernard, a very large Australian shepherd, a Pembroke Corgi, a lab mix and a Boston terrier with us. We made quite an interesting group as we walked around the campground.

Tim turned 40 on Sunday, so we strung up some banners in the trees and brought out a surprise birthday cake. Days before, I had hurriedly wrapped gifts and hidden them away in the camper while he was out running errands. The Thursday before, as soon as he left for work, I began putting together a favorite dessert of his, something I had never made before: baklava. It's not hard, it just takes a long time to layer all those sheets of phyllo dough and chopped walnuts. After that was baked, I hid that in the bottom of the food tote until Sunday. I'm happy to report this recipe turned out quite well, and was enjoyed by the birthday boy and everyone else.

Monday morning it was time for us to leave. A campground in Germfask, a small town in the eastern upper peninsula was recommended to us, so we decided to give Northland Outfitters a try. We had one small mishap as we were attempting to hook up the camper. Lesson: do not put the tongue jack into the folded back traveling position before you have a good hook-up with the ball hitch. Tim moved the truck about a half inch too far forward in an attempt to jostle the stubborn ball into the receiver, and oops...the hitch crashed to the ground. Embarrassing, to say the least. Thank goodness he had thought to buy a floor jack the week before, and were able to lift up the front of the camper. Cooking oil to the rescue: a little on the ball hitch, and everything slid into place like it was supposed to.

This little campground in Germfask turned out to be very pleasant. We were one of very few campers in the small 15 site place, and after two noisy 5th-wheels pulled out the next day, we were one of two occupied sites. Another pop-up camper was right next to the site we chose, so we sort of felt like we had to tip-toe around. I cringed every time I let the camper door slam, or used the faucet (the water pump sounds like a jack-hammer in the quiet forest). We set up our chairs by the edge of the Manistique River quietly flowing past the campground and enjoyed 4 quiet evenings there, watching bats flit over the water's surface catching insects, and listening to beavers (we think) splash late into the night.

Tuesday we rented a double kayak and took a 15-mile trip down the Manistique River into the Seney Wildlife Refuge. Every twist and turn of the river revealed a new scenic panorama, and we were surprised to see the trees changing color already. We were told that it had been hot and dry up there, too, and this was bringing on the colors early. We didn't see much wildlife, just some merganser ducks, but it was a great way to spend a few hours and a good upper arm work-out. We made such good time, we were at the pick up site an hour before the campground owner arrived to pick us up.

That evening we drove on a scenic loop through the refuge, and saw trumpeter swans, beaver, deer, geese and ducks on the marshes. We watched a spectacular sunset, and hopefully the pics I took with my 35mm did it justice.

Wednesday we drove into the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. On the way there, we took a meandering path through Munising and westward. Another lesson: When exploring the UP, stay off of roads that are only indicated on the map with a triple number, like 403 or 407. And I use the term 'roads' loosely. Although Tim did say we probably finally used the truck for its intended, testosterone-laced purpose. After all, it does say 'off road' on the rear quarter panel, doesn't it? Well, by the time we bumped our way past a sign saying 'Toivo's Trail', we'd pretty much passed the point of no return. Meaning we had less distance to go to reach Laughing Whitefish Falls than if we tried to turn around and go back. We held onto our kidneys and lurched up and down a rocky trail that would have been hard to walk on, let alone drive on. The map was pretty good, though. I noticed we would soon be crossing a stream, and sure enough, there it was. Bridge?? Oh foolish downstaters. Ya, right. You had to drive through this stream. Gee, why hadn't I thought to install a lift kit on the truck? Inching painfully forward, Tim managed to get us across the rocky stream without losing the hitch, or our muffler or any other vital parts.

Laughing Whitefish Falls was a bit of a disappointment (after the trip via the back way to get there), but we remembered it had been a hot dry summer, so the quiet trickle of water down the rocky face of the falls made sense.

Since we hadn't seen the Miner's Castle formation in Pictured Rocks since 1991, we visited that first. Tim recalls climbing on it as a 7-year old boy. These days it's fenced off and there are warnings everywhere about staying off it. Of course you can see tracks in the dirt where people have disregarded them and done it anyway. Good luck if you fall, because you will drop 40 or 50 feet into the crashing surf of Lake Superior, and then have one hell of a time trying to climb sheer rock walls to get out. If hypothermia doesn't do you in first. These formations and cliffs are fragile too, and in some cases all it would take is one nitwit to do in two seconds what it would take a hundred years of wear and tear by the lake to do.

A weary-looking park ranger recommended the Chapel Falls and Chapel Rock hike. I think deep down he was really glad the busy summer was over, though ('I feel like the Maytag repair man in the commercials' was his comment on the sudden exodus of tourists). We were glad we took his advice. It was 3:30 in the afternoon when we started, and we figured if we didn't dawdle, we could be back in the truck by 6 or a little after. Three miles of hiking through dense beech and maple forest brought us to a beautiful waterfall, and then just when you are getting tired and wonder if the lake up and moved away, you get close to the shore and you can finally hear the surf through the trees. You see a small bay, a beautiful beach, and the Chapel Rock formation topped by its lone white pine tree. We took a few pics, relaxed a little, and then started back.

We visited an old campsite at the mouth of the Hurricane River we had enjoyed in July 2000 and satisfied ourselves that it was as rustic and unspoiled now as it was then. We noticed a good stretch of H58 had been paved in the 5 years since, but most of it is still the same good old dusty road beneath a thick tunnel of trees. We ended up in the small town of Grand Marais where we enjoyed a whitefish dinner at the Lake Superior Brewing Company.

Thursday we decided to do some property-shopping. Yes, we finally decided to be up front about it. We've been looking on and off for 14 years, kind of pipe dreaming, but if we decided to actually get serious about it, we could make the dream a reality. If we owned just a tiny slice of God's Country, I swear we would take such good care of it. We really would. Honest. The ultimate dream is to have a log cabin on the shore of Lake Superior.

We visited a realtor in Grand Marais who seemed like a pretty straight shooter. She was encouraging, though and told us to hang onto our dream. Just don't build anything too close to the bluff. The shore east of town is eroding roughly 3 to 4 feet a year. We talked a while about life in the UP in general, an she gave us some info, and we set out toward a development about 9 miles east of town. While it was truly gorgeous, it was a complete anomaly for the area. Picture homes from a high-end neighborhood in our area of southeastern Michigan fetched up and transplanted in a land of unspoiled forest where hunting shacks and old logging trails are the biggest 'developments' to be seen for miles. After we'd pushed our eyeballs back into their sockets at the prices of lakefront parcels, we took in the scene: a white fence, a perfectly asphalted road, (see above example for a typical UP road) a caretaker's cottage (yes, a caretaker's cottage) at the entrance to the development, and palatial homes that make the houses in our sub look like vacation cottages (or hunting shacks). It was weird. It screamed Downstate Land Developer Big Bucks. We walked around a vacant lot, and peeked in the windows of an unoccupied house for sale. Even if we had buttloads of money, it wouldn't really be for us. Oh, but praise God almighty, the view of Lake Superior...

*Sigh* But hey...we have our nice camper and can roam at will up there and park it right on the shore of the deep blue lake if we want. We checked out some beautiful rustic campsites and marked them for future reference.

Our last evening at camp and we enjoyed another version of Mountain Man Breakfast for dinner, and were visited again by Arrow, the mooching, roaming chow-hound beagle owned by a Germfask resident. He'd turned up two evenings before, and alarmed, we hooked a bungee cord to his collar and took him up to the camp store where the campground owner told us he wasn't lost, he was just on his normal suppertime rounds of the campsite looking for a free meal. Apparently he's been doing this for all of his 14 years (judging by the size of his belly), along with bumming canoe rides from unsuspecting campers, too. Well, how can you fight 14 years of tradition (and a pitiful brown-eyed beagle face)? He had dinner with us for two nights, and then got a leftover hot dog for breakfast too, before we pulled out. He was a pro. He probably had a notebook back at home where he'd noted 'Suckers on site #6. Obscene amounts of food for only 2 people.'

The trip home Friday wasn't bad, just long. We stopped for pasties at Lehto's before crossing the bridge. We passed through Mackinac City to see what new developments had gone on and saw the burned wreckage of the pizza restaurant and Bridge museum (link). All those historic artifacts and pics from the building of the Mackinac Bridge lost forever. Pretty sad. We checked out another campground further down the road. We returned a few items to Sharon in Grayling. We stopped at a camper dealer in Lansing to replace a roof latch that had mysteriously disappeared somewhere between a stop for smoked whitefish and Grayling. I pray no one was right behind us when that metal piece flew off.

All was well at home, except the painters' ladders and mucky old buckets and drop cloths were still in the exact positions they were in when we had left a week before. No, actually, that would be 2 weeks before. We had words on the phone with the manager in charge of our job this morning. He now tells us someone will be out to work on our house Monday. De ja vu? Didn't I just have this conversation over a week ago with him where he told me someone would be out Friday or Saturday? How much longer are we going to not be able to use our deck and patio, and look at this stuff lying on our property? We had to move these heavy ladders and buckets aside before we could even back into the driveway when we got home. Yes, we just got home from church where we heard a sermon on patience and forgiveness. Still, the Fist of Death is strong...

We've had a couple of calls on the old pop-up camper, so that's encouraging. We might just sell it after all.

And we are already planning future camping trips and things to cook...

Here's the recipe for Walnut Baklava:

Walnut Baklava

Courtesy of Josie Bochek of Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin in the June/July 2005 issue of 'Taste of Home'

4 cups finely chopped walnuts
1/4 cup sugar
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
1 cup butter, melted
1 package (16 ounces) frozen phyllo dough, thawed

Syrup:

1 cup sugar
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup honey
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

In a bowl, combine the walnuts, sugar and cinnamon; set aside. Grease a 13X9X2-inch baking dish with some of the melted butter. Unroll the phyllo dough sheets (keep dough covered with plastic wrap while assembling).

Place one sheet of phyllo in baking dish. Brush with butter. Top with a second sheet; brush with butter. Fold short ends under to fit dish. Sprinkle with about 1/4 cup nut mixture. Repeat 18 times, layering the two sheets, brushing with butter and sprinkling with nut mixture. Top with remaining dough; brush with butter. Cut into 2-inch diamonds with sharp knife.

Bake at 350 for 45-55 minutes, or until golden brown. Meanwhile, in a saucepan combine the syrup ingredients and bring to a boil. Reduce heat; simmer, uncovered for 10 minutes. Pour over warm baklava. Cool on a wire rack.