Someone's Sparrow

Glassy lakes, star-speckled night skies, and looming white pines. McCormick Wilderness felt like a completely different world. Aside from ruins that served as artifacts of past occupation, McCormick was one of the only places that felt like untouched and untainted wilderness. 

My partner and I spent two nights and three(ish) days in McCormick. This was our second excursion into McCormick;  the first was a completely different experience. Our first time out there was with our college’s outdoor recreation club in mid-October. I won’t lie, that trip was miserable. 

October Trip

Our first day was a day of borderline hypothermia and constant rain. We hiked out to a campsite on White Deer Lake, about 3.5 miles along one of the established trails and about another 3 miles of bushwhacking to a campsite on the north end of the lake. It was one of those moments in backpacking where I felt like I was in survival mode – we set up camp in a downpour, attempted to warm up with a struggling campfire, and went to sleep damp and shivering. 

The second day was also an experience (to say the least). Because McCormick Wilderness is a true blue wilderness area, most of our trip was spent bushwacking off-trail. It was here that I discovered my life-long hatred for bushwhacking, it was here that I learned to draft haikus in my head instead of crying after being thwacked in the eyeballs by a tree branch for the millionth time. The second day wasn’t all bad – we hiked out to Yellow Dog Falls, which is one of the most magnificent waterfalls I’ve seen in the UP. But it was also one of the longest days I’ve ever weathered in the backcountry. We hiked for around 13 miles in 10 hours – and bushwhacking miles are five times more challenging than trail miles. I was cooked. We narrowly made it to our campsite before dark, not before our hike leader accidentally led us up the wrong cliff. Other highlights (lowlights?) of that night included my best friend and I arguing over where to put the goddamn tent, my JetBoil breaking, pooping outside for the first time, and someone holding out their dirty underwear on a stick over the campfire in a sad attempt to dry them out. 

By the third day, I was more than ready to high tail it out of there. It was slow going again, but we made time for snack stops along some pretty cool viewpoints. McCormick has a knack for being punishing and gorgeous at the same time, right when you least expect it. And so it ended, after what seemed like an eternity of being cranky, hungry, damp, and on the brink of insanity. I never thought I ever wanted to go back until my partner and I were looking for a short backpacking trip to do in late August before classes geared up again. 

August Trip 

Which brings us to August! Albeit a poorly planned, whirlwind of a trip, it turned out beautifully. We hopped in my Subaru and made the hour and a half drive to Michigamme. We made it there around 3:30, then hiked about 3.5 miles into White Deer Lake from the trailhead. Part of why McCormick is so special is its history, whose chapters of history can be observed in little pockets dispersed around the area. Originally, it was a logging hub. Overgrown logging roads shoot off from the main trail, almost imperceptibly. The area was once held by Cyrus McCormick and his family, who were alleged members of the infamous Huron Mountain Club. Ruins of the McCormick estate seem to be everywhere. Stone foundations, bricks, metal pipes, and various other artifacts appear where you least expect it. It was a lot of fun trying to piece together a narrative of what life looked like once upon a time before the wilderness returned to wilderness. 

We bushwhacked a little further from the trail to a campsite that people had made before us. It had a nice fire ring, makeshift stools from brick scattered about the landscape, and a prime view of the lake. That night’s sunset dipped behind the trees, giving way to a clear night sky with countless stars. We made the executive decision to sleep with the rainfly off: high risk, high reward. It was worth it to feel the sun on my face when we woke up in the morning. 

The second day we decided to hike out to Lake Margaret, about 2 miles away. I was yet again reminded of why I hate bushwhacking. It was high up there on the misery scale; we trekked through thick wetlands and intense undergrowth. As I write this now, I am glancing down at my arms and legs. I look like I’ve been sent through a woodchipper with how many scrapes and scratches are on my body. After two hours and some cuss words later, we finally made it to the lake. And it was gorgeous! I haven’t figured out the exact balance between the misery and suffering you have to endure to make the final destination more special. We scarfed down our lunch and dodged swarms of black flies, then jumped in the water to swim out to a rocky island near shore. We enjoyed what I like to call lizard time, where we bask in the sun on a warm rock. The only drawback of this island was the ant colony, who didn’t take too kindly to our occupation of their habitat. Those little guys have some vicious pincers and tend to migrate up the butt. After a while of lizarding, we made the arduous journey back to camp yet again. Side note: we saw lots of moose poop when we were out bushwhacking. 

Of course, McCormick decided to humble us yet again. I woke up to my partner alerting me of thunder and we quickly threw the rainfly on the tent. That morning, a huge thunderstorm hit right where we were. The hike out was a bit treacherous, but the sun came out right as we came upon the trailhead. Misery and beauty. The scales were reset. 

This past McCormick trip was one that I’ll hold close to my heart. It was nearly perfect, and not nearly long enough. It felt like we were the only two people on an uncharted Earth. It was a beautiful sanctuary for a while, but it was time to return back to the present age.