The bedside clock reads 6:37 am. The sun won't rise this time of year for more than an hour, but I unwrap myself from my cozy bed and shuffle to the kitchen for coffee. The rest of the cabin is still and quiet, but in the distance, I can already hear them. The snowmobiles. The distant revving of snow machines headed out to the trails so early on this frigid zero degree morning.
Our family has been coming to this lake here in Gaylord since the 1930's. I know this place. But prior to 1999, I had only known half of it. Our family cabin on the lake was only open from May to October. I had heard stories of this place in the winter, with snow as deep as a grown man. Stories of drifts so high a person could sled from the roof of the cabin right out onto the lake. But to me, this was a summer getaway, and I was not interested in a colder, snowier winter than what we already experienced at home.
Then I met this guy. And while he had, like me, grown up swimming and skiing in the warm, northern Michigan lakes every summer, he had also grown up snowmobiling on snowy trails in the Upper Peninsula every winter. That guy, of course, was Jason. Every year, his family and friends set aside the week after Christmas to snowmobile up north. Soon enough, I was added into this mix.
That first year, I rode on the back of Jason's snowmobile. This was not ideal because: 1. His snowmobile was made for one person, and 2. He likes to go really fast. But he took one for the team that year, and I learned how to lean into the curves and how to hang on for dear life. It's something special to be within a long line of snowmobiles, all enjoying the trails and the scenery and stopping every few hours to warm up before heading back out into the cold for more.
That first year didn't go off without a hitch, though. The night before our final day of riding, I somehow ended up playing pool and doing shots of Black Velvet at the bar, long into the night. The next morning I was not a pretty picture. I told Jason there was no way I could ride that day and to just go without me. While everyone had breakfast and were gearing up to ride, I sprinted to the bathroom and puked my guts out until there was literally nothing left inside me. Jason came back to the room and had told the rest of the group to go without him. I promptly said I was feeling much better and I thought I could ride. In a mad rush, I pulled myself together and hopped on the back of his sled. We had to catch up with the group! If I thought Jason had driven fast before, this was next-level. We were flying. And then, on a sharp curve, I was literally flying-right off the sled! I landed and skidded through the snow in such a way that my entire helmet filled up with icy snow. Of course, I was livid and he was chuckling. Deep breaths. After some curse words and threats of death directed at him, Jason agreed to take it a little easier on me. We made it to Trout Lake just as the others were ordering, and Jason was oh-so-happy to have made it in time, as this place served the best Pasties in the UP. What the heck is a Pastie? I had so much to learn.
The next year, we visited Tahquamenon Falls. I had been there in the summer before, but had never imagined seeing it in the winter. The free-flowing water and lush greenery was replaced with snow and ice and the falls seemed to have frozen mid-fall. It was amazing.
I just had no idea that so many people came to northern Michigan and the Upper Peninsula in the winter. The summery beach towns transformed into warming spots for weary riders and launch pads for trailers full of snowmobilers to unload. Gas stations were filled with not cars, but snowmobilers. Hotels and restaurants had built-in places to hang helmets and winter gear. Why had I never noticed all the tiny stop signs and directional signs at road and trail crossings? And everywhere, the sound of the sleds.
Some years, the trip didn't go as planned. Once, we arrived at our hotel to find there was no snow. Our caravan moved west. And further west. And all the way west to Lake Gogebic. And when we finally found the snow, there was soooo much of it. We rode all night that first night. At one point, I looked over to find a startled deer running along side me, unsure of where it should go to get away from all of this chaos! And even when the snow was perfect for riding, there always seemed to be a sled that needed work. On some occasions, a local would offer a warm garage so the men could take a snowmobile apart and miraculously find parts and get things fixed up for the next day's ride. On other occasions, we'd have to leave a snowmobile beyond repair to be picked up by trailer, and we would double up on another's sled.
And some years, the snow was amazing. So amazing that Jason would not be able to resist taking little side trails that were untouched, or even making his own trails through the woods. This is called "boondocking". I learned the hard way several times that following him on these little adventures almost always resulted in me burying my sled in waist-deep snow, and waiting for him to come back and dig me out.
When Greyson was a baby, my parents bought a little cabin around the corner from our cabin on the lake. This new cabin was built to withstand Michigan weather year-round. As the grandkids grew in number, so did the need for more space. A few years ago, my dad added a second story onto that little cabin and doubled the living space. We now have a great place to enjoy our lake town in both summer and winter. Our kids have grown up snowmobiling here. When the snow flies, we are northbound.
Greyson fell in love with it pretty much as soon as he could walk...
Alayna followed suit, and will be legal to drive her own snowmobile next year...
Emerson loves riding, and lounging, but I think she's really in it for the hot chocolate...
And Nash? The hum of those machines just puts that boy to sleep!
Of course, there are also sled rides around the cabin, too.
And Grey has now taken my place, following Jason on his boondocking adventures.
This year has been strange for a couple of reasons. First of all, there has been minimal snow, even in northern Michigan. And second, we are in the middle of a pandemic. Northern Michigan and the Upper Peninsula have had their fair share of COVID-19 cases, despite restaurants and bars and other public places being closed. How would snowmobile season happen if there was nowhere to warm up and eat throughout the days? Well, people got creative. Heated tents were put up. Single group "bubbles" were erected. Huge bonfires were built with outdoor seating. And hey, if you build it, they will come, right?
With just enough snow to make the trails passable, snowmobile riders have flocked to the trails this year. Gaylord, which usually has an abundance of snow and more arriving nearly daily all winter, has just ten inches on the ground. And with hundreds of sleds passing over the same spots every day, there is not much the groomers can do. Snirt, a snow/dirt mix, is the norm this year. But the kids were itching to ride, and we did.
Saturday arrived, cold and clear, and everyone was up and out the door by 10:00 am. Seven of us rode, and the others planned to meet us for outdoor lunch and dinner throughout the day.
We headed north on the Iron Belle Trail. This trail will eventually connect Belle Isle near Detroit to Ironwood in the Upper Peninsula. A couple times this year, I have run from our cabin north on this trail, and this Saturday, with its zero degree temperature and winter wonderland display, was a far cry from the heat and black flies of July.
Our first stop of the day was just north of Wolverine, at the Thirsty Sturgeon, where we had a great lunch around a bonfire.
And what trip would be complete without a stop at Larry's in Elmira? If you know, you know.
Our last stop of the day was at Settings in Lakes of the North, where the tent was cold and the bonfire was crowded. We opted to just stay for a few minutes before the ride home. The sun was going down and I was having a hard time staying warm.
We rode a hundred miles on Saturday. Greyson and Emerson drove their own sleds, and led the way all day with Grandpa. I hung out at the back of the pack, as I often do while running. I like to stop and take pictures along the way, before catching back up to the group. By the time we made it back to the cabin, the trails were toast. Two days later my back is still sore from the endless bumps on the too-little-snow trail. But we did it. We battled a pandemic and we battled the under-producing weather, and we all now have another year of snowmobile stories to tell.
