I am not a backpacker. Despite this very real fact, this past weekend I did my best to pretend I was. Back in mid-August, I booked a backpacking trip on a total whim. I had most of the gear, plenty of backcountry exploration experience (mostly by canoe), had visited and hiked in Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park in the past and I had gone on a backpacking trip once before. When I was 14... What I didn't have is any idea of how far I could reasonably carry a 40+ lb backpack 3 days in a row. So I "trained" by walking while wearing my loaded pack around my very flat, very obstacle free neighborhood as best as I could a few days a week for the 6 weeks leading up to my trip. This trip was 23.5 miles spread over 3 days, yet my longest home "backpacking" session topped out at 5 miles. Most were only 2.5-3 miles. Was I prepared? No. No I was not.
Despite that reality, on the morning of Friday October 4th I found myself checking in at the visitor center shortly after watching the sunrise over the hills above a red, orange and gold-clad Lake of the Clouds. I had timed this trip perfectly to hit brilliant fall colors. After a few quick questions and the purchase of my obligatory "I did this" memento (an overpriced sticker), I had officially received my backcountry permit and was on my way into the relative unknown, travelling down the south boundary road to the Little Carp River Road parking area.
My journey began on the Little Carp River Trail, a relatively easy trail meandering through mature pine forests along the small stream that the trail is named for. Within the first few miles I passed by Lily Pond, an area I would love to explore in the future. I flushed out 3 grouse and watched as 2 whitetail does meandered away from my path, wary but seemingly unafraid of my approach. It was a chilly morning, somewhere in the upper 30's and any area of the forest bathed in sunlight was bursting with songbird activity. I even heard some trumpeter swans off in the distance. I would have loved to linger, but with 4+ more miles left in my journey that day, I forged ahead.
Next up was Beaver Creek Trail, punctuated by a beautiful color-filled marshy valley where that creek passes through. Skillfully crafted boardwalks, bridges and small sets of well placed stairs were numerous along the first half of this trail. Then the climb started. From the bottom of the river valley to the Summit Peak Scenic area parking lot was a gradual incline, giving my calves their first true test under the weight of my pack. The reward for finishing that trail- more hills and plenty of stairs on the Summit Peak Loop. The uphill grind ended with breathtaking views from both the overlook and the tower. After that it was all downhill. Not in a negative sense of course, but after going up to the highest point in the park, there wasn't really any other direction to go.
I finished my day's trek on the South Mirror Lake Trail, an area of the park that sees a lot of use from both backpackers and day hikers alike. That 1.5 mile trail took me to my first campsite of the trip on the south side of Mirror Lake, noted simply by a small little diamond shaped sign with the notation SML-3 to mark my home for the night. It was at this site that I have my only gripe about this park- the sites are marked for backpackers, but the trail goes literal feet from where you are supposed to set up your tent/hammock and right next to the fire pit/food prep areas, meaning day hikers are walking and conversing (sometimes loudly or while playing music as they walk) right where you are trying to relax. Three different people tripped on my hammock tarp's guylines. I'm not a fan of this setup, but it's clearly the way its done in the Porkies because I had to walk that close to several other backpacker's setups throughout my days in the park. It was almost enough for me to call it quits after my first day and leave the park in disgust as what I viewed as an affront to my ability to enjoy my trip peacefully as planned. Ultimately those feelings subsided. And I'm glad they did, because everything else on the trip was worth dealing with that shortcoming of the park's design.
Saturday, October 5th was another chilly morning. After sleeping in my thermal layer and wearing a stocking cap all night (backpacking essentially requires this piece of fashion gear regardless of the temperatures), crawling out of my hammock and getting motivated to start the day proved to be a slow process. But with places to go and things to see, my cold hands, sore shoulders and fatigued calves were not allowed to slow the momentum gained from the day before. Onward I must go.
I headed north on the Mirror Lake Trail to the Correction Line Trail. I have no idea where that trail really gets its name, but I'm sure I could research it and find out. I decided it was correcting my view that this trail system (other than a few select areas like Summit Peak) was not so hilly and not so rugged. Correction Trail fixed that and then some with its repeated ups and downs, washed out and muddy areas, roots, rocks and more. It was what I expected most of the park to be like after reading other backpackers reports. While Correction Trail traversed a beautiful mix of forest types, it was when I reached the Big Carp River Trail that I hit the perfectly picturesque hiking I had hoped for. This trail followed the Big Carp River, sometimes near the stream's edge and sometimes 100-200 feet above it along steep ridges. It was Midwest "mountain stream" backpacking at its best and that nearly 3 mile section was an absolute joy to explore. Along the trail's length was my favorite waterfall of the trip, Shining Cloud Falls, which required a steep downhill trek, sans backpack, to reach and enjoy. I almost didn't hike down to it as I was tired and had several miles of trail yet to cover, but I am truly grateful another group of backpackers convinced me it was worth the additional effort.
The last miles of the day were finished on the remainder of the Big Carp River Trail and finally on the Lake Superior Trail. By the time I reached camp at LS-5, I had covered 8.5 miles. The last 1/2-3/4 mile was truly just me trudging through the woods as I had reached my bodily limit for the day, with everything aching from the journey. I spent the next couple hours along the shore of Lake Superior, reading, pondering, napping and getting mentally lost in the undulating waves and rock strewn shorelines. Food, water, rest and a few aspirins restored my energy levels and the rest of the day was spent further relaxing and preparing my camp for the rain and wind that was forecast for late that evening and overnight. Little did I know that there is no such thing as preparing for those things while camped on a lake the size of Lake Superior.
The first storm clouds rolled in around 8:30 PM, staying mostly out in the lake but providing a beautiful light show. About 9:30 the first winds from the storm hit shore, picking up significantly from earlier in the evening. Light rain and thunder soon followed, and by that time I resigned myself to spending the rest of the time until it passed in my hammock. Only issue- it never passed. Well the rain and the thunder did, but the winds just kept building and building. By 3:30 AM I was no longer able to sleep, the howling winds and crashing waves a mere 25 feet from my hammock reached what seemed to be a deafening crescendo. When that's all you hear for hours on end, your sleep deprived brain tends to lean a bit towards negative sensory overload.
At around 7:30 AM on Sunday October 6th, first light from the soon to be rising sun allowed me the opportunity to get out of the hammock, pack camp and start moving away from angry Lake Superior. Within a 1/4 mile of leaving the lakeshore area, the winds and noise were reduced significantly and what was a unnerving experience became any other slightly windy day in the woods. It was not a night I will forget anytime soon, nor is it one I intend to repeat.
The only thing standing between me and my vehicle parked roughly 7.5 miles away was the Little Carp River Trail. Similar to Big Carp they day before, this trail followed a stream both high and low and was nearly as remarkable. I conquered both water crossings by hopping rock to rock without needing to get wet feet or having to change to my water shoes, something likely not possible during normal water levels, but easily done during this particularly dry fall.
I passed by several wonderful semi-secluded backpacking sites, two of the parks cabins (Section 17 cabin is on my list to return to!) as well as Greenstone and Overlook Falls, two smaller waterfalls on the Little Carp that would have been much more interesting if the flow was a bit higher. Once again, the last 1/2 mile or so felt like a death march. Head down, mentally checked out, moving forward without thought is the best description I can give of how I felt during that final stretch. Having reached my limit and still tired from the day before, I was just happy to be finished. My demeanor quickly changed as I reached the gate blocking the parking area from the trail. I was triumphantly jubilant, almost embarrassingly so when I noticed there were other people in the parking lot.
Completing this trek was a true personal accomplishment. I had a fulfilling experience that has ignited the spark of interest I had in this type of outdoor exploration and I hope by sharing this experience I can push you towards a goal for yourself you thought was not within your reach. I didn't see another person that looked like me on this adventure. But if this short, overweight, approaching 50 year old body was able to accomplish this, all possibilities are truly open with the right amount of planning and preparation and the right expectations set. Even after this trip, I still don't feel like I am a backpacker. Yet. The most important word and lesson I take away from this journey; Yet. Maybe your not a backpacker or whatever else you want to try to be either. Yet. Don't let that stop you from chasing your goals. I promise to do the same.
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