WE’VE OWNED two pop-up campers during the twenty years we were raising our family and if memory serves, I was responsible for parking it at a campsite exactly four times. On each of those occasions, I swore I would make sure I could drive through the site I was parking in so that I didn’t have to try to back the camper into place. Likewise, was my desire for pulling up to a pump at a gas station while pulling the popup behind me. At all costs, I would choose a pump that didn’t require me maneuvering the camper.
I told my friend, Jan, about these necessities as we pulled out to begin our journey to the eastern side of the Upper Peninsula to meet five of our friends at the Lake Michigan Campground in the Hiawatha National Forest. We chatted all the way to Munising where I planned to fill up the truck. Spotting a gas station, I pulled in, completely ignoring my rules, and thus began the first of several camper adventures that weekend. I was afraid we were going to have another when, upon arriving at the campground, we discovered none of the few sites open in the early season were of the pull-through variety. Happily, the campground host was there to help me back the camper into the site next to him. The rest of the day was spent exploring the dunes, playing in the water, and hiking around the campsite.
Saturday, the seven of us packed up and drove to DeTour to catch the Drummond Island Ferry. We set our sights on visiting two natural geologic destinations: the Maxton Plains Alvar Preserve and the beach on the island known for its ledges of rock containing fossils.
“Alvar” is a Swedish term used to describe dry grasslands found on limestone pavements. The Maxton Plains Alvar Preserve is one of four natural regions in the world where receded glaciers created this geologic phenomena. The limestone literally looks like man-made roads. The fossil beach escarpment we were looking for contains the remains of a saltwater coral bed, circa 450 million years ago, and the marine creatures that once lived in the warm, shallow sea that covered this part of the eastern U.P.
We found the alvar easily enough and marveled at its composition, but the ledges were harder to locate. There are directions online and we had a detailed map so we eventually found our way there. We spent hours wandering the shoreline, wondering at the incongruity of marine fossils on the Lake Huron shore. Embracing the warmth of the May sunshine, we stretched out on the rocks, napped, and picnicked before packing up and making our way back to our campsite.
Enroute, we took a detour to “check out another camping area” inspired by Darcy who, at the time, was the Executive Director at the Upper Peninsula Resource Conservation and Development Council and the coordinator for their Central Lake Superior Invasive Species Elimination project.
We were heading down a dirt road when the lead car made a sudden stop ahead of us. Piling out we were met with a frantic Darcy, throwing open the hatch of her car and grabbing garbage bags. We were each given one and then shown what the invasive species garlic mustard looks like and told to go pull up all we could see. According to the Michigan State Extension Service, garlic mustard was originally introduced in North America by European settlers for its “proclaimed” medicinal properties and use in cooking (break a root or leaf and take a whiff). Unfortunately, because of its invasive habit, garlic mustard is rapidly dominating the Great Lakes forest floor, changing woodland habitat for all that live there. We gathered many garbage bags full of the weed, stuffed them into our vehicles, finally made it to “the other camping area” (which we declared a ruse concocted by our invasive species expert), and then left to go back to the popup..
After a swim and some supper we made a fire down the dune by the water and talked late into the evening. Visiting the lavatory, Candy noted how the campground hadn’t really been cleared of the leaves from last fall and how great the noise was when we walked through them. Somehow our discussion digressed from there to other noises we were hearing and how we were the only ones in the campground. This started a chain of “what ifs” we were busy enumerating when suddenly we heard a bunch of motorcycles turn into the campground. Because we were in Site #1, they passed by our camper. Of course, our imaginations started running wild as we then heard another vehicle pass by on the campground road above us.
“Did anyone lock the camper?” someone asked.
“The handle doesn’t work, remember?” I said, recalling how we had been using a fork to ply the door open and shut all weekend.
“What do we do if we hear something in the middle of the night?” another person inquired.
“We yell that we have a gun!” Kim suggested.
We laughed at the absurdity of that likelihood and then slowly made our way up the hill and to bed.
Settling in, we each made our nest in the popup. With seven women we were pretty tight. We had three on one bed, two on the other, someone on the table and another on the couch. We giggled as we kept “forking the door” to finish up outside before we finally quieted and fell asleep.
It was pitch black and many hours later when we were startled awake by a gigantic boom right next to our camper. We all sat bolt upright, confused and scared. Quick-thinking Kim yelled, “Get the gun!” We were all talking at once, wondering what was happening and if someone was outside.
We kept listening for other noises, our ears bent to the canvas trying to parse out inflections from the leaves rustling in the forest. A few minutes passed and then Pia suggested we go outside and check things out.
“I’ll go,” I said trying to manipulate the door.
“Use the fork!” Karla said.
“Take the gun!” Kim said.
“I’ll go with you!” Candy said.
We crept out and looked around but there was no evidence of anything that might have caused such a disturbance.
Abandoning the search, we went back inside and tried to figure out what on earth had happened. Suggestions were made that one of the bikers had crept up to our camper and smashed it and then ran away, that a tree had fallen, that one of the camper jacks blew out, or that one of us inadvertently dropped something. All of those theories were considered and discarded. I was casting ideas around in my head when I caught sight of the camper stove hidden from view by its collapsible hood.
“I know what happened,” I said. “The hood of the stove fell down!”
We had a good (and relieved) laugh over that and after a while tried to go back to sleep.
Over the years, we’ve had to hunt for solutions for various challenges that arose on our camping outings. But no result has been as entertaining as Kim’s quick-thinking shout, delivered immediately after being jolted from a deep sleep, and successfully defending us girls from a loud stove hood.