“Sweet Jesus.” I thought to myself gripping the handle attached to the Iron Butterfly’s roll bar. “We are never going to make it through this.”
Naturally, I didn’t say this out loud but I’m pretty sure Dave already knew as I am not, by nature, a subtle individual.
We stayed in Michigan's upper peninsula for one reason - Drummond Island.
Drummond Island lies off the furthest tip of Michigan's upper peninsula, a mere 18 miles from it's neighbor, Cockburn Island in Canada. This heavily forested piece of heaven boasts 150 miles of shoreline, 36 inland lakes but most importantly, 40 miles of ORV routes with varying levels of difficulty
Of course, when you decide to go off roading after a major rainstorm with more rain promised in the forecast, the difficulty level goes up just a wee bit.
Isn't it the way of things though? There's one outing you've been looking forward to for weeks and it rains...and rains...and rains. But if we let a little thing like a drizzle, downpour or deluge deter us, we'd never get out. We had one Saturday here and we were going off roading come hell or high water.
Side note - careful the statements you make, they just might come true.
So we took the 10 minute ride on the tiny ferry across Lake Huron to discover what adventures awaited us.
After a brief Sunday drive on a Saturday afternoon around exterior of this not so small island we both agreed it's a beautiful place to visit but it was time to get serious.
The way life goes. It had mildly drizzled and, indeed, often this day not rained at all. Until of course we're at the trailhead airing down our tires. Then, when we're so very close to finishing, the sky opens up and buckets of water fall to the ground soaking us.
Well, that's one way to start the off roading portion of the trip.
I'll be honest here. I'm not a fan of mudding. I dislike going through any water that I can't see the bottom of. I wouldn't say it was from a traumatic experience in my younger days but when one is flying along puddle filled dirt ORV trails in a jacked up pick-up having a great time in the late afternoon (I was the passenger) only to come to a literal screeching halt because said truck high centers abruptly on an unseen rut in one of the puddles, it leaves an imprint. We had to walk a couple of miles, reaching the nearest road around dusk because we were stuuuucckkkk.
Don't get me wrong, it was a fun time but ever since I've had issues with puddles.
Back to the present. As we drove along the once roads but now more stream like waterways, my nerves relaxed to the point where Dave and I were even joking about how the water paths were actually easier and safer than the go arounds people had created which were basically mud pits.
As we're bopping along our merry with nary a soul in sight the terrain began to change. The mud became increasing deeper and more difficult to drive along the path you wanted to. Backing up was not an option. Turning around was not an option. There was only one option.
Plow through until your either free of the bog or stuck in it.
"What are you doing?" I asked as Dave gingerly opened his door.
We were sitting in what might be referred to as a ditch with mud settling on the undercarriage of our jeep.
"Trying to find the best way out of here." Came the distant answer as he carefully tread over the more solid areas of mud peering around a little copse of trees nestled between two options.
“Sweet Jesus.” I thought to myself gripping the handle attached to the Iron Butterfly’s roll bar. “We are never going to make it through this.”
Naturally, I didn’t say this out loud but I’m pretty sure Dave already knew as I am not, by nature, a subtle individual...and I breathe deeply when trying to remain calm.
Route chosen, Dave gunned the Butterfly into a forward lunge headed for the small band of trees. Well, technically he was aiming for the right side of them but the slimy ooze that tried to hold us back had other plans. A last minute slide shifted us momentarily where Dave wanted be. The Butterfly roared with a momentary gasp of air as Dave turned us into a narrow opening amongst the trees, landing us on firmer ground.
The Butterfly swerved one way then another, slipping back and forth through the mud pit as Dave fought to avoid trenches created by prior drives. Trenches that wanted to suck us into their ruts and keep us there.
It's amazing how a few minutes can feel like forever. Eventually, though it really couldn't have been that long, we were on solid ground and facing...a stop sign?
Yep. As the day progress we saw a couple of these along the ORV trails. Weird.
Luck was with us (again) when the path we wanted to take was blocked by a couple of guys who waiting for their friend to return because apparently, that way was REALLY bad.
When Dave came back from talking with the guys, he realized, that wasn't the way to South Marble Head anyway so we bid them goodbye and sloshed happily on our way.
A crowd of older (yes, our age and above) jeepers greeted us at South Marble Head. They were watching, and advising, their friends go up and down the steps. Not really a hard core group of jeepers, they were having an exciting time with the steps, but a friendlier group of people I have yet to encounter.
They even helped Dave when he drove the steps.
Eventually it was time to part ways and we were once again, by ourselves. It was a short lived loneliness as we soon fell inline behind the guys from the REALLY bad way as we all headed out of the trail system.
After the quagmire we had been through earlier, the rest of the day was to be frank, boring. Beautiful, but boring.
South Marble Head loop is one of the Jeep badge of honor trails. Some badges are easy. Some are just fun. Our basically stock Butterfly and its driver earned this badge with mud, sweat and not a small amount of swearing.
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