My Wilderness State Park Adventure

I haven't sit still long enough to read a book or relax in years, literally. I spend all my time doing "things". I rarely sit unless I am completing some task on my computer. As I sat in the cabin in the darkness, I realized I was feeling quite calm. I had nothing to do. I had nothing I needed to do. 

On December 20, 2016, I hiked two miles in by snowshoe on the Nebo trail at Wilderness State Park, west of Mackinaw City. I stayed alone in the Nebo cabin for 3 nights. The Nebo cabin was built in the 1930's. It is rustic and has no electricity or running water. There is an outhouse nearby and a hand pump outside for water. The cabin is just off the North Country trail, which is quite lovely this time of year. The snow was fluffy and soft. Powder.

It had been many years since I had used my large red backpack. I haven't done anything like this since backpacking the Porkies in the upper peninsula in 2008, and I've never done anything like this on my own. I must admit that the meals I personally made on that trip were much more satisfying. The MRE's I brought were convenient, but they had enough sodium in each bag for many lifetimes. I'll surely use my dehydrator again for future adventures. All you need is time, and a plan. I have a great book about freezer bag cooking. Same concept, but better homemade ingredients. I do enjoy taking photos. I was frustrated that I could not upload my photos to Instagram (my guilty pleasure), and also frustrated that my phone was teasing me with very brief moments of service. I kept checking the screen, repeatedly, as I do every day, all day long. Until I just turned it off entirely. When I did that, I turned off the need to check it incessantly, too. It's good to do nothing and turn it all off on occasion, including my mind. All I could hear was the wood stove, the wind, and my breath. I must admit I was a bit spooked when it got dark. It happened so fast. Within 30-45 minutes of my arrival, it was pitch black. I'm glad I didn't stay in Grayling for another beer on my way up, though I am quite fond of Paddle Hard Brewing. My lantern had already required fresh batteries. If there's anything I've learned in life, it's that redundancy is often good, especially when safety is concerned. I had a headlamp, too. I stopped at the hardware store on the way up and got a large pack of AAA batteries. I was all set. An old school Coleman lantern with mantles would have been the more appropriate choice, but I don't have one. 

I turned my lights off and opened the door to step outside. The stars were AMAZING. I've always wanted to go to the Headlands International Dark Sky Park. It's so close. The tree coverage was preventing a perfect view of the sky, and it was so cold. I did feel like I was in the wilderness, because I really was. I was kind of scared to go out to the outhouse. Ok, it was totally freaking me out. I sure am glad I thought of the need for a wide mouth water canteen. It is difficult to operate an old hand pump by yourself, let alone try to balance a Nalgene canteen on the snow and ice in 40mph winds. I wedged it between two logs. I somehow managed to stick my hand on the pump interface, while trying to straighten the canteen. My hand was covered in black grease. I was waiting for my coffee water to boil. I sure like my Jetboil. Thanks to Jeff for the impromptu Jetboil lesson at the yurt during the Abominable Snowman ride. Coffee was done. I moved more wood from the outside as I waited for it to brew. I was trying to minimize what I had to do in the complete darkness. The fact that the park rangers fully stock the wood for the stove in the cabin is much appreciated. Otherwise, it would be nearly impossible to stay warm at a hike in cabin such as this in the winter. I wasn't about to go cut some trees down, but there was an axe if one wanted to. I was burning the fire wood at a fast rate. The wind was howling like I had never heard before. Or maybe I've never been in a rustic cabin in the wilderness in December before. I was hearing it differently. There was nothing else to hear, except the occasional popping in the stove. I still planned to go out and explore, but coffee was the first priority. 

There are two double bunks and a single in the cabin. The cabin can sleep 5, though the bed felt like sleeping on an unforgiving slab of rock. There are 5 large windows with no blinds. The windows were more than a bit creepy at night. I felt like the neighbors were looking in from every direction, and I started to wonder how beady the neighbors' eyes were.

To calm my nerves and to kill some time, I began writing in the cabin guest book. The only ink pen in the cabin ran dry. So I continued writing on "Notes" on my new iPhone 7 I got just a few days before. I was glad to have it. The battery in my iPhone 6 had serious issues and left me unsafe in many instances recently, not that I had any service at the cabin. I have a portable USB charger that has kept my phone charged for days before, so I was not worried. Not that I had service. The darkness really knocked me for a loop the first night. I went to bed much earlier than normal. Being the shortest time of the year, it was basically dark from 5:00pm to 8:00am. I didn't sleep much. I was listening to every sound, expecting some Jason, or some other psycho killer, outside my door. Or a crazed redneck, which is the ultimate nightmare. I was a bit uncomfortable that night, for sure. I kept hearing words of people that told me before my trip, "You're going to do what? You're going to go where by yourself?" Because I can. I enjoy it, and I will. I like to explore, and I don't want to live in fear. No, I don't want my own gun. I was not afraid of animals, at all. I enjoy the critters. All the critters. I did hear some coyotes on my way in. There is a warning in the cabin book about porcupines destroying brake and fuel lines on vehicles. I kept waking up every few hours after I had gone to bed. I was not going to let that fire burn out. I had some matches, a lighter, some fire starter, and some notebook paper from the cabin notebook where I was writing previously. I guess I shouldn't have been so worried. I actually had pretty much everything one could think about needing. The outhouse was rather far away, down the hill towards the trail. It seemed like miles away in the total darkness. Did I mention how dark and spooky it was out there? I finally went out there at about 6am. Then, I came back in and actually slept until 10:30am. It never got bright in the cabin, like I expected to. No concept of time. Morning was almost over. It was going to be dark in less than six hours again. Winter solstice was approaching. The shortest time of the year. And I was in a little cabin in the woods. 

I had never been to Wilderness State Park before. I've always wanted to go. I understand there are rustic camping sites now. One good thing about winter camping is the solitude. There was no one in the park, except me. Well, there are a few other cabins near the shoreline. Maybe there were people there, too. I chose the Nebo cabin, deep in the woods. Surrounded by amazing hemlock forest. The pines were so calming. I've always been drawn to the pines. They surrounded the cabin and essentially towered over it. I did enjoy seeing the ridges of ice and snow on the shoreline as I was driving in. I was not sure if I would make it out that far by foot. Maybe when it's less windy, I thought. Well, I hoped it would be less windy the rest of the trip. I wanted to hike the Hemlock trail to Mt Nebo, and the East Ridge Trail at a minimum. 

I got a mouthful of coffee grounds. Mud. I guess I need more practice with the press. It was so windy. I wanted to go out, but I was hesitating. It had started to snow again. So lovely. And so I committed and put a few large logs on the fire before venturing out. Instead of going north to the places I had mentioned previously, I headed south. I found the trail side shelter not too far away. It had a few picnic tables and a place for a fire. I imagine this trail gets some traffic on calmer winter days, and especially in the summer. For my cross country skiing friends, I highly recommend it. The set tracks were really nice.

I kept going until I saw narrow ungroomed trail that led to O'Neal Lake. Now we are talking. I ripped my jacket off and hung it on the post marker. I knew I'd be back for it. I had over dressed, despite the wind. I later learned there is a single rustic site at O'Neal Lake. I'd like to go back there and explore someday.

So many pines and tunnels of trees on this trail. There was a sign that said "bridge out ahead" indicating the trail was closed. I never saw the bridge, or remnants of it. Maybe I did not go far enough to see it. Lots of untouched snow. I got all the way to marker 17 before turning around. It was easily a 3.5+ mile snowshoe outing that day, and it was especially challenging in the section where I was making new tracks. I was also still carrying my pack. I saw a few rabbit tracks, and a few sets of tracks I couldn't recognize. Bigger than a rabbit, not quite a deer. I heard a crow yell out above me, and heard another animal noise I could not distinguish. I don't think it was a bird? I was absolutely thrilled to find two snow covered mushroom caps on the sides of trees. I became particularly fond of mushrooms this year. One was the kind I have called "the hamburger bun", though I'm sure it's scientific name sounds much more official. There is fungus among us, even in the winter. You just have to look around. And what fun it is to do so...

My canteen was full. The fire had a new log on it. And just like that, it was dark again at the Nebo cabin. I had finished an entire book in two evenings. I'll be honest. I don't think I've read a book since The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. And before that.... probably at least a decade ago. I've never been a big reader. I enjoyed it. It was a topic of interest. Something that I could relate to at that very moment. The best part was about living more intentionally, and with less. Sometimes you have to let things go, whether physical things or intangible things, to do so. Sometimes you have to eliminate things to reduce stress to be able to focus on things of importance. Sometimes you have to spend 3 days in a cabin alone to remember what is the most important. Sometimes, people have different things that are most important to them, and they may take different paths on their journeys. It was so hot in the cabin. Seemed like there was no in between. I put a few more logs on the fire to keep it burning through the night, though. No stars were in site that night, unfortunately. It made it even darker down the hill. I changed more batteries in my tiny lantern. I went to bed, with a headlamp around my neck, to save the lantern for one more night. I woke up at 1:00am. Yep, it was still scary out there. Seemed like the wind had died down. I wondered if I was hearing Lake Michigan? Was I that close? The stars were now evident and they were totally insane. I can't wait to come back when it's warm enough to sleep outside comfortably, or at least sit outside for as long as I want to. I've never seen anything like it, even in the Harbor. So bright. So close. I woke up again and for the first time wanted to put my feet in my sleeping bag. I knew the fire was either out, or nearly out, even though it was still pretty warm in the cabin. My trusty 15 degree rated Blue Kazoo bag has treated me well over the years. I stirred around the coals with the poker, added a piece of kindling, and the fire started right up again. It was really close to sunrise at this time. I decided to turn off my alarm and see if I could catch the sun coming up. It seemed much more calm out that morning. To my surprise, I saw the bright moon over the silhouette of the trees. It was becoming light out, but no sight of the sun. The cabin had been so warm, the snow was melting off the roof. It was going to be a good day for adventuring. I was determined to get an earlier start to the day in order to make the most of it. 

My coffee that morning was better than the day before, though I was still spooning out random grounds from my cup with my titanium spork. It was seriously strong coffee. I think I allocated too much for each morning. Not that I was complaining. Breakfast in a bag that morning consisted of scrambled eggs and hash browns, with sausage, peppers, and onions. It had an expiration date of Sept 2046. Best served with a few coffee grounds. 

I was enjoying the peaceful morning time, very much. I could see a bit of orange in the sky, but no actual sun at that time.  That day, I had the outing that I was hoping for.  The winds were minimal and the temperature was warmer. The snow was heavier and more like snowman making snow. I wish I had made one, actually. I left the cabin at 9:30am and headed north. Just before 10:00, I had stopped to look at some deer tracks. I turned around and there was the sun, finally showing it's face. I took the Nebo Trail to the East Ridge trail, which is also the NCT. The deeper I got in to the backcountry trail, the more tracks I saw. There was one section that looked like a critter super highway, you know... one of those crazy intersections with 6 choices where you don't know exactly what to do. Then I started seeing more and more coyote tracks, and some exceptionally large canine tracks (I think?) with claws. I still like critters, but I was definitely looking over my shoulder quite frequently back there. I passed the Old East Boundary Trail and continued on the NCT east for a while. I knew I had a long ways to go. It was uneven with no tracks and it was near some wetlands, so I turned around. 

I have to do a bit of research, but I suspect that the hemlock trees have the same substance in them that makes the Tahquahmenon Falls brown. Starts with a "T". End with a "ack". Or something. Same stuff in Coca Cola. I say this because whenever I backed tracked or saw pretty fresh animal prints, they tracks were a distinct yellowish brown. The frozen wetlands that I had seen had the same color. Like I said, I have to look into it. (Updated: It's "tannin", as confirmed by the DNR officer  at the park headquarters, and Google, my go to source of information). I headed north on the Old East Boundary Trail towards the road. I saw the bouncing rear end of a white tail deer running ahead of me. Only critter I had seen so far. I got to the road and heard Lake Michigan on the other side. It took me a minute to figure out that the East Ridge Trail started just past this spot, so I popped back in and started heading back towards Nebo. I was totally fascinated by these pines. And the ridges. And the critter prints. And I found some kind of green hairy poop that wasn't on the same trail on the way out. Fresh critter poop. Likely coyote. I love the snow. It tells a story about the critters of the day and their activities. Once I got to Nebo Trail, I decided to head north towards Mt Nebo instead of turning around to go back to the cabin. By this time, I was getting pretty tired and hungry, but I was bound to make it to the top, and so I climbed. I found the remnants of the old look out tower that the book in the cabin referred to. Then I noticed the blue water in the horizon. I was looking at the Straits. It took me a few minutes, but I finally located the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island. I looked east between the trees for the bridge, and there it was. It's probably not visible from there in the summer. I kind of know where to look as I spent a whole summer in St Ignace years ago. I worked at Murdick's Fudge for a summer job during college. The bare trees certainly help this time of year. The backside of the Hemlock Trail heading down Mt Nebo was quite steep. I slid a few times, but I made it down without taking my snowshoes off. Then I headed south back to the cabin. I could not eat all  of my breakfast in a bag. I took the rest of it with me, but it never sounded good. I had a few snacks on the trip, but not as much as I should've ate. I had plenty of water. As I prepare when I'm biking, more water is better than not enough. I also carried my headlamp and lantern, just in case. I always try to think of "what if?" scenarios and prepare as best as I can. This ultimately leads to way too much stuff, but you'll likely find whatever you could possibly need in my pack. According to the map, I snowshoed for about 7.2 miles that day. My left foot was soon screaming at me due to my prior fractures. I dug into my first aid kit to find some ibuprofen. I still like exploring on this level, but I'll certainly be in pain for days to come. It's mainly my subtalar joint. It feels painfully arthritic and it's hard to bare weight after doing something like this. I planned to just hike out in the morning, which was about 2 miles. I was anticipating the darkness one last time. My canteen was full. My lantern was placed. I brought in enough wood for the night. I was enjoying a raging fire with the cabin door wide open. When the darkness arrived, that door would close and be locked because well, it was dark as night out there. I heard an unexplained noise. It sounded like a gun shot, but I was not sure. It was enough to make me very anxious. The snow melting off the cabin roof was still quite loud.... dripping from several places around the perimeter. It was all I heard. It was actually preventing me from hearing other noises. And there was an occasional crackle in the stove. May have been some snow falling off the roof of the shitter? I thought I was done spooking myself out. I went outside to listen. It was starting to snow lightly. It was significantly warmer that day. I'm obviously pretty self-sufficient, and not afraid of much. But, this was hands down my creepiest spookiest experience ever. Made me paranoid. When I looked around the cabin, I started to question my own footprints. The darkness was extremely unsettling, but magnificent at the same time. I went down to the outhouse and noticed that the snow on the roof had slid down to the ground on the far side. Maybe that was the noise I heard. Kind of funny that I was freaking out about snow falling and water dripping. It got dark in the cabin fast. I went outside to enjoy the last moments of natural light outside before I had to turn on my lantern. I had cooked my dinner even though I was not particularly hungry. It's easier to do when you can see. As I was sitting on the picnic table with a comforting warm bag of three cheese chicken pasta on my lap, which was the best meal in a bag I had by far, the snow on the near side of the outhouse roof fell right in front of me. I laughed to myself. Thank you, nature, for reaffirming that I should not worry about unnecessary things. I'm glad I saw it happen and that it didn't happen when I was trying to sleep. It made quite a noise, but it wasn't quite a gun shot. And then it started snowing heavily and I sat there enjoying the moment. I started taking dozens of photos of snowflakes that were landing on my black wool pants. And it continued to snow. Gorgeous. Then the coyotes started howling intensely. It was kind of beautiful. And back into the cabin I went, but I was not quite ready to shut the door. I got one perfect picture of a snowflake and it looked just like a daisy. And it made me unbelievably happy. I got a little teary eyed, actually. Ok, I cried for a bit. And then everything made sense.  

The fire burned out that night. I didn't care. I was the most comfortable I had been since I had arrived. I snuggled up in my bag. I got it burning again in the morning with my very last piece of kindling. I woke up before the sun again. I must say, I like this early rising thing quite a bit. I heard birds singing a lovely song. They were happy, too. I had only heard crows before then. The fresh layer of fluffy snow made everything so perfect and clean. I just walked around a bit to take it in. I took some photos. All the tracks I saw the day before were probably covered already, and the critters were likely out making fresh tracks on their daily routines. When that morning light arrived, all my insecurities about the darkness were gone. It was a new, fresh day. So peaceful. I decided that I would not rush to leave that morning. And hooray! My coffee had no grounds in it. Some things take practice. The sky was turning blue and some of the prettiest snow was starting to melt. The drip rate off the cabin roof was becoming more frequent. That's why the early birds were singing so much that morning. It's the prettiest time of day. I wish I knew what kind of birds they were. I would've liked to thank them for their song. I made a simple blueberry granola breakfast. I could not handle the thought of any more dehydrated eggs. I proceeded to pack up my things before I headed out. I said "Good bye, Nebo" out loud several times. Really, I did. I locked the door and I felt both happy and sad. As I was snowshoeing, I found a little critter hole in the snow with fresh prints all around it. I wonder what was in there. The sunlight was shining brightly on the trail ahead. I turned around and the sun was popping out above the trees, in the same spot it was the day before. It was about the same time. I had not seen a single soul out there except for the man at park headquarters where I picked up my cabin key several days before. No skiiers. Not even any hunters. Maybe it was not hunting season. Maybe it was the perfect season. I planned to ask about the many critter tracks I took photos of when I returned the key. And maybe the green hairy poop. Maybe. I was happy to see my adventure ready 4-cylinder AWD Subaru with my Blizzaks greeting me at the trailhead at marker #7. I unloaded my gear and went back to park HQ to return the cabin key. I shared a lot of photos with them and they thought one of the prints was from a bear. They said there are several bald eagle nests in the area, at least one wolf, a fox that likes to think he owns the HQ area, and bear, too.  I think they enjoyed my excitement. I'm not sure how often they see a woman solo camping in the winter. Despite all my worry, they said it's likely one of the safest places to do so given that it's so remote, and because of the time of year. I didn't ask about the poop. I forgot, actually. I went out to the picnic area to take a photo of the water. All this time, and I had not seen the water. The ridges were standing up along the shoreline. Reminded me of my ice photos of Lake Erie in 2014. 

I took the long way back to Mackinaw City. All I wanted was a veggie omelet with REAL eggs, toast, and coffee. On the way there, I saw a pull out on the road and saw the ice balls on the shoreline I had read about recently. I ran out to the water and took another picture. 

I still had my mind on breakfast, for lunch. I pulled up to the best rated (on Yelp) breakfast joint in the city and the parking lot wasn't plowed. I forgot that the city rolls up for the winter. So I drove around and found the Keyhole Bar and Grill. One of those familiar places, even though it's been 15+ years. No breakfast, but whitefish and a beer would do. Right Brain Dead Kettle, an IPA. My first non-dehydrated meal since lunch on Monday, albeit fried. And a Perrin 98 Problems, too. My bikeless and no phone service adventure had come to an end. I only had brief moments of service while out on the trails in higher elevation. I shared a few photos when I was able to. I look forward to sharing the rest of my photos on Instagram, a hot shower, real food, and sleeping in my own bed. Writing down my thoughts has helped me to reflect upon my experience, and made me a bit less lonely out there. I hope you enjoyed reading about my time at Nebo cabin and my snowshoe adventure. I also hope that I helped to spark at least one other person's interest and sense of adventure, and appreciation for the little things like daisy shaped snowflakes. Daisies are my favorite flowers. I keep looking at that photo. It makes me smile. Nothing brings me more joy than exploring and finding appreciation for these very important little things. 

I also sat still long enough to read not one, but two entire books, cover to cover. That's kind of a big deal.