I’m clumsy. Always have been. I move too fast for someone who never learned the art of graceful movement. Anyway, back at Brevoort Lake, I was admiring the inside of a neighbor’s camper van, when I went to step outside and missed the narrow running-board step. Went down like the proverbial sack of potatoes, landing hard on my left side. Knocked the wind clean out of me. The neighbors hovered about for the few minutes it took me to breathe again and get back on my feet. Moe was busy playing with their dog and Russ, packing up the last of our stuff, was oblivious to the drama taking place just yards away.

I got up, got dusted off, and finished hitching up the trailer, drove Russ across the Mackinaw Bridge, and helped him unload at his camp for the night. Then I drove another 60 miles to Otsego Lake, where I planned to stay for a few days until I returned to the shores of Lake Michigan in Ludington (I had to go inland for a bit, as I couldn’t get a campground on the lake over the weekend. Russ, fortunately, can stay at any of the state parks, as they always have tent sites reserved for bicyclists.)

I pretty quickly realized I’d injured something, but it wasn’t too bad—I was able to set up camp and take care of myself if I was careful about how I moved. My brother Jeff, an anesthesiologist and the go-to medical guy in our family, talked it over with me and opined that I had probably bruised some ribs. So I took it easy (no kayaking on a lovely lake, alas) and Moe and I simply relaxed and enjoyed the cooler weather.

And some more spectacular sunsets:

But on my final day, I felt something “pop” and the pain immediately got worse. By the time I made it to Cartier Park Campground in Ludington, my ribs were in agony and I was finding it hard to breathe. Kind campers nearby helped me to unhitch my trailer, and Moe and I headed to the nearest urgent care.

By the time I arrived, I looked and sounded like I’d been shot in the chest. They took one look at me and called an ambulance to take me to the hospital. I was frantic about Moe, out in the car, until a kind and quick-witted nurse fetched him, relocked my car, and told the EMTs he was an emotional support animal and needed to stay with me.

And so he did, all through the next 24 hours, while they determined that I had two broken ribs, and a bruised and swollen lung. A police officer held him while I went for x-rays, nurses walked him and brought him water, and they even asked for extra sausages with my breakfast so he would have something to eat. They offered to find a kennel where he could stay while I was in for observation, I refused, and they found room for me overnight in the ER, where he could stay with me (they would not allow him on the hospital floors). They even brought me a hospital bed: much more comfortable than the gurney I’d been on for several hours.

And so I passed 24 hours in the ER of the Ludington, MI hospital. The next day, after consultation with the doctor, it was decided that I could leave, as there didn’t seem to be much risk of additional lung injury. A solid regimen of pain meds went with me (as did Moe, of course).

I realized I haven’t posted my nature finds recently, so I thought I’d gather up several of the more interesting specimens from across the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

By far the cutest is this 13-lined ground squirrel:

(Full disclosure: not my picture, but an internet image.) About the size of a chipmunk, they live in underground burrows and lack the big cheek pouches of chipmunks. Ain’t they cute? Russ described their stripes as looking like lace. These “golden gophers” are the mascot of the University of Minnesota!

And the tastiest award goes to these Juneberries, also known as serviceberries:

These were all over the place at Brevoort lake. The plants range from shrubs to small trees. I was disappointed to find out that they were already past their season in the lower peninsula, as I’d been happily snacking away on them.

And for my mycologist buddies, a few of my cooler discoveries:

I was puzzled by some mushrooms that I was seeing literally EVERYWHERE along sandy lakeshores around here, until I researched them. Behold the Sand Russula:

The more I learn about fungi, the more fascinating they are. Give them the merest bit of decayed plant matter, and they will sprout (even in sand). Fungi even form neural-like networks under the forest floor. They transmit nutrients and information between plants, acting as an underground “superhighway,” and play a crucial role in the health of forest ecosystems. The mushrooms that we see are the fruiting bodies of these underground networks. Pretty cool, if you ask me.

Brevoort Lake is one of the campgrounds within the Hiawatha National Forest. Lovely campground, but primitive (no showers). Guess I’m becoming spoiled. I was close enough to a put-in that I could walk my kayak to the water’s edge and take off. Moe and I had a lovely paddle the day before Russ caught up with me.

And, thanks to the wildfires in Canada spreading a smoke haze over everything, the sunsets were spectacular!

While we were there, Russ decided we should do the “fudgy” thing and visit Mackinac Island (Michiganers call Mackinac tourists “fudgies” because of the many island fudge shops there—kind of like the Atlantic shore, except this isn’t saltwater fudge). Despite Moe trembling in fear throughout both ferry rides, it was totally worth it. The island is beautiful, and the gardens, of which there are many, were in full bloom.

Mackinac Island was home to one of the first fur trading posts in the area—and the beginnings of the John Jacob Astor fortune.

We climbed the steep hill to the old English fort, but balked at the entrance price, so we walked around the fort, where I saw a sign for “Arch Rock.” That sounded pretty, so we strolled down the trail there, and I got one of the most beautiful pictures of my life:

Dunno how I did that, as I am far from a great photographer.

It was a beautiful day, we all enjoyed walking around and seeing the sites, and we had a delicious lunch at one of the local restaurants, after a very odd discussion about whether Moe was a service animal (necessary to admit him to the patio seating). I finally got the hint, admitted that he was a “service animal,” and we were seated.

The ferry ride back was delightfully cool, and I got a good shot of the lighthouse just off the harbor.

Sorry to post another segment without pictures. I have LOTS of pictures, of Brevoort Lake, in the Hiawatha National Forest, and of Mackinac Island. I just can’t get them to load onto my blog just now.

But I thought I would post briefly to say that my activities might be a bit curtailed for a while. Stepping out of a neighbor’s spiffy camper van, I didn’t quite connect with the running board step and went down like the proverbial sack of potatoes (no graceful fall for this girl). I landed hard on my left elbow and side, knocking the wind right out of me. The family whose camper I’d been admiring were very concerned, of course, hovering about with cautionary advice, and offering to help me back up after the few minutes it took me to breathe normally again.

All while Russ, packing up in our site next door, was completely oblivious. Even Moe, who was with me, was more interested in following their golden retriever around than in what had happened to his mom.

Anyway, we had to leave that morning, so I hitched the camper, drove Russ over the Mackinaw Bridge and down to his campsite at Wilderness State Park, and then drove myself 60 miles to my camp at Otsego Lake, set up camp, and fed Moe before stopping to assess my condition.

Some Ibuprofen made it possible to sleep. I called Jeff (my M.D. brother) in the morning and determined that I probably hadn’t broken a rib, or at least not badly, but that I was definitely going to be sore for a while (and have some lovely bruises).

So for the non, I am taking a leisurely approach to life. The weather, thank God, is conducive to sitting in the shade or the sun, whichever you prefer, and just watching the lake. Also catching up on some needlework. Moe doesn’t seem to mind the inactivity, especially since he got one of his favorite long-lasting chew bones.

Pictures to follow (I promise!)

Sometimes there are no pictures that can illustrate my adventures. There is no picture, for instance, that can convey how I feel in the quiet stillness of a lake in the North Woods, as I set out for an early morning paddle in my kayak. Moe jumps aboard, alert to any motion or sound on the water, and settles himself on my lap.

My kayak glides without sound, making the only ripples in the water, as I maneuver through duckweed and water llilies along the shore. The air is cool and the morning cloud cover has not yet burnt off. A flotilla of ducklings, nearly grown now in late July, paddles by with their watchful mama.

I circle around the small lake we are camped on, when I notice what looks like a gap across the lake. As I paddle closer, I realize there is more lake on the other side—this lake is much larger than I realized. It opens out before me—so large it fades into the haze on the far side. As I paddle out into the main lake, the sun parts the clouds suddenly, sending beams radiating across the lake.

I am surprised by the tears filling my eyes, and by an overwhelming sense of wonder and awe. This beauty around me was not made by us: it existed long before humans, and (God willing) will remain long after we are gone. It exists—in and entirely of—itself, and I am full of gratitude.

The clouds give way to sunshine, and I turn toward camp and away from a glory that has become too brilliant. Moe lays his head on my knee, and with a contented groan, closes his eyes.

I apologize for giving short shrift to these two campgrounds. Illinois Beach State Park was very nice, with large campsites and clean bathrooms (among the top five things you ideally want from a campsite: large and/or private sites, clean bathrooms, showers, convenient water taps, and natural beauty—not necessarily in that order). Quiet neighbors are good, too, and this campground ticked all the boxes. It was right on the western shore of Lake Michigan, with miles of clean beaches and a nature preserve with multiple hiking loops.

So it was not the campground that diminished this stop in my memory, but a very human tragedy. A man was swimming near a man-made breakwater constructed of large rocks. His 14 year old son, standing on the breakwater, was struck by a wave and knocked into the water. It was three days before they found him.

I was walking the paved bikeway when I heard the sirens, and saw multiple helicopters take up positions facing the lake. They were TV crews, we found out later. Multiple boats and divers were working the area around the beach and the breakwater. It went on until dark, then resumed the next morning, as we gathered updates from bystanders and snips of news broadcasts.

We left sobered by the tragedy. Worse, we were told that drownings at this beach are common. Strong underwater currents drag swimmers away from shore, and few weekend visitors coming from Chicago and other northern Illinois urban areas are aware of the dangers. And there is no funding for lifeguards.

Of Pioneer Trails Campground, there is not much to say (full RV hookups, crowded) except that we met a great couple from Michigan, and spent quite a while chatting with them when I discovered that she (also named Nancy) was a seamstress! I’m not sure what Russ and her husband (Rich? Rick?) found to talk about, but apparently they found something in common, as the four of us talked for at least a couple of hours. Nancy and I exchanged emails, and have already checked in with each other.

Russ left the day before me, to begin riding across the Yoop. He will catch up with me at my next site, Brevoort Lake, in the Hiawatha National Forest. From there, I will cross the bridge and begin our travels down the eastern shore of Lake Michigan. I’m trying to persuade Russ to take the free ferry to Mackinac Island, rather than ride in the car with me across the bridge, and at least get a glimpse of that, as no cars are allowed on that island. I figure he will think it’s heaven.

On the way to Starved Rock, we were passing through the small town of Wenona, IL, when Russ said “I think I know someone in this town! Pull over.” So I pulled off Main Street across from the library while he tried to remember the name of the man who had offered him a place to stay, gave him a tour of the town, and took him out for dinner and breakfast before sending him on his way in 2022. Alan remembered him instantly when Russ called, and came to meet us. After he and Russ did a little catching up, he made us promise to go out for dinner with him later in the week. Not only did he treat us to some of the best pizza I’ve ever tasted, we got the V.I.P. tour of Ottawa, site of the first Lincoln-Douglas debate in 1858.

Not only that, but he took us (and his lady friend, Mimi) out again on Saturday to BASH—Burgers And Sushi House! We really enjoyed spending time with Alan, and he was the consummate booster for his home-town area. Thanks again, Alan, for teaching us so much of the history of the area, and for two gourmet dinners!

If you are anywhere in the area of Ottawa, IL, ABSOLUTELY go to Starved Rock State Park. It sits along the Illinois River, and boasts miles of hiking trails into some of the most scenic canyons this side of the Mississippi. We spent two days hiking the canyons, and still didn’t get to all of them. I’m just going to let the pictures tell the story on this one.

Here, Russ took a picture to show how I was “breaking the rules” by scrambling up a steep incline to pursue an interesting orange fungus (it turned out to be a wadded up scrap of fabric). But I have this flattering portrait of myself to memorialize the moment.

On the second day we headed out early to beat the incoming thunderstorms, and saw Illinois and St. Louis Canyons. We chanced upon a younger woman having a snack in St. Louis Canyon who turned out to be a local hiking guide, and we heard the whole grisly story of how someone murdered three young women and hid their bodies in one of the small caves along St. Louis Canyon. (In all other respects, it was a beautiful, serene site.)

We sat for a while at the end of Illinois Canyon, just listening to the little waterfall and soaking in the cool, quiet beauty.

It will be worth a return trip, to come back when the larger waterfalls are flowing, and to visit nearby parks, such as Matthiessen, which also have scenic canyons.

After the excitement of Moe’s dramatic leap, it was nice to do some peaceful paddling. Moe seemed to agree, and made no attempt to jump out.

And I found these cuties growing on a dead log.

Try as I might, I could not positively I.D. them. Gills were decurrent, close, and white. They look very chanterelle-like to me. DM me if you think you know what they are.

One of Moe’s “endearing” traits is his total disregard of danger. He regularly gives Mom a heart attack by blithely standing on the edge of precipices:

Or by launching himself headfirst into all sorts of things.

He was only being true to form when, on a hike along the shore of Carlyle Lake, I stopped to exclaim at a vertical drop off down to the water. Moe raced over to see what was so interesting, and flew right off the edge.

It was a good 40 foot drop to the water (Russ insists it was at least 60 feet). Luckily, he only fell about 10 feet before he landed in a bush. Not since he launched himself into a fast, freezing Colorado River (see above) have I seen him look so scared.

While Russ shouted “don’t move!” to no effect, I frantically scouted along the bank for a way to get down, and scrambled down as close to Moe as possible. He got close enough for me to grab his harness and hoist him up. Russ gave me a hand up, as the tree branch I was hanging onto decided to be dead just at that moment.

Back in the camper, scuffed but unhurt, he was so worn out he didn’t even flinch during a loud thunderstorm. Being reckless is tiring!

Russ finished the Katy Trail, and rang the bell at Machens (the end point, not accessible by car), then rode three miles back to Black Walnut so I could pick him up. I thought this was an appropriate achievement for celebration, but before we headed out for lunch, we stopped to see the Our Lady of the Rivers shrine nearby (“A must-see,” according to Russ’s Warm Showers host of the night before).

It was indeed impressive, with a moving story of people praying to the Virgin Mary to intercede against flooding. The shrine stands right over the Missouri River, just above the confluence with the Mississippi.

But I still think it looks a bit suspicious from the back:

We headed across the river to Alton, IL and the Old Bakery Beer Company. We had a great lunch, Russ got to try a new beer, and Moe was allowed to stay with us. They even brought him a bowl of water!

Then it was off to see the Cahokia Indian Mounds, site of the largest Native American earthworks in America. Like the majestic mountains of the Rockies and Cascades, pictures just do not do justice to the size of these things. My first thought was “My god, this thing is the size of the pyramids.” I’ll let an informative sign give you some idea of the scale of Monk’s Mound, the largest of the structures:

Archaeological investigations suggest that Monk’s Mound and its adjacent constructions were a ceremonial area and a city of some 20,000 people, larger than London at the time (about 1,000 CE). The larger mounds served as temples and home sites for the ruling elite. Although the interpretive center is closed for renovations, the grounds are open, and we walked to some of the larger mounds bordering the Great Plaza.

Toward the back of the site, we encountered a doe and twin fawns. One of the fawns was curious about Moe, and even followed us for a bit.

Then it was back to Eldon Hazlet State Park.