The Superior Hiking Trail is a long-trail (short by long-trail standards, but at 312 miles end to end, it’s doable without having to quit your day job, and long enough to make it a thing) that is worthy of exploration. Best of all, it is right here in MN and we needn't travel far to experience its many splendors, even though it doesn't come with fries. The trail stretches from its northern end (you can see Canada from there) at the 270 Overlook to its southern end at the Wisconsin border south of Duluth after passing through Jay Cooke State Park. I keep promising myself that I will thru-hike it one day (a thru-hike is when you start at one end of a trail and hike to the other end in one single, continuous attempt). My life – work, family, injuries, etc. has prevented me from doing that so far, but I have hiked much of it in sections – usually in 3-day chunks.
There is no right or wrong way to hike the trail – everyone needs to hike their own hike, fuck the begrudgers, and don’t judge other folk’s desires and experiences. I want to thru-hike the thing unsupported -meaning I carry all my own food and stuff from end to end. I don't go into town to re-supply, leave food caches along the trail or accept any "trail magic" (food and things left at trailheads for hikers by kind souls called "trail angels"). I know, there's a lot of geeky, nerdy hiker terminology to get through here. There are other ways to do it, such as - self-supported (meaning you can hike into town to buy stuff or pick up stuff you've sent ahead), or supported, which means some suckers are basically catering to your every need along the way, meeting you at trailheads to deliver you food, massage your feet, bring you root beer, or into town to sleep in a hotel. You can probably tell I don't think too much of the supported crowd, but going back to the mantra "hike your own hike" or, HYOH, all is good. I have bigger things to worry about.
The trail itself is a changing thing - as most trails are. It is often hilly, root and rock-strewn, wet, cold, hot, muddy, buggy, dry, humid, and every once in a while a little bit easy. It’s getting too crowded as it gains in popularity – but its allure beckons all sorts as only the most talented of seducers can do. People are writing books and guides about the thing - to guarantee the destruction and overpopulation of the thing they hold very dear. I'm sort of pissed off at myself for even writing this post, among others.
I like to move “fast” and light, covering as much of the trail as I can each trip – often starting before sunrise, ending after sunset (#headlamphiking), and taking it all in along the way. I don’t stop to linger much, even at amazingly beautiful spots. I pause, rather than linger. I take it all in as I walk, eating and drinking every bit of it in. Sometimes I eat as I walk, stop to filter water or lie down and put my feet up on a tree for a few minutes, eat my big meal along the trail at dusk and then keep walking until 8 or 9 – setting up camp in the dark, sleeping hard and rising at or before sunrise to do it all again. I hurt at the end of a day and am sore in the morning. If you want to stop and examine leaves and mushrooms and gaze at the sky or lakes for hours, that’s exactly the way you should do it. It's likely best that way.
I just happen to do it differently. That's just the way I roll. Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful. I’ve worked some shit out on the trail. I have cried and lamented and have left confessions and untold secrets to the trees and the whispering wind. It is my therapist. I talk to myself while I walk. I get tunes stuck in my head for hours and hours of each day. I plan murders, or, at least grievous bodily harm. I make lists.
This is one of my usual sleep systems setups. Z-packs Hexamid Twin - weighs just a bit over a pound.
So far, I have only done the trail in sections. Because I go by myself and don't wish to bother with arranging transportation between trailheads, I do out and back trips from a single trailhead. It is inefficient to be sure but allows me to see the trail twice each trip, burning it into my memory like a tattoo. The trail does look different when coming from the opposite direction. I've nearly hiked the entire trail in each direction using this method. When I finally take the time to do a full thru-hike (8 or 9 days), I will have someone drop me off at the northern terminus and hike south to its end. Perhaps I will leave a car there so I can self-transport home, or perhaps I can convince someone to come and get me with a day's notice from Duluth. We'll see how much Roxanne likes me at the moment.
In anticipation of the trail “opening” for overnight camping in mid-June, and will be bringing my daughter to her job at an outfitter in the BWCA at about the same time, I'm thinking I might be able to tackle a thru-hike this year. June isn’t the best time to go (I prefer autumn) as it can be wet, muddy, humid, and very buggy – but if I’m not working, and the trail is there – well, why not? We'll see.
The following are excerpts from just three of my section hikes:
Hike 1: 89 miles (3 days) in which my headlamp crapped out and I needed to change plans on the fly.
Hike 2: 93 miles (3 days) in which I made an error and hiked 45 miles instead of 36 one day. I blame the humidity.
Hike 3: 75 miles – Mostly easy pickings. Although days 1 and 3 kicked my ass in spots.
HIKE 1 - Grand Marais to almost 270 Overlook and back again
The day started just fine - on the trail and walking with intent at 6:30 am - making it to South Carlson Pond by 8 pm. 34 miles. The trail was up and down, the lake walk was rocking hard in the wind and Tom Lake Road was a bathtub done in the dark. I set up camp and crawled in my bag as it was getting cold - I was planning to read for a short spell but my headlamp crapped out.
The next morning I changed out the batteries in the pre-dawn dark, but the lamp still didn't work. Hmm. I had left my back up Petzel e light (at 1.5 oz I thought it was too heavy for a fast hike) I always bring on my other trips at home. Bad idea.
Thunderstorms and lingering showers gave me a later start on the day - and was on the trail at 8 am when it was finally getting light enough to see well without the lamp. The trail was very wet, slippery and my pace slowed considerably. It took a long time to get to Woodland Caribou campsite and so I had to re-evaluate my plan - which was to make it to the 270 Overlook and turning around and back to S. Carlson Pond for the night. Without a working headlamp I wouldn't be able to hike before or past sunset and so wouldn't make it back to Grand Marais by Saturday evening. Without cell service, I couldn't let my wife know I wouldn't be back as planned. She would worry. I made the tough call to turn around at Woodland about 8 or 9 miles short of my goal. I fashioned some make-do boot liners from the bottom corners of the spare trash compactor bag I had brought, wrapped my feet in those and pulled my socks over all that, and stuffed my feet into my shoes. I made better time on the way back as I didn't try to keep my feet dry and I only stopped to filter water, ate while walking, etc.. I made it all the way back to Little Brule River NW campsite just before sunset. 28 miles. I had barely enough time to set up my tent and eat a bit before it got dark.
It warming and not so wet this night and I slept well.
Day 3 was bright and lovey-dovey. I stopped and chatted with a few folks on the trail and got back to Grand Marais with time to spare - so I hiked on to County Rd 6 and then back again to watch the beginning of the sunset. A 27-mile day, though I wish it had been more.
HIKE 2 - Sugar Loaf Road to Cascade River State Park and back again
I left home early in the dark just after midnight and was on the trail walking by 6 am. I saw no one on the trail until I reached Temperance River, and then very few after that. The turned hot and humid and even though I was filtering water often, I don't think I drank enough. I was surprised by Jen Theisen and her sister as I was relaxing at the Springdale Creek campsite for a post-lunch nap. I wasn't wearing a shirt and it took me a while for me to realize she hadn't taken it from me. We chatted for too long and I so I tried to make up time in the afternoon heat. Leveaux Mountain and Oberg Mountain dealt out some pain and I struggled through it - but then slowed considerably on Moose and Mystery Mountains. The day was in decline. I trudged the last few miles in a pressing moist-thick air. It was full dark by the time I got to the campsite at West Poplar River - hiking by headlamp. I drank some water and electrolytes - ate whatever was in my meal bag for the night and slept - waking with cramps in my legs through the night. 32 miles.
I mostly drank water in the morning. My plan was to walk 36ish miles for the day, camping maybe at Springdale Creek that night. I packed quickly - and headed off into the light. The day was fine and warm again. I made it to Cascade River and turned around - covering the same ground in reverse. I didn't manage my hydration very well again and in my mind, I wasn't adding up my mileage correctly. As I neared what I had planned to be my stopping point for the night I convinced myself that I was wrong and needed to keep hiking to make my miles. By the time I realized my mistake I was already at Temperance River and there were no campsites for another few miles. I dragged my delirious self to North Cross campsite, set up camp, ate quickly, drank more, and collapsed in my tent. 45 miles. Do NOT trust your tired self to be right on the trail. Trust the plan you put together when you planned your trip.
The next morning I woke and left by 7. I was back at Sugar Loaf Road by noon. 12 miles? The day was too easy and I wished I had more of my legs with me. I drove home, stopping twice for Dr. Pepper and milkshakes along the way.
HIKE 3 - Silver Bay to Crosby Manitou and back again
As is my custom, I left home early in the dark just after midnight and was on the trail walking by 6 am - in spite of discovering that someone had broken into our garage and stolen several of our bicycles. I felt bad about leaving Roxanne to deal with that shit - but I had miles to hike. The first bit of the trail was a bit confusing, marked by intermittent signs and rock cairns but I hiked the obvious paths that had no bike ruts, passing Bean and Bear and saw no one until Tettegouche where there was a mess of people walking all over the damn place.
It rained from the Baptism River until I reached Sawmill Dome when it brightened and warmed. I changed shirts, filtered water at the creek just before Section 13, then made the final few miles to Leskinen Creek. I had the campsite to myself as the night fell heavy and cold. I heard someone walking hard past camp well after dark and wished them well to wherever they were going. Silently.
I creaked my way out of my bag and tent the next morning - packing up my gear even though I planned to make camp there again that night. One can never tell. I crossed the East Branch of the Baptism River strode past the Egge Lakes, and hit Crosby State Park where I had lunch. On the way back, I met a couple of fellas who needed some drink mix. They were struggling a bit. I gave them a few Gatorade packets, chatted a bit and made my way back the way I had come, hiking the last couple of miles in off and on again wind and rain - setting up camp again at Leskinen Creek, in the exact spot I had been the previous night.
The night was cold again and there was a hard frost on the trail at 7 am. I walked through Sawmill Bog on the boardwalk, slipped and fell but thanks to my spidey sense I was able to land on bog grass and not in the water. I stopped for breakfast and to shed a layer atop Section 13, then picked my way back over familiar ground and back to Silver Bay. 75 miles - 25 each day, felt like a picnic and a walk in the park, which I guess it was, really.
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