OK, so I am cheating for the next couple days. The day after I graduated from high school, my sister Pat and I went on the first of many many camping trips to Michigan's UP. The next few Blog entries are going to be taken, pretty much word for word, from my Journal of that time.

June 2, 1980

Right now, I am sitting at a picnic table in Union Bay campground at the Porcupine Mountains State Park on Lake Superior in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I just love this part of the country. Lake Superior is one of the most beautiful places that I have ever been to.

The Lake is so peaceful and gentle, yet can be bold and wicked. When we arrived here today, it was blanketed in fog. It was reeking of mystery, breathing a cold mist at anyone who approached. The moods of the Lake are legend. Its gentlest wave drowns my voice and my thoughts. Its size floods the eye, larger than my wildest dreams. It has etched ripples in solid rock.

When I was walking along the Lake today, I came upon a rugged birch tree, its leaves soft green. It grew in the midst of sandstone rock. One root twisted its way through the rock; other roots snaked over the rock to find earth several feet away.

Then I thought of gnarled trees clinging to desert sands, searching deep down for moisture. And then there are hundreds of other trees hanging onto existence in unusual places through extraordinary means.

But I should start our trip at the beginning.

We left home a little before nine this morning. We arrived at the Porcupine Mountains, near Ontonagon, in time for lunch. But since we brought no time pieces with us, we were screwed up from the start and decided since it is vacation, who needs to know the time.

This afternoon we hiked around in the woods near Lake of the Clouds. It is appropriately named since it is so elevated that clouds do hang about quite close.

.

Pat setting up the tent our first night of camping. Ever.