Muskallonge Lake State Park

May 10, 2022

Newberry, MI

We are having trouble finding our trailhead. The map I downloaded on my phone has us starting the middle of the lake, which I think might be wrong and thus part of the problem. After circling every road in the park, we end up back in the first lot we tried.

While not the trail I was looking for, we find the Lake Superior Overlook trail. It’s beautiful outside. Shockingly so. 75 degrees and sunny. And not even 11 AM yet. We hang out at the beach longer than planned. Gob gets his beach zoomies out.

Getting our fill of warmth, we head down another trail. My hope is that it will eventually connect to the original trail we sought. The harsh winter has wreaked havoc on the surrounding woods, and every 100 meters or so we must vault over or duck under a felled tree. I’m a little shocked that the path has not been cleared yet, as this is a portion of the North Country Trail. But then again, it is early in the season, and most of the snow has just melted. So they likely haven’t had a chance yet. We don’t make it far before the effort of the hike is too much and begins to overshadow the beauty and joy. We turn around to find a new trail.

And only twenty minutes down the road, we find the Blind Sucker Trail – technically outside of the park but still maintained by them. In those 20 minutes, our warm sunny day has taken a turn. A storm brews in the distance. But we decide it’s far enough away to attempt the 7-mile loop. We head towards the Lake Superior shoreline first.

And we find snow. Rather, Gob has a sick spidey sense that snow is near and literally unearths it from beneath the sand. We are walking through sand, and then Gob starts to dig. And then chomp. And then roll. In the snow. He is the happiest. And each time we pass another snowdrift, he gets his fill.

We turn away from the lake and enter the woods. The sky turns ominous. Thunder bellows in the distance. But birds are still flitting above us in the trees, so we amble on. Not that we had much choice, as this was our halfway point.

Ten minutes later the storm is upon us. Just a steady rain. And deep thunder rolls like cars on an overpass. Thankfully, no lightning. Gobs only indication of discomfort is his position between Mason and I on the trail. He is no longer at the end of his leash, bounding ahead and bumbling through the brush. The rain lasts 45 minutes.