How I Almost Died on North Manitou Island
A tree almost fell on me as we hiked around the wilderness island, but the wildlife and sunsets were worth it
North Manitou Island — There’s no ferry service to the island this year. The National Park Service is removing and replacing the docks. Instead, hikers must take a smaller charter run by Manitou Passage Boat Tours.
My trip, along with hiking buddies Sam and Freddy, would take us to the island on Friday morning, and back early Sunday. Captain Jimmy Munoz runs Manitou Passage Boat Tours, and we boarded the smaller of his two boats, The Bear.
The water on Lake Michigan was almost glassy, in contrast to what can be a famously rough passage. The stretch between the Leelanau Peninsula and the two islands was a popular route for north-south traffic for Lake Michigan shipping.
In fact, the Michigan Underwater Preserve council documents 14 shipwrecks in the area. The smooth, fast ride was a welcome change from the usual passage on the ferry.
North Manitou is almost completely wilderness, with one established camping area and two pit toilets. Otherwise, you’re on your own to navigate the trails and find good locations to camp. We opted to hammock. Looping the island in 48 hours was a bit over 20 miles.
I had two questions as we set out: First, after significant delays, what was the progress of the dock project on the island? Second, what was the island like with even fewer people on it than usual?
A few near-death experiences didn’t mar what turned out to be a perfect weekend of hiking.
The Bear brought us right to the sandy beach. The lowered gate allowed us to walk onto the island without getting our boots wet (or in my case, Chacos, which was a mistake). A ranger ushered us away from the construction, but you could see the ongoing project.
The old dock is partially removed. Next to it sits a barge with a crane, which was busy lowering pylons. If you want to stay on the island in luxury, I recommend getting hired by Spence Brothers, the contractors for the project. But working seven days a week and long hours make up for the deluxe accommodations. Every time we were near the site, the crew was busy and work continued into the evening hours.
The trails of North Manitou go through deserted farms, old orchards, and logging areas. We went around the north side of the island, which rises up a bit and reveals abandoned logging trucks and equipment. We camped the first night on a bluff overlooking the lake. The beach is best for swimming on this side of the island, with sand and shallow, clear water. The sunsets are incredible.
On the west side, while we were hiking through the woods, we heard a loud popping and snapping. I went into a jog. An entire tree—leaves, roots, and all—came crashing across the trail, right where we had just been walking. Barely a breeze moved the trees around us, so we were flummoxed. I had to conclude that one of my many enemies was active. But seriously, an adrenaline rush got us through the next few miles. This was our Near-Death Experience #1.
This led to an over-vigilance that none of our camping spots were near dead standing trees and late-night calculations on the number of trees that fall per day on the whole island (about one and a half on average, but more during storms, we decided).
Deer on this island are prolific, with an annual hunt designed to maintain a healthy population. But their numbers also maintain a high volume of ticks. I was particularly targeted and removed newly latched ticks as small as the size of a poppy seed. My future brush with tick-borne illnesses may be my Near-Death Experience #2.
While we had already used Off! and a brand of natural spray, which I believe might attract instead of repel them, I vowed to spray with heavier insecticide before returning. I found out after the fact that Permethrin is a favorite of hikers and hunters.
But despite these unwelcome hitchhikers, the wildlife was fantastic. We counted 33 garter snakes (a good time to be hammocking), multiple bald eagles, does with fawns drinking at the lake’s edge, and a countless number of butterflies, moths, and other bugs. Milkweed, the exclusive snack of monarch caterpillars, covered a major part of the island and we spotted hundreds of butterflies.
Admittedly, my brushes with death had become progressively anticlimactic ever since the tree, and such is NDE #3. But this mishap was subjectively the most painful. I vowed to leave behind my beloved Chacos next hike, as I developed blisters on multiple toes and had to wrap them individually.
These quasi-near-death experiences roughing it on North Manitou did not ultimately detract from the natural beauty we encountered on the island. The weather, wildlife, and water—with few exceptions—behaved wonderfully.
On our longest day of hiking, we rounded the southern point, hugging the shore instead of the path which was behind the tree line. The southernmost tip was closed for nesting plovers, so we cut through the forest for a stretch. I opted to go barefoot on the pristine sandy coastline.
Boaters had docked to take in the uninhabited coastline. I called out to one group as we hiked by, “You look like the kind of people who have beers for weary hikers.”
“Enough for weeks!” they replied, and started tossing them to us in the water.
And there we were, in the middle of nowhere, with cold Oberon Lights.
