August 2006 Thoughts - Home By Another Way

Mike Weede dropped our family off on Grape Island, Michigan, around 9:00 AM. It was warm and sunny. Lake Michigan was smooth and the sky clear. Mike said he'd meet us at the end of the day at the north end of Hog Island. Between now and then, he was diving a shipwreck and we were on our own. The four of us had planned this day carefully. We had learned important lessons exploring uninhabited islands previously and today would be no different.

Grape Island is a narrow peninsula jutting out from the southwest tip of Hog Island. It affords no shade and, to our surprise, it's primarily composed of stones eroded by winter ice, not lake water: they're sharp instead of smooth. We walked a half hour and sat down on a boulder for breakfast. About six feet away, a snake appeared. We expected to see Northern Water Snakes (Nerodia sipedon) and the first one was a beauty: black, over four feet long, and holding its head about 6 inches off the ground observing the strange visitors to her home. It then occurred to us that we may be sitting on her home. As we moved gently away from the boulder, another large snake slid out from underneath, which had been patiently watching our toes as we ate.

By now you should be thinking we're crazy: miles from civilization on a rocky, snake-infested peninsula, with no chance of help for nine hours. OK, maybe. But Northern Water Snakes are shy, not poisonous, and attack people when cornered or stepped on. So I found some driftwood, broke off a walking stick, began to tap the rocks in front of me before I stepped on them, and everyone else walked single file behind me. We saw only one more snake that day while it's likely thousands watched us.

We wore water shoes because Hog Island has many long, shallow, and narrow inlets easier to ford than walk around. These shoes were not suited to the sharp rocks of Grape Island, so we experimented with walking in the water, which was shallow and consisted of smooth stones and sand. So we thought. As the heaviest adventurer carrying the heaviest pack, I found out the stones and sand were, in some places, a thin layer above the remains of a wetland. You may call it a bog or quicksand, but I can't tell you the word I used when after walking a few yards in the water, I sank in up to my knee in black muck. Luckily my other foot found a good stone and I pulled myself out. Sharp rocks and snakes were preferable.

My eldest son remarked later that this had scared him. I was pleased he was concerned about his father until he added that he was afraid because I was carrying most of the food and all of the water. Teenagers.

We had planned to walk around the east side of Hog Island, but the first two miles were more taxing than planned and my family had repeatedly cursed my judgment for letting Mike drop us on Grape Island, so we decided to take the shorter route up the west side.

In this neck of the woods, US Geological Service quadrangle maps are handy, although you best not trust them. The USGS Hog Island maps were updated twenty years ago when Lake Michigan was several feet higher, which explains why Grape Island is no longer an island, the shorelines have moved, and the islands are bigger. At best, maps give you a rough approximation of your location. Global positioning gear can't help you get where you need to go: there are no trails. Walking inland on Hog Island is silly: where it isn't wetland, the forest is extremely dense. As Mike said, you could cross it, but it would be no fun.

My youngest son made the next important discovery: poison oak. He knew it well from a previous trip to High Island, Michigan, which features fields of hip deep poison oak. There we wore long pants and long sleeves. Here we wore shorts and water shoes. The plants were not as dense here, so thanks to his watchful eye, none of us left the island with a welt. The black flies and mosquitos we expected were rare this day. We were blessed with a slight off island breeze that blew our scent across the water instead of into the woods. The alternative breeze is a curse we had encountered before.

As we walked north up the shore of Hog Island and forded the little inlets, we noticed that the earth below us was moving. Nearly everywhere we stepped, the stones and sand were floating above spongy, water saturated ground. The ground closer to the trees was thick enough to support our weight. The stones, the flowers, the butterflies, and the endless sky kept our minds off of our tired feet. In the shallow bays, my eldest son deputized himself to test the stability of the sand for me. Because I was carrying the food and water.

Finally, Fishermen's Bay stretched before us with a sandy beach. We set out a picnic, swam in the water nursing our aching ankles, and the boys discovered a sailboat mast and other items washed in on days when the lake had been unforgiving. Mike arrived on schedule to take us back to civilization.

Some lessons old and new: You can do amazing things if you are willing to push yourself. The value of proper footwear cannot be overestimated. Know your flora and fauna and treat them with respect. It's smart sometimes to go home by another way: be mindful of changes in circumstances and they will tell you what to do. Some of the most rewarding paths in life are not on the trail. You have to find your own way.

BACK TO THE TO THE TOP
HOG ISLAND EAST COAST
WEB SITE ORIGIN
MOST POPULAR THOUGHTS