Last time: Too many waterfalls, too much driving - All backpacking posts
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Frozen Lake of the Clouds, a sight rarely seen by hikers |
Sunday April 24, 2022: I woke up refreshed from a great night of sleep. The night was cool, not cold, but the wind howled and Lake Superior's waves crashed. Rainstorms blew through during the night, leaving the air fresh and clean. It was wonderful.
I had been contemplating two options for today's hike. Both involved hiking down the (still closed) M-107 to the Government Peak trailhead. But what would I do from there? Option one was to follow Government Peak trail south to Trap falls, a scenic waterfall that should be roaring. Option B was to instead head up onto the Escarpment and enjoy one of the premiere hikes in all of Michigan.
I'm sure you can tell what I chose: Escarpment! My actual decision-making process went more like this: I've seen a lot of waterfalls. And I've even seen Trap Falls in spring before. Plus the Escarpment... well, it's the Escarpment. And so the choice was made.
I hiked out to my car and drove all of a half a mile down M-107 to the Whitetail Cabin parking area (the entrance to Union Bay campground, where I was parked, is also on M-107). I pulled in to the small parking lot, got out my daypack and snowshoes, and headed around the barricade.
Icy M-107, looking towards the Escarpment. Also notice the different trees on each side. |
Like all Porkies roads, M-107 is a snowmobile trail in the winter. That means it's not plowed, and the snow machines pack it down into a feet-thick crust of snow and ice. This packed crust takes quite a while to melt -- much longer than a regular snow-covered road -- and so the park roads are usually closed until the middle of May.
Snowmobiles (and snowmobilers) are also notorious for dropping bits and pieces of equipment all over the road. On this hike, I found bits of tread, broken pieces of head- and taillights, a spark plug cable (!), headphones, a cell phone charger cable, and so many pointy tire studs.
The road started out partly clear, with piles of snow along the edges. That filled in quickly, and by a mile into the hike, I finally had to put on my snowshoes (learning my lesson from the mistake I'd made on Friday).
The day was gray and warm. I had packed for essentially any weather -- rain gear, coat, fluffy layer, t-shirt. The exertion of snowshoeing uphill caused me to shed layers. As the sun started to peek out from the dense layer of gray clouds, I wondered if I should have brought sunblock!
Not today! |
It was an eerie feeling to walk -- on snowshoes! -- down the center of a state highway, with nobody else in sight. No people, no cars, no man-made noise. This road is often so packed in fall that the backups last for miles. Today, I was completely alone.
Even though I've driven M-107 dozens of times in my life, the view on foot was so different than the view from a car that it might as well have been a totally different road. I slowly walked past the scenery and got to see it more clearly. I could look deep into the woods, see the details, pause to inspect each seasonal stream-turned-waterfall. It was a unique experience.
This stream barely exists any other time of the year |
This pleasant amble eventually brought me to the Government Peak trailhead, where there was ample evidence that snowmobilers had enjoyed it throughout the winter. I paused for a quick snack, then picked up my gear and headed up the trail.
Government Peak trail itself, always steep and rocky as it climbs up ancient lakeshores, was an absolute river in the spring melt. The water ran over, under, and around the remaining snow. I kept my snowshoes on for traction as I trudged upwards, and I was glad to be wearing waterproof winter boots as well. I relied on my hiking poles constantly for support, balance, and a little extra push uphill.
The first uphill on Government Peak trail. Everything that isn't snow is covered with running water. |
Oh yeah, the mileage signs. Porkies trail signs are notorious for being both inaccurate and inconsistent. Here's the first sign you see, right at the Government Peak trailhead. Notice that the Escarpment trail turnoff is just 0.1 miles away, and Trap falls is 2.25 miles:
Escarpment trail: 0.1 mi, Trap falls: 2.25 mi |
After hiking that 0.1 mile and reaching the Escarpment turnoff, there's another sign, below. Magically, Trap falls has gotten 0.15 miles farther away than it was 0.1 miles ago!
My advice: Use the signs as only the most general suggestion, and never trust them when it's critical.
The Escarpment trail was another steep, rocky river of meltwater. Here I had another unique experience: snowshoeing across a boardwalk.
Snowshoes suggested |
As I gained elevation, the trail started to clear up. I was suddenly snowshoeing on bare rocks! I took off the snowshoes and carried them as far as the next turn in the trail, where I was presented with a solid trail of snow and ice. I put the snowshoes right back on again.
I finally topped out at the edge of the Escarpment, a south-facing trail. That meant that it was snow-free (although the tread was often filled with meltwater). Confident that I wouldn't need the snowshoes, and not wanting to hand-carry them for the next several miles, I took a break and figured out how to tie them onto the back of my daypack.
Selfie with snowshoes and Lake of the Clouds |
The Escarpment was as gorgeous as ever. I stopped often to enjoy views of the Big Carp River valley. With no leaves on the trees and all of the brush down, I could see much farther than in the summer. I was even able to catch some views out towards Lake Superior, and back east towards White Pine.
East towards White Pine (the old mine stack is just barely visible in the center) |
I took my time and enjoyed every moment of the hike. I moseyed and dallied my way 2 miles to the halfway point, where the trail takes a steep plunge down into a valley between two "mountains." By this time the skies were well on their way to clearing, and the spring forest was bathed in warm sunshine. It was warm enough that I took off my fleece.
Government Peak in the distance |
On the way down into the valley, I quickly started encountering snow again. In fact, the entire valley was filled with squishy snow.
The valley halfway along the Escarpment is absolutely filled with old mining remnants and I couldn't help but see them through the clear, brush-free woods. A collapsed shaft first caught my eye, then an old adit. I wandered off-trail, examining every mine and relic I could find while postholing the whole way in the squishy snow. I ran into a bubbling spring stream, which I followed partway down to the old Carp Lake Mine site. I'd been all the way down to the bottom of the Escarpment before, long ago, and seen the remains of the steam-powered stamp mill that still lives there.
Today I decided that my quickly tiring legs didn't need the extra trouble of hiking all the way to the bottom, and it would be too wet and mushy anyhow. So I turned around, headed back uphill (still postholing the whole way) and found the sign that marks the shortcut trail leading to M-107.
Here, quite belatedly, I undid my snowshoes from my daypack and put them on. Thus it was that I came to be snowshoeing in a t-shirt, surrounded by brilliant sun, blue sky, and snow as far as the eye could see.
Upper Big Carp river |
I had a choice facing me: I could begin my trip home by heading downhill towards M-107. Or, I could continue along the Escarpment by heading uphill -- way uphill -- to the top of Cloud Peak. It had become such a beautiful day that I decided I couldn't possibly miss the views from one of the highest points along the Escarpment. So, uphill I climbed, slowly but surely.
I soon popped out into the large swath of open rock at the top of Cloud Peak, the long-ago site of the original Lake of the Clouds overlook. The sky had continued clearing, and I was presented with a clear blue sky and spectacular views of the distant Lake of the Clouds -- which was still frozen!
Total miles: 24.1