Western UP

I thought about stopping at the Crisp Point Lighthouse, some 14 west of Whitefish Point, on Friday afternoon.  But I had a motel reservation at Marquette, a 3-hour drive away.  Besides, the folks at Point Iroquois told me that the Crisp Point Light is accessed by back roads which lead to a sandy two-track which, in turn, leads to a parking area near the beach.  Then you walk down the beach to the lighthouse.  That made Crisp Point a good item for my to-do list for a future trip.

This USCG photo shows the Crisp Point Light in its heyday.
Of the original buildings, only the tower remains.

A Life Saving Station was established at Crisp Point in 1876.  After years of discussion a lighthouse was built here and first lighted in 1904.  This light served mariners until decommissioned by the USCG in 1993.  Wind and water took their toll on the facility.  By the 1990s all buildings save the tower were deemed too deteriorated for restoration and were torn down by the Coasties.  In 1997 shore erosion resulted in Crisp Point being identified as "the most endangered lighthouse in the U.S.A."  Since then the Crisp Point Light Historical Society has worked diligently to control erosion.  It has also built a museum and gift shop building attached to the tower and a separate bathroom building.  I look forward to visiting this light next year.

After spending the night in Marquette, I drove to Ontonagon, gateway to the Porkies and the northern terminus of US-45.  My goal for Saturday was to see the Ontonagon Lighthouse, which is managed by the local historical society.  Through a brewing storm I made my way to the local historical museum to sign up for the 3:30 p.m. tour — only to be told no tours would be offered that day or until the following Tuesday.  Maybe the tour guide was out ill.  Yet no explanation was offered, and it seemed they didn't want to be bothered by this visitor.

The Ontonagon Light from across the river.
So near, yet so far.

Driving from Ontonagon to Mobile would be a great trip!

There's a lesson here.  Hardly anyone gets to Ontonagon (or Presque Isle, for that matter) by accident.  If someone shows up on the basis of information the lighthouse managers have put out for public consumption, then the managers ought to deliver the goods.  Failing to do so leaves a bad taste.

Instead I drove to the Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park.  These mountains, affectionately known as "The Porkies," reminded Native Americans of a crouching porcupine.  Hence the name.  Its location in the far western UP and the rugged terrain kept loggers at arm's distance for many decades.  However, by the 1940s the Porkies' virgin forest was threatened.  Money was raised for purchase of land and, in 1945, the governor signed the law creating this park and preserving its resources for generations to come.

Despite being so far off the beaten path, the park
attracts thousands of visitors through all four seasons.

At nearly 70,000 acres, this is Michigan's largest state park and one of the few wilderness areas remaining in the Midwest.  Much of the park's interior can be accessed only on foot.  However, the crown jewel, Lake of the Clouds, can be seem (if only from afar) by car.  After a stop at the Visitor Center, I drove up to the overlook and found myself in a "wind event."

A winding road takes you up the mountain to the overlook.

According to NOAA, down in Ontonagon, at the level of Lake Superior, the wind blew at a sustained speed of 33 mph with gusts to 44 mph.  Up above Lake of the Clouds you could probably add 15-20 mph to both those figures.  It was really howling!  I could hardly keep the camera steady even when bracing it against a rock wall.  Two professional photographers were shepherding a photo class along the viewing area.  When they posed a group shot, I was drafted to push the shutter button.  It was interesting to watch these folks smiling in the face of this growing squall.  It also led to an informative and helpful chat with one of the pros about camera equipment.

Lake of the Clouds under stormy skies.

Foot trails lead to this bridge across the Carp River.

After awhile I decided to get off the mountain.  The trees along the walk to the parking lot were bending and twisting in the wind.  One had snapped off near the base and was waiting for an opportunity to fall.  Widowmakers are appropriately named!

This wind was just the leading edge of a system moving across Lake Superior that day.  A couple hours later I was in a restaurant in Ontonagon, waiting for my dinner, when the wind increased, torrential rain fell, and the power failed.  Happily, my order was just being finished when the lights went out.  I ate my fish and chips in the near-dark and then headed for my motel. •••