Last time: Escape from the mice - or check out all of my backpacking and adventure logs
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| Mouth of the Big Carp near sunset |
Wednesday May 27, 2026: We woke up in our hotel room around 8 am, after only 7 hours of sleep. Nonetheless, we both felt clean, refreshed, and mouse-free. We'd arrived here after midnight last night, after hiking out from the Mirror Lake 4-bunk cabin in the dark, escaping from too-familiar mice.
We swapped some dirty clothes out of our packs, dumped trash, and checked out. Our next stop was not west towards the park. Instead, we headed east to downtown Ontonagon for breakfast -- why eat mush and tea when a big diner breakfast with coffee is waiting just down the road?
We first tried to stop at the "UP North Cafe", but accidentally ended up in a juice bar instead (a juice bar? In Ontonagon??). The cafe turned out to be closed, so our next stop was the one we should have gone with first: Syl's. This turned out to be the right choice, and my breakfast of eggs, potatoes, bacon, toast, and coffee was exactly what I wanted.
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| The Lovely Sarah, with lovely coffees |
Now we were ready to return to the woods. That was our decision in the light of day, with coffee in our tummies. Staying in a hotel was nice, especially since it let us get away from the too-habituated mice of Mirror Lake 4-bunk. But we were here for the backpacking and remote relaxation, and we weren't going to give up now.
We drove almost all the way around the park on South Boundary Road and parked at Pinkerton Creek trailhead. This would be our alternate route in to today's cabin, at the mouth of the Big Carp River. The hot weather had finally broken, with a high in the low 70's today, and we enjoyed the relatively cool air as we picked up our packs and headed out.
Pinkerton Creek trail was as easy as ever, perhaps the easiest backcountry trail in the park (I'm leaving the West River Trail out of that category, since it's largely built up with boardwalks and decks). There was one unbridged "stream" crossing -- really a tiny trickle at this point -- and everything else was bridged, boardwalked, or flattened.
One of my favorite parts of the Pinkerton Creek happens at the point where it comes to the edge of the bluff above the Little Carp River. Here the trail takes a sharp turn to the left, while a bench gives you a chance to sit and enjoy the view out over the river. To the right, a volunteer trail leads... somewhere. Perhaps down to the river (by a long route)? Maybe it's an older routing of the trail? I don't know. But that volunteer trail runs through a collection of beautiful and strangely curvy cedars, all perched precariously at the top of the bluff. They make a striking scene.
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| Curvy trees on the Little Carp river bluff |
The Friends of the Porkies have a visiting artist program: Artists apply to stay in "Dan's Cabin", named after the late great Friends of the Porkies founder and photographer Dan Urbanski. There they can study the park and make art for two weeks. The 2026 Friends of the Porkies newsletter included an image from one of these artists-in-residence, John Dempsey, that showed exactly this location. It was immediately recognizable to me.
(Oddly, the title of the piece is "Juncture of the Pinkerton and Lake Superior Trails" which is not quite this location -- but close. Perhaps just an error? Maybe "close enough"? But seriously -- click the link, find the image, and compare it to the one above. They're the exact same place, right?! I can even match up individual trees in the pictures!)
We sat and enjoyed the overlook and curvy trees for a while, then packed up and headed onward. Soon, we came to the intersection with the Lake Superior trail, and crossed the spectacular wooden bridge across the Little Carp River. This is another favorite spot on this route, so even though we had already rested just a few tenths of a mile earlier, we stopped here and enjoyed lunch. We sat on the rocks next to one of the many waterfalls and looked for spawning fish, which we had first seen here in May 2021, but never again since.
As we watched, sure enough, there went a fish! It flopped its way up a waterfall, failed to make it, and splashed back down. I couldn't see any fish in the pool above the waterfall. They must have just been starting.
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| Pinkerton creek (with no fish). I'll show you fish later, I promise. |
We packed up (again) and continued east on the Lake Superior trail. It was mostly dry -- not a given on this stretch -- but there were an enormous number of downed trees. Some of these were familiar from previous years, but others were new. Some of the older blowdowns had well-established volunteer trails around them, and now those volunteer trails were covered by their own blowdowns! We had to go over, under, or around each tree, making this otherwise flat mile harder than expected.
Adding to that, the bugs were really starting to show up. So far it seemed to be non-biting houseflies, but they were all over both of us, our clothes, and our packs. The bug nets had finally come off of our hats and over our faces.
After battling the blowdowns, we came to our home for the next two nights (pending any further mouse drama): the Big Carp 4-Bunk. I had stayed here on my 2024 solo trip and loved it, but Sarah had not yet experienced its charms. In fact, she was a bit skeptical -- understandably, because the Lake Superior trail runs right next to its windows. But as soon as she saw the cabin, its many windows and its beautiful setting next to the river, she too fell in love with it.
We opened up the windows to air it out, and also looked for the log book. It was nowhere to be found, even after both Sarah and I searched the entire cabin. Huh.
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| Trillium along the trail |
We sat out front, bug nets engaged, and watched the river flow right past our front yard. Mergansers paddled around in it, playing and finding food as we watched. After enjoying this bucolic scene for a while, we got up and started collecting and cutting up firewood. There was already some wood in the cabin, but with the wonderfully cool temperatures (brought on by a north wind coming right off the lake), we expected to have fires for the next two nights. One of the advantages of backpacking the Porkies in May is that there's an entire winter's worth of down and dry firewood just sitting around. By the time September rolls around, the pickings are mighty slim. We were wildly successful, so much so that we filled up the cabin's "wood room" and left a lot more unprocessed firewood sitting outside.
After all that work, we were ready for dinner. Tonight we had a different plan: We had brought two smaller meals, one for each of us. These were officially "2 person" meals, but their calorie counts were so low that we needed to eat a full one each just to stay well fed. Sarah chose Mountain House Chicken and Dumplings, a known winner. I was excited to try Mountain House Chicken Fried Rice, which looked fantastic. Alas, after all was said and done, it got added to the "Never Again" list in my backpacking notes. A severe disappointment, but at least it was calories.
Next we moved out on the cobble beach near the mouth of the river. We brought our camping chairs and Kindles, ready to sit and relax. The flies found us first, though. The lakeshore seemed to be swarming with houseflies, not biting but absolutely covering our pants. But... ouch! What was that? There did seem to be one or two of the most cursed of UP bugs mixed in: the biting flies (aka stable flies, aka black flies). I got bit once or twice and had to keep waving away all of the flies, which would then immediately settle back down on me. I still managed to get in some good reading time, but I was severely distracted by fly maintenance.
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| Another interesting tree photo, this one from the Big Carp outhouse. Really. |
Once I was tired of dealing with the bugs, we headed inside. As I looked around the cabin, I thought about how we'd just been chased out of the woods by mice, and I didn't want to deal with them at all. There were no obvious holes in the floor, as there had been at Mirror Lake. But more often, mice seem to sneak in through the cracks around the cabins' big wooden doors. At Lily Pond, I had blocked up the door with paddles, which we didn't have here. What could I use instead?
That's how I ended up back out on the beach, collecting flat, sharp-edged rocks and carrying them back up to the cabin. Once we had decided that we were inside for the night, I carefully wedged the sharp edges of the rocks between the door and its frame, stacking additional rocks as needed to form a tight seal. Take that, mice!
Satisfied, I set about making a fire in the woodstove. The already chilly north wind had only gotten colder as the sun set, and we were both ready for a warm fire -- a big difference from the last several days. I sat next to the stove as I nursed the fire, reading a book while I was waiting. It was cozy and peaceful.
We both read far into the night, enjoying the warmth of the fire and secure in the knowledge that our cabin was sealed safely away from both the elements and the mice.
Next time: Rest day on the Big Carp
Miles hiked: 3.5
Total miles: 19.7
If you liked this post, check out this list of all of my backpacking blog posts.
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| Day 5's route in orange |
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