Sand, Sea and Stars: Further up and Further In
- Where the soaring bluffs of Mackinac Island met the wind-tossed waves did dreamsquirrel and Jesse and I stop for a picture, the waters before and the bluffs behind.
Less than an hour later, we would be high atop those same bluffs, making our way through the forests hundreds of feet over the vibrant-blue waves...
Of an introduction to Mackinac Island I told in Aside the Straits; that half-lifetime ago, our family chose to circle the island's spectacular shore on bicycles, such that we could make it back to the ferry in the short time we had. But this time, dreamsquirrel and Jesse and I had come to the Island on the very first ferry of the morning -- on only the very second day of the season -- and we intended to remain until very nearly the last ferry off. Much time did we have, and fit and willing for a hike of many miles all three of us were, and so it was Jesse who suggested that we instead explore the sights and shores of Mackinac on foot.
The town on the island confines itself to the edges of the harbor on the island's south side; very quickly do the streets give way to forest and bluff. Just a short distance outside of town rises Arch Rock, a triumphant natural formation of weathered stone impressive whether viewed from the shoreline below, or from a vantage point above. The latter we decided to ascend the long series of staircases to see for ourselves. And then, just beyond that vantage point, a sign pointed up torwards more stairs, winding up to the Nicolet Watch Tower, an even higher lookout where a waist-high stone obelisk marker and bronze plaque honored the first European explorer to enter the northern waters of the Great Lakes, and the endless waters of Lake Huron stretched to the horizon.
High had we climbed already. But just tucked around the corner was what appeared to be another trail. Into the forest the trail evidently went, and still higher did trail and bluffs appear to climb. To where we had no idea, but naught did it matter -- the weather was absolutely perfect, the air was cool and crisp, the forests were lush with leaves and lit with sunshine, we had a will to explore and no interim schedules to keep. Further up and further in! :-)
Between every two pines is a doorway to a new world John Muir once wrote, a world we were soon firmly within as we pushed deeper and higher into the forests. The beauty around us, rising like a cathedral of leaf and light, with peeks of brilliant blue lake and sky framed by ancient trees, made it obvious why Mackinaw Island was America's second national park, second only to Yellowstone.
It was just late enough into the spring that the trees were all in full bloom. Just early enough in the season, almost four hours north of Ann Arbor, that the ground cover had not yet begin to obscure the views and the biting insects were not yet out in full force. In other words, practically perfectly ideal hiking weather, and hike through the woods we did, often singing in harmony as we went, Jesse taking the high parts and dreamsquirrel anchoring the low, me whistling along as my singing voice was still shattered from weeks of successive illnesses acquired on wards. At some places it was obvious there was a trail, but really we simply picked our way across the rises and falls as seemed best, seeking always to keep the lake as close as possible to our right and the roads and civilization as far away from us on the left, whenever possible pushing ever deeper, ever higher. Further up and further in!
And as we wound our way over the rocks and hills and trees we did find ourselves ascending ever higher and higher, discovering a whole succession of ever more spectacular overlooks, each facing out over a different angle of the island and the straits, each with their own unique view. With no agenda and no schedule, more than once we simply set our bags down on bluff's edge and rested awhile to enjoy the view. Me being a coward, I never followed Jesse and dreamsquirrel's lead in ensconcing themselves comfortably literally on the bluff's edge, feet dangling comfortably out over the roots and rocks hundreds of feet down to forests below. But that high up, no sounds of the road far below were audible, nothing but the rush of wind and the sound of wave, and a cloudless, fogless view of the horizon miles and miles distant, stretching out on all sides.
- I don't remember how many hours later it was by the time the bluff-side began to curve away from the lake shore and we descended down to the lakeshore, emerging from the woods near where the British had landed during the war of 1812. (Insert your own caption with me, Jesse, and the cannon here. :-) ) Halfway around the island we had made it by that point, and now along the ring road hugging the shoreline we would complete the journey, with GPS trackers leading us along an exciting string of discoveries... but that is a story for another day. :-)
The story continues in here.