Playing dodgem with fishers while canoeing on the Pere Marquette River

This fall was time for some new adventures in northern Michigan on a new river.

I headed to Baldwin at the end of September for a canoe trip along the Pere Marquette River, one I haven't done before. Armed with our paddles and my trusty GoPro, we headed out for a day of canoeing and dodging salmon fishermen along the river.

Take a look at the trip in my video below.

The fall is the best time to go up north, as proven by my trip to Petoskey State Park

The view of Little Traverse Bay from atop Old Baldy in Petoskey State Park. 

Much is made across Michigan of heading "Up North" every summer (where "Up North is, well, that's something every media outlet in Detroit tries to figure out every summer). But once summer's over, the people who live up north breathe a sigh of relief, thinking all those downstate tourists are gone and won't be back for nine months.

My recent weekend up at Petoskey State Park has confirmed my longtime suspicion that the fall truly is my favorite time to pack up the car and head to the woods.

My wife and I headed to the area for a wedding in nearby Charlevoix this past weekend and found ourselves with some time in the morning before the festivities began that afternoon. Our hotel was just miles away from the state park, and we decided to enjoy the natural beauty to start our day.

Little Traverse Bay.

Upon arriving at the beach, I noticed how quiet it was that morning. The first day of fall and there were less than 10 people enjoying the water, walking along the shoreline and watching the waves crash on the sandy beach. While it certainly wasn't great for swimming with it being the first day of fall, the water was a wonderful site to see without all the interruptions. I can just imagine what the beach would typically look like in the summer, and I much preferred the fall.

The shoreline was lined with smooth, flat rocks, perfect for skipping in the choppy waters of Little Traverse Bay of Lake Michigan. It was a wonderful place to start a morning.

After getting a close-up look of the lake, we headed into the woods and decided a short hike was a good use of our time. It was well worth the short drive and walk up the hill to capture an awe-inspiring view.

We headed to the Old Baldy trail, a short (less than 0.5 miles) hike up Old Baldy, which had some stairs constructed for the truly steep parts. The top of the trail was well worth the climb, as the view of Little Traverse Bay framed by the tree branches was an incredible payoff.

The end of the trail up Old Baldy.

A little further down the trail is a picnic area atop the bluff, which is great for admiring the trees and water surrounding the area. A quick walk down the hill made it for a great trip that took less than an hour but provided some amazing views of nature.

It wasn't a long visit to the state park but well worth a morning visit. I was surprised to see such few people enjoying the water on the first day of fall, but I'm sure that beach gets more than its fair share of usage in the summer months. But for me, I'll take a day on the beach with a fleece sweater any day over a swimsuit and towel.

Spending a week in northern Ontario is something everyone should do once in their lives

Desolation is an incredible thing. It can lead the mind to wander, go places it hasn't gone before, even lead to some wild theories about what's happening in the outside world.

Being in Canada for an entire week disconnected from reality is a harkening experience everyone should at least try. It was my turn recently, as I headed north of the border of the great state of Michigan to have a experience unique to a select few.

This page is dedicated to Michigan, but this trip is so unique, so different, it deserves its own log and footage. Armed with my brand-new GoPro Hero 5 (bought specifically for this trip), I ventured into the Canadian wilderness in the Blind River Provincial Park with the church youth group for the one-every-two-year trip of a lifetime.

The route we embarked on was the Dunlop Lake/Mace Lake loop, which in total amounts to 42 kilometers. We did a little less than that, deciding to launch midway along Dunlop Lake and shaving a few kilometers off the weeklong trip. Here, we traversed nine separate lakes over the span of a week, carrying all our gear in four canoes and portaging across the rugged, rocky terrain.

Here's my log of the trip, day-by-day:

Saturday

After launching into the water, we spent some time canoeing Dunlop Lake, a long, narrow lake but quiet that afternoon. Today's trek was all about getting comfortable in the boats and learning the paddling techniques. We had several newbies on the trek and others who were still new to this style of canoeing.

The lake itself that night was welcoming and fairly smooth, save for the wake created by the speedboats and pontoons traversing across its waters. Scoping the northern edge of the waters led to the discovery of the portage we'd take the following morning, plus a small campsite. With eight people and three tents, we resorted to having to use some of the path for the portage and hope no one came knocking on the shores.

Sunday

Waking after after dealing with pouring rain was less than ideal, but the sun finally came out and we packed up and left camp down the first of eight portages we'd embark on.

Some of the rocks along Ten Mile Lake.

I should stop and mention we weren't sure we'd originally do the entire loop. There was some talk of canoeing in and out the same route, especially seeing how we had some teens on the trip who had never done a trip like this. Knowing the terrain can be a huge advantage, and we'd essentially do the same amount of canoeing either way. We knew we'd do eight portages, we just weren't sure if they would be all different.

This portage clocked in at about 400 meters, a typical length for this trip. The canoes felt heavier on this route, which had very little elevation changes. We carried the gear to the shores of Ten Mile Lake and began to paddle out.

This lake, the largest we saw on the trip, presented plenty of challenge and stress. Combine the size of the lake and the blowing wind coming in from all directions and creates a recipe for disaster. Whitecaps crested in the middle of the lake, smacking our canoes with a force I hadn't seen in over a decade. This lake took hours to cross, leaving us little time to enjoy the picturesque cliffs in the distance. Even docking along the shore waiting for the rest of our crew left us vulnerable to waves spilling over the gunnels, prompting some baling of water.

This lake then narrowed in its northwest corner, leading us to a more difficult portage. Worn out from the waves and stress of nearly flipping on the second day, the thought of doing another portage wore most of us out.

After lunch, we began to pack up when an ATV rode toward us. Turned out it was the owner of Ten Mile Lake Lodge headed to pick up fisherman for the day. We exchanged pleasantries, and he offered to transport some of our gear to the end of the trail, which we gladly accepted. He was a kind host and if you're looking for fishing, his lodge looked premier.

After hiking up the large hill and across the swampy area covered in a wooden bridge, we reached Ezma Lake. The lake was a welcome sight compared to the rough waters of Ten Mile Lake. We dipped in and headed to our campsite on the lake, where we'd call home for two days.

Monday

Deciding to take a layover day, we spent Monday resting and exploring Ezma Lake, a decent-sized body of water with several campsites.

Ezma Lake from our campsite.

This lake was our first major wildlife spotting, one that would recur the rest of the week: a single loon, swimming and cooing in the middle of the lake. I've been fascinated with the birds ever since hearing them along the shores of Isle Royale 13 years ago.

After locating the portage we'd travel the next day, we headed out around the lake in search of other campsites in case we headed back the same way we came. Two were visible along the water, including one that had a decrepit wooden picnic table that seemed to date back to the 1980s.

It was a solid site, but not as spacious as the one we occupied. We canoed back to camp, the kids swam and we set up a tarp to keep the looming rain away for the night.

Tuesday

We woke up to a wet morning, similar to several mornings on the trip, not knowing the misery that awaited us while traveling that day to Upper Mace Lake. We packed the camp up and loaded the canoes to head a few hundred meters to the next portage, a 200-or-so meter trek along some rocky trails. Rain continued to pour and spirits were down, especially as we approached the next lake.

The landing spot to the portage from Swamp Lake to
Upper Mace Lake.

It was aptly named Swamp Lake. Here, the landing wasn't large enough for all four boats to be loaded and we needed to launch one while finishing the packaging. True to its name, the landing smelled of swamp water and wreaked of mud that enveloped everyone's shoes. After fighting the rain, we all dipped into the water ventured to find the next portage at the end of the shallow body of water.

This next portage, less than 300 meters, would end up being the worst of the trip. We should have known from the fact we couldn't find the sign for the trail, which had been mostly ripped off the tree. All that remained was a small piece of yellow paper that looked like it was a part of the tree from a distance.

After scouting the trail, it was clear we were in the part of the loop that wasn't well-traveled. The trail was overgrown with plants and appeared to lead to nowhere at one point. Using the canoes as battering rams through the thick vegetation, we hunkered down and reached the end of the trail only to be met with a miserable landing.

The lake was low enough that swampland surrounded the portage. We began loading the boats before having to take a half-hour break to avoid the pouring rain and thunder that had come across the lake. Standing in the woods donning a poncho in silence save for the rain was a surreal experience, one I'm happy to not repeat.

After holding out for a while, we decided to push out. But because of the small landing and low water, our canoes were stuck in mud. It took one of the teenagers pushing boats out 30 meters in the mud before reaching any kind of water suitable for paddling. This young man pushed all four canoes out, including the one he was in with me, and hopped in. It was an admirable effort, one that left his jeans covered in filth.

Slowly canoeing along Upper Mace Lake led us to the most scenic part of the trip. The skies began to clear up and the rusty-colored rock faces began to show in the distance. After some quick exploration, we discovered a beautiful campsite, complete with a fire pit and a clothesline along the shores of this wonderful lake.

Wednesday

Finally, a beautiful day on the water. The first truly nice day of the trip on
Upper Mace Lake.

I dreaded waking up this morning.

Every other morning I had woken up to was dark, cloudy or wet. I awoke thinking I saw plenty of clouds in the sky, dooming us to another dreary day on our final layover day before heading out.

Thankfully, the sun shone bright and no clouds appeared that morning. It was a glorious feeling, the whole reason I agreed to go on the trip. The loons were singing, the sun was shining. It was the perfect day for a layover.

After cooking breakfast, most of us headed out for a day trip to Secret Bay, a large bay off Upper Mace Lake accessible by a small canal on the west side of the lake. Without a map, the bay is nearly hidden, looking just like a channel off the lake. But making the turn onto the bay revealed one of the most beautiful sights all trip.

Landing at a small rock outcrop, we surveyed the swampy area on the edge of the bay in search of moose. Like the rest of the trip, no moose were spotted, a disappoint to myself and the rest.

We fought some windy waves on the lake back to camp before retiring for the day. From here on out, we'd be heading out of the woods toward the cars and home.

The evenings, though filled with mosquitoes, provided for a wonderful backdrop.

Thursday

Thursday began just how so many other days had: pouring rain on the tent before 7 a.m. At this point, it wasn't a surprise, just an annoyance. Packing in the rain had become commonplace, but still didn't get less annoying now five days in.

Thankfully, the rain we experienced vanished as soon as we pushed off from the smooth rocks slanting into the water. Blue sky emerged and we set out to leave easily the best lake on the trip.

This was our last two-portage day, doing two tallying several hundred meters each. Both were unique in their own way. The first one, which took us from Upper Mace Lake to Lake No. 5 (apparently there was no official name for this lake), had us trek across nothing but slanted rockface. It proved tricky,

Lake No. 5.

especially with the wet, slippery rock created from the morning rain storms. We dipped into Lake No. 5 and admired the cabin on the top of the rocks, wondering if it was abandoned or still used.

A quick paddle across the lake took us to portage No. 6, this one leading us to stunning Lilypad Lake. This portage was similar to the last one, adorned with plenty of rock making the hike tricky. A unique find was some signs of man near the entrance of the portage: metal spikes driven into the rock leading the creek running nearby. Our guess was this dated back to logging days, helping lumberjacks move the logs quickly down to the stream.

After hiking the canoes, which are getting lighter at this point, down the hill to the lake, we followed the pathway created by the lily pads led us to the large portion of the lake, but the beauty of the aquatic flowers was incredible. The lake was the scene of perhaps my favorite photo I took the entire trip:

Nothing like rays of sunshine hitting Lilypad Lake during a canoe trip. #csbcanoetrip #latergram #canoeing #canada

A post shared by David Veselenak (@davidveselenak) on Jul 30, 2018 at 2:19pm PDT

Despite finishing the portages for the day, we weren't done with getting out of the canoes. The way out of Lilypad Lake took us through a river, the narrowest portion of the trip. There, we encountered a five-foot-tall beaver dam, one that had clearly been worked on for decades. Write-ups from the early 2000s describe the dam, indicating it had been a part of that river for a while.

With the dam built up, it made it easy to lift over it and into the canal to Lower Mace Lake. It took the two of us to slide the canoe across the dam and down into the shallow water before we could head out. It was one of my personal highlights of the trip; I had done liftovers on previous trips through marshes, but never such a large dam. It certainly beat taking everything out and portaging it around.

The stream then led to Lower Mace, where we encountered more wind and waves, the most since Ten Mile Lake. A quick paddle across the large lake led us to a campsite on the rocks where views of the moon couldn't be beat.

Friday

Lower Mace Lake at night.

The last two days were shorter in distance, with plenty of members eager to wrap the trip up. We woke up, packed and headed out across Lower Mace (which was not nearly as picturesque as its upper counterpart) to the longest portage of the trip.

This portage was more than 600 meters and had plenty more rocks and hills. Going through the thick woods led to the army of mosquitoes swarming more than usual, especially under the shelter of the canoes as we carried them on our backs. After an ample portage, slick with plenty of rocks, we emerged onto Claim Lake, a pretty little lake that would have looked nicer had it not been so cloudy.

The campsite on Claim Lake.

A fast paddle across, hampered by incoming wind that would howl later that night, led us to the best campsite of the trip. Perched on top of rocks, the site had a great view of the lake and plenty of space to spread out the tents. It even had a area shielded by rocks that made for a great kitchen that kept the wind at bay.

Saturday

The last day had some of the biggest challenges facing us.

We could see the final portage of the trip from our Claim Lake campsite, a paddle of all but five minutes. The challenge came on land for this trip.

We had planned it specifically in case we wanted to avoid this portage, which spanned roughly 1,400 meters. It's the longest one I've done, and one of the longest the group has ever done in its 30-something year history. We had originally planned to duck out the same way we came originally from Upper Mace Lake, but that portage between Upper Mace and Swamp Lake killed any desire. We opted to take our chances with the long portage.

It paid off. With all our food packs empty, carrying gear down the trail was tiring but simple. About 25 minutes after departing, we arrived back at Dunlop Lake. Dropping our bags, we made the trek back and began carrying canoes, which felt extremely light at this point. Stopping just once each time, we carried all the canoes to the shores of Dunlop Lake and spotted the cottages that dotted the shoreline.

Being in the woods for a week and away from all things worldly was an experience, and led us to come to some wild conclusions about what had happened in the world since we left. There were plenty of times we'd joke about situations, though one thought I had was whether the Queen of England, well into her 90s, had possibly died while in one of her commonwealths. That feeling was negated as soon as we saw Canadian flags at cottages flying at full staff. It was my first indication that something (or rather, nothing) had happened while we enjoyed the woods.

Back at the boat launch for Dunlop Lake. My canoeing partner,
Christian, relaxes.

An hour across Dunlop Lake led us back to the vehicles which we had left a week earlier. Waters remained calm, something we benefited from as the lake was larger and susceptible to waves.


It was a trip I hadn't done in 11 years, and was nervous at the prospect of doing something like this again. It began rough with some balancing issues in the canoes, which made me fear the worst. After a simple fix, we headed out for a trip that, nearly a month later, I want to return to.

The wilds of Canada remind me plenty of northern Michigan, but so much more desolate. Barely seeing anyone for a week was always my goal, and while it's difficult to leave the real world for such a timeframe, it's a trip I'll continue to treasure and remember forever.

Testing out my new GoPro on the disc golf course in Grand Rapids

In preparation for a big canoe trip I'm taking in less than two weeks (one that, despite taking place in Canada, will probably find its way onto this site), I bought a GoPro camera. I'll be away without a cellphone and my SLR is too large to carry for the weeklong trip, so I opted to go for the tiny action camera.

To get ready and learn how to use it, I brought it with me to Grand Rapids last weekend. My wife and I typically go to Lake Michigan at least once a year to swim, and while there, ended up playing a round of disc golf with my sister and a few of her friends. I decided that was the perfect opportunity to test this little device out.

If you haven't played disc golf before, it's quite the game. It's as simple as it sounds, and can be challenging at times, though not on the holes we played. You can learn a little more about the game in this story written by one of my colleagues. We played 11 holes on the 18-hole course at Cascade Township Park, opting mostly for the wide-open holes with longer distances.

I'm still looking for advice on how to best utilize this little camera, a GoPro Hero 5, for a weeklong canoe trip in the backwoods of Canada. If you have any advice, please let me know!

A gloomy day at Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore

The look over Glen Lake from the top of the first dune in the dune climb at Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore.

Waking up to the sound of raindrops on your tent is never a nice surprise.

Doing so Saturday morning while waking up in the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore wasn't my ideal vision of that day, but I had had worse (see 2017 Warren Dunes entry). But after some mid-morning raindrops, the skies dried and a day of haze and clouds awaited us.

A structure at the Maritime
Museum.

I spent this past weekend in Michigan's northwest corner on a spring outing with the youth group I am a leader of. After dropping our gear at the Platte River Campground, we headed out in the morning to see the sights all around the lakeshore.

While there was some rain, it cleared up in the morning, leaving Lake Michigan a hazy shadow. After trying to check out the Maritime Museum in the morning (to no avail; the museum doesn't open until Memorial Day), we headed to the spot most people think of when Sleeping Bear comes to mind: the dune climb.
throughout the day. After trying to stop in at the

I've climbed that dune several times in my life, and I always forget just far it it truly is to the waterfront. You climb the main dune starting at the base of the parking lot, thinking you'll be led to a beautiful overview of the lake. Not so. At the top of that dune is ... more dunes. You look out and see plenty more sand to trek before making it to your destination.

The Cottonwood Trail, a 1.5-mile loop.

Despite not seeing the lake on this specific climb, peaking at the plateau of the dunes is an impressive sight, and being from Michigan can jade you a little from admiring the majesty of them. A young man in the group moved to Michigan from Liberia last summer, and has gone on a few trips with us. He marveled at the dunes, continuously sending photos of them back to his friends. Seeing this young man impressed by something I've visited several times before made me realize just how special they truly are.

After an exhausting truly fun dune climb, we headed out to the trails for a hike. We headed to the Cottonwood Trail, a simple, 1.5-mile trek around the dunes and through the grasslands. This is a fairly simple hike, though does have some elevation changes and sand to trek through, so bring your best boots to move efficiently. The peak of the looping trail actually overlooks the dune climb and Glen Lake, which provides for some breathtaking views. It's not a bad hike, though it would have been better had the sun decided to come out.

As for the Platte River Campground, it's a nice group area, though parking can be challenging if sites are full like they were last weekend. You do have to walk all your gear to the site, but they are spacious and wide open, with pads for tents. Not a bad spot, I'd camp there again.

Sleeping Bear Dunes is large, so it's difficult to hit everything up in a weekend. Add on the Manitou islands and it's plenty to explore. But hiking up a dune climb hit just the spot on a gloomy Saturday in northwest Michigan. If you're in the Traverse City area, be sure to hit it up.

Dune hike.

The dunes in northwest Michigan are spectacular.

A cold and blustery (but not snowy) day on the Leelanau Peninsula

Even without sun, the  shores of Lake Michigan are beautiful, especially on the Leelanau Peninsula.

April is not a typical month to go up north for most people. My wife and I are, admittingly, not most people.

So we decided to head to Traverse City, a place neither of us had much of a memory of being at for years. I last was there covering the Special Olympics Winter Games in college for the newspaper and for class, so it was time to return. We decided to celebrate our wedding anniversary up north doing as much "up north" things as possible.

The biggest adventure took us to the tip of the Leelanau Peninsula, where we spent part of our day visiting the Grand Traverse Lighthouse and Leelanau State Park, a small park at the tip of the peninsula. Here, we discovered not many people spend a Saturday in mid-April at the beach, as we were the only visitors around lunchtime.

We walked to the rocky beach, covered in wonderful stones for skipping, and spent out time admiring the rough waters of Lake Michigan. It's not a large beach, which you are reminded of if you walk too far to the west: a sign stating a wildlife conservancy meets you and warns against entering private property. Along this beach is the light that continues to shine over the waters, as the Fresnel lens and any form of light source has been pulled from the tower.

The Grand Traverse Lighthouse, built in 1858 and
decommissioned in 1972.

After scouring the grounds, we discovered there were people inside the lighthouse as well as the gift shop. After speaking with them, we find out their volunteer keepers there for the week, tending the grounds and running the gift shop on a volunteer basis. They've traveled all the way from West Virginia to do this, and have done it multiple times. They told us they've fallen in love with the lighthouse and can never get enough. I may have found my new favorite hobby, if I can snag a week off work in the future.

I remember vaguely visiting the point when I was very young, but never setting foot in the lighthouse. That changed Friday, as we climbed in and went back in time to see the old lighthouse keepers items, stoves and other memorabilia. I've seen lighthouse museums before, but it always fascinates me to go back in time before they all got decommissioned by the Coast Guard (This one was decommissioned in 1972).

The view from atop the lighthouse was well worth the price of admission. With no light in the tower, there's room for 2-3 people to admire the view of Lake Michigan all around. Someone had even painted a diagram of what points were which if you looked out. One was the Manitou island, etc. Of course, we couldn't see much since we didn't see the sun all weekend.


If you're on the Leelanau Peninsula wine tasting, make the trek north to the tip for some wonderful views. It doesn't take long and the water is breathtaking to view, especially from a lighthouse tower. How often does one get to do that?