Michigan | Erin Bartels

Surprised by Sand

Posted on August 26, 2013June 26, 2016 by Erin Bartels

This past weekend, my sister Alison and I took our second hiking trip together. We planned a shorter hike than last year and parked such that we could hike a short distance (under two miles) to our campsites, pitch our tents, then do day hikes unencumbered by packs. I must say it was an excellent strategy.

So on Friday afternoon we quickly found ourselves setting up our tent at Masse Homestead backcountry campsite on the eastern end of the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. The hike to the site was eerily silent. We heard no birds or humming insects, encountered no other hikers, and spoke little as we walked a narrow path through a largely open, mostly deciduous woodland.

Masse Homestead is a smaller site, with only three campsites allowed. There was some mold growing in the food box, so we opted for the food pole to keep our rations away from bears. The soil was sandy, making the tent setup smooth and bathroom breaks easy (apart from the mosquitoes). And in just a matter of minutes, we were ready to check out our surroundings.

The old bearded ranger (“I’ve lived in Grand Marais all my life but I’m slowly moving west. I’ve gotten about two and a half miles so far.”) told us about a very steep, sandy trail that led up to the dunes. It was easy to spot (harder to climb) so we grabbed cameras and water bottles and headed up.

Near the top, one gets the very queer feeling that you are going through C. S. Lewis’s wardrobe to Narnia.

And, in fact, I think what awaited us took our collective breath away just like Narnia did for Lucy.

The last time I could see this much landscape all around me, I was in a plane.

There we stood, upon the very highest point of the Grand Sable Dunes, and all around us was wilderness.

The only sound was of the crickets and cicadas.

At that moment, we felt as though we must be the only two people on earth.

We hiked over the dunes, up and down, for a long time before we even approached the edge, losing site of the big hill we first stood on and the opening in the trees that would lead us back down to our tent.

But how could we not be drawn by this landscape to abandon the trail and set off to blaze our own?

We stopped (quite sensibly) at this line of wet sand that ran across the top of the slope. Had we taken very many more steps forward, we might have found ourselves sliding down 300 or so feet into Lake Superior.

Instead, we rested our feet a bit and took in the incredibly blue lake and the cool breeze.

Besides some tracks in the sand (coyote, deer, crow, and one set of bare human feet) and one pile of scat (bear) there was little evidence of life up there beyond dune grasses, scrubby junipers, poplars, and wild roses.

We would discover later that night that the dunes are a favored spot for huge clouds of gnats (or some related tiny flying insect) but that is a post for another day.

Storm clouds gather over the Mackinac Bridge

Posted on August 2, 2013August 2, 2013 by Erin Bartels

This is one of my favorite shots from my recent trip up to Mackinac Island. More to come later, but I wanted to share this one with you. Besides the incredible storm clouds rolling in from the Upper Peninsula, what made this photo (and the rest from this particular twenty minutes or so) such a pleasure is that no one was around when it was taken. Solitude during the peak season on Mackinac Island is hard to come by sometimes. And I really needed it that night.

Driving North on 131 to Interlochen and Points Beyond

Posted on June 27, 2013June 27, 2013 by Erin Bartels

On Tuesday my husband, Zachary, and I dropped the boy off at his grandparents’ house and headed north for Interlochen. At the outset, it did not look to be a terribly great day for driving or for the concert.

Soon we were quite pounded with rain and white-knuckling it at only about 45 mph.

But it started letting up pretty quickly and the rest of the trip went off without a hitch.

In fact, the further north we got, the nicer the weather got.

Which is generally to be expected in the summer months.

Also expected on trips Up North are places like this.

Things sometimes get a little strange is all I’m saying. A lot of oddballs live up north (no offense to my sister).

At any rate, the concert was incredible. Quite possibly one of the best I’ve been to. The weather cooled off and the sun setting over the lake behind the stage set a great atmosphere for Brandi Carlile’s fresh sound and amazing voice.

The next day we lazed around the Traverse City and Old Mission Point area with brunch at The Omelette Shoppe on Cass St. and a short walk around the stony beach.

We found a couple interesting rock arrangements.

See the heart? And this…

And enjoyed the lovely cherry orchards and vineyards along M-37.

Too soon we headed back south. But it will only be a few weeks until we get to drive north once more, this time for nearly two weeks.

Soon it will be July (can you believe it?). So I must say goodbye for a couple days so I can finish up June’s short story for you all. Here’s the updated cover, which I’m liking very much:

Summer in Michigan Means One Thing to Me: Up North

Posted on June 6, 2013June 6, 2013 by Erin Bartels

Over the past week my husband, Zach, and I have been engaged in the blessed process of planning summer travel around the state: picking dates, securing care for our pets, coordinating travel with family, reserving a room here…

We’re thrilled to be heading back up to Mackinac Island after a few years’ absence and excited to introduce our son to its magical qualities for the first time. Zach and I will spend two nights there alone, writing while overlooking the Straits of Mackinaw and riding bikes around the island. Then my in-laws will come up with our son and we all get to pal around, ride bikes, bring the boy to Fort Mackinac, ride in horse-drawn carriages, and eat ice cream. I can already feel the wind off the water.

But before we get to Mackinac Island, we’ll be spending another week at a very special place to our family, Camp Lake Louise…

And in late summer will be the Second Annual Sisters’ Hiking Trip. Last year we hiked Pictured Rocks…

You can read about our amazing trip here, here, here, and here. Not totally sure just where we’re going this year. But I’m scheming.

This is the time of year my heart aches for woods and water and sky, when thinking about driving north–far north–elicits a physical reaction of butterflies in my stomach and even tears welling in my eyes. The silence of the night sky filled with stars. The sound of wind through trees. The cold splash of clear water. The clip-clip-clip of horses’ hooves. The heat of the sun upon bare skin. The scratchy sound of sand upon worn pine floors. Just the thought of these stirs deep longing in my soul.

I’m hopelessly in love with Michigan.

What’s the Weather Like in Your Story?

Posted on April 26, 2013April 26, 2013 by Erin Bartels

I feel a bit nervous saying this, as though by daring to utter it I might somehow invite another winter thrashing, but it truly does seem that spring may at last have won the epic battle it has been waging with winter for the past two months. It was finally dry enough and warm enough to spend the day outside, to feel the sun’s heat on my skin and hair, to remember what summer is like. I don’t know how dependable the change of the seasons is in the Middle East, but as a Michigander I feel greatly comforted when I read that God is more faithful than the changing of the seasons.

I think something in us as humans wants to have to contend with something. We want to contend with something and win, or at least endure. And that’s why when outsiders or transplants to Michigan bemoan the weather or are surprised by 50-degree temperature swings in a day or can’t believe it’s still snowing in late April we smugly shrug our shoulders and say “That’s Michigan!”

You don’t like weather? Start packing your bags.

And yet, even I will admit that enough is enough. I knew winter had gone on far too long when I was driving home from Grand Rapids earlier this week and I noticed a farmer’s field covered in bright green and my very first thought was, “What the heck is that?” Two days later I drove back to Grand Rapids in a snow storm.

My own modest gardens have come alive as well. And I saw the first bug smash against my windshield this week, so it is spring for real. Isn’t it?

Maybe because I’ve grown up with schizophrenic weather I love reading stories where weather plays a part or sets a mood. I like to know if it’s sunny or cloudy, humid or parched, burning or icy. Should I be sweating as I read this scene or shivering? If it’s raining, what kind of rain is it? A steady cold spring rain? Drizzle? The fat, merciless raindrops of a storm? Is it falling straight down or sideways? Does it soak me or sting me? Am I managing to stay dry or is my face wet?

Do you make the best use of weather in your writing? Or is that a literary tool you’ve left in your toolbox?

Hawk Island County Park

Posted on January 25, 2013January 25, 2013 by Erin Bartels

As part of my continuing Destination Lansing series, I bring you Hawk Island County Park. Once a gravel pit (many of the older members of our church remember swimming there back in the days before there was “public safety”) Hawk Island has been transformed into one of the best parks I’ve ever been to.

Indian Summer at Hawk Island

The pit was cleaned out, filled with water, and stocked with fish. There are pedal boats and picnic shelters to rent, a great playground, a beach and a splash pad, volleyball courts, horseshoes, picnic tables galore, a dog park nearby, and plenty of gently rolling, well-maintained lawns for relaxing on a blanket with a good book or getting a tan.

The Lansing River Trail runs right through it, making it easily accessible by bike, foot, or rollerblades. CATA bus route 18 will get you there, as will your car. There is a fee to park, so I suggest getting the yearlong parking pass as it will save you lots of money and encourage you to get out there and use the parks our taxes maintain!

On days when it’s above 40 degrees, we usually hop on the River Trail (I’ll post on this awesome Lansing feature in the future) near where it splits off to go to Michigan State University and ride roughly south through Potter Park and Scott Woods. Gorgeous ride at any time of year.

And as much as we love Hawk Island in the warm months, it is now equally awesome in the winter. When the picnic tables are all stacked and leaned against trees and the splash pad is covered with snow, Hawk Island’s new tubing and snowboarding hill takes center stage. Tow ropes take you up the hill of groomed snow (which they make, so no worries that the snow cover has been light this year) and then you head down, either sitting in one of their tubes on one side of the tow ropes or on your own snowboard or skis on the other. There are jumps and rails for the snowboarders, and it is loads of fun to watch them as you sit in your tube and get pulled up the hill.

Open in the evening on weekdays from 4pm until 9pm and from 10am to 9pm on weekends, Hawk Island Snow Park is, in my mind, the best new thing to come to Lansing. We enjoyed a gorgeous evening there a couple weeks ago with friends, the beautiful sun setting behind light clouds making everything glow. And a nice bonus was that all the people who were working on the hill that night were very nice (and in an age when good, cheerful service seems hard to come by, the employees of the Ingham County Parks System should be commended as they are invariably, in my experience, both competent and considerate).

I’m a big proponent of not letting weather keep you inside. If you have the right attitude and dress correctly for winter, you can thoroughly enjoy being outside in the fresh, invigorating air. Layer up your clothes, get some adult snowpants, wear good boots, get off your duff, and go have some fun!

When Passion Meets Purpose

Posted on June 21, 2012 by Erin Bartels

There are times in life when our disparate passions may cross paths through no design of our own. When a talent that often seemed to us a pointless exercise can suddenly be put to great use in the service of a cause or mission. In that moment of connection, we may find our voice.

Such a connection came about for me over the past year.

I have always enjoyed writing, and, in fact, write for a living. But when it came to my own creative writing I often felt aimless or even uninspired. Projects started then abandoned when I felt no compulsion to go on. Ideas tinkling through my brain like water over rocks but with nowhere to land. Yeah, it was frustrating.

I also live in a beautiful state made up of two peninsulas bordered by the Great Lakes and peppered with more than 11,000 inland lakes, as well as many rivers, streams, wetlands, and ponds. The landscape ranges from urban decay to vibrant cities to rural hamlets, from flat farmlands to rolling orchards to deep forests, from stony and sandy beaches to fantastic rock formations to rushing waterfalls. I have a fierce love for Michigan, despite her faults.

Then in July 2011, I began writing a story set on a fictional lake in northern Michigan. And the fateful intersection of two passions came to be. That story, A Beautiful Fiction, lends its name to this space. I’m currently exploring the possibility of publishing that novel. In the meantime, I’ve carved out this online space to continue to pursue my passions, to bring them together in service to one another and to you.

If you love to read, if you love to travel, if you love to live in or visit Michigan, if you love beautiful photography, if you love history, if you love the Midwest, if you love water and woods and city and country . . . please come back often. Because I love all those things too.