It’s about 650 miles north of Cleveland.
It’s hard to even call places like Marquette and Big Bay part of Michigan – at least not the Michigan those of us from Ohio State football coach Woody Hayes’ era despise.
This is the Upper Peninsula, land of stunning lakes, whipping winds, rugged rivers and snow. And more snow. Hundreds of feet of snow. They brag about what part of U.P. gets the most snow. Only 200 feet a year in Marquette? Go about 100 miles west, young man, head to the Porcupine Mountains for 300 feet a year!
And bugs. These aren’t insects. They are terrorists. Big and small, they take off from secret aircraft carriers and they want your blood. Every. Last. Drop.
They buzz. They swarm. They attack eyeballs. They eat ears. They look for any patch of skin. Don’t come here in May or June to hike unless you plan to leave the woods as a skeleton. August is a great time to hike, the bugs are mostly are gone.
Did I say I love this place? Did I mention it being God’s country? Been coming up here every year for at least 15 summers. Very few places make me feel as close to God, his creation and the power of nature as Way Up Here.
We drove along a paved road north of Marquette on Route 550 until it ends in Big Bay, a town snuggled up against the shores of Lake Superior and Independence Lake. It had a population of 189 in 2019 with an average age of 61, according to Data USA.
In 1952, a local bartender may have raped the wife of a military officer. That was her story. The officer went to the Lumberjack Tavern in Big Bay and gunned down the bartender in cold blood.
What followed was a sensational trial, and the defense lawyer was John Voelker, who got the officer off on what amounted to a temporary insanity plea. Voelker later wrote the novel Anatomy of the Murder (under the name Robert Traver) about it. It was a best-seller in 1958.
In 1959, it was turned into a movie with Jimmy Stewart, George C. Scott, Lee Remick and Ben Gazzara. The big stars of that era came together in Big Bay, Marquette and other local spots for the filming. You still will see old black and white pictures of them at various area businesses.
The movie is good. The novel is better. Visiting the town is best.
HIKING THE YELLOW DOG RIVER
About 10 miles from Big Bay, most of it down a gravel road, you find the Yellow Dog River Trail.
The first mile is relatively easy. Once upon a time, it was rarely visited. Now, it’s promoted in local hiking guides. But the trail goes for several more miles, through rocks, stumps, bushes and brambles. After a half hour, you’ll leave people behind. Most don’t want to deal with what’s left of this trail.
And you’ll find one waterfall after another, the river roaring at times, then settling into quiet pools for crafty trout fisherman.
But then you run into a homemade memorial site.
The little white cross reads DADDY. It also says MARKY. There are little flags with solar lights. There is a little white picket fence. There is a stone plaque with an angel reading in part: “Those we love don’t go away, they walk beside us every day…”
This memorial has been there for at least a few years. We’ve seen it before on the hike, and always wondered about it. Near it in the river was a fly fisherman in waders, the water thigh level. We talked a bit about the brook trout he caught.
I noticed the little bobber, a line, fly fishing lures and two pennies (For good luck? Pennies from heaven?) in the memorial. Perhaps this was Marky’s favorite spot for trout.
Perhaps his ashes are spread here. Or maybe, it was a favorite place where he took his kids to fish.
A Google search for the Yellow Dog River turned up the death of Guiancarlo Estupigan in 2019. He was a Northern Michigan student who majored in wildlife management and went hiking in January 2019 to photograph wildlife and the waterfalls.
A blizzard hit. He became lost and died. His body was found only 300 feet from the road.
But this marker doesn’t seem to have anything to do with Estupigan’s death.
Instead, it’s a celebration of a life of someone who was loved, someone who found a bit of heaven along a remote river not far from the end of the road town of Big Bay.
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