Porkies 2026, Days 2 & 3: Section 17 to Lily Pond, and a "rest" day

Last time: Lots of mousetraps

An unnamed waterfall on the Little Carp

Sunday May 24, 2026: I slept heavily but only in spurts, waking up every few hours and then rolling over into intense dream-filled sleep.

When I finally woke up for good, it was to a sunny and warmer day. The rain had cleared out, but the world still looked wet.

Inside, I found the mouse trap that had gone off last night, along with its unfortunate occupant. I carefully took it outside and threw the poor mouse deep into the woods.

We had our usual breakfast of oatmeal and tea. Today's hike wasn't going to be too long, so we decided to make it a leisurely morning in the cabin. We leaned into that leisure by playing a game of Clue, conveniently left in the cabin by some previous occupants. It quickly became clear why the box says "3 or more players" -- not 2 -- but it was still a fun experience (it was Mrs. White in the Library with the lead pipe -- I won, just a turn ahead of Sarah).

To waste a little more time, I did something else I've always meant to do: I climbed the Big Hill. The landscape along this section of the Little Carp River rises in distinct levels, each one an incredibly steep hillside topped by a remarkably flat terrace. Section 17 cabin sits on one such terrace, and another just behind the cabin rises a few dozen feet above it. Behind that is the big hill, which rises 40 or 50 feet, and above which I'd never climbed. So I did. I took hiking poles and struggled my way up the seriously steep hillside -- so steep that I dared not lean even slightly backwards, lest I topple over and roll all the way down. The top held no view and no surprises, and also no further terraces -- I had reached the top! Then I struggled my way back down (even more slowly), mission accomplished.

Section 17, a lovely little cabin.

We finally packed up and headed out around 11 am. Section 17 was, as always, a pleasantly isolated cabin and an easy starting point. It's likely one that will figure in many future adventures.

Like yesterday, there were bugs, but nothing major and nothing biting. Throughout the day, even after we arrived at Lily Pond, we both kept our headnets pushed up on our hats, ready to go if needed, but rarely deployed.

As we passed Greenstone Falls cabin, the same three people as yesterday appeared to be sitting around the same smoky fire. From my point of view, it looked like they hadn't moved all night.

The Little Carp River trail was still muddy as we headed east. Once we had passed the turnoff to the Little Carp River road, it became clear that few people had taken this route recently. Even this early in the season, brush was beginning to encroach on the trail, and blowdowns hadn't been cleared.

Dutchman's Breeches, just outside the cabin

On the positive side, the trail was absolutely lined with wildflowers. Spring Beauties were at their peak, and Trout Lilies were just starting to open. Dutchmen's Breeches were also in full bloom, and Violets of several colors were beginning to pop.

After a bunch of ups-and-downs and just one really big mud slog, we reached a long downhill to the Little Carp River. This was our only unbridged river crossing of the day, and we were actually looking forward to it -- we were getting heated up in the warmer weather, and were ready to wade through the cool river water.

The twin campsites at the crossing -- LC-3 and LC-4 -- provide a great place to stop if nobody is camping in them, and indeed nobody was today (the trail goes directly between the two sites, which are otherwise wide open, so I can't imagine they're very popular). Sarah switched into her sandals, I kept my trail runners on, and we waded across the pleasantly cool river. We both waded back and forth a few times, enjoying the calf-deep water. Eventually, I sat down right on a rock in the river to enjoy the cool water on my feet.

Me, in the Little Carp River

After that, we sat down on the far side and enjoyed rice-cake peanut-butter sandwiches for lunch. We hadn't seen anybody on the trail since the group hanging out at Greenstone Falls cabin, but that changed at the river crossing. While we ate, four different groups came through -- every one of them coming from the east, opposite our direction of travel -- and most of them looked rather dismayed at the unbridged crossing (is it really a secret? They're marked right on the maps!). Everyone chose a slightly different way to cross the river, including one unfortunate soul who tried to rock-hop across in boots -- and got them flooded instead.

The trail climbed back up out of the small river valley, and soon we were at the intersection with the Lily Pond trail. We continued north towards Lily Pond itself. In this section, I was enchanted by what I described to Sarah as the "early spring light": On this clear and sunny day, the sun shone through the not-yet-leafed-out trees onto the brown leaves on the forest floor. In these segments of the trail, normally beshady under dense leaf cover, the woods were instead light, bright, and mostly brush-free. It gave a very specific feel to the scenery, one that I associate only with early spring and late fall in the UP.

Lily Pond cabin soon appeared around a bend in the trail. This cabin is set right next to the trail, on a small wedge of land between the pond itself and the Little Carp river. In fact, people are often confused about how exactly to follow the trail around the cabin, and end up taking a side trail to the outhouse instead. We would meet more than one of those hikers over the next two days.

For anyone who wants to know what the lock looks like. The combination is on the bottom.

This cabin actually had a combination lock on it -- basically a regular padlock with numerical tumblers at the bottom. As usual, we opened some windows, grabbed the log book, and headed to sit on the amazing bridge across the river outlet. This bridge features a bench built right into the middle, with a gap in the railing to facilitate viewing (or fishing?) opposite it. On this gorgeous and pleasantly warm day, it was a perfect spot to rest. We looked out over the impossibly blue sky, reflected in the pond. We enjoyed the fresh green grasses growing up out of the water. We watched a pair of Trumpeter Swans going to and fro, apparently building a nest. We listened to a chorus of frogs -- spring peepers, and many others -- making an awful lot of noise.

We had also brought down some camping apparatus. I grabbed some water from the pond and set it to running through our gravity filter. I added a few chlorine tablets -- after all, Lily Pond is a beaver pond -- and as the log book said, "beaver fever is no joke!" We also filled our solar shower -- basically a black water bag with a nozzle -- and set it out to warm in the sun. This would eventually let us wash our hands and faces more pleasantly.

And then, it became too hot in the direct sun, so we moved up to the cabin's shady "front yard" and sat in our camping chairs instead.

Camping chairs in the front yard

The log book, incredibly, was the exact same one that had been in the cabin on my  three previous visits. Its binding was falling off and there were only a few pages left, but it still went all the way back to 2021. Clearly, not enough people were writing logs (or using the pages for kindling). Indeed, there was almost no useful information -- but the lack of recent stories about mice did help calm my mouse anxiety a little.

After a lovely afternoon of relaxing, it was dinner time. Today's choice was Peak Refuel Beef Pasta Marinara, chosen for its high calorie count. It was big, filling, and pretty good.

We spent the evening reading and chatting. Soon enough, it was bedtime, with no need for hot tea or fire -- the day had been noticeably warmer than yesterday. Before bed, I carefully blocked the cracks around the bottom of the door with canoe paddles, a trick I'd learned from a log book (probably this log book) a few years ago.

Miles hiked: 2.8

Total miles: 3.8

Day 3 continues below!

The beautiful Lily Pond bridge

Monday May 25, 2026: We slept well, with no signs of mice or other critters. Breakfast included our traditional two cups of tea, more for caffeine than for warmth. Speaking of which, it was clear that the day was going to be a warm one, continuing the upward trend.

Today was our rest day at Lily Pond, the first actual "2" in our original 2-2-2 plan (three cabins with a rest day in each). To celebrate our ability to rest, we'd decided to hike a whole bunch.

Our original plan looked something like this: From Lily Pond, tomorrow we would hike to Mirror Lake (very short), and then the next day we'd haul ourselves to the mouth of the Big Carp (rather long). Based on the mud we'd seen so far, we figured that we would be slogging our way through miles of muck on our way to Big Carp.

So we changed our plans. Today we would return to the Little Carp River trailhead, drive our car around to Summit Peak, and hike back in to the cabin. Then when we were ready to leave Mirror Lake and head to Big Carp, we would instead hike right back out to Summit Peak (short!) and drive to Pinkerton Creek trailhead. From there, we would take the easy and well-maintained Pinkerton Creek trail in to Big Carp, avoiding the miles of mud along the Correction Line and Big Carp trails.

Trout Lily along the Little Carp River trail

We've made mid-trip changes like this on many previous trips, so much so that it's almost becoming a tradition. There's a comparison that we made while discussing this change, which I think you (dear reader) may find relevant. On Isle Royale, another of our favorite backpacking spots, there are (currently) no reservations whatsoever. Campsites are all first-come, first-served. This gives enormous flexibility: You can choose to hike and camp absolutely any route you like, completely changing your plans on the fly, staying extra days at pleasant places and moving on from others. This is a lot of fun, but the race to claim the "best" campsites can be anxiety inducing, especially in the busier seasons.

In the Porkies, on the other hand, all campsites are reserved. There's absolutely no flexibility to change your campsites on the fly. But there's an advantage that Isle Royale doesn't have: The ability to hike out to your car, get in, and drive to a different trailhead. That sort of flexibility is a handy way to react to the conditions as we find them.

We hiked right back out to the car, reversing yesterday's hike, and wearing only one gloriously light daypack. The muddy trail was starting to firm up a bit from the last few sunny and dry days.

As we hiked up the long hill at the Little Carp River road and turned into the parking lot, we met many dayhikers. They came in ones, twos, and entire families, and every one of them looked miserable -- even the ones hiking downhill. Sarah noted that this always seemed to be the case at that trailhead. I think it may be because the Little Carp River trailhead promises "quick" and "easy" access to waterfalls -- by Porkies standards, at least -- but in addition to the surprisingly bumpy terrain, they were also encountering Porkies-level bugs and mud. All par for the course in the Porkies, but not fun if you're a dayhiker who is new to the park.

Serviceberries blooming at the Summit Peak overlook

We threw out our trash bag, saving us a few ounces for the rest of the trip, and got in the car. We drove over to Summit Peak and parked in the upper parking lot. As we got out of the car, two groups of men were loading their packs into vehicles while loudly (and in one case, shirtless-ly) reviewing their trips, and fantasizing about what food they would be eating next. I do mean loudly. We got away from them as quickly as we could, taking lunch with us up to the first overlook on the Summit Peak walkway. At the overlook, looking towards the west, I noticed several high points that would fall along tomorrow's route from Lily Pond to Mirror Lake and made a mental note to check them out. After that we hiked up to the top of the Summit Peak viewing tower, because, why not? It was a perfectly nice view over a sea of green, as always.

We took a quick peek down the Summit Peak side trail, a possible route back to our car in future days, and then headed back to Lily Pond on the Beaver Creek trail. In the end, we had hiked 5.5 voluntary miles on this "rest" day!

Bridge on Beaver Creek trail

By this point, the sunny day had fully heated up -- I think the high was 81, the highest high so far on this trip. Back at the cabin, we each took a quick rinse under the solar shower, which was warm but not hot. A clean face and hands felt great after today's sweaty hikes.

We spent the afternoon sitting variously on the bridge or in the shade near the cabin, reading, and relaxing. Dinner, when it came, was a new one: Mountain House Pepperoni Pizza. I'll admit that I was skeptical of this one, but we have a rule: Try the mysterious new freeze-dried meals on days when we've worked hard -- meaning, days when we're willing to eat anything if it has calories. This mystery meal turned out to be remarkably good, easily earning an entry in the "Good enough" column of my backpacking spreadsheet (incidentally this is the highest category that freeze-dried meals can attain). Dessert consisted of freeze-dried cookie bites and some gorp, like always.

The evening was beautiful, sunny, and cooler. We both felt good enough to attempt another adventure: Canoeing out on Lily Pond. We have canoed at Mirror Lake before, and in a few non-Porkies locations, but never right here. In previous years, the cabin had one questionable canoe and a decrepit rowboat. This year, there were two brand new canoes sitting shiny down by the bridge. We headed out, carefully keeping away from the nesting swans, and enjoyed a pleasant tour around the lake. It was, if anything, smaller and more shallow than I expected. We didn't push too far upstream, since we could see a beaver lodge and dam not far beyond the boundaries of the pond.

Fiddleheads growing right in the Little Carp

To end the day, we opened up the can of hard cider that we'd backpacked all the way here with and shared it on the bridge. It was lovely.

Actually, that wasn't quite the end of the day. Once the sun had set -- after 9 pm, this far north -- we decided to go hang out on the bridge and do some stargazing. I always intend to watch the stars on these trips, but rarely stay up late enough to do it. This time would be different! We brought bug nets and wore long sleeves, but the bugs were still (mostly) not biting.

We sat on the bridge and looked at the quickly darkening sky, which was perfectly clear. Sarah pointed: There's a star! Then I pointed: There's another! Sarah: A third star! Then we waited... and waited... and suddenly we couldn't find the third star... then the second disappeared... and finally there were zero. High-level clouds had come in, for the first time all day, and completely obscured the sky. Even the bright, almost-full moon (which also made stars hard to see) was soon covered.

Nonetheless, we enjoyed sitting out on the bridge, chatting, laughing, and occasionally yelling to be heard above the noise of the frogs. Once again, they were loud -- so loud, right down here above their swampy home, that Sarah seriously suggested we should pack ear plugs. Above us, silent bats swooped and ate the (non-biting) bugs. We saw a few flashes that looked light distant lightening, but no storms ever came.

With the sky fully covered by clouds, we went back into the cabin for bed. I set up our mouse-blocking paddles again and we quickly got to sleep.

Next time: An unexpected adventure

Miles hiked: 5.5 (on a rest day!)

Total miles: 9.3

If you liked this post, check out this list of all of my backpacking blog posts.

Day 2's route is in green, Day 3 in yellow