Traverse City/Mackinac
Submitted by George Granlund
Just one look at the satellite imagery of the northern Lake Michigan coastline, and open-water kayakers want to know more. The Northwest Michigan coastline offers miles-long peninsulas, deep bays, crystal blue water, and endless horizons. What Bill McCormick and I found that it doesn't offer is any semblance of a water trail. Camping spots are darned hard to find, so we had to resort to "questionable" tactics just to get a nights sleep. But more on that later.
Bill and I put in on the east arm of Grand Traverse Bay on June 11th with a goal of reaching the Straights of Mackinac by the 17th. To do that, we'd need to average about 15 miles per day. Our route took us along the eastern shore of the east arm of the bay. We had the beautiful Old Mission Peninsula to our left and US 31 to our right as we paddled through the shallow bay.
The towering Grand Traverse Resort in Acme allowed us to mark progress as we headed north to the O'Dell Road boat launch where our good friend Jim Ledtke was to pick us up so that we could spend the evening at his place just north of Elk Rapids. Jim and Dee treated us to a wonderful spaghetti dinner and a good night's sleep before bringing us back down to the launch in the morning.
The weather on the second day was sunny and warm with a favorable wind. The morning was very quiet and we heard loons calling in the distance. As we drew nearer, we could hear symphony music and it turned out that someone was playing "loon inspired" music out to the loons on the lake and they were responding to the recording. Because of the calm conditions we were also able to see numerous large carp and whitefish swimming in 20'-30' feet of water. Our plan was to spend the night at Fisherman's Island State Park.
After checking out the island itself and determining that it was unsuitable to camp on, we crossed to the mainland and found a backcountry site that gave us a good landing and flat campsite. We never asked if we could camp, we just did and no one questioned us.
First thing on our third day we passed the point of Port Medusa and the enormous Medusa Concrete Plant. Their towers and works are visible for 20 miles in either direction along the coast. As we rounded the point we encountered a large southbound concrete carrying freighter that crept out of the port likely bound for Chicago. Seeing no compelling reason to stop at Charlevoix, we crossed the two mile bay to the North Point Preserve to shed clothes and have a snack.
The shoreline becomes increasingly populated as we entered Little Traverse Bay and neared Petoskey. The mouth of the bay is around nine miles wide and we had not planned on making such an ambitious crossing so we headed deeper into the bay. We were amazed by the conspicuous consumption as evidenced by the mansions surrounding Bay Harbor. They seemed to get bigger and bigger as we neared Petoskey.
Amazingly, right along the lakeshore, HAZARDOUS MATERIAL signs were posted, warning us of caustic liquids that were flowing into the bay right in the front yards of the biggest of the big homes. It turned out that the housing development and adjacent golf course was built smack dab on top of an old concrete plant that dumped their cement kiln dust there and then covered it up. Whenever the golf course is watered, the caustic leachate hits the water table and seeps into Lake Michigan. To better understand leachate, just imagine clear water running through coffee grounds and you can see the result. But cement kiln dust is not Starbucks Dark Roast. The lake has experienced fish die-offs and scuba divers have had skin reactions to the toxic runoff while diving offshore near the site. Bill decided not to practice his killer Eskimo roll here.
For more information on the problem, Google Bay Harbor: Michigan's Luxury Love Canal or the Friends of the Jordan River. The Jordan River watershed is where they want to dispose of the toxic leachate by using a deep injection well.
From Bay Harbor, Bill and I worked our way closer to the curve of the bay. With the water temperature in the low 40's we wanted to take as few chances as possible so we decided to cross where it was only 3 ½ miles across. We headed for Harbor Point offshore from Harbor Springs. The water was choppy and there were a few fishing boats and sailboats about, but mostly we had the bay to ourselves. As we neared the shore we veered to the west again to avoid having to retrace our paddle strokes getting back out of the bay.
From a great distance we could see homes dotting the hillside. As we got closer it was easy to see why we could see them from so far away. They were HUGE. Picture cattle gathered around a water tank and you can imagine the scores of houses clustered around the bay. The views from their front windows must be fantastic. After the adrenaline began to ebb from our crossing, we both felt the need to call it a day. But neither of us had the guts to approach the owners of these magnificent homes and ask if we could tent in their front yard so we plodded on, hoping to find an empty lot to sleep in.
Our navigational map showed something called the Thorne Swift Nature Preserve about half way between Harbor Springs and Good Hart, but neither of us knew what that meant. It turned out to be a conservancy that seeks to return a small dunes area to its' native state yet to allow people to visit and observe the dunes. Fortunately for us, there was a small adjacent beach that we could land at. Again, we didn't ask permission to camp and we're pretty sure that it would have been discouraged. But we left it cleaner than we found it and hit the water early before anyone could confront us. (I'll happily send a donation to the Reserve for their welcome but unwitting hospitality.)
From the MyNorth.com website: Thorne Swift boasts 1,000 feet of shoreline--300 feet of which is open to the public. That remaining 700 feet? It's cordoned off to preserve its natural state. The Piping Plover, for one, is grateful. Several times in recent years, the endangered bird has found the protected beach areas to be a perfect nesting site for its young.
Each morning the temperatures had been in the mid-forties and this morning was no exception. So, even though it was a bit chilly we got to enjoy a wonderful tailwind that pushed us along the shoreline past Middle Village, Good Hart, and on to the boat launch at Cross Village. The tailwind had picked up and we were both soaked and a bit cold from the splashing that we got at every stroke.
From Cross Village we could now see Wilderness State Park on the other side of eight mile wide Sturgeon Bay. The park and its' wide, unpopulated beaches were, by far, the most beautiful stretch of shoreline on the whole trip. From our vantage point the land truly looked like a wilderness, reminiscent of the north shoreline of Lake Superior. Since it was state land, we hoped to camp somewhere in the park. Much of the shoreline was posted with small signs warning us not to disturb the nesting sites of the Piping Plover, a small sandpiper-like bird that prefers the same remote sandy beaches that kayakers do.
From Wikipedia: The Piping Plover (Charadrius melodus) is a small sand-colored, sparrow-sized shorebird that nests and feeds along coastal sand and gravel beaches in North America. The adult has yellow-orange legs, a black band across the forehead from eye to eye, and a black ring around the neck. This chest band is usually thicker in males during the breeding season, and it's the only reliable way to tell the sexes apart. It is difficult to see when standing still as it blends well with open, sandy beach habitats. It typically runs in short starts and stops. The bird's name is derived from its plaintive bell-like whistles which are often heard before the bird is visible. Total population is currently estimated at about 6,410 individuals. The population has been increasing since 1991.Their breeding habitat includes beaches or sand flats on the Atlantic coast, the shores of the Great Lakes, and in the mid-west of Canada and the United States. They nest on sandy or gravel beaches or sandbars. These shorebirds forage for food on beaches, usually by sight, moving across the beaches in short bursts. Generally, Piping Plovers will forage for food around the high tide "wrack line" and along the waters edge.
We were fortunate to see two pair of the plovers as we neared the shoreline, and could clearly hear their piping entreaties to move on. So move we did. Another mile down the beach, we set up our gear to dry and rest in the late afternoon sunshine.
As the sun was setting, we met two beach walkers who warned us that park rangers would not look favorably on our camping, and that our ouster and big fines would likely result if we were spotted. So we examined our options. If we went back beyond the park boundaries, it was private property with no guarantee of a place to stay. If we rounded Waugoshance Point (6 miles away in the gathering darkness) there was no guarantee that a campsite would be open in their only lakeside campground. So, we moved the boats out of sight and hunkered down, hoping that we wouldn't be spotted.
In the morning, we were up at 5:30 and ready to go by 6:15, feeling relieved that we hadn't been found out. The water around Waugoshance Point is very shallow and we had to pick our way through the channel between the point and Temperance Island.
Once clear of the channel, I let out a whoop as we could spot the Mighty Mac twenty miles to the east. The sun was sparkling on the water, the water and sky were both a beautiful blue, we had a slight tailwind, and our destination was in sight. We felt blessed and life was truly good. In light of the wonderful conditions, we agreed to crossings of Big Stone Bay, Cecil Bay, and the five mile crossing of Trails End Bay, which was a very fitting name because Mackinaw City was just beyond the next point.
We snapped pictures of each other with the bridge behind us and headed in to our rendezvous point with my dear wife Cathy who dropped everything to make the three hour drive to pick us up. Bill and I felt that the 110 mile stretch of Lake Michigan that we traversed has much to offer kayakers. It has clean water (for the most part), and the bay crossings could be challenging enough for anyone. Even the houses are interesting. The one thing that is missing is shoreline camping that would allow paddlers to make their way and not have to worry about where to spend the night. Kayakers don't need much; a landing spot, a relatively flat spot to pitch a tent, a bush to hide behind, and we're happy. Heck, we were happy anyway-what a great trip!