The cats romp at 'South Beach' on Lake Superior

Dwight Peck's personal website

Summer 2024

A photographic record of whatever leapt out at us

You may not find this terribly rewarding unless you're included here, so this is a good time for casual and random browsers to turn back before they get too caught up in the sweep and majesty of the proceedings and can't let go.

The cats romp at 'South Beach' on Lake Superior, Michigan UP

30 June 2024: Blasting through Ontonagon (the home of Syl's) on Lake Superior . . .

. . . reason enough to drive two hours north to this 'Village' of 1,272 inhabitants (many of whom line up with the tourists waiting for a table at Syl's, especially for the most remarkable breakfasts probably anywhere).

Excited arrival at the clan getaway known to the family/cognoscenti as 'South Beach', comprising the original cabin (in the centre), the Bunchberry guest cabin, the tool shed recently converted in the Wonderland for any kids who might happen along, and a vile outhouse (it's all perched on bedrock about six miles out of town, so there's no running water).

Lake Superior beaches come and go, and this year's is significantly sandier than last year's.

Choupette is a feline bundle of excitement to be back on the sand.

A vestigial flag, flown aloft by the kids a few years ago

Where has all of last year's driftwood gone? Back out to sea? Under all the new sand?

Choupette's reacquainted herself with overwarmed sand under her tender paws.

Last year the chappies were competing on scrambling up the sand banks, but this year it's not a big attraction, yet.

Choupette investigating the 'Bunchberry' guest cabin (the name of which, if it's meant to have any meaning at all, might refer to the Cornus canadensis, the Canadian bunchberry, aka the crackerberry or creeping dogwood).

The small Wonderland cabin, invented by younger guests a few years ago . . .

. . . with its windows facing onto the lake. (A former playcaller for the family insisted upon stocking up the shed with shotguns and useless snowblowers. That's all over now.)

Cars are for driving us somewhere (but for what else? Right!)

Our first afternoon, fine sun, pleasantly warm, sitting out with our improving books -- just about 24 hours later, we experienced a determined invasion of biting Hell Flies.

The sad old flag, not what it once was (but what, or who, still is?). But in it's day, didn't it fly proudly!!!

Summer 2022

But life goes on, yeah?

And so does Melvin.

When it's time to explore, that's exactly what it's time to do. We'll tag along.

This is the nearest neighbor to 'South Beach', a camp belonging to folks who've been friends of the family for many decades.

This is the little home-away-from-home of a particular friend who passed away a few years ago, and . . .

. . . since then there seems to have been no sign of a presence at the camp. There's a good deal of widely-shared sorrow about that.

A new day

We'll go see what's on the 'shadow docket' for today (we don't really know what that means, but if the US Supreme Court doesn't have to explain themselves, neither do we). It's probably time for the ritual Flintsteel sand hike.

But for starters, that in the distance is Upper Michigan's Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park ['the Porkies'], site of a lifetime of hiking for Kristin and her friends, and of about 28 years' worth for this caption-writer. [Just type 'Porcupine' in the Search box on the home page; lots of wonderful hikes to be seen, some grueling.]

'This 60,000-acres is home to a 35,000-acre old-growth forest, roaring waterfalls, miles of rivers and streams, 90-plus miles of hiking trails, a modern and rustic campground, backcountry camping, the Lake Superior shoreline and more' (source).

Those appear to be eagles in flight, but with this iPhone 13 zoom, that's really just a guess.

Cats awaiting the starting gun for Outdoor Adventures (one of which, however . . .

. . . distressingly enough, involved Choupette emerging out of the woods locked onto the neck of a juvenile rabbit, which was still kicking wildly. Horrible, but this, alas, given our divergent evolutionary paths over millennia, is something that we must just learn to live with.

It might different if the cats could speak English, and we could patiently explain.

Cats going back to their normal activities, blithely.

(We'll put no photos here of the poor deceased little rabbit. But our thoughts and prayers go out to its whole family and all its little friends.)

Like it or otherwise, it's time once again for our obligatory beach-walk to the mouth of the Flintsteel River.

Here, we're off, striding manfully . . . err, striding purposefully.

Nature's minor wonders

At least we've got our hydrobiking sandals on this year -- not so long ago, on this same walk, one of our water shoes came entirely apart. It was a limping nightmare. We tried to tie the sole back on with our belt, which only created another problem.

The appreciation of these driftwoody things may be a learned aesthetic response, but we have it in spades, and sadly, there are fewer along this stretch than we've seen in recent years.

A new generation of beach cottages

We proceed -- eyes peeled into the treetops for the anticipated eagles' nest, which has never failed us.

There he is now! And gone again!

One wonders what lies under that big tooth sticking straight up so prominently. A whale carcass?

What does one do with one's free time on the beach, and not much else around but driftwood?

Impressive beach house; must be nice . . . but cosy little cabins and cottages can frequently have their own charm.

Never made it all the way to the beach. The next horrific Lake Superior storm should help a lot.

We think we're almost there to the Flintsteel, a bit over 1½ miles (2.6km) from the South Beach cottage -- but something looks a little odd this time.

Yeah, it's true -- there appears to be water in the river!

Remarkable -- here's a view from precisely this point at the mouth of the Flintsteel River . . .

. . . of one member of our party in 2021. (We'd renamed it the Flintsteel Lake at that time.)

The Firesteel River is just 1.3km farther along the shore line, a little out of our beach-walking range.

Talk about 'Climate Change'! It's graduated back to being a Happy River again.

Access to the cottages and mini-mansions along the lakeshore is bouncily achieved by a dirt road called the Bear Creek Drive, which, except for one small winding road ('Superior Lane'), just dead ends at the Flintsteel.

So now it's 1½ miles back down the beach again, but actually, our whole world has just changed in a flash of lightning, metaphorically.

More than a billion large biting flies have just appeared from nowhere (actually from offshore [if not directly from Hell]) to harass us all the way home.

All good fun -- but thank the gods if there are any that we've achieved our Flintsteel Hike for another year. We'd might as well pack up the beach chairs and improving books before we're eaten alive or bled dry.

[Other family members who came up a few days later reported that the flies had apparently moved on, or died off.]

5255. 1 July 2024. FLINTSTEEL RIVER. From ‘South Beach’ up much higher sandy shore to wide, flowing Flintsteel (14:08-15:04). Back again, lower back tiring (15:05-15:56). Good weather, bad flies toward the end. 3 miles each way. Walking. With Kristin.

The next day, a venture into downtown Ontonagon to line up for a late breakfast at Syl's.

Good grief. Don't approach him.

You know that a small town's finally found its niche when it can attract the Rock Star Ted Nugent for the bear hunting.

That's not Ted Nugent -- he was here 11 years ago, this guy looks like he's been here much longer than that (wisely, they've chained him up, and hopefully revoked his concealed carry license).

No wait for a table at Syl's today, providentially, though a longish wait at the table. It's an extremely popular place, for seating but also for take-out. The breakfast was better than great.

On the way back to the cottage, we've driven out Lakeshore Drive past the Four Mile Rock turndown to the shore, where our Bear Creek Dr begins, to visit the Flintsteel River upriver. On this bridge, however, we're actually two miles from the river mouth now.

The river's not exactly as crystal clear up this way.

While we're at it, we'll carry on a bit farther, three miles or so north and back out to the shore, for a view of . . .

. . . the mouth of the Firesteel River. Similarly healthy, it seems, this year.

Next up: A bit more fun at 'South Beach' on Lake Superior