Michigan’s pristine Porkies.
Michigan’s Porkies offer solitude, size and untarnished wilderness
ONTONAGON, Mich. — I felt like I was cheating on a lover. I sat on a rock outcrop in the Porcupine Mountains, looking out over the glimmering Lake of the Clouds. Stunning views of the heavily wooded hills surrounded me, pops of yellow, orange and red glowing among the green. I write about the beautiful trails and parks of Wisconsin, but I was falling in love with a Michigan one.
Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park, known as the Porkies, along Lake Superior in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula is a mustvisit for a Midwesterner. If you’re going to cheat on Wisconsin, do it right and do it there.
I’d say the park is a must-visit for any outdoor lover, but the desire to keep this gem as a little Midwestern secret is strong.
Covering 60,000 acres, the park is Michigan’s largest and its only wilderness park. It’s characterized by towering stands of oldgrowth trees — 35,000 acres were never logged, making it the largest stand of old-growth hardwood and hemlock in the Great Lakes region. Rolling hills that are mountainous by Midwestern standards surround four lakes, including the picturesque Lake of the Clouds. Creeks and streams lead to 100 waterfalls and countless rapids, accessible via more than 80 miles of hiking trails that are dotted with remote campsites and cabins.
Those trees, lakes, trails and campsites make the Porkies a backpackers’ paradise, perfect for checking an item off my bucket list: a solo backpacking trip.
Loop trails meant I didn’t need to arrange a shuttle or plan an outand-back hike. First-come, firstserved campsites meant I didn’t need reservations and could go whenever the weather looked good. And familiar Midwestern terrain — forest, lakes, hilly but not extreme alpine hiking — meant I wouldn’t have to consider the unknowns that come with backpacking in a landscape very different from the Midwest.
The mosquitoes and flies can be notoriously bad in the Porkies in the summer, so I eyed a fall trip. When the weather forecast for the first weekend in October called for sunny skies and comfortable temperatures, I headed north.
Lake to lake
I started my trip at one of the park’s most photogenic spots: Lake of the Clouds.
A scenic, accessible overlook provides a view of the long, 240acre lake from the top of a blocky pink and gray escarpment. In early October, the yellows, oranges and reds of fall peppered the forest that surrounded the lake. The Big Carp River cut through the forest to the southwest, and the Upper Carp wound through a river plain
to the northeast.
From Lake of the Clouds, I headed down to the park’s other big lake: Superior.
The rocky Lake Superior Trail travels through the woods before dipping down toward the lake and offering peek-a-boo views of Gitche Gumee.
Soon my focus was on the moisture under my feet. It hadn’t rained in days, but a storm earlier in the summer had left a damaged and muddy trail.
“It’s about 60% mud — I gave up trying to avoid it eventually,” a woman hiking the other way said as we passed in the muck.
Mud was a constant companion the next three days.
I got a brief reprieve when the trail snaked along the rocky Lake Superior shore, where a handful of campsites were still open by midafternoon.
It was tempting to stop for the day — the sites offered amazing views of the lake. But with more than 30 miles to cover in less than three days, I settled for a lunch break instead.
By late afternoon, occupied campsites outnumbered open ones as I approached the Big Carp River Trail. That’s the risk with first-come, firstserved sites. But all of the Porkies are open to backcountry camping, so even if sites are occupied, you can still pitch your tent in an open spot in the forest.
About a mile down the Big Carp River Trail, I passed an open site along the river. I had hoped to push for a site beside Shining Cloud Falls farther down the trail, but you don’t pass up a good campsite when you find one.
I set up near the back of the large site, stuffed my face with rehydrated food, lofted my food bag using the provided bear pole and fell asleep to the roar of rapids along the river.
Forested ridges
The Ojibwe tribe gave the Porkies their name, not because of an abundance of porcupines in the area but because of how the forested ridges resemble the spiny back of one. You’re more likely to have a run-in with a black bear, deer, beaver, otter or hundreds of species of birds including bald eagles, hawks and warblers.
I didn’t see any bears, but the forested hills the area is named for made themselves evident on the climb up the Big Carp River Trail back to Lake of the Clouds.
The trail was busier with day hikers around the scenic overlook, but the crowds thinned as I hiked farther east along the Escarpment Trail toward a possible campsite on the escarpment overlooking the lake and river valley.
I passed a photographer who said the site was open when he passed it about an hour earlier. It had been occupied the night before when he had hoped to stay there.
“I heard you can see the northern lights from it,” he said.
By the time I reached the site, a real beauty with some trees for wind protection but also views of the lake and river, a couple were just setting up camp.
So onward I went, knees and spirit groaning in protest, with hopes of reaching a site about two miles up the Government Peak trail south of Trap Falls. Both sites were open when I arrived, and I beat the sun to sleep against the backdrop of rapids on the river below.
I started my final day in the Porkies at the picturesque little Trap Falls. Since it’s a couple of miles from the nearest trailhead, I had it all to myself early in the morning.
It was a good start to a day that would include the most intense mud slogging yet, including a segment where an enormous downed tree completely obscured the trail. After crawling over and through the mess of branches and trunk, I headed in the general direction I thought the trail went and soon caught sight of a blue blaze on a tree ahead.
It was a good reminder to carry a topographic map, compass and/or GPS when hiking in a wilderness park like the Porkies. Trails are marked with blazes and signs, but nature has a special way of fighting back against marks of humans.
I passed one of the highest points in the park, Government Peak at 1,850 feet, before heading down toward Mirror Lake and the final stretch of my figureeight loop — a climb back up the escarpment to Lake of the Clouds.
Going solo
Back at the overlook, I ditched my pack and enjoyed lunch on a rock overlooking the lake, reflecting on my first solo backpacking trip. I had hiked along Lake Superior and through dense stands of old-growth forest, through streams and muddy trails that left my pants and boots caked in mud.
It was hard, but worth it for the solitude, sense of accomplishment and stunning views that I’ve found only in remote natural places like that.
I thought back to my first day, when I had passed a three-generation group of guys hiking along the Lake Superior Trail.
“You’re all by yourself?” the grandfather asked, incredulous, as I passed.
It’s a question I get every once in a while when I travel alone. People have asked if I carry “at least a knife.” (Yes — for cutting things, not people.) One woman asked if I’m married, then said it’s good I’m not since it would be bad to leave my husband so much. I’ve had men approach my campsite asking if I’m by myself — one of the few things that actually makes me nervous when I’m camping alone. Guys, it might seem like a harmless question, but it comes across as creepy.
I love traveling with friends and family — sharing an experience with someone makes for a lot of “remember when” stories later, the burden of carrying gear and setting up camp is less, and you have someone with you in case something goes wrong.
But I travel alone because there are things I want to do, and I’m not going to wait around for vacation schedules to align so someone can come with me. I travel alone because in a constantly connected world, sometimes the only way to completely disconnect is to get away from everything and everyone. I travel alone because in an overly stimulated society we’ve forgotten how to entertain ourselves.
Are there extra risks for a woman backpacking alone? Sure. There are extra risks for women in general due to simply being a woman. But I’m much more likely to be injured by something in the wilderness than someone — bad weather, a slip or fall, wildlife, a car crash on the way there. Those are risks every outdoor adventurer faces.
And I’m probably safer 10 miles into the woods than I am 10 feet from my home. Risk is everywhere, and as a woman, I’ve been conditioned to be cautious my entire life. That means I know how to mitigate it, and good preparation is the No. 1 way to stay safe in the outdoors.
I’ve been hiking and camping for most of my life, including nearly eight years for my job, and I am experienced enough to do it on my own. I get that it’s not for everybody. And not everybody has enough experience to do it alone — you should assess your own skill level before you go solo.
But in the dozens of trips I’ve taken in the past few years, solo backpacking the Porkies was one of my favorites. Would it have been as good with someone else? Maybe. But there was something special about having the beautifully wild Porkies all to myself. I made my own plans, I moved at my own pace, I wrestled with only my own thoughts and worries, and I came out knowing I’m capable of complete self-sufficiency.
And maybe proving it’s not just possible but highly enjoyable to backpack alone will mean more people — men and women — won’t be afraid to do the same. Maybe they’ll find a new love, too.
Leashed pets are allowed on most trails but not in state-owned buildings including the yurts and cabins.
For more information, call (906) 8855275 or see