Grading the Midwest - On a Curved Scale : Trip Reports : SummitPost

Preface

While living in the United States Midwest, I preferred to undertake lengthy travels to more exciting places elsewhere. But within the confines of this generally flat terrain, I made many weekend ventures to some regional areas of interest. While these places unmistakably wither in comparison to the Appalachians and the vast scenic areas of the West, I have found some to be enjoyable in their own light. This is a collection of summaries for several trips throughout the Midwest, along with my personal opinions regarding some sights the region has to offer.

Porcupine Mountains, Michigan

052810 - 053010

Lake Superior shore at Porcupine Mountains State Park.

The drive leading to the Northwoods Area was stuffed with farmland and homesteads, but in the Nicolet National Forest, northern hardwood forests started to dominate the landscape. All the roads skirted a seemingly impenetrable wall of trees surrounding each bend. I entered Michigan’s Upper Peninsula on such a road, where for hours, the forest continued unbroken. The scale of the forest was amazing, as was the bright shade of light green that glowed from them in the sunlight. Through this beautiful environment, I eventually reached Porcupine Mountains State Park late in the morning.

After an informative visit to the park office, I perused my map and set out for some of the forested trails. A few miles southwest on South Boundary Road, the trailhead to Summit Peak and Mirror Lake yielded a strong first impression. Momentarily after I stepped outside, an aggressive swarm of flies wasted no time harassing me. At first, I mindlessly brushed and swatted them away, but after a few minutes I became alarmed. When I caught something on the backside of my arm and double-checked it, I discovered one spot of blood about the diameter of a pencil. On my other arm, there were more such blood spots. I was aware that insects could be significant in some places of the Northwoods, but I never thought it would involve open wounds on this scale.

Porcupine Mountains from Summit Peak.

Lake of the Clouds.

I retreated quickly to the shelter of my car, where I wiped away the blood and pondered a solution. I had no insect repellant with me, so I considered that already to be a hard lesson learned. Though it was pretty warm outside, my best option was to cover all my skin with long sleeves and pants. On my second attempt of the Summit Peak Trail, my defensive tactics made things stuffy but tolerable. I soon reached the viewing tower built upon the peak and, high above the flies on the forest floor, I was able to peacefully take in the scenery. The forest canopy from this view was a smooth rolling green carpet that stretched far to the Lake Superior horizon under a white smearing of clouds. Mirror Lake was hiding somewhere farther north, so I planned to hike there and turn around. But back on the interior forest floor, the black flies resumed a vicious attack. There was soon not a second that passed where I was not flailing my arms to sweep the flies away. It really sapped the enjoyment from this hike, to the point where I abandoned it altogether and forged another hasty retreat to my car. Soon I was back inside, searching for an alternative activity.

If I circled back around to the lakeshore, I figured I could possibly enjoy a beachfront free of the annoying black flies. I made the drive and stopped first at Union Bay on the park’s northeast edge. There were wonderfully no insects here to ruin the day. I took advantage to slow down and snack on the beach. Later, I waded out into the moderately cold water to discover a neat characteristic of the lake. Walking was difficult on the uneven rounded rocks, but each time I stepped farther away from shore, I could only see the same level carpet of rocks ahead. I never found out exactly how far the shallows extended, but according to the park map, it appeared to be a half-mile in some places. I took one of the rocks from the lake as a souvenir.

Forest on the Escarpment.

Layers of Escarpment.

Lake view below ridge top.

Still later in the day, I took the paved road to Lake of the Clouds. My first view of the lake was impressive. The immediate elevation differences were much more pronounced here than the areas I had already been today. From the high escarpment north of the shore, I could see the entire body of water extending about one and a half miles toward Cuyahoga Peak. It was a shimmering dark blue with brilliant green forests ringing every inch of its banks. I followed the pink rocks of the escarpment in both directions to observe the forests and picture the vistas at each overlook. After an afternoon of hiking about, I returned to Union Bay and exited the park going west to Wisconsin’s Apostle Islands National Lakeshore. The sun was beginning to set as I arrived, so I accessed the lakeshore at Meyers Beach to absorb the wonderful sights. The water here was much more vigorous than it was to the east in Michigan. Crashing waves provided a neat contrast to the soothing light on the western horizon. I stayed until twilight, which neared 10:00 pm at this northern latitude around the summer solstice. The absolute western end of Lake Superior was a relatively short drive west in Duluth, so I went that direction, and found a place to rest inside the Minnesota state line.

Lake Superior sunset on Meyers Beach.

Saint Louis River shallows.

Inlet at Meyers Beach.

Saint Louis River.

Choppy lakeshore waters.

In the morning, I sort of discovered how my drive home would take eleven to twelve hours, and I realized that left little time for outdoor sightseeing. But while I was in northern Minnesota, I hoped to squeeze just one quick visit to a nearby park somewhere. I found such a place on the map, Jay Cooke State Park. There was absolutely no idea in my mind about what to specifically expect, but as it turned out, this park was worth a visit. The Saint Louis River carved through the land here about ten miles from its meeting with Lake Superior. In the river valley, the grounds were scattered with giant boulders of dark gray slate. The rocks were uniquely tilted or turned fully upright above the waters, because of internal heat and pressures within the earth. They provided a way to rock hop across parts of the river to some of the water rapids, and I grabbed a piece as a souvenir rock. The park was not officially open; it seemed like nobody else was here at all. But I slipped inside and discovered a neat new place ahead of my long drive home.

For the grades, I was certainly impressed with the Porcupine Mountains, but not as impressed with the clouds of aggressive insects. Since these are my grades, I make no allowances for my poor preparation against the bugs, and I unfairly penalize the Porkies accordingly. The Apostle Islands really struck me with beauty in my abbreviated mainland visit. I think these Lake Superior shores were as wonderful as beaches can be without nearby mountains. Jay Cooke State Park, with both a shining tract of the Northwoods and an eye-catching river, is also worth a potential repeat visit.


Saint Louis River in Minnesota's Jay Cooke State Park.

Porcupine Mountains, Michigan: B- (Possibly the best, outside of black fly season)
Apostle Islands National Lakeshore, Wisconsin: B+
Jay Cooke State Park, Minnesota: B-

Cumberland Plateau, Kentucky

032312-032512

Cumberland Gap.

Kentucky side of ridge.

I admit, the Kentucky-Virginia border is seriously stretching the boundaries of what is typically referenced as the Midwest. Or if I state it more bluntly, this is not the Midwest. But as part of a trip of the Ohio Valley forests of Kentucky and Indiana, I did make a quick stop at the historic gap. It was on a rainy, late winter day, when the Appalachian ridges in the distance were often masked by dull clouds. Much of the scenery along the highway was barren forest, so I parked at the Daniel Boone Visitor Center and hiked west on the Wilderness Road Trail. This trail follows the precise footsteps of late 18th century explorers like Boone, who used it as the primary route to access the Kentucky frontier.

The saddle of Cumberland Gap is a grassy swell between two small hills, the lowest point of a rare break the Appalachian ridge. It can be an underwhelming place without considering the history that has passed through the centuries. I proceeded north along the Fort McCook Trail to the Ridge Trail straddling Cumberland Mountain. Sounds of sporadic rain showers accompanied me, but moisture never seemed to reach the ground. The trail turned peaceful once I trekked east of the highly-populated Pinnacles Overlook area. I snaked back and forth between Kentucky and Virginia, depending on how the trail happened to follow the ridge crest. Some of the exposed views into Tennessee were far-reaching, but the sights were simply devoid of color. Everything was a blank gray except for the carpet of fallen leaves still gripping the forest floor. At Pinnacles Overlook, the view was even more sterile. It was simply the wrong time of year. Spring had not yet been offered the chance to breathe new green life into the environment.

After a novelty hike to the heights of Tri-State Peak - the exact confluence of Kentucky, Tennessee and Virginia - I headed back north in my car to the interior Daniel Boone National Forest. In the heart of the northern Cumberland Plateau, I followed twisting gravel roads into the woods of the S-Tree Recreation Area. The day’s ever-present rainfall really intensified when I reached the empty campground. It effectively capped my activities for the day; I just read a book and waited for the rain to relent at early nightfall. I would check out the area after a night’s rest inside my dry tent.

Rocks on Renfro Loop.

Bog on Renfro Loop.

In the morning, there were actually clear skies above this oak and hickory forest, so I gathered my things and started on the Renfro Loop Trail. Several areas of the trail were mud pits or standing water pools. At first, I made a concerted effort to hop around these spots, but later I just resigned myself to the mud. Most of my enjoyment was found just off-trail, as I sort of wandered through the dripping wet forest adjacent to the maintained trail. Hidden in the numerous hills and valleys of the plateau, I found exposed rock formations, soggy meadows, and brimming creeks. The loop went about four miles through the forest before returning to camp, at which point I took a short hike on the nearby Sheltowee Trace National Recreation Trail. I have read that it is a great trail extending three hundred miles through Kentucky, but I must have found one of its less remarkable sections. My short hike went through a couple of ordinary valleys missing the variety I had seen on the Renfro Loop. Once I ran into a pack of off-road vehicles sharing the trail, I quickly decided this was not the area for me.

Some of Kentucky’s most striking features were a short distance to the north anyway. Natural Bridge State Resort Park lies tucked inside the Cumberland Ranger District of the national forest. I crossed a pedestrian bridge over the Middle Fork Red River and entered this park of dramatic local elevation changes beside a large plateau. Several trails accessed the plateau; I chose the Balanced Rock Trail on the east edge. There were nice places for an amateur climber like me to scramble up the rocks, as well as interesting formations to admire. None were more amazing than the natural bridge itself, the roof of a large arch eroded into the remaining plateau. I explored the plateau north to check out the available views for a while. Of course, the same color limitations of late winter applied here, but the sights were still the neatest I have seen in the Bluegrass State. On my way off the plateau, I picked up a pale blue souvenir rock from one of its walls, and then I directed my travels to Indiana.

Along the northern banks of the Ohio River, there rests a long tract of interior plateau wooded ecoregion that is preserved as the Hoosier National Forest. Without much time to enjoy it, late in the afternoon I rushed into the Buzzard Roost Recreation Area. The trail at Buzzard Roost traces the edge of the forest along an elevated view of the wide, low-lying Ohio River. Where an adjacent creek suddenly cuts down the ridge into the river, the trail follows it to the rough state boundary with Kentucky at the river bank. I grabbed a souvenir rock from this leaf-littered creek, tossed it in the river, and then took another one to keep. It was a short trail that I finished in an instant, so I hurried north to the Hemlock Cliffs. Though it was getting very dark at the time, I took my flashlight to get a general sense of the Hemlock Cliffs area. White cliffs line both sides of the valley, and the trail follows that valley to a magnificent natural amphitheater of rock. Though it was barely a cave in terms of depth, the volume of the formation was impressive. I explored it with the flashlight before making the nighttime return hike and driving back home.

Inside the Cumberland Plateau.

Natural bridge in Kentucky.

Buzzard Roost to Ohio River.

Creek at Buzzard Roost.

In summary, Cumberland Gap was a neat area to me, as long as I envision it outside of late winter. My favorite part of Kentucky was farther north on the Cumberland Plateau, in the Red Rock Canyon and Natural Bridge areas. The Hoosier National Forest is a nice microcosm of these Midwest summaries in general. Areas like Buzzard Roost and Hemlock Cliffs are perhaps the most enjoyable within Indiana, but they are pretty ordinary compared to places outside the state.

Cumberland Gap, Kentucky: B
Daniel Boone National Forest, Kentucky: A- (Summarizing many diverse areas of the Cumberland Plateau)
Hoosier National Forest, Indiana: C+

Driftless Area, Iowa & Wisconsin

042012 - 042212

Walls of White Pine Hollow.

On a chilly spring morning, I ventured to the Driftless Area of mostly northeast Iowa and southwest Wisconsin. This regional pocket of relatively pronounced hills and valleys escaped the flattening effects of history’s most recent continental ice sheets. The region particularly stands out from the surrounding lands when driving into it. A straight, even grid of level roads suddenly dives into twists, crests and valleys. This sudden transformation is visible near Iowa’s White Pine Hollow State Forest. Surrounded by miles of gently rolling farmland, a low-lying oasis of trees hides a large valley.

I started north from the forest entrance on a well-marked path, but it instantly dissolved into a myriad maze of indistinguishable game trails. I suppose in hindsight, since this was just rural Iowa, I let down my guard concerning navigation. There were no maintained trails here and no map in my possession, but I charged forward inside White Pine Hollow anyway. It was a creek inside a giant chasm, so I could simply follow it before retracing my steps back. The hollow was beautifully bursting with lively spring growth. Its waterway, headwaters of the Little Turkey River, flowed by significant rock escarpments and surprisingly steep valley slopes. Those bullying glaciers may have tried to create pervasive monotony over all of Iowa, but they failed here. I took a souvenir rock from the riverbed, and I now only needed to assume the simple task of hiking back to the entrance.


Little Turkey River headwaters through Iowa's White Pine Hollow State Forest.

My catchy plan to simply follow the hollow seemed easy enough, but somehow I may have taken a wrong turn in one of the side inlets. Basically, I ended up hacking through some wild brush and thorns to reach a random corn field to the east. The field was not my intent, but since I was in it, I followed it west to the access road near my car. When I came within view of my car, there was some stranger staring curiously into it, so I ignored my pacifist tendencies and antagonistically mocked him. He turned out to be a nice guy doing some observations of the natural area, apparently in addition to my auto interior, so I eventually forgot all about it. He recommended a visit to Turkey River Mounds or the Yellow River State Forest. I was thinking about the latter already, so I drove north alongside the mighty Mississippi to the forest.

Yellow River wildflowers.

I registered to occupy one of the free walk-in campsites, but right away, I could see this place was not quite the same as White Pine Hollow. The terrain was pretty gentle, and the trails were more like forest roads. To be more accurate, they were forest roads, at least temporarily. Many of them were stamped with tire tracks. Along the road to my backcountry campsite was evidence of fresh logging. I staked my tent and took a shot on the Red Oak, Firetower and Saddle Trails, but all of them disappointed me in the same way. The most enjoyment I received was when I bushwhacked off of the Saddle Trail out of sheer boredom. At the base of the hill beside Paint Creek was a pretty meadow of blue flowers. I was happy to find that, but without much enthusiasm, I shuffled back from there to my tent for the night.

At daybreak the next morning, I woke up to the sound of hunters marching past my tent. I decided to move north into Minnesota before my hair was mistaken as a pheasant. On the Great River Road, I entered a sharp landscape of hills and ridges around Great River Bluffs State Park. Although the recent Ice Age glaciers did not directly cover this area, they still managed to affect it in other ways. Glacial melting fueled a gigantic Mississippi River at the time, which stretched across for many miles and carved into the ancient bedrock. The extremely high waters have since subsided and the river bluffs remain. I first visited the Kings Bluff Trail and hiked less than a mile to its best available overlook. The sheer sides of Kings Bluff and Queens Bluff are protected as state natural areas, so I hiked farther east in my search for an unobstructed vista. The interior trail network is confusing to simple-minded visitors like me, but I found the best sights at a clearing named South Overlook. For the record, South Overlook is somehow north of East Overlook. Miles of the braided Mississippi were visible from here, as well as the ancient eastern river banks very far in the distance. What a sight this waterway must have been just after the Ice Age.

Kings Bluff Trail in Great River Bluffs.

South Overlook in Great River Bluffs.

Blue Mound, Wisconsin.

My final stop on this Driftless Area excursion was Wisconsin’s Blue Mound State Park. Blue Mound bills itself as the highest hill in the southern half of the state, complete with a thorough trail system. More than anything else, the trail names are what lured me to the park. These include Basalt & Papper, Gneiss & Smooth, and my personal favorite, the Holy Schist Trail. Most trails were primarily geared toward mountain biking, but they were decent for hiking too. I walked several trails on the park’s east side, and they were most notable for the unique dolomite scattered all over. Blue Mound is actually a monadnock, meaning the hill was formed by erosion of the land surrounding it, while the resistant dolomite served as a protective shield. In places where windows had been cleared into the forest, I could gaze a far distance across the neighboring lowlands. I stayed here until sunset brought an end to this weekend trip.

Recreational visits to the Driftless Area are mostly limited to these and other state parks, so I find it more difficult to discover undeveloped natural places within it. This is why I liked Iowa’s White Pine Hollow so much; it was surprisingly wild terrain that appeared to be undisturbed. Farther north in the state, however, the Yellow River State Forest appeared to be neither. Minnesota’s river bluffs were neat to experience. Although I understand why they are protected, I do wish all of the bluff areas were accessible. Blue Mound State Park has terrific facilities, and if I were a mountain biker, it would be tremendous. But from my hiking viewpoint, I thought it was pretty average even within the Midwest.

White Pine Hollow State Forest, Iowa: B+
Yellow River State Forest, Iowa: D (May I have that day back?)
Great River Bluffs, Minnesota: B
Blue Mound State Park, Wisconsin: C

Saint Francois Mountains, Missouri

051112 - 051312

Before a full weekend in the ancient highlands of the Saint Francois Mountains, I detoured to the Shawnee National Forest in southern Illinois. Almost exclusively, the state of Illinois is a sleepy blanket of smooth farmland. However, near the confluence of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers, there is unglaciated land with hilly and sometimes rocky terrain that distinguishes itself within the state. When I arrived at Garden of the Gods Wilderness in Friday twilight, I tried a quick hike on a trail adjacent to the developed campground, but the light just was not there. However, after sleeping the night away, I embraced a clear and cool morning to hike the garden’s Observation Trail. Right away, there appeared a magnificent collection of sandstone formations peeking over the deciduous forest. Pillars and hoodoos are the sort of shapes I only expect to see far away in the intermountain west. But here they were, tucked inside the heartland of America. In addition to the views, the bouldering possibilities here were numerous. I clawed my way atop a few of the hoodoos and had a great time doing it. The trail passes by some inviting entrances to the forest as it snakes through the stone towers. I explored one of them and grabbed a souvenir rock from the sloping forest floor below, before I returned to the trailhead to visit Missouri's Saint Francois Mountains.


Gardens of the Gods in the Shawnee National Forest, Illinois.

I somehow brought the wrong map for these travels, so I headed kind of blindly into southeast Missouri just awaiting a familiar point of reference. That reference appeared in Fredericktown, and it was under an hour’s drive from there to the Bell Mountain Wilderness. I loaded my backpack with a one-day supply of food and water at the trailhead, and then I disappeared into the wilderness. The elevation change here is naturally minimal; around 600 feet of gain lies between the trailhead and highest point. But the trail is still a nice climb to the Bell Mountain Loop Trail junction, and it yields pleasing scenes. None were more visually attractive to me than the open meadows of exposed purple granite. When the sun would shine through a gap in the clouds, it really made these rocks stand out to the naked eye, so I grabbed one as a souvenir.

The loop itself is about eight miles after the two-mile approach, and it tours interior crests and dips of the wilderness forest. The trail was a rustic path obstructed by a few fallen trunks and patches of overgrowth, but I liked the accompanying undeveloped feel. I followed it clockwise past Joes Creek and hearty forests of oak, hickory and elm. The highpoint of the mountain rests on the backside of the loop, beside a ridge with sweeping views over the Shut-In Creek valley. The edge of the ridge is also bordered with more of the spacious purple granite meadows I saw on the approach. To my misfortune, a backcountry campsite on the edge was already occupied by the only other hiker I saw on Bell Mountain, but I found another site in the nearby forest and rested for the night.


Areas along the Bell Mountain Trail in the Mark Twain National Forest, Missouri..

After a leisurely return hike down the west slope of the mountain, I toured out of the Mark Twain National Forest to some nearby attractions. Clustered in the same general area as Bell Mountain, there is the loftiest point of these highlands at Taum Sauk Mountain, as well as interesting rock formations at two adjacent state parks. A few miles downstream of the Shut-In Creek valley I viewed yesterday, the East Fork Black River flows freely, except for the occasional blockade of hard rock. One such example lies in Johnson’s Shut-Ins State Park, where a tough exposure of ancient rhyolite turns the river into a series of tumbling narrow channels. The broad river valley upstream suddenly constricts with steep walls on each side of the channels. Between the tiny pockets of water, the rock is scattered like a checkerboard of limitless pathways to hop and jump from one side to the other. Much of the gray igneous rock looks like it has been polished to a smooth shine. Once I worked up a bit of perspiration scrambling over the riverbed and up the valley walls, the river itself was served as a cool respite.

Overhead view of Black River.

River approaching the shut-ins.

Overlooking the shut-ins.

Seeing the shut-ins at eye level.

Downstream on the East Fork Black River.

My last stop in the Saint Francois area was Elephant Rocks State Park, a quirky area of giant pink granite boulders. This is a very developed park with one accessible paved trail ringing the full perimeter of the most noticeable boulders. Inside that perimeter, it is a free-for-all of fun scrambling for amateur climbers. The rocks look like they have simply been plucked and set down on top of a mammoth granite exposure, but some of them weigh hundreds of tons, making them anything but mobile. Their origins actually lie underground and erosion has revealed them over time. The biggest rocks, bearing resemblance to elephants that spawned the park name, are three times taller than the average person. I clambered over the big boulders until I was content, ate lunch, and left these highlands very impressed with their variety and opportunities for enjoyment.


Elephant Rocks State Park, Missouri.

From my point of view, the Shawnee National Forest is a surprising place for Illinois residents accustomed to dull expanses of agricultural land. It hides several neat rock formations, including Little Grand Canyon and Garden of the Gods. In spite of the positives, I can still only rank it so high, because it lies within Illinois, the fiftieth best state in the union. On the other hand, the Ozark Plateau within Missouri has no such negative conditions. It shares bragging rights with Michigan’s Upper Peninsula as the best the Midwest has to offer. If the Ozarks extending into Arkansas are included, there is no contest. The Saint Francois Mountains in particular are wild and enjoyable settings with large panoramas, rustic hikes, and eye-catching rock formations.

Shawnee National Forest, Illinois: B- (Including automatic bias against my home state of Illinois)
Saint Francois Mountains, Missouri: A