North Manitou Island, Part Five - Number 8 on my life list.

Part 5

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I got up at six, my boat wasn't going to arrive until ten, but I seriously didn't want to be late.  And if I went back to sleep and didn't get up then I'd have to tell work I wouldn't be in until Thursday. (Wouldn't that have been dreadful?)

I was the first one there, and after hiking around a couple more hours to take some last photos, I sat on the picnic tables by the ranger’s post where the trip began to rest, eat, and wait. The people I mentioned before, that I frequently saw on the island, were the second ones out and sat by me. They had some great stories to tell that were such a good way to wind down an already awesome trip. We were later joined by a young couple celebrating their first anniversary. They had also gotten engaged on the island. After talking with all of them about their lives I felt a little like I haven’t lived my life to the fullest, which was fine because I left feeling very motivated.

As the boat arrived I was torn between wanting to run back into the woods never to return again and wanting to look for the nearest restaurant for my first real food in a few days.

Someone recommend the cheese place located in Fishtown just off the docks. This may be the few days of dehydrated foods and energy bars talking but it was the best sandwich place I’ve ever been to. I ordered one of their vegetarian “lunch boxes”, headed over to a bench by the dock, and watched boating people go about their business. I befriended a seagull that was so polite that I just had to share my meal. If he only knew how much I desperately wanted that food.

When I got back to my car it felt like I hadn’t been in it for weeks. On the way out of town I saw a fruit stand and pulled over to fill my Nalgene bottle with blueberries and cherries. It helped to keep me awake on the ride home and I was really looking for any excuse to stop and extend my stay.

These past five days seemed so much longer, and obviously more fulfilling than a normal five day work week. Running the same routine everyday at work or at home seems to shorten my life considerably. When each day feels like the previous.

I’m writing about this now weeks after my trip and I can still remember almost every detail. That was the big lesson on this trip. The best way to extend your life is to enjoy each moment. Repetitive days just overlap so five begins to feel like one until each year seems shorter than the last. I can’t even tell you what I had for breakfast this morning. But I can tell you what the ramen noodles tasted like on the third day on North Manitou and exactly what was going on in my mind as I ate them.

I’ve only been on this planet for 29 years but I have not once heard of someone saying on their deathbed, “God, if I had just one more day, I would sit my ass down in a cubicle.” It’s never happened and never will. Unless of course that person is me and I say it just to try and make someone laugh.

One last item, the entire trip cost under $100, including the cost of gas for the 11 hour round trip.

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North Manitou Island, Part Four - Number 8 on my life list.

Part 4
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On the next day, I would head to Lake Manitou. I wanted to hike all of the designated trails (and most of the unmanaged side trails), so I headed first out of the way by Paul Maleski’s Place, back down to the village where the trip started.

The village is the only place on the island with potable water, trashcans, and restrooms (Although I recommend the woods, smells much better). It's also where the residences of the ranger, caretaker, and maintenance man sit (I'm so jealous of these three guys). I then hiked back west to old Frank's Farm apple orchard but couldn't find anything edible.

September is suppose to be great for picking and eating fruit on the island. There are raspberries, tons of blackberries, blueberries, strawberries, cherries, apples, and not to mention lots of fish, clams, leeks, and other things experienced people eat when on the island (I wasn’t confident enough in my culinary abilities to have clams and leeks so I had prepackaged dehydrated food). You could easily live on the island with just foods you find off the trails and in the water if you know what you are looking for.

Finally after another amazing morning, I arrived at Lake Manitou. It was easily one of the best parts of the trip. No mosquitoes, perfect temperature, the water was as blue and sand as white as Lake Michigan. No motor boats have floated in this water. No pollution has ever been dumped into it either. It was like I had my own pristine private lake in the middle of a largely unknown isolated island.

After a long swim, which never felt more refreshing after a couple days of backpacking with no shower, I hung my clothes up to dry and once again pulled my cookware and food out of my pack. It doesn't take long for this process to become a routine, a routine that I desperately miss as I write this.

I boiled some water and prepared ramen noodles and a nice cup of warm filtered lake water. You could argue that serving yourself this meal at home is almost masochistic behavior, but out here for some reason it tasted amazing. The warm filtered lake water here was as refreshing as what a glass of ice cold lemonade would have been on a hot, humid day at home.

I loved this area so much I decided to hike around the whole lake. I believe it was about two to two and a half miles. The east side of the lake was excellent for technical hiking, at least for an unexperienced person like me. There were lots of hills and things to climb with no bushwhacking. It was a lot of fun going over them with the hiking poles.

I ran into lots of trouble on the west side when the trail would often end abruptly and I had to figure out a way around an obstacle and where the trail picked up again. I came to a large tree that blocked the trail which was humorously tough to get over so I had to take a picture to remember. This was also the exact moment that hundreds of mosquitoes decided they would try to take me down. I think they figured if they all worked together and hit me from one side at once I'd go down and hit my head and they'd have food for months... and they'd be right.

I had to throw off the pack and get the bug spray. At this moment I’d like to promote Repel Lemon Eucalyptus bug spray. It’s much safer than Deet and in my opinion works much better. Repel Lemon Eucalyptus, without you I’d probably be dead, or at least injured still laying undiscovered in the woods covered in glutinous mosquitoes.

I’m happy to say I made it out alive but itchy. I headed back towards the east side of the island to search for my final campsite. I wanted to be near the dock for the ride back. I had planned on setting up camp just inside the tree line so I wouldn’t have as far to hike just in case I was late getting up. If I missed that boat I would have had to wait another two days for the next one. They don't make special trips.

Anyway when I got to the tree line there was a group of young girls (possibly girl scouts) that were so unnaturally loud that I had to hike in another half mile, so I couldn't hear their cackling. I found a decent spot on top of a hill and got my tent up just as the sun set. It was a close call.


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North Manitou Island, Part Three - Number 8 on my life list.

Part 3
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And on day three I woke up, stiff as hell but felt wonderful. I cooked some oatmeal for breakfast, washed up, stretched to get my muscles and joints acclimated for the additional ten miles I’d ask of them today.  I took one more look at the lake (I could now see South Manitou very clearly). South Manitou Island is interesting as well. There are light houses and a 120-150' long sunken boat that you can swim out to. No backcountry camping allowed, only a campground. I hear a pretty excellent campground though.

Every moment this day moved slower and with a lot less anxiety than the previous. There was no rush to catch a boat ride, no plan other than move forward, and no expected destination. Just hiking till I'm too tired, too sore, or it's too dark. My senses were starting to sharpen. I could visualize each sound emanating from their individual sources, so each was separate and not part of the collective background noise. 

I realize this is only day two but something about being alone in nature changes the way I see the world around me. It might have something to do with not talking. Just keeping my mouth shut and listening to the present. I wonder how a long trip in the wilderness would effect my perception. 

I passed a Boy Scout leader trying to figure out where he was. (This made me feel better about getting lost the previous day.) 

"Do you know where Johnson's Place is?" he asked. 

"I think it's up ahead, a quarter mile or so," I told him. 

He turned around to go back to his troop. I followed him and his bad mood at a safe distance. Another reason being in nature improves the way I look at the world is the lack of frustrated people. I heard him tell them where I thought it was. He was upset because, as he said, they didn't mow around their signs and there was no building anywhere. Well first, there was no building there anymore, which is the case for some of the old estate locations on the island, and second the boy scouts were sitting not 20 feet from the "missing" sign that said Johnson's Place. It was as plain as day about 18" off the side of the trail. 

I didn't bother telling them. I'm sure they figured it out. In fact it would be a disservice to help them out too much, they're Boy Scouts. Besides, their leader was amusingly upset so I didn't really want to say anything to him anyway. 

I realized I ran out of water just before getting to Swenson's Barn. I'm on an island with many views of a freshwater lake so there was never any danger of dehydration. Which is probably why I didn't pay attention to my water supply. 

The map made it look like the lake was just beyond the barn up the hill of thick trees. It was hot, so desperately wanting a drink I thought I'd head in that direction and take a "shortcut" up the hill. When I finally made it to the top, after several scratches and near brushes with poison ivy, I expected to see the clear cool waters of Lake Michigan. But instead all I saw was a large overgrown, very dry, field and another thick patch of trees. So I had to go back to the trail to keep looking for a clear path west. 

It's interesting having even the slightest concerned about your water supply. It was a first for me. 

I finally found Crescent dock and glorious water at last. I stopped to fill up, eat a nice bowl of much needed sodium-filled soup, and take a dip in the lake. It's a strange feeling seeing a lake and thinking, oh finally crisp cool water... to drink. (Again, I'm not yet an experienced backpacker.) 

Maybe this is why we feel good when we are looking out at bodies of water. When going down the highway, crossing over a bridge, you can’t help but look over at the water. We no longer realize why we are happy when we see it, but the generations that have passed without indoor plumbing have embedded this fondness into our genetic material. Now we just stand there looking out at a lake with a smile as we sip our Evian. 

This was the only time that I was on a beach and I saw another person, and they were no less than 50 yards from me at any given time. They had their socks hung up on some branches to dry while they stared at the water, I assume, not giving it any thought as to why they loved staring at it. I waited till they were gone to get in the water. Nobody wants to see a grown man wash up in the lake they are trying to relax by. (Well maybe I shouldn't say ‘nobody’.) 

Day three was coming to an end. I had made it to the northwest side of the island just past The Old Grade. I tried for a while to find a camp site that would come close to the beauty of the last one but got too exhausted and the sun was starting to set.  I had to stop. I just turned to the right, off the trail, and hiked in until I found a clear flat piece of land. 

I went into my tent early to get away from the mosquitoes, even though it was hot and humid in there. I wasn’t that tired so I sat up and wrote about the day in my notebook. I thought of my bed at home. How uncomfortable it seems during a normal week but now I remembered it only as very soft and cozy with its thick heavy blankets and fluffed up pillows. Thoughts like this are typical for me on the second night of a camping trip. Generally by day three, however, I never want to leave and the comforts of home start seeming unnatural. 

I put down the notebook and as I lay there, trying to fall asleep, daddy long legs were climbing all over my tent. I'm pretty sure they were testing it for weaknesses. They wanted in. They wanted in bad. But for what? I wouldn't let my imagination try to figure that one out. 

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North Manitou Island, Part Two - Number 8 on my life list.

Part 2
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After waking up the next morning around six, I took a shower at the campground before heading to Leland. They were the nicest I've ever used at a campground, even though I had to share it with Shower Mothra, a giant odd-looking winged bug. The giant eye shaped patterns on his wings made me feel like I was being watched. I took a longer than normal shower. I knew it would be the last for a few days. Another reason to enjoy solo trips. 

I drove up to Leland where the Manitou Transit was located. I really enjoyed this place, especially the area around the docks called Fishtown. There were some little places to eat and a lot of activity to sit and watch. Inside of a fishery at around 7 in the morning, I'm pretty sure the Gordon's fisherman was preparing the early morning catch. He looks older now than he does on the package but still has all the charm. (if not more!) 

I still had a couple of hours to kill so I went to the Early Bird Cafe and had breakfast. Veggie Omelet and toast for you die hard Ryan fans that want to know all. It was much tastier than the four days worth of dehydrated gourmet I had waiting for me in my pack. 

At around 9:45, I was able to pick up my ticket, load my pack onto the boat, park the car, and once again wait. Which was fine, luckily every place I visited on this trip was worth the drive in itself. 

Once we were allowed on the boat I grabbed a seat followed by several others. The passengers ranged from boy scouts preparing for badges, experience backpackers preparing for another satisfying hike, families preparing for a short fishing, day hiking, or camping trip, and teenage couples preparing for unsupervised time in a tent. There was only one other solo backpacker that I could see. 

The sky was threatening to rain all morning. The only time it ever did was when on the boat ride (both coming and going actually). I went inside to try and locate my stuff in the storage area to grab my raincoat but it was buried under dozens of packs. When I went back I saw North Manitou just up ahead, so spent the rest of the ride inside the cabin watching the island approach with much anticipation. In all the trip out there took just over an hour. 

I stayed back with a few others to help unload the packs. This was my first backpacking trip, so I was worried that I packed too much (thirty five pounds). After lifting fifty to sixty pound packs and packs made from trash bags, comforters, and duct tape, I wasn’t concerned at all anymore. 

As mine came out, my flash light's built-in emergency siren was going off as it was passed down the line. Someone evidently hit the annoyingly easy to accidentally press button. That was kind of embarrassing. The thought of pretending it wasn't mine crossed my mind, but I realized I'd be found out eventually. I had to slow the line down to find it and turn it off. 

So far so good, Ryan. 

When we first arrived we were given the rules and regulations just outside the ranger’s post. He cautioned us to be careful as there are no ambulances or hospitals (or anything at all really) on the island. Days before there was a boy complaining of stomach pains when he arrived and was later air lifted to the hospital to have his appendix removed (after having to wait several hours for the helicopter.) 

The ranger also warned us about being late for the boat ride back. A group of people that had come to the island the day before were seven minutes late and left behind. They had only been there for a day hike and were not prepared to spend the night on the ground. For those of you reading this that are planning a trip to North Manitou, take two alarm clocks to be safe and wake up early. 

There were about 150 people on the island on this day. The ranger said that was as many as a busy holiday weekend. Although on a 15,000 acre island with 150 people, mostly in groups of 3 or 4, you still hardly see anyone. After our orientation was over, we were released into the wild to try our best to create some lasting memories and remain uninjured. Most people started heading west towards Lake Manitou or north to the one campground. So I headed due south. 

People once lived on the island, so occasionally you run into proof of this. An old cemetery was my first stop just over three miles from the ranger's station. It was a good time to take my pack off my, evidently, out of shape body. Most of the graves were gone, damaged, or had noticeably starting sinking back into the earth. The most recent grave was dug in 1938. 

This is where I would first meet the people that I saw four or five times on the trails. I mention this because other than them I only saw other humans maybe five times combined. Also, because they were some of the most interesting people I've ever talked to. They were retired educators that pack more adventure into a month than I have in years. 

I passed more leftovers from a town long gone. Old rusted cars, that I assume date back to at least the forties, seem to sneak up on you like a foraging bear. It can be mildly startling at times.

I hiked up the shore to Dimminick's point for my first snack break. I discovered that it's hard to walk on sand a few hundred yards with thirty five pounds on your back. I had a minor setback afterwards though when I couldn't find the trail again, but fortunately, I was able to use my photos I had taken to remember where I was. (If you're planning a trip, keep in mind that this area is usually closed from May - August to protect eggs from the endangered Piping Plover. It had just opened so I was fortunately able to go there.) 

I laid my blue foam sleeping pad on the sand and sat for an hour taking in the sound of the lake, the view of a distant lighthouse periodically flashing, and had a snack with my new squirrel friend. 

Now where's that trail again? I know it was in those trees back there somewhere. The squirrel ran away after realizing he was getting no more food out of me and was no help at all. 

One thing I like about solitude is my mind becomes much more open to a strange imagination. An imagination that not even a childhood in front of the television could totally squash out. I often wonder what I would be like had we not had television, as I do not have now. My brain was like an indifferent happy parent on vacation with their children, not caring that they are running around annoying everyone. It just let me have fun. 

Once I found the trail again I headed a few miles west on the most southern stretch of the designated trail towards Fredrickson’s Place. Once there I took a Clif Bar snack break and enjoyed another amazing view of Lake Michigan. I sat again for a while but had to get going because I wanted to find a place to set up camp before it got too late. Luckily, I turned around, hiked about fifty more feet, down a narrow trail, and I found the best campsite I've ever had. 

I loved this site so much that part of me wanted to spend the rest of the time there. But I would have been disappointed with myself if I didn't see as much as possible. The rule is you have to be 300 feet from the water. The passing ranger said I was at 280 but let me stay anyway. So if you are in the area remember to look for the perfect camping spot next to Fredrickson's Place. I highly recommend it. Just try to stay away from it when I’m back on the island if you could please. 

I pulled out my camp stove and cooked dinner consisting of rehydrated veggies with instant rice. I then headed down to the lake to fill up my hydration pack. It's hard filtering water when there are waves crashing around you, just so you know. I got kind of wet. The clouds that hung overhead all day started to break just in time for a beautiful sunset. So, I pealed off my wet socks and once again unrolled my foam pad and waited patiently for the sky to fade from blues to reds. 

I haven't done enough of this in my life. And with the moon coming up on the left, the sun setting on the right, and not a single person in sight, could it be more perfect? 

When changing clothes that night bats started fluttering around my head. It sort of freaked me out. That is, being half naked while this was happening. Otherwise I probably would have laid on the ground and just watched the frantic jarring of our closest non-primate relative. 

The night was quiet except for the faint sound of waves breaking over rocks and sand and the rhythmic song of cicadas and crickets. It was the quietest night camping I've ever experienced. At times it was so quiet you could feel the silence press against your ears almost like you are underwater. 

I slept pretty well throughout the night. As I slowly and peacefully slipped into unconsciousness my brain was playing tricks on me again. It was so quiet that even the smallest animal walking through the grass sounded gigantic. 

At one time I could have sworn chipmunks were circling my tent occasionally chirping waiting for me to come out, poised and ready to attack. Maybe it was just a dream, or perhaps they just wanted me to know whose island it was. They number in the thousands on the island and at any moment could seize total control if they were so inclined. Needless to say I could swear they all looked at me differently the next day. Sort of like when you see someone with their zipper down and you don't want to say anything but you find it difficult to keep the slight smile off our face. That is how they looked at me on day three.

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North Manitou Island, Part One - Number 8 on my life list.

Part 1
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North Manitou Island is a 15,000 acre wilderness island in Lake Michigan, ten miles off the coast of Leland, MI. The island doesn't see a lot of visitors, so once you're boatload of visitors scatter into the trees, you often feel like you've been drop off on a deserted island. It's 20 miles of shoreline almost ensures you'll have your own private beach to watch the sunset.

There just isn’t another place like it within a six hour drive of my home in Indiana. Needless to say, I added it to my bucket list the moment I learned of its existence.

I was finally able to go in late July 2007. I took 5 days off of work and spent a couple weeks before that over-planning. I went alone. I love the solitude. There just isn’t a better way to experience nature. Although, I’d love to go back with friends someday. 

I got up early on a Thursday to begin my trip. For my job I'm on-call 24 x 7 and people start arriving in the office a few minutes before 7:00. So I headed out at 6:45. I wanted to be out before the phone could ring. I had the next five days off and didn’t plan on picking up the phone if it did, but I preferred to not hear it ring. My mind needed to be free of the thought that I was needed at work. 

Once I got in the car I only stopped once, for gas and a Jimmy Johns veggie sandwich, before arriving at Sleeping Bear. I saw a sign for the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive and quickly turned hoping to find some places to get out of the car, stretch my legs, and take some photos. 

Even if you don't make it out to the islands, the mainland side of the park is worth the trip. I was later surprised by the small number of people that were on the islands considering the large crowd of people crammed together on the mainland side. It’s one of America’s unknown gems and most people there didn’t seem to give it much consideration. Or maybe a trip to an unspoiled wilderness island with no electricity, phones, motorized vehicles, restrooms, restaurants, department stores, televisions, or ambulances isn’t exactly everyone’s idea of paradise. Even though, with the exception of no restrooms or ambulances, it happens to be my definition of the word. 

My boat wasn’t going to leave until 10:00 the next morning, so I had some time to kill. Along the Lake Michigan Overlook just off the scenic drive, I stared out at the lake from the top of a 450 foot sand dune. 

This was a lot of fun to run down. Coming back up... not so much. 

I planned on staying at D.H. Day Campground the first night. On the few trips I’ve taken in my life, I typically just get in the car and go and deal with the consequences as they happen, but I got mildly panicked when I saw a sign that said 'Full' when pulling in. 

“There are about a dozen campgrounds in the area,” said the gentleman working in the campground office, which was comforting. “But they are pretty much all full except one,” which was not. 

I was certain I’d be sleeping in my car. I drove to Empire, a small town about fifteen miles south, to find that campground and luckily they only had about a half dozen sites being used. For it being the less popular campground in the area, it was so much better than anything around my hometown. 

After registering the site with the friendly couple that owned the place, I drove back into town and stopped at Gemma’s Coffee shop. I thought to myself, “I need to do something anti-roughed before heading to the island.” And what's more anti-roughed than a trendy coffee shop, an iced caramel mocha with whipped cream, various pastries, soft cushy couches, and Wi-Fi? 

I sat sipping my drink, reading a book, then headed back to camp. Oh yeah and the book was Harry Potter book 7. It has only just occurred to me exactly how anti-roughed this moment was. 

I ended up sleeping in my car anyway because I didn't want to unpack and risk being late the next morning for the ferry. Plus, after unnecessarily unpacking and repacking at home so many times to make sure I was prepared, I just didn't want to do it again. So I stayed up late reading some more while lying on the picnic table in the silent empty campground, then eventually fell asleep in my reclined front seat.

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A Backpacker's Life List by Ryan Grayson is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.