Did you ever wonder what is taught to seach and rescue teams?  Are you on a search and rescue team.  Here is a unique opportunity to learn more Kent County Search and Rescue and Fortune Bay Expedition Team are putting on four "Fundraising" course.  These courses are designed for Search and Rescue Personnel, but are a wealth of information for anyone who ventures into the outdoors.

The classes are:

1. Land Navigation

2. Survival & Improvisation

3. Human Tracking and Search Technology

4. Technical Rescue/Ropework (beginner's course)

For more information:

http://fortunebaycompany.com/id12.html

TRAIL DAY 6  -  6 miles

Everything including my boots were soaked except for a lightweight set of long underwear and a pair of socks.  It had also dropped to 34 degrees so it seemed safer to make a short day and try to dry things out at the up coming shelter.

This second rainy day turned into a fun one at Old Victoria Welcome Center.  While drying out using an old wood cook stove, I enjoyed greeting visitors, splitting wood and tending fires in the old historic homes used for the tours.  Many thanks to Lynette and Patty for their wonderful hospitality, good company and a great vegetarian pasty for dinner.

Historic Old Victoria, an old copper mining town, and the surrounding area were extremely interesting and worth spending an extra hour or two in any weather.  Check them out on their Face Book Page - Old Victoria Restoration.

TRAIL DAY 7  -  28 miles

With the heavy rainfall, it would not be possible to make the two river fords planned for this day.  Between the two high water routes, 5.2 miles were added to the journey.

Trail Tip:  Other journals have described crossing the W. Branch of the Ontonagon on stones and the E. Branch as a ford about “pocket deep”.  The trail east of the W. Branch is said to be rather rough going.

The lands between and after these routes were typically wetlands.  On this day, they were flooded wetlands.  A friend suggested they then would simply be classified as swamp.  I agree!  Many unexpected challenges were faced.  Creeks and rivers were forded that normally would have been jumped or crossed on stones.  Boardwalks now under water could not be followed and left one surrounded by foot deep water.  In one spot a small spring was bubbling up right in the middle of the trail.  Dry land was seldom seen this day. 

It did make for some great pics and ended on a high note with the meeting of trail mates Muir, Katelyn and Scuds.  They were very welcome company while standing around their warm coal stoked fire built along an unused railroad.

TRAIL DAY 4  -  15 miles

Anxiously arriving at M-64, I was happy to find the supply drop that my ride Sam and I left hanging in a tree on the way to Ironwood.  After loading up, I attached a note to the bucket asking "some good person to please take and reuse or recycle it.  Reward within".  After returning home, I received an e-mail from Tim and his wife thanking me for the yogurt covered dried cherries and that the bucket was used to collect Lake Superior stones for their fish tank and was now in the recycle bin.

Next  came the Trap Hills.  That first, rather steep climb took forty five minutes.  The hills to follow were as much a challenge, but all very well worth it.  The scenic vistas were incredible and came on one after another.  This trip was in late September, just in time for peak colors.

Trail Tip:  Leave some extra time to travel through these hills.  There are a few rather steep and long climbs. There is a small one tent camp site with a stone fire pit at one of the overlooks on the southeast side of the Traps.  It is just off the trail.  It overlooks the railroad running along Cascade Creek and all the way back to Lake Gogebic.  It's right out on the edge so don't use it in inclement weather or get out on the wrong side of your tent.

TRAIL DAY 5  -  15 miles

Up to this point a couple of planned water sources were no good due to the dry Summer. Having obtained two liters for a dry camp the night before, left me with only one liter to start out with.  The next planned hole was also dry.  Normally that might be OK, but the next two water sources on the map did not look promising either so a detour of two miles down Cty. Rd. 400 was the only sure thing.  Setting off just fifty feet down the road, there was a little used side road.... with a big puddle !  I took a liter from it, but would not treat it until reaching those next two holes.  Arriving at those sources over two hours later, one was found dry and the other really nasty, so yes  ....I treated and drank the road puddle water.  Wasn't at all bad, either.

The rest of the morning brought on a variety of terrain with several streams and occasional views of the distant horizon.  The clouds had increased through the day and around noon the sky was completely covered.  Looking back to the west it was obvious that something was building up as the skies were turning much darker and lowering to cover the hill tops that I had just traversed.

Trail Tip:  East of Norwich Rd., the trail first hits some big “Trap like” hills.  At one point the trail appears to run off into a large clear cutting where many hikers have lost the trail.  It's easy to do since there is a nice wide swath cut to travel down.   Earlier there was a short 100 ft. of clear cut, but it had been blazed and the path easy to follow.  Shortly after that, the blazes are old and faded.  The oldest ones more silver than blue.  Just before the big clear cut, there is a not so obvious right turn.  The trail never did enter that cutting. 

Trail Tip:  The trail that follows is a bit tough going.  Take your time.  Watch closely for the few faded blazes and cairns.

The next couple miles of trail were rather hard going, following a narrow gorge along a creek with many downed trees .....and that is when the rains began.  Seventeen hours straight of a steady hard rain!  More than eight inches fell.  Sleep came easy that night as the soon to come rivers, lakes and wetlands started to overflow.

TRAIL DAY 2  -  16 miles

Crossing the suspension bridge over the Black River Harbor gave a final look at Rainbow Falls before the trail ascended to high ground of pine and hardwood forest.  Twenty minutes were spent trying to get a picture of the largest Pileated Woodpecker I've ever seen.  Many small streams and a beaver pond are found along the way before the trail gives way to a wide swath through an area of forest harvesting.

Eventually heading northward into the Porcupine Mountains the trail follows high ground above the Presque Isle River.  After four miles, it finally descended to the river so a water stop could be made.   The flow of the river picks up quite quickly along here providing several rapids, a few quick drops and more waterfalls.  I love waterfalls !

Trail Tip:  Backpackers must register at the Presque Isle campground about ¼ mile beyond South Boundary Road paying a fee for each night spent in the park.

Another great suspension bridge built by Roosevelt's Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930's takes the trail northeast just inside the woods along Lake Superior.  With a light rain coming down, an unexpected, but very welcome camp site was found on the shoreline.  Easing back into an armchair made from stone and eating dinner while looking out over Lake Superior, provided a relaxing end to another great day.

TRAIL DAY 3  -  23 miles

Leaving camp, I ran into my first fellow backpackers.  Dave and Jenifer were very knowledgeable about the Porcupine Mountains and beyond and gave some good tips for the coming days.  Dave eventually confessed to being a DNR officer for the park.  He and his wife were spending a weeks vacation hiking the trails.  How great it must be to actually want to vacation where you work!

The trail soon left the shoreline and followed a gentle ascent along the very scenic Little Carp River.  After Greenstone Falls, the trail became a bit steeper for some time before coming out on the first of many distant views to be seen during this journey.  A few stepping stone crossings, rapids, a couple of oddities and many great views made for a fun day.

Trail Tip:  If your so inclined and have a solid schedule, the “cabins” in the Porkies are for rent and must be reserved.  They are equipped with bunks, wood cook stove, table/chairs, pots, pans and dishes.  

Saturday, September 18th, 2010

TRAIL DAY 0

The night before the hike, I walked to the downtown area looking for the North Country Trail. After asking two people and forty five minutes of roaming the streets and busy ATV trails on both sides of the boarder, I finally followed the lead of five deer that were headed across town.  Honest !  They skirted an old warehouse, went up a wooded hill and past the ATV trail.  On the other side of a small gully was a second, little used abandoned railroad grade.  A short walk east led to the old wood railroad bridge crossing the Montreal River and the Michigan/Wisconsin border.

Trail Tip:  From US 2 take Lowell St. (one block west of Douglas Blvd.) south.  Reaching the downtown area, look for a brown brick commercial building on the right.  There is a park and fountain across the street.  Head straight east ¼ mile on an old  railroad bed (do not veer left with the ATV trail).

Trail Tip:  Also located was Ben's Restaurant @ 112 W. Aurora St. - GREAT breakfast – Opens at 6 am 7 days a week.  If the OPEN light is not on, try the door.

Traveling in the wilderness, days of the week and month no longer matter.  The year does not exist.  The only measure that counts are Trail Days.

TRAIL DAY 1

Throughout this hike I carried a SPOT satellite tracking system. The path of the hike was posted on Fortune Bay Expedition Teams web site. In addition, friend Chuck posted daily updates and trivia on Face Book. Many people had a lot of fun as they followed along the way .... and my mother felt much better about my hiking solo.

After an early start from the state boarder, a big country omelet at Ben's was in order.  Meeting a few of the good natured locals, I was told twice that I would be passing the "flying hill"... hmmmm.  After a pleasant five miles departing from Ironwood and about four miles of road walk, the very impressive Copper Peak Ski Flying Hill first comes into view from eight miles away.  There are only a dozen or so ski jumpers in North America that qualify to fly this hill.

Trail Tip:  There is a free MDOT campground where Black River Rd. bends to the northwest.  It has fire pits, picnic tables and a pit toilet.  A muddy path leads down to the river, however there is a fresh spring cistern on the left near the top of the trail.

Finally entering the forest along the Black River brings the start of the real "hikeable" trail.  It is very exciting with the rush of water over one waterfall after another.  Taking too many pictures was impossible.  After a first long days hike, the first nights camp at Black River Harbor with a fantastic sunset over Lake Superior was a great reward.    This campground did require a fee.  

Shelter at the Paris County Park - Paris, Michigan

It was difficult to hear each other over the crunching roar of bike tires and gravel.  As we rode in formation, I watched the numbers slowly increase on my bike’s computer odometer.  I looked up and to my right to glance at Ryan as he slowly pushed the pedals.  Although it didn’t look like he was struggling, I could sense his fatigue.  He was pulling a trailer with over one hundred pounds of gear.  He was quiet.  He starred at the ground just ahead of him. We were all quiet.

The rain was relentless.  It wasn’t a hard rain, but rather a cold and consistent one; a rain that had, so far, lasted 2 hours.  Everything was soaked.  The air temp had fallen below 55 degrees Fahrenheit – hypothermia weather.  Because we had been riding for two and a half hours – the cold was a little less noticeable.  No one seemed “unhappy”.  Actually, I assumed that everyone was content and in an upbeat frame of mind.  I was about to find out that I was completely alone in my optimistic la-la land.

As we approached 24 miles I kept a close eye on the odometer.  Our three new members had decided to combine their gear in one trailer and take turns pulling it.  They would switch at 12 mile intervals.  It was my job to track those miles and let them know when we reached those milestones. 

As we continued, I would glance at the odometer then at the current “mule” rider, Ryan.  I, too, had a trailer, but it was less than half their weight and only had a single tire.

As soon as mile 24 displayed itself, I called out “Twenty Fooouurrr!” 

As if I had activated the air brakes to a slow moving train, everything immediately ceased.  Ryan’s rear tire locked and slid an S shape into the trail.  The bikers behind him were forced to react with the quick reaction of startled drivers.  He was done pulling – there was no doubt about that. 

They changed “mules”, downed some water and an energy bar and Bill took over the duties of “draft biker”. 

We were on the longest rail-trail in Michigan – the White Pine Trail State Park.  We intended Cadillac, but we made Paris.  It was an “experience” they would say.  They would say it enough that it became the trip motto.   “It’s an experience”.

An experience it was; a good one with cold, shivering misery.  But the misery was just fuel for the fire and character that we built that day.  A fire and character that will bring them back for the next challenge. 

We were cold, tired, thirsty and drained. . . and it was a great time!

The temperature dropped quite a bit over the past few days.  Just a week ago, I was lamenting how the heat tends to sap your energy while you are training.   I didn’t dare to venture to the Cannonsburg State Game Area to train on the old mountain bike without a hefty stock of water.   Jogging was nothing more than a shirt soaking foray into the local forested areas.  But, alas – we are in the Great Lakes – if you don’t like the weather, wait a minute.

We have gone from 90 degrees just a few days ago to around 46 at 4:00 am this morning, which immediately turns our thoughts to fall.   There have been quite a few mentions and joyous statements about the anticipation of fall - mostly for the flannel and polar fleece clad comfort gatherings at various campfires.  Sitting by the fire typing this at the “Institute of Leisure Arts” does give me a slight pang of anticipation.

With the cold weather and talk of fall, I lamented for a minute, thinking to myself that I still have a lot to accomplish this summer.  I have put quite a few objectives behind me, but I still have a few to accomplish.   Of course, I soon realized that I can still accomplish those objectives this fall.  I could also do it without the drenching misery of sweat and life sucking heat. 

So, I “hesitantly” look forward to fall.

That said, there are a few upcoming things that we would like to pass on to readers.

1.  Paid membership – not as bad as it sounds.  We are building a paid membership that will provide a long list of resources for members.  Everything from dirt cheap equipment rental (not just tents and stoves, but things like satellite communicators and underwater cameras), retailer and class discounts, fee-free participation in expeditions, sponsorships and much more.  All this for less than $5 per month

2.  A few activities – right now we have on the list are a mountain bike marathon, outdoor skills class and a land navigation class scheduled and the return of the North Country Trail Expedition.   More information here.

3. More possible activities – a remote wilderness ghost town expedition on the seldom travelled logging roads of northern Ontario, a Grand Island trip, a caving expedition to the extreme southern end of the Great Lakes watershed.  Currently, we are looking for ideas and input (as usual) for trips, activities and classes.

That said, fall will arrive whether we want it or not – then winter – and we are still going to get out there and do stuff.  We hope you do the same.  Hopefully, we will see you out there among the beautiful fall colors.

Finally, we are very interested in your ideas for a trip/activity/expedition.  We would like to strongly encourage you to leave a comment below or send us a note.

We launched just as the water calmed to a surreal deadness. The black stillness you get only after a storm. Within minutes, the previous tail wind turned to a light head wind then began to pick up. We only had 6 miles to travel that day, but six miles on the open water can be a full day of exhausting work, and we were about to prove it.

The wind was really nothing at first, we could clip along at about 3 mph. We took a heading straight to Summer Island while keeping our eye on the more distant Poverty Island. To our right was Little Summer Island. As we were within a mile of Summer Island, the water suddenly turned to knee deep and progress slowed to about 1.5 mph (according to the GPS). Vic and his “lifesaving” inflatable powerboat had to break his pursuit of us and travel a few miles around Summer Island and wait for us on Poverty. He was gone, and that would prove to be a bad thing.

We stopped at Summer Island for a brief break. Then launched straight for the far corner of Poverty Island forever adrift in the churning expanse of open blue. Our route would take us a mile and a half from safe shore, but everyone was doing great. The winds were building to the forecasted 25 knots or 30 mph.

Let’s stop here and see what these winds mean. According to the Beaufort Scale, We were in a Beaufort Force 7. Which means (according to the scale) near gale. Wind Speed 25-33 knots. Wave height 13 ½ - 19 feet (open ocean), sea state is described like this, “Sea heaps up; white foam from breaking waves begins to be blown in streaks”

At first, it was fun. The kayaks would climb over the little four foot waves and then the bow would drop with a loud slap on the windward side. According to the GPS, our progress was still around 1-2 mph. But as the minutes clicked on, the wind began to roar and a few rouge 5-6 footers heaved and climbed in front of us.

The happy little celebrations soon stopped and we began constantly checking on each other. We were still together and doing well. At one point, we attempted to raft, but one of the new expeditioners wasn’t paying attention and we broker apart, causing the rest to abandoned any attempt at another rest stop. So we pushed on, because pushing on was our only choice. The waves were building.

We continued to paddle hard into the wind for an hour. Landmarks on the shore of Summer Island grew smaller but passed painfully slow. I noticed a blue object on the shore that seemed to pass very little over the next hour. Our progress slowed to less than a mile per hour and some were showing signs of fatigue.

Muskrat, who was the most experienced paddler, managed to catch my attention and yelled, “How do you think we’re doing?”

“I wish we were on shore, but we’re doing alright”, I replied, knowing full well that if someone lost it, a rescue would be extremely dangerous if not impossible. I ignored her, but I knew full well her thoughts. No need to worry, yet.

Then, as if God decided to remind me of his power, a huge rouge came upon me. I looked almost straight up at the crest of the wave. I watched my hatch cover climb higher and higher. I dug my paddle in with everything I had. Just as I crested the wave, another rogue struck my starboard bow. I whispered to myself, “Where the hell did that come from?!?”. The wave fully engaged my 16 foot kayak, which forces me to venture a guess that I had just climbed a 7-8 footer.

I looked at my GPS and we were 1.36 miles to shore. Our speed was somewhere between .1-.5 mph. Looking back, that could have met forward or backward. Looking around, I saw scattered kayakers with tired strokes, a shore that didn’t come closer, and an angry sea that was acting strange. More rogues hit from different directions. Understand that waves from one direction are easy; you just handle them, routinely. But when they start hitting you (unexpectedly) from different directions, that is just freaky.

As Muskrat and I paddled, Red Squirrel came between us and asked about taking a piss. Pretty strange request, maybe an attempt to get us to shore. I told him just to let it go. He mentioned that Government had a bottle. I interrupted him to say, “No, just let it go, we can clean it up later.”

I looked at my GPS, still 1.36 miles to go, man this sucks.

I notice Costello and Papa were talking. After about 5 minutes, Papa paddled up to me and said, “We’re going to have some dog tagged people today.” That was enough. After 4 hours, some of the crew (and therefore all of the crew) was at their end. Papa and I signaled to shore and everyone turned east and took the waves on the starboard beam. There was a weak protest from Government, but I think he understood the decision was final.

But, it wasn’t over with yet.

"If a man goes to sea by choice, he'll go to hell for recreation."

- Ancient Scottish Saying

The planned return of the expedition on August 24th, 2003 was delayed due to very rough seas and thunderstorms. The team returned on Monday August 25th, 2003 on glassy smooth waters. The Expedition was successful.

Excerpt from Pathfinder's Journal on the Manitou Strait's Crossing

Thursday, August 21, 2003

3:28am I awoke to a fitful exhibit of flickering light through the nylon of my tent. A storm was moving in. Flashes appeared above the dunes. I ascended the dunes and saw a brilliant display of lightening over the expanse of open water. I descended back to camp and informed Papa (expedition leader) of the situation. We packed up camp in the calm atmosphere that only exists just before a storm. We finished just before the wind and driving rain. We slept in our vehicles until sunrise.

7:18 We awoke, the storm was gone, and chatted a bit. We went to Empire for breakfast.

8:23 Finished breakfast and headed for Glen Haven. Eight adventures present.
Chuck “Papa” Hill – Expedition Leader
Chuck “Pathfinder” Hayden – Expedition pathfinder
Bill “Wapiti” Smith – Researcher, Sweeper
Dane “Kramer” Proctor – Sweeper
Brian “Patty” Hauenstein
Russ “Counselor” Cole
Quinton “Duck” Merrick
Vic Weeks – Inflatable Powerboat Skipper

9:15 With the kayaks and Inflatable packed and ready to launch, we gathered for a pre-crossing briefing. Kramer’s kayak drifted out as we were briefed. It was out of reach and drifting further. I kayaked out, secured the yak and towed it back.

9:23 Radio check with Wapiti, GPS operational (with full battery power), back up navigational equipment seems in good order. South Manitou was shrouded by mist and not visible. We launched.

9:46 With three quarter’s of a mile down, we left the protection of Sleeping Bear Point. The wind was suddenly a strong 18 knots to our port side and the waves were about 4 feet. Everyone was asking themselves, “what the hell are we doing out here!?!” This is a common reaction to first entering rough open water. If everything goes well, this fear will soon subside. I noticed our sweeper, Wapiti, was falling behind with Duck. I radioed him and he reported that Duck was having trouble. Duck didn’t have a rudder and soon Wapiti removed his Red Wings flag from the stern of the kayak. Apparently, the flag acted like a stern sail and was forcing the stern to the starboard making him cock into the wind and progress very difficult. The wind and breaking waves were very loud and yelling to other expedition members was only possible for about 50 yards. Vic saw that we were handling things well and took the inflatable to the wreck of the Morazon.

10:11 My GPS (the only one operational at the time) beeped twice and shut down after we had passed 2 miles (last time I buy Duracell). The lighthouse on South Manitou was still not visible. I checked my compass and changed my heading to 340 degrees. It seemed that I had corrected a little more to port than was necessary, but I trusted the compass. It was difficult to keep the team on course because we tended (naturally) to turn into the wind and waves. The correct heading required that we take the seas almost directly on our port beam.

10:23 I took azimuths from the only two major land features I could see. I marked (as best I could) the intersection of those angles on the map and realized that we were probably drifting off course. I checked my compass and it showed that our heading was between 330 degrees and 350 degrees. I then noticed that the inoperable GPS was close enough to the compass to affect its magnetic function. When I pulled the GPS away the compass floated to around 300 degrees. We had to change course back even more to starboard. This made the wind and waves hit us on the port-stern making it even more difficult. I noticed the other yakers more than 100 yards away would disappear momentarily as the waves rolled toward me. I estimated the waves were reaching 5-6 feet. Duck was still having trouble. We would occasionally stop our progress to let him caught up. I seemed to miss Vic and his inflatable.

10:33 More than 3 miles down. The only two land features I could see have now disappeared and we were surrounded by steadily building waves and gray haze. I scanned for the South Manitou lighthouse, but only saw the ghostly gray haze. It almost suggested that nothing was out there. I checked my compass constantly. We were doing well in the rough seas, but the total reliance on a compass was eating at my confidence. I considered placing new batteries in the GPS, but the building seas instructed me to keep a firm grasp always on my paddle. My right leg had become completely numb. The loud wind and breaking waves made verbal communication difficult, even on the radio. At this point, I made a mental note to practice hand and arm signals.

10:46 As we approached (as best I could guess) about 4 miles, I noticed a tiny white tower deep in the distant cloud of haze. It was the size of a toothpick tip. THE LIGHTHOUSE! I felt an extreme sense of relief. And we were on a perfect heading for it. I reported this to the team and a few others confirmed the sighting.

11:14 Over 5 miles complete and our confidence is high. The waves continue to build. We can see the lighthouse keepers quarters and the shoreline now.

11:21 After hearing low rumbling in the distance, lightening streaks across the sky directly over the island. A huge rising thunderhead has presented itself over the island. The haze that blocked our view of the island also blocked our view of the thunder clouds.

11: 29 As the thunder continues, I am relieved of my duty as pathfinder and fall back with Duck and Wapiti. With around a mile and a half to go, the rest of the group now goes full speed to shore. I am now sweeping with Wapiti to help Duck, if needed. Because he has no rudder, his progress is very slow. He has to constantly back paddle to keep his craft on course. As Wapiti and I formed up to talk at a distance of 20 feet, he completely disappeared behind a wave. The waves seemed to be well over 6 feet.

12:08 We see people watching us from the walk on the lighthouse and walking on shore. Landing on shore by the lighthouse seems a little rough. The rest of the group has waited for us near shore and I resume my duties as pathfinder and direct the team to the American Flag flying to the north of the lighthouse. The flag usually marks the location of the ranger station. We enter the harbor and the water is immediately calm. The ferry rests at the dock and Vic is already there with his inflatable.

12:24 Crossing successful. We land our crafts and a huge clap of thunder cuts the sky open and a drenching rain sends us to anything near the dock that provides temporary shelter. All 8 souls accounted for and we are very proud and happy. We have accomplished what very few will even consider attempting. In all honesty, it wasn’t that bad, only because we had the proper equipment, experience and training. It was exciting, scary and difficult, but I think foolhardy would go too far.

Submitted by Pathfinder

The Fortune Bay Expedition Team, as a general rule, spends most of its time in the Great Lakes Watershed.  That said, I thought it would be appropriate, in the early stages of our Internet presence, to discuss its "beginnings", so to speak.  I, for one, find the glacial history to be fascinating.

So, at risk of boring the readers to the point that they say, "Yawn" and find something else to do, lets do this. . .

Let us go back 600 million years, when science claims large organisms first appeared.  Back when the Great Lakes were a huge bowl of lowlands (called the Michigan Basin), surrounded by towering mountains (called the Shield Uplands).  Some accounts of the Shield Uplands estimated their height to be more than 30,000 feet  – slightly higher than Mount Everest.  This bowl extended south into Ohio and Indiana and west to Wisconsin.  The deepest part of the bowl was centered in the lower peninsula of Michigan.   This was the Great Lakes – before they were lakes.

This rocky and rusty ring of mountain and basin underwent a slow, 250 million year transformation called the Paleozoic Period.  The Paleozoic Period was a simple but powerful process of uplifting mud and sinking sediment. The uplands eroded into the lowlands.  The rain, wind and sun crumbled and oozed the stately mountains into the “mixing bowl” basin.  The Michigan Basin filled with layers of sludge that compressed and hardened.  After millions of decades, six major layers of bedrock filled the basin like a saucer of layered Jell-O.  The bare rocks that provided the material for this period, Precambrian Rock, are about 4 billion years old and can still be seen on the northern end of the Great Lakes.

With the bowl filled, an earth-moving occurrence began forming in the north.  The Wisconsin Ice Sheet started growing from the Hudson Bay.  The process, which began 50,000 years ago, was an advance of a glacier that continued for almost 36,000 years and stretched almost to the Ohio River Valley. In fact, the slowly warming winters are left over evidence of this "Ice Age".  The ice jammed rivers that crack and scrap every winter in the Great Lakes are merely the whimper of this powerful history. 

This extraordinary icy cover froze billions of tons of earth and dragged it hundreds of miles south.  Then, the region began to slowly warm and the glacier stopped its advance.  

As the region continued warming, the nearly two mile thick glacier started to retreat, leaving behind earthen mounds called a moraines.   During the next 14,000 years, the atmosphere warmed and cooled many times, causing the ice to retreat and advance, leaving numerous moraines and a vastly changed landscape. 

Ancient river valleys were gouged wider by the earth-moving power of the ice.  Lake Chicago appeared as the ancestor of Lake Michigan.  It was over 60 feet higher than Lake Michigan is today.   The glacier continued its work creating new rivers, valleys and other great lakes, which flooded the Michigan, Erie and Huron Lobes.  The Ice Sheet continued to withdraw farther north back to the Hudson Bay and an early likeness of today’s Lake Michigan, Superior, Huron, Erie, and Ontario formed.  Lake Chippewa filled the valley 350 feet below the water level that Lake Michigan would someday be.

The land in the lake basin, without the weight of the ice sheet, began to rebound and uplift pushing the water higher like a cake baking in the oven.  Peninsulas were disconnected from their mainland as the water rose over them, leaving only tips above water which became islands.  Large nuggets of ice left behind compressed the soil with their massive weight and melted to create lakes.  

While this rather lengthy construction was taking place, humans tentatively crept into the newly created peninsula of Michigan, the coastal states of Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, Ohio, New York and the province of Ontario .  The first souls to bravely inhabit this sandy and gravelly landscape were the Paleolithic Nomads.  These nomads were solely occupied with the business of simply surviving against the backdrop of a 2-mile high escarpment of retreating ice.  Necessity dictated that they constantly employ themselves with the tasks of eating lanky stalks of plants, stalking fearsome boars and hunting toothy reptilian beasts.  And so, they constructed no permanent residence, and there exists a void of archaeological evidence.

Then, the Archaic Indians wandered more confidently into the newly forming mitten-like land-form and new coastal areas.  By the time they existed, the backdrop had changed from a landscape resembling the conclusion of a very large strip mining operation to forests populated with bountiful stocks of fish and game.  These natives are widely believed to have settled on the shores of prehistoric Lake Chippewa.  Although small fragments of their existence have been discovered in recent times, evidence of these early settlers is rare, due, in large part, to the fact that their waterfront villages are now 350 feet below the surface of Lake Michigan.  

By 600 BC, the landscape had changed a great deal and the Lakes were filled with the run off from retreating glaciers.  With the water still rising, peninsulas became Islands and whole villages disappeared below the emerald snow-melt.  The Woodland Indians inhabited these evolving regions until about 1620 AD when the Europeans began their great expansion into the new world. 

According to many archaeological reports, the greatest achievements of these Woodland people were important advancements in kitchen technology.  First, they invented pottery, which made the simple task of carrying water infinitely more efficient.  Then, some ambitious soul decided to connect a flexible strand of animal gut to the ends of a hickory pole to create a device for slinging stone tipped spears at furry woodland creatures.  These unassuming innovations made the occupations of hunting and gathering far less time consuming and allowed for more leisurely pursuits like cultural advancement, burial of human remains, parties, social interaction and a variety of other activities that create and preserve trash.  Of course, this new found leisure allowed the woodlanders to repose about in permanent villages full of labor saving "junk".  Of course today, that "junk" is what we call archaeological evidence and that allows us a glimpse into their lives and society as we dig up the sturdy remains and study them.

This all brings us to around 1610 AD, where most of our secondary school educations take over and provide us a slightly blurry and perhaps tainted view of history.  If you want to know more about what happen in this time period, then visit the numerous state and national parks that are all over the Great Lakes.

Up next will be a story from the expedition that sparked this study, "The Manitou Island's Expedition", where we will tell a tale of storms, waves, fog and fear.  We will be posting the kayak crossing of the Straits of Manitou.  Until then, get out there and explore!

As I knelt in the cool water of Lake Superior, I winced as the vampire bite of Plantar Fasciitis grabbed my right heel... again.  "Damn it", I whispered to myself as I adjusted my foot to lessen the pain.  Then the tight aching pull of my lower back reminded me that 24 miles in a day was something I wasn't supposed to do with my middle aged body.  Bullshit, I thought, I'm not too old - it has to be something else.

It had been almost two decades since my last 50 mile one day hike.  I did that hike in wore out combat boots, an M-60 machine gun, two belts of ammunition and a 35 lb backpack. I was a little sore and had a few nice blisters but it was what you would expect after hiking a very long distance.  Today, I did half that and was very sore.  Sure I was older and heavier, but the results were so disimilar, I must be doing something different.

Why these afflictions were present now (and not then) made no sense; if you don't subscribe to the "you're gettin older" line - which I don't. 

Over the next few days, I knocked out a book that had been on my list for a couple of months, "Born to Run" by Chris McDougall.  The book attempts to investigate the Tarahumara people of the Copper Canyons of Mexico and ultra long distance running. In the book, McDougall suggests -- or proves, depending on your degree of skepticism -- that running extremely long distances barefoot is the key to health, happiness and longevity. Brand-name footwear, with its gel-based cushioning and elaborate architecture of super-advanced support, is a common cause of athletic injury, he argues. And
running steadily for hours at a time is not only therapeutic but also natural. Primitive humans did it constantly, catching and killing quarry simply by exhausting them in a marathon hunt.

It's a fascinating subject, and the pages of "Born to Run" are packed with examples of McDougall's fascination. Much of the book is dedicated to ultra marathon runners who have minimal or no footwear.  More to the point, I thought I would give it a try.

I purchased a pair of Vibram five fingers - they are a like a slipper with toes. One thin layer of Vibram sole and a little cloth are all the shoe (or slipper) is made of. It is pretty close to bare-footing it.

I have hiked a dozen miles in them and I have found that I walked differently.  I am more upright, quicker, have a shorter stride and no significant pain.  My feet, however, seem to need to adjust to them - so it comes to the next step - hiking a long distance.

Since, my feet aren't used to them, I will bring my hiking boots, but I plan to explore the Nordhouse Dunes area this weekend.  We had schedule an expedition this weekend, however, a last minute exodus of participants has forced us to reschedule.  This will allow me a little time to feel the trail like I have never felt it before.  

Of course, it may just be a crackpot theory, but it is just a hike - and if I don't like it, then I'll just put the boots on. 

I'll try and let you know how it goes. 

This video (from a 2007 expedition) depicts the first campsite (called "Sign Camp") and the river conditions that Madjack, Counselor, Loner, Coyote, Muchacho, Pinkee and Schwartz are encountering.  Next stop is "Chain Camp" - so named because of a chain that is wrapped around and imbedded into a tree.

1.  I love to do Solo Expeditions and vigorous exercise for 10 hours a day!

2.  Lithium Batteries Rule!!

3.  A "yooper local" is usually from somewhere else, they moved to the UP more that a decade ago - usually retired.

4.  The St. Mary's River is a wind tunnel and can be every bit as dangerous as the big lakes.

5.  My wife is the best chick in the world.

6.  Even though I have travelled Michigan extensively, there are still "hidden gems" to be discovered.

7.  Cannondale makes a very tough bike and Bob Trailers ARE NOT made for mountain biking.

8.  Sails can be very helpful on an expedition, but you better know how to use them.

9.  It just takes a minute for a complete stranger to offer help - people have good hearts.

10.  If you get to a point where you are too frightened to continue - just stop and wait.  If you get to a point where you have NO fear about continuing - just stop and wait.

11. You can get bad blisters from foot pegs in a kayak.

12.  Don't mess with hypothermia in warm weather.   Spending many hours getting soaked by waves even though you haven't exited your kayak - can mask a lower body temp.  That can be a problem after a sudden wet exit.

13.  Lake Huron changes at every turn - Lake Superior is very powerful and there are many dangerous "rocky points" - the St. Mary's River is an extremely windy river.  5 am is the best time to start paddling any of them.

14.  The hardest part of taking on a long trip is getting the time off from work and family.

15.  35 mile days is a bit longer on the open water than I suspected.

A little sample of the water and a few sights from day 3-4.  So to post the tour of Lime Island.

Day one - three hearty souls paddled from Mackinaw to Government Island a long 11 hour day.  Let us know what you think.

Almost 300 miles in 12 days.