I Found the Only Waterfall in the Lower Peninsula

Ocqueoc — My wife, like most wives, loves leaving the house for an indeterminate amount of time only to return with a few bags of new purchases I didn’t know we needed. Though, I must say, my wife is unique in that more often than not the bags are full of old books from the library sale at the Petoskey Library, not new dishes and lamps.

On one of these outings she returned with an old paperback titled “A guide to 199 Michigan Waterfalls,” written by Laurie Penrose. It’s an amazing little book first published in the late 1980s full of maps, photos, and practical details on how to reach each fall in the book by foot or car.

On the opening pages there’s a map with little numbered dots corresponding to a legend at the bottom listing where to find each fall. And this map of the nearly 200 Michigan waterfalls is confusing because there is no Lower Peninsula. There may be every U.P. county from Gogebic in the west to Chippewa in the east, but there is nothing below the bridge.

The Lower Peninsula and the Upper Peninsula are very different places socially, economically, and apparently geologically. The Upper Peninsula rests on ancient Precambrian bedrock, while the Lower Peninsula is glacial till and soft sedimentary rock. Thusly, the Upper Peninsula has waterfalls—198 of them!—and the Lower Peninsula is almost—key word: almost!—entirely devoid of such watery grandeur.

But if we flip to the nearly final page of our beloved Michigan Waterfalls book, after almost all the falls have been accounted for, there is one lone entry in the final section comprised of a single noble page titled “Lower Peninsula Waterfalls.”

Fall No. 199, the final fall in the book, the only fall in the Lower Peninsula, is Ocqueoc Falls in Presque Isle County, about halfway between Onaway and Rogers City. Ocqueoc—pronounced ah-key-ock—is a French adaptation of an old Ojibwa name meaning “crooked waters,” and having finally visited, I would say they named it aptly. Prior to becoming aware of these falls I had, in all my years living Up North, somehow, never heard of Ocqueoc Falls. I’d been to Cheboygan, Alpena, Rogers City, Indian River. I’d driven east and west across the state on M-68, yet, prior to last week, I had never stopped to visit our one and only waterfall below the bridge.

I could spend a paragraph or two attempting to describe the falls myself, painting an image in word to the best of my ability, but the description offered in our old book is more eloquent than anything I might write, so I think we might just as well let Penrose’s words describe the scene:

“Less than 100 feet from a parking area, the Ocqueoc River makes three drops for a total of about 10 feet. As the water sweeps over the smooth shelves of black rock, the falls forms snow-white accents between each level section of the river. A mixture of hardwoods surrounds the falls, and a few dark-green pines are scattered along the banks. As you walk through a thick layer of dried oak leaves, which have covered the earth since the previous autumn, the only sounds that pierce the silence are the leaves rustling underfoot and the muted roar of the river hidden beyond the trees. As you approach the river, the trails of light-brown leaves dwindle, and a few fall into the rushing water.”

I can attest to the accuracy of the description from the late 1980s with a few additions and seasonal clarifications. The park has been updated in recent years, and it’s extremely easy to access the falls today. The parking lot is large with ample spaces, and the trail is completely paved all the way up to the rocks which lead down to the access point making it possible for children with less reliable balance, mothers with strollers, and people in wheelchairs. There are also picnic tables and grills down by the falls as well. There’s no need for any gear; it’s an easy trip for anyone who wants to see them or dine by them.

As for the sublime springtime sound of dried oak leaves described in our book from the library sale, the only additions I might make are that in the summer season the sounds of voices from swimmers echo down the river and over the rumble of the falls. Right below the biggest drop, there’s a section in the river where the water is calm and deep.

It’s deep enough to swim a little, go under water, and even jump from the top of the falls as kids were doing on a hot August afternoon. This small natural basin in the river slopes up to a shallow point before the next drop where little kids walk with their parents, play in the water, and stay cool. It’s an incredible little scene, and an amazing natural pool below these lovely rushing falls.

The sound of the rolling water over the falls is beautiful, though it’s not a sound I hear often. The constant flowing and almost uniform rushing is distinct from the repetitive lapping of the waves we know so well in the northwest corner. There’s something calming, soothing, and almost spiritual about the continual presence at the falls. Always flowing. Always moving.

Michigan is one state and two peninsulas. Just past the toll outside St. Ignace, the walls of rock tower along the road in a way that doesn’t exist south of the straits. That our Lower Peninsula is almost entirely bereft of falls with only this one single exception is a funny little oddity and a perfect testament to the difference between our peninsulas.

But why exactly are the Ocqueoc Falls the only falls south of the bridge? Well, the northeastern corner just so happens to be the only region in the entire Lower Peninsula where the bedrock rests close enough to the surface for a river to reach it.

Having driven around a lot of northern Michigan I am of the opinion that the northeast corner of the Lower Peninsula is kind of, almost 50% U.P. The northwest is not. It’s 100% Lower Peninsula. But the northeast is a little Yooperish in a peculiar way. I believe this for a lot of reasons, and it’s a bigger story for another time, but the presence of this geological fluke in the northeast resulting in the only falls in the Lower Peninsula is a perfect little cherry on top.

It’s strange the only falls in the Lower Peninsula aren’t more well known. Did you know about Ocqueoc before? I didn’t. Usually we really glom onto places that stand out as an anomaly. Well, Ocqueoc Falls are just that, but still no one really talks about them.

Maybe no one really knows about the Ocqueoc Falls because not many people really make it all the way out the northeast corner of the Lower Peninsula. There’s beautiful nature there, but it’s just too far.

I guess that’s another way it’s like the U.P.