Mackinaw City — I was driving into the wilderness, and I was pretty sure I wasn’t alone.

It was dark, and I had stopped at a restaurant to use the restroom, when a rowdy group of guys came in. They were possibly drunk but probably harmless. I headed back to my car and passed a parked white van out front with the side doors still open and a few more guys talking loudly in it.

I got in my car, checked that my shared location was on, and called a friend to check in. As I pulled out and turned left, so did the white van. I drove on the highway northbound, and it took the southbound ramp. I relaxed. 

Two minutes later, a white van was on my left, speeding to get ahead of me. It looked like the exact same one, though I hadn’t thought to check the model earlier. I wasn’t positive. I called my friend again to tell him what was potentially going on and get his opinion. He told me to go home, which seemed like an overreaction, even for a woman traveling alone. I drove on, keeping the van in front of me. 

Paranoia is very real these days. I saw it take over splash pads and playgrounds all summer. While watching my nephew and chatting with moms and caregivers, I’d often hear about the latest thing social media has told them to worry about.

But they say when you get off your phone, it’s still 2005 outside, though it can take something pulling you out to realize it. Something, or someplace. A place with no lights allowed. A place commanding complete presence to enjoy its totality. A place of total darkness that lets you reconnect to the comfort of the natural world. This place was what I was headed toward when my own paranoia came on. 

Dark sky parks have been popping up as light pollution has worsened. Michigan has three internationally protected and sanctioned parks under DarkSky International, a U.S. based nonprofit started by two astronomers, which has parks in over 70 countries across the globe. Keweenaw Dark Sky park, Dr. T.K. Lawless County Park, and Headlands being the three, though Beaver Island is also a dark sky “sanctuary,” making four internationally protected locations to enjoy an uninterrupted night sky.

The Michigan Department of Natural Resources has their own offerings of dark sky parks, with six parks across five counties providing relief from light pollution and a portal back to reality. I didn’t know how much I needed it until I finally got to one.  

I left for Headlands from Grand Rapids, where crime is somewhat present and something to be aware of. It was already dark. I left late, wanting to arrive in the dead of night for optimal darkness.

Half an hour from Headlands, I still had the white van in front of me for visibility. Eventually, it was just me and the van on the road, driving in the dark, with videos of cars being stopped on empty streets by kidnappers feigning trouble playing in the back of my mind. I decided to get the license plate, which took driving well over the speed limit to get close enough to see it. I backed off my speed once I gave it to my friend over the phone. The van slowed just as I did, which was disheartening. 

I felt silly, but I had to consider the risks at this point. I didn’t want to be in a large secluded and unlit park with a van full of drunk guys. Without a weapon, I felt ill prepared. My packed headlamp wouldn’t do much against half a dozen dudes. 

They had driven with me for the 40 minutes. Finally, nearing my destination, I doubled back to keep the van from knowing where I was headed. After waiting a while, I turned back toward the park. The roads got smaller and smaller, and I started to think every white vehicle I passed was them. I had scared myself before I even entered the isolated woods. 

The irony here was not lost on me. I knew these fears were heightened by videos I’ve seen on the internet, which was the exact drive behind my desire to visit the park. Digital disconnection in the name of physical recalibration, and apparently, I was long overdue. 

I needed a voice of reason, so I parked my car and called the Mackinaw City police non-emergency line. The woman who took my call was extremely sweet and understanding and offered a chat at the station, which happened to be a half mile away. I pulled into the parking lot, and an officer with the same mustache as Jay Chandrasekhar in Super Troopers was waiting. I told him my silly story and how it was probably nothing. 

“You’re from Grand Rapids?” He asked.

I nodded.

“I’m from near Detroit, so I get it. The big cities have more crime and things like that happening. But I’ll tell you, I’ve not had one call from that park ever.” 

I was relieved. “That’s great to hear. Just making sure the first one isn’t from me.” 

I felt bad for wasting his time. Taking in the blissfully quiet town, I realized I had let the fear-mongering of digital slop surfing disillusion me from my fellow Michiganders. I looked around the quaint town I’ve enjoyed for years and couldn’t believe I had actually been scared. 

I finally went into the park, with the officer very kindly following behind on the winding road in. Once parked, I had to laugh at myself. It was full of sweet elderly couples, photographers, and outdoorsmen, all coming to enjoy the simplest pleasure: the stars. I killed the lights, as they are not allowed in the protected dark sky park, and followed the dotted red lights into the welcoming abyss.

As my eyes adjusted to my surroundings, my hearing sharpened as well. I heard water lapping gently on sand and followed the sound to the shoreline. The moon perched peacefully over the water. I chuckled. Turn back? And miss this? 

I would’ve been a fool. 

Devinn Dakohta is a contributing writer for Michigan Enjoyer. Follow her on Instagram @Devinn.Dakohta and X @DevinnDakohta.