Adventures Near Lake Superior: October 28-29, 2009

October 28, 2009

Visiting Shingleton and Munising, MI

I was dropped off by Nancy by Prairie Creek in the dark and cold at 7 am. Nancy looked anxious as she drove off, worried that she was leaving me in the dark at the edge of a swamp in Upper Michigan. Prairie Creek was not far from Star Creek, where I had seen the wolf. As I walked off in the pitch black I tried to keep my imagination at bay and not think of what was in the woods to either side of the road. I was glad I was at the end of the Seney Stretch and that Shingleton was just a few miles away.

The sky began to lighten with dawn, but thick mist lay between the stunted grey pines of the swamp. Their branches and twigs looked like clawed fingers trying to clutch at the meager light and bring life back to the trees. The sound of dogs barking let me know that Shingleton was ahead. Off to the left hand side of the road I saw a dead animal, which looked different from the more usual deer that I had become accustomed to seeing. In the growing light I moved closer and saw that it was either a wolf or coyote. As I walked up to it I could see that it wasn’t large enough for a wolf, but it was a big coyote, with thick winter fur.

A Different Place This Time

Back in 1988 I had staggered, hungry, hot and dehydrated into Shingleton after walking 28 miles through the Seney Stretch, being hounded by mosquitos. On a cold and misty morning I felt much happier and healthier. I took a photo of the grocery store where I had sat on an upturned crate and drank an ice cold coke. Twenty one years later it was like being in a totally different place.

Munising was around ten miles on from Shingleton. The mists lifted, but the sky stayed grey. By Alger Falls I watched the water cascading down over rocks by the roadside. Logging trucks rumbled on by and on the hill to the West of Munising flame red leaves still covered the maples.

A sign outside Munising proclaimed it to be the Snowmobiling Capital of America, except that the capital C for capital was missing… the irony of that made me chuckle. On a side road a guy was cleaning his truck using water from a fire hydrant, I imagine he was checking the fire hydrant and thought he’d take the opportunity to wash his dirty truck at the same time. It was peculiar seeing the huge jet of water spraying all over the road.

A Brief Chat with a Family Member of a Hospice Patient

The North Woods Home Care and Hospice office was on Superior Street, with a huge sign painted on the side of a white building. I walked on in and was met by nurses and hospice office staff. The plan had been that I would meet up with a man who was being helped by hospice, but it turned out that he had to go out of town that day. As we were talking about this, though, the man turned up at the office. We had a short conversation about hunting and my walk and what hospice meant to him. He was grateful that hospice nurses and nurse’s aides would come to his home to help take care of his mother, who was in her nineties. That day he was going to visit his brother, once the hospice staff arrived to take care of his mother. It was good to hear about the support that hospice was giving.

My talk with the man was brief. He didn’t want me to take his picture or be mentioned by name, but it was good to meet him all the same. He made a donation to hospice and wished me luck.

“Cheers”—aka The Falling Rock Café

At about 6 pm we drove back to the Falling Rock Café. Three people were playing folk music, on accordion, violin and a keyboard: their names were Sue Robishaw, Steve Schneck, and Rochelle Schuster. The Café was a venue for local bands and also something of a community center in Munising. Supporters of the Falling Rock Café had their own personal mugs with their names hanging up on a wall. The café also had 50,000 books on shelves and in the basement that were available through the Internet. It was an interesting place, with a welcoming feel to it… it felt a lot like the bar in Cheers, where locals would drop by to chew the fat and spend time together.

I sat at a table, where Nancy introduced me to a North Woods Hospice nurse named Julie Diesenroth and a woman named Pat, whose mother had been helped by hospice. We were also joined by a man with a beard called Dave Shields, who came from England. Dave worked as an engineer at a plant near Munising. A woman who sold popcorn at the café, called Norma Harger, also joined us at the table. I talked about my walk and experiences along the way. It was good to chat with Dave about England, too. Pat said she was grateful for the help that hospice had given her when her mother was ill.

My backpack was set on a chair with a basket and a sign for donations to hospice. A number of people in the café put money into the basket.

While I was at the café a couple called Dr. and Mrs. Fahrbach came in. I had stayed with them in Munising back in 1988. Dr. Fahrbach was now in his eighties, but still working. It was good to see them again.

Nancy joined us, too. I asked about CDs from local bands and Nancy gave me a CD by a young woman called Victoria Vox and a man who sang folk songs about the Great Lakes, whose name was Carl Behrend.

By 9 pm the band stopped playing and the evening wound down. I said goodbye to the people in the café and Nancy drove us back to the Falling Rock Lodge. There was a guestbook for the lodge and I spent some time, writing in the guestbook to thank Nancy and drawing a picture of the wolf on rail tracks by Star Creek. Having met good people, heard good music and eaten food, it had been a good day.

October 29, 2009

Retracing Steps, Bald Eagles, Scott Falls

On a cold and misty morning I was dropped off on the corner of Superior Street and Highway 28 in Munising. I hugged Nancy, said goodbye and was then back on the road.

Fog filled the bay by Lake Superior, but as I walked out of town it began to lift. I took a photo of the sun showing through clouds over Lake Superior. The high school on the edge of town had been closed due to swine flu. I was glad that I hadn’t picked up swine flu in England or back in Lower Michigan, but it looked as if it was everywhere that I was walking through. I wondered if it was only a matter of time before I did get the flu.

Beyond Munising were the small towns of Christmas and Au Sable. At Christmas there was a giant cut-out wooden Santa and a gift shop selling Christmas gifts year round.  There was also a casino in Christmas, which hadn’t been there 20 years ago.

Route 28 swung through hills and then back towards Lake Superior. Scott Falls by the roadside was a beautiful little waterfall that had eaten a small horse-shoe out of the rock. Apparently it was a favorite place for people to either walk behind or even take a shower under in warmer weather.

By Scott Falls there was a roadside park and a yellow sandy beach. I walked up to the beach with my camera out. My foot had just touched the yellow sand when two large birds took off right in front of me. They were dark brown with white heads and white tails… and were huge. Two bald eagles, they were a beautiful sight as they flew off over the flat silvery surface of Lake Superior.

Walking to the Shauvers’ House

Julie Diesenroth had given me directions for how to reach the home of Becky Shauver. Becky was a nurse, who was now in an administrative position at Lake Superior Hospice in Marquette. The plan was that I would stay at Becky’s house near Shelter Bay for the next four nights, during my visit to Lake Superior Hospice.

As I walked towards the turnoff of Old Route 28 from 28, Julie Diesenroth stopped in her car to say hello. She had just been up at Becky Shauver’s house, where Becky’s mother-in-law Dorothy was cooking pasties [Editor’s note: a Michigan specialty] for supper. My walk would have me at Becky’s house for about 4.30 pm, which would work out fine for supper. Julie was starting a new job as a nurse at Lake Superior Hospice in Marquette in just a few days time. She wished me luck and said she would see me in Marquette.

I took the turnoff onto Old Route 28 and wended my way between trees. Off to my right was Shelter Bay. I watched the numbers of the few houses grow less, until I stood outside Becky Shauver’s house.

I tried to phone to let Becky know I was there, but couldn’t get a signal. There was no doorbell, so I knocked on the front door. Inside a dog started barking. I groaned… another dog. Luckily the door opened and a lady in her seventies or eighties stood there with a smile. I introduced myself and the lady told me she was Becky Shauver’s mother-in-law: Dorothy.

In no time I was sitting at the kitchen table drinking apple cider and talking to Dorothy. I had to use the bathroom, and, as I was, I heard a man’s voice in the kitchen.

“John, I’ve got a man corralled in the bathroom!”  I heard Dorothy say. Dorothy had a wry sense of humor.

As the pasties cooked and the kitchen filled with a beautiful smell I talked to John Shauver. He was an interesting character, who appeared to be grumpy, or at least mildly pissed off, but I soon worked out that was mostly a façade. John had worked in bioremediation: using bacteria and plants to clean up toxic waste, oil spills and the like. I told John about walking through downtown Detroit and he told me stories of when he had worked in Detroit. As fast as they had put steel fences up to protect people from toxic waste, the steel fences were stolen. He also told me how they would come back to their trucks to find bullet holes in them. He had been glad when he had been moved out of Detroit. We also talked politics, about President Obama, Iraq and Afghanistan. Putting the world to rights, and getting us nowhere, it was good to talk, all the same.

Crazy Fundraising Ideas!

Becky came home about 5 pm and we ate the wonderful pasties. After dinner Becky and I sat and talked about fundraising ideas for hospice. I told Becky about the midnight walk I had taken part in back in Manchester: there a 1000 women had paid $18 each to walk through the city at midnight in their pajamas, as one of the few men there it had certainly been a sight for me. Cheekily I suggested a calendar of ‘Hunters for Hospice’, with pictures of naked hunters, armed only with their weapons. I also suggested a polar plunge, with people jumping into the icy waters of Lake Superior. I wondered, too, whether they could arrange a concert, using local bands that played at the Falling Rock Café. A final suggestion was that they could organize an Octoberfest in July, with beer, food and music.

Becky was wonderful to talk to. She had been a hospice nurse for many years and was now involved in administration of Lake Superior Hospice. She had a peaceful, thoughtful air about her. I was glad that I would be staying with this family for the next four nights.

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