The One with the Megastorm

With the bug situation spoiling Rob’s plans for fishing at the campground, we pivoted into Plan B – several small outings. First up, the Ontonagon Lighthouse, where we could climb all the way to the top!!! This lighthouse was in operation from 1866 to 1963 and was occupied by keepers and their families. The most incredible thing about this lighthouse is that nearly everything is out in the open: books, games, kitchen tools, etc. Hardly anything is under glass. It makes it so that you get a feel for what life might have been like for the keepers and the families living there. The Ontonagon Historical Society ensures that history is preserved so future generations can understand the logging, farming, mining, marine, and social life of the area.

Much to our delight, we were able to look around the lighthouse on our own and even climbed the spiral staircase all the way up to the light! The lighthouse had a 5th order fresnel lens, which is perfect for bays and harbors. It ‘s beam is visible for 10-15 nautical miles. The lens is not located at the lighthouse, but rather at the Museum in downtown Ontonagaon. Given its delicate nature, visitors would not be allowed up to the top of the lighthouse if the fresnel lens was still in place.

Heading back to the park, we stopped for lunch at the Porkie’s Outpost before droving to the Lake of the Clouds Overlook. Several trails lead to Lake of the Clouds, but they are full-day hikes, which we had no intention of doing. From the overlook’s viewing deck, we saw stunning vistas over the lake and the surrounding forests. We saw several hikers loaded up with packs for hiking into some of the park’s backcountry campsites which are only accessible by hiking. I don’t think I will ever be an overnight hiker. Spending time outdoors and sleeping there are two very different experiences.

Next, we chose one of the park’s interactive trails: the Nonesuch Mine Trail. This trail leads to the Nonesuch Falls and takes you by the remains of buildings from an old mining town. The park has not tried to preserve these buildings, but rather has allowed to forest to reclaim the land, with nature overtaking the crumbling stone walls and new growth sprouting from cracks in the foundations. It was hard to tell what the buildings may have been used for, but their impressive size and dilapidated state gave the trail an eerie vibe. When the trail opened up into a rocky clearing, we were able to see the Nonesuch Falls before heading back to the trailhead.

By the time we reached our final destination for the day, the Summit Peak Trail, the sky had clouded over, providing some much needed relief from the heat and humidity. This trail is only about a mile out and back, but is steep and includes about 200 stairs on a wooden boardwalk leading up to a 50-foot observation tower. This is the highest point in the Porcupine Mountains at around 2,000 feet. By the time we got to the top of the observation tower, we were rewarded with a light breeze. On our way to the parking area, we passed a group of about eight men who were hiking into the area with their tents, sleeping bags, and fishing gear strapped to their backs. By the time we reached the end of the wooden boardwalk, the temperature had dropped about 20 degrees. And by the time we exited the woods, the wind was gusty, and the sky had darkened to a steely gray.

No sooner had we turned onto the main road back to the Presque Isle Rustic Campground, then the rain began. Not just a little rain – buckets of rain pelted the Mini and the trees swayed ominously overhead. It’s terrifying how quickly the storm came in and how powerful it was. With no cell service out of range of our camper, we could not receive any weather alerts for hours. The 12-mile ride back to the campground seemed to take hours. A tree hung low across the main road and we had to decide whether or not to drive under it (we did). The sides of the road flooded and branches and other debris littered the roadway. Even driving slowly and carefully, we ran over several branches, which didn’t seem like a big deal in all the chaos of this journey.

But it was a big deal. The Mini’s engine overheated, requiring us to pull over and let it cool down about three miles from our campground. It took us nearly an hour to make it the rest of the way back to our camper – starting and stopping every 50-100 feet to ensure the engine wouldn’t seize. We were able to coast in neutral with the engine off for a bit and finally made it back to our campsite in the torrential downpour.

If you followed our Glacier trip last year, you might remember that the Jeep’s engine failed, resulting in catastrophic damage that required us to replace it. So, this event triggered flashbacks of this time last year. When the rain stopped, Rob braved the hordes of flies and popped the hood to the Mini to find that there was absolutely no fluid in the radiator. It is likely that one of the branches in the road cut or punctured a hose, causing the fluid to leak out.

At the end of the day, we are hopeful that the damages to the Mini are not catastrophic. Once again, we will be towing an undriveable car home with us from vacation. What are the odds? We are thankful that we were not on the mountain when the storm began and that we avoided being struck by falling tree limbs as we drove. We read about the storm online and it seems that the area was pretty damaged and 2,000 people remain without power. I know that the hikers we passed entering the woods were well prepared and have likely endured many a storm out on the trails, but I wished for their safety just the same.

Tomorrow we will leave the Porcupine Mountains, and while it’s been fun, I believe I am ready to go.