Porkies 2026, Day 6: Rest day at Big Carp

Last time: Back to the woods, but not before coffee - or check out all of my backpacking and adventure logs

Big Carp 4-bunk

Thursday May 28, 2026: The night was cold, but the woodstove kept the edge off of it. We both slept hard and woke up feeling groggy. My door-blocking rocks had worked: There had been no mice at all in the night.

Over oatmeal and tea, we discussed our options. We had proved that the mice couldn't permanently scare us out of the woods. What next? Today was originally planned to be a zero day, and then we would hike out and end our trip tomorrow. But both Sarah and I felt a bit melancholy this morning, perhaps a little worn down by the rigors of backpacking, and our brief taste of civilization had reminded us of how nice a soft bed and a real breakfast can be.

So, we made a plan: We would enjoy a slow morning, have a late lunch, then leave for the trailhead in the afternoon. We would find a hotel room for the night and then head home, a day earlier than planned. This felt right for both of us.

The morning was indeed pleasant and slow. The day was sunny, windy, and even colder than yesterday, with the north wind keeping things downright chilly. To help with that, I started a small fire in the woodstove, just to warm us up a little. We made multiple rounds of tea, sat in the cabin, read, and chatted. 

Spring Beauty, because I didn't take a lot of photos today.

As we sat, the woodstove and tea keept us cozy. The beautiful river ran past just outside our window. the sun and clouds rushed past overhead. Gradually, both of us started to feel the same thing: It was just so nice here, so pleasant and... well, I'm overusing the word, but cozy.

I brought it up first: My mind had changed, and I didn't want to leave any more. Sarah quickly agreed. We both just wanted to be here, in this wonderful place, enjoying the remoteness, the coziness, and the relaxation. What was really going on in our minds? Who knows! Perhaps just the chaos and confusion of the exit from Mirror Lake, followed by re-entry the next day. In the end, I'm glad we decided to stay.

With that decision made, I built the fire up to full strength. We kept the fire running all day, and we needed it. The official weather service record for Ontonagon says the high that day was 68. I suspect that right there on the windy lakeshore, we didn't get above 60, and it was likely much colder for most of the day (the official low was 41, which I believe!).

We continued to read and enjoy a quiet morning. But soon enough -- you know it -- I started to get antsy. Sarah enjoys sitting in one place, quietly reading for a while, but I felt the need to move!

I started by going outside and processing the rest of the firewood that we'd left unprocessed yesterday. There was so much firewood that even by running the stove all day, we barely made a dent in it.

After lunch, I decided to keep moving by taking a dayhike. I pondered the options for a while: Go back to the Little Carp? Beautiful, but then I'd have to navigate the Mile of Blowdowns along the Lake Superior trail -- twice -- just to get there and back. Hike up the Big Carp and see some waterfalls? I've done that many times, and as nice as it is, I wasn't in a waterfalling mood. East on the Lake Superior trail? I just did that last year -- but it was really nice, so why not do it again?

Lake Superior trial, actually near Lake Superior for a little while

The dayhike started off pretty much the same as last year: I hauled up a hill to the lake bluff, crossed some ravines on very old bridges, then came steeply down to the lakeshore. After that, the trail runs along a cobble beach for a while, which is both beautiful and hard on the ankles. This is actually unusual for the Lake Superior trail, which only runs within sight of the lake for 2 or 3 out of its 15 or so miles. The rest of the time, it's far enough inland to be a tunnel of trees.

I kept going until the trail headed back up the lake bluff between campsites LS-10 and LS-11, which is where I decided to turn around. I didn't meet a single person during the entire hike.

The cobble shoreline, "easy" mode

Once I had turned around and started back, I soon reached campsite LS-10, right at the base of a big hill where the trail turns inland (and steeply uphill). Here, I decided to do something different. The trail was effectively part of the cobble beach in this section -- why not hike the beach back to the mouth of the Big Carp too? That also saved me some big up-and-downs, and gave me more time along Lake Superior.

This seemed like a good idea at the time. The beach was tough on the ankles, but I made decent progress. Then, the trees began: The shoreline was soon covered with a dense tangle of blowdowns and driftwood. I sometimes bushwhacked inland, which was swampy, and other times I climbed, ducked, and weaved around the fallen trees. I relied heavily on my hiking poles for stability and to keep my ankles intact.

The cobble shoreline, hard mode

I was incredibly happy to see the mouth of the Big Carp appear. The "beach" walk was about half of a mile, and probably took me half of an hour to do. I made it, but this was a bonus bushwhack I hadn't counted on.

As I returned to the cabin, I could smell the smoke from the woodstove, which continued to chug along. It remained cozy. Sarah hadn't left the cabin at all, and was thoroughly enjoying her quiet day of reading.

Dinnertime came soon: Peak Refuel Chicken Alfredo Pasta. It was good enough to make the "Good enough" list in my records, and was notably better than my stir-fried rice from last night.

The cold north wind had kept up throughout the day. As evening came on, I kept the cabin warm by tending the woodstove. We read, played games, and generally lazed about. As the evening got even colder, we made some hot tea -- only the second time we'd had evening tea on this trip, a sign of how warm it had been. In the process of making it, I managed to pour boiling water all over my hand.

Just before bedtime, I went outside one last time. I walked down to the mouth of the river and watched the sun set over the lake. The wind had lowered a bit, and the lake was relatively smooth, with only long low waves slowly rolling in. A pair of mergansers paddled by the river mouth as I watched. I drank it all in -- the sunset, reflections on the lake, the river, the trees, the sound of rushing water and gentle waves -- all in one of my favorite places in the world. I was glad we had decided to stay through this rest day, and that I could experience this beautiful scene. I wanted to absorb every moment of beauty in this amazing place, to fix the memory in my mind, to be recalled on dark winter nights.

I eventually tore myself away from the lake (the cold wind helped), and turned back towards the cabin. Once inside, I blocked up the door with my "mouse-stopping rocks", built up the fire, curled up under my quilt, and read late into the night.

Next time: More fish! And home.

Miles hiked: 2

Total miles: 21.7

Day 6's dayhike in blue-purple, ok, blurple.