Because why not start in a thunderstorm? We had been busy doing errands to all morning and evening was approaching as we pulled up to the trailhead. Thunder rumbled in the distance. "Are we going to be okay?" my mom asked. "Yeah we'll be fine. It's still far away," I assured her. But I didnt want to waste time. I hastily emptied my pack of all the heavy things so I had a light load on the trek to the northern terminus of the Superior Hiking Trail. We had to hike a mile North to get to the beginning, a 270 degree overlook, before turning and officially starting the thruhike South.
I took off down the trail walking quickly, my mom trailing behind. It was going to rain, there was no doubt about that. It was only matter of when. I was determined to be back at the car before I got too wet. After a quick mile, I made it to the overlook, just as the rain started to fall. I scolded myself for leaving both my umbrella and rain jacket in the car. The only two items I actually needed had been tossed aside mindlessly. Thunder rolled overhead. It was getting louder as it approached, and I started getting nervous that we would be in the thick of it by the time my mom arrived. I took some quick photos and waited, getting wetter by the minute. She wasn't too far behind.
When my mom got there she threw off her pack to fish for her pack cover. My frustration grew as she dug through her unorganized pack while I stood there, dripping. I tried to take cover under a thin tree, accepting I had only myself to blame for the situation. I knew my impatience came from stress, as I was worried we were risking getting struck by lightning on the exposed rock. I regained my composure, assuring myself we would be okay, and joined my mom at the 270 degree overlook on the bare rock. A wall of rain was coming from the west. Canada lay to the north. Trees were just starting to turn color. Pretty neat. After a few quick pictures we headed back below tree cover. My nervousness eased as the thunder seemed to abate, and in no time at all we made it back to the car. I happily hopped in and dried off with the hot air blasting on high. It's so nice to have a car one last night. I strumed some tunes on my strumstick, happy to be reunited with this magical instrument before drifting off into a nap. An hour later we woke, rearranged the car, and squirmed into the back to get a good night's sleep before continuing the journey. Rain drummed the roof.
Not a lot happened that first full day. My mom and I kept pace for a while, but when we hit rougher terrain I jumped ahead. My thoughts floated with the footsteps. Apparently I had more to think about than I thought. My pack was uncomfortably heavy, but I finally fell into rhythm. It was the most beautiful time to hike this trail- no bugs, perfect temps, no more rain forecasted, and so so lovely. After 10 miles I stopped and pitched my tent, for we had decided to start out slowly. But after studying the map, I discovered if we camped there we would have either a 9 mile day or an 18 mile day the next day to get to a campsite. When my mom arrived, we agreed to go 4 more miles so the following day would be easier. I packed up and followed her to the new site. A chill settled as we cooked dinner and crawled into our tents.
Remnants of the previous storm brushed us overnight, and I shook out my fly in the frigid morning air. We set off down the trail, shuffling over frosted wooden planks. The airflow under them had encouraged them to freeze. The day was rather uneventful. I talked to some other hikers and we had a blissful stroll on the road. Soon we hit the first of the State Parks. The SHT traveled through several, each boasting a lovely feature or waterfall. I relaxed by the water. Already it hurt to walk. My body had suddenly realized what I was doing, and had started to rebel. "I thought we were through with this!" my achilles screamed, as they pulled stabs of pain with each step. "What are you doing?" my arches threatened to collapse down. "Oh dear," my knees said, dully aching. "Here we go again," my hips and shoulders braced themselves. "I better get ready," my stomach grumbled. My feet yelled in general horror.
I got moving again when my mom came up behind me and we took a moment to admire the rushing water, then cruised to the campground. I ignored the "registered campers only" sign stamped on the shower stall and headed straight in. We would find a site after getting cleaned up. I stank and was gross. The showers were only mildly warm but did the job. Next step: find a site. I walked around, looking for a good open site. "Backpacker!" The host shouted as I passed his site. A ranger sat chatting with him. I waved hello. "What site you in?" He asked. "Well I was looking at 15 and 24," I told him. I had yet to look online to see if they were open or reserved already; service was spotty. The park ranger looked at him. "Umm-" she started. "We are all booked for the night," the host said for her. "Oh!" I exclaimed, glad I had gotten a shower in. "But there is a backpacker site over there," he continued, pointing to an unmarked site I had been eying. "Sweet! How do I pay for it?" I asked. "Well, there is a song and dance you have to memorize and perform..." he started. I played along, hoping to hear the word "free." The ranger shook her head in amusement. "Its $20," she cut in, "fill out the envelope at the self service kiosk." Bummer. I parted ways with some of my limited cash.
Later that evening, my mom and I looked at the map. We had planned to stop in Grand Maris for a resupply, but if we were careful we could bypass it and make it to our first food drop a few days later. I knew I'd be hungry the last few days but agreed. Who needs calories anyway?
Sleepy, I stumbled away from the campground, thankful I was only half awake and crushing miles. A section of trail traverses the pebbly beach along Lake Superior at the lowest point in the trail. It was fun, though slow. My mom and I punched our way through the loose pebbles; every step took double effort. But the sun was warm and the air was cool. Lake Superior smiled at us from the west. Leaving the beach, we headed into the hills. The trail became tougher, and I took a break on a ridge, laying on the soft reindeer lichen and watching the clouds. The smell of the North Woods drifted on the breeze. Continuing on, my pace slowed as my feet hurt. I strung up my hammock to wait for my mom. She came up a half hour later. "Are you hurting at all?" I asked her, massaging my poor feet. "Hmm.." she had to think about it, "well I have a blister on my toe... And my shoulder hurts a bit," she added. I gawked. Really? How could my 60+ year old mother be holding up better than me?
I rested a bit more as she continued on, then on refreshed legs I took off for the campsite. I set up camp, scarfed down dinner, and then looked forlornly into my food bag, still hungry. This was a familiar scene: We had 2.5 days to go and I only had a few snacks left. I'd for sure be hungry for the next few days. I decided if I was already going to be hungry in the future I might as well be full now, so chose a pack of crackers to demolish.
We made good time in the morning. The trail was lovely and relatively mild terrain. Clouds were building as I came to a parking lot overlooking the Lake. The wind picked up and temps dropped. I pulled out my rain jacket. A man and his wife hopped out of a car. The woman was clearly well prepared for the short hike they had planned. The man only wore a flannel. "Must be nice to have a windbreaker," he nodded to my jacket. Must be nice to have a car, I thought. It wasnt supposed to rain for a few more hours so my mom and I continued down the trail. I made it to the highway where I could go into Grand Maris and get food; it was only 2.5 miles away. That had been the original plan. But I could get by without. I was leaning toward moving on up the trail when my mom caught up. She didnt feel like she needed to go to town and wanted to get to camp early, so I would be going by myself. I should probably skip a town trip. If I couldn't get a hitch out I would have to walk all the way back, I reasoned. But I couldn't let town go that easy. I looked up the nearest restaurant. Only 1.5 miles away. Well that changed things. If I couldn't get a hitch back to the trailhead it was only a 1.5 mile walk instead of 2.5. That mile made a big difference. I thumbed thought he restaurant menu. All I had eaten that day was a Clif bar and a kids applesauce pouch, and had already burned over 800 calories. My tummy grumbled.
I had been at the roadside long enough. It was time to make a decision. I stared longingly down the road. What to do, what to do. Hitching to town promised adventure- an interesting ride, delicious food, a pack heavy with resupply, and likely a hike in the rain to a full campground. Hiking, on the other hand, promised hunger and the challenge of self- control. My mom wasn't worried about our dwindling food supply. She was confident we had more than enough to get to the next stop. But she ate like a squirrel. No, I take that back. Squirrels eat a lot. She ate like a frog (Who had actually ever seen a frog eat in real time?). Or maybe a snake. They only eat once a week or so. Anyway, I digress. I had calculated my rations. I only had enough for one granola bar for breakfast, a meager amount of cheese and crackers for lunch, a half serving of dinner and one fruit snack each day. Town promised adventure and food. Hiking promised challenge. I took one last look at the road, and begrudgingly turned and headed up the trail. I would take the challenge.
I was lost in though about how stupid heavy my pack was for such little food I was carrying when I looked up and saw a massive moose blocking my way. I froze. Black bears dont worry me; they can be scared away. But moose are territorial and can kill without a second thought. And this guy was HUGE. He seemed pretty confident he would win in a battle. I was confident he would too, so I slowly backed away to give him space. I stood camouflaged in the tall grass, watching him. He stood there for a few minutes, wondering where I went (mooses have terrible eyesight) before turning and trotting up the trail. I retreated further and sat down to wait for my mom. That way she knew to be on the lookout. We didnt see him again.
It rained, and I made it to camp, pitched my tent, and quickly crawled inside, cranky. It was a gentle rain, but still wet, and I dont fancy being wet. My mom arrived later, along with some other campers. The rain stopped and a fire was built. We had a pleasant evening in good company.
It seemed like the world had shifted into an advanced stage of fall overnight. Instead of the occasional color patches as before, trees were changing colors everywhere. I crunched through the red maple leaves that scattered across the ground. I made it to the section of trail where I had led my first backpacking trip with Outward Bound four years ago. It was a walk down memory lane. There was where I had placed nervously, waiting dir the students to arrive, there was the first campsite I had ever stayed at on the SHT, there is where we played a game, and there is where we taught first aid. It was a beautiful yet tough section. The trail descended steeply to the Cascade River, and wound through old cedar groves. Thick roots knotted over the path. I stopped until my mom caught up and we ate lunch then continued on. We chatted with some friendly folks out for a day hike. The trail was busy, it being a weekend in a State Park.
I dashed ahead for the second half of the day to secure a campspot. We didn't know how crowded it would be. Turns out we were the only ones there. I lay on a fallen cedar over the water, watching the clouds. Life was simple out there. Life was good.
Lutsen Ski Resort the next day was like a slap in the face. We emerged from the quiet trail to a crowded tourist area. People smelled so clean. It made me feel even more dirty and gross as I sat at the picnick table charging my things. We were "hiker trash" as they call it, and I was never more aware of that. The fancy place did not welcome us, but tolerated us. We picked up a resupply package, and organized our things. We were hoping to get some hot food but restaurants were closed until the evening. My mom got moving a bit early to make it to camp, but I waited stubbornly for 5 hours. I was determined to get pizza.
