Winter Like it Used to Be

"In my day, the winters were so much more . . . snowy, or colder, or predictable" seems to be a frequent complaint I hear from mid-Michigan residents over the age of 30  (climate data shows that anyone under the age of 27 has never experienced a colder than average month, anytime of year).  I too remember my youth when I could open the back door most any day between Christmas and President's Day, throw on a pair of nordic skis, and take a cross-country exploration along the Shiawassee River.  Now, with climate change, these days are rare.  So, in a quest to find Winter Like It Used to Be, my wife Anna and I headed to the eastern shore of Lake Superior, and there in the Great White North found a very special place.  And, a very good conservation story as well.

The Algoma Highlands muscle in on Lake Superior north of Sault Ste Marie and in so doing create one of the most beautiful big landscapes of the Great Lakes. Underlying the hills, and much apparent in cliffs along the shore, are some of earth's oldest rocks, remnants of geological upheavals that occurred long before life appeared on the planet.  As we headed north across the flat eastern Upper Peninsula, across the now tamed St. Mary's River, and dropped down the big hill into the plain of the Goulais River, we were stepping back some two millions years from the young, glacial topography of the lower Great Lakes to the Precambrian era of the Canadian Shield.  The temperature was a minus -9 F (-22 C) and there was lots of snow on the ground.

In the early 20th Century, the beauty of the Algoma Highlands attracted Canadian landscape artists like Tom Thomson and the Group of Seven. 

Our destination was Stokely Creek, a small resort from another time and country.  With miles of groomed cross-country ski trails, a Scandinavian aesthetic to the lodge buildings, an absence of televisions and vehicles, and a warm social atmosphere, Stokely Creek is a respite from the hectic 21st American Century. It begins when you park your car at the edge of the resort and ski in to the lodge, it deepens when you sneak off into the woods and the creek plays hide and seek among snow and ice, and it transform you when you discover a frozen waterfall, a glimpse of Lake Superior from one of the high points, or the sight of a wolf on an ice covered lake.  For me, the snow, the silence, and the setting of Stokely Creek create winter the way it should be.

Creating, and Preserving, a Place like Stokely Creek takes dedication, and time, and in this case the efforts of several generations of several families, business partners, and a local land conservancy.  The resort opened in the late 1970s and Chuck Peterson, the founder, then spent the next two decades building the business, setting trails, and patiently acquiring surrounding parcels.  At the time of his death in 2000, he had assembled a precious natural area of more than 8,000 acres.  Unfortunately, as is sometimes the case, the estate process was not straightforward or quick.  Eventually, a creative partnership was formed between a logging company, who purchased most of the property, the Byker-Phair family, who acquired the lodge buildings and continue to operate the resort, and the Algoma Highlands Conservancy, who protected 2,600 ecologically important acres of the land.

The partnership balances the economic returns of logging and tourism, with the environmental benefits of land protection, with the socio-spiritual attachments people and families form with certain places over time.  Susan and Gaylen Byker have been an important force, helping to broker the deal that allows Stokely Creek exclusive right to use and maintain 120 kilometers of trails on various parcels owned by a logging company or the Conservancy.  They have also financially supported the Conservancy in their land acquisitions, and provided them office space as well.   Asked why he went to this trouble, Gaylen Byker points to his grandchildren and says, “We want to save this place for the next generation.”






Legacy Lessons become clear as one learns the history of this special place. First, it's hard work that requires a passion for place and the future.  Land preservation can make economic sense, but the parties involved usually also have an awareness of some greater goals and obligations.  Second, preservation is rarely a one-time deal and true conservation takes time.  The Algoma Highlands Conservancy still carries a debt  from its acquisition of King Mountain and surrounding areas that complements its Robertson Lake Cliffs landholding.  Fortunately, fundraising is proceeding well, most recently with a Foster a Forest campaign that enables the Conservancy to receive matching funds for every dollar donated.  Finally, the saga of the last 12 years reminds all of us involved in land preservation that foresight and planning are valuable components of any conservation effort. (Note: if you are planning a legacy gift of land or financial assets, you should make sure that you have consulted with the beneficiaries and that your estate plan is clear and current.)

The Great Lakes have many legacy places that enrich the landscape.  We enjoy many national, state, provincial, and local parks because of the foresight of elected officials and engaged citizens sometime in the past.  The land trust and conservancy movement has grown up in the last 60 years to provide for land preserves now totaling hundreds of thousands of acres, and private individuals, their families, and their companies take action day in and day out to sustain nature.  Recently, it has become clear that to protect these places, we will need to do more than secure and steward land.  The actions of surrounding neighbors can have a deleterious impact; poorly planned public roads, power facilities, and other infrastructure investments can change the character of a place; the arrival of invasive species on land or water can harm an ecosystem in a season; and larger environmental changes to air, water, and climate can have a disastrous consequences on even the best protected nature preserves.  If we are truly to hand down a legacy of nature, place, and environmental health to our children and their children, then we need to turn our energies to policies as well as places.

Our weekend in the Algoma Highlands did take me back to a winter that met or surpassed my romanticized memories, and for that I am thankful.  But, the morning we left, the weather turned, and it began to rain.  There is work to do.

Useful Links

• To learn more about the ongoing efforts to protect this place, and to make a donation, go to www.algomahighlandsconservancy.org
• To plan a winter ski vacation, or other season visit, go to www.stokelycreek.com
• To learn more about creating a conservation legacy with your land or other assets, you can visit this useful site of The Nature Conservancy or learn more about options for land donation from the Land Trust Alliance. 
• To learn more about the Group of Seven and visiting the places that inspired these artists, go here

King Mountain in the background

The UP: Use It, Don't Lose It

In 2005, Michigan's Upper Peninsula (the UP) began a new relationship with the natural resources that so define it as a place.  Recently, I revisited the site that memorializes that moment, returned to a Lake Superior beach that shaped my relationship to the Great Lakes several decades ago, and thought a lot about the future of the UP.  Having with me my daughter in this natural wonderland made me think hard about what legacy this generation will be leaving to the next.

The Big Deal was what it was called in 2005 when The Nature Conservancy finalized (after many years of hard work) a large, innovative, and very complex deal to protect over 271,000 acres of forestland in the UP.  While the tradition of land conservancies is to buy land to protect it, this old strategy applied to less than 10% of the land in the Big Deal. The large majority of the Northern Great Lakes Forest Project, the official name of the multi-party deal, was land kept in private ownership with conservation easements that prevent development.  Timber investors own the land, and logging continues, but with limits. Importantly, the Big Deal properties remain on local tax rolls and remain open for public use by hunters, anglers, birdwatchers, snowmobilers, and others who go to the northern forests for recreation.  The goal was sustainable use and permanent protection, and seven years later the promises are being realized.

Tina Hall, who heads up The Nature Conservancy's office in Marquette, believes the Big Deal will be "one of the most impactful actions" taken by the organization.  Not only because of the vast forests conserved, but also the more than 660 lakes and 517 miles of rivers streams that will forever be available for the public's enjoyment.  But protection was only the first benefit and the first step.  "This effort is much more dynamic than people realize" says Helen Taylor, Executive Director of The Nature Conservancy in Michigan.  "We are continuing to advance the initiative by showing that sustainable forestry practices can be profitable and more.  Restoring a healthy, diverse forest will enable the UP to provide for future generations."

The most intriguing part of the project may be the 23,000 acre Two-Hearted Forest Reserve.  Note the language--this is a "reserve" not a "preserve"--and The Nature Conservancy is actively involved in logging the land it owns in cooperation with local timber companies.  The forests are being professionally managed to improve biological diversity and protect water quality in the Two-Hearted River watershed (watch a slide-show of this sustainable timber activity).  The most significant aspect of the Big Deal for the future of the UP is that it balances both economic benefit and environmental protection.

The Middle Ground claimed by the Big Deal seems too rare these days.  "Environmentalist" is now a term used critically by those who experience regulation as a constraint on economic growth, and public land protection is not favored by critics of the size and power of government.  Feeling under attack, those who value ecology and wilderness take more absolute positions when debating protection of natural areas.  This is very true in the UP, where the economy has not been healthy and where large areas of forests and scenic shoreline remains undeveloped, and rivers run free and clean.  The debates have become more sharp in recent years, with vigorous campaigns and lawsuits against new development occurring simultaneously with legislative efforts to curtail public agencies in their role to protect the environment.

The choice about conservation seems to be framed as "use the UP's natural resources to promote job growth" vs. "save the (insert natural feature name here)." Sitting in the center of the Two-Hearted Forest Reserve at the Big Deal dedication site, I thought about a middle way that says "use the natural resources, but do it in such a way that the health and beauty of the UP is not lost."  This path is more of a challenge to follow, because it requires economic analysis, reasoned policy debates, and solid data based on good science.  It also requires effective public and private institutions that have the trust to engage all affected parties and the wherewithal to be able to carry out complex solutions.  Taking one side or the other may be more popular, or may yield some short-term gains, but in the end I worry about whether we might lose altogether what makes the UP special.

Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore has long been one of the special places of the UP to me.  I first encountered it more than three decades ago when, as a college student, I headed off into the wilderness with several friends for a backpacking trip.  I recall a glorious day spent on Chapel Beach, climbing its namesake rock, swimming in the cold surf, and building a bonfire a night.  Shortly thereafter, the National Park Service sought comments on a management plan.  I wrote an impassioned letter, arguing that the few existing access roads be taken out, and that proposed user amenities not be developed; I got back a response saying my comments would be taken as support for the "maximum wilderness option", or something like that.  In the end, a middle path was struck, supporting some expansion of access, but tightening wilderness protections as well.

Last week I camped at Chapel Beach again, after getting a permit at the informative multi-agency center in Munising.  Campfires are now prohibited, as is climbing on Chapel Rock, both actions taken to minimize the impact of visitors and preserve the ecological integrity of the well-visited site.  On the one hand, I was wistful that my college-aged daughter could not experience the Lakeshore the way I did for the first time.  But I also realized that the new rules are a smart and reasonable way to protect natural resources.  Regulations can be a good thing.  The "leave no trace" tag hanging on my daughter's backpack attests to the ethics of her generation that align with these rules.

We backpacked in and out the long way, via Mosquito Beach, and felt we earned a nap in the sun there. We did meet several day-hikers who could reach much of the scenic cliffs after a short hike from a parking lot currently being upgraded and expanded.  I thought about the increased number of visitors to Pictured Rocks made possible by recent road improvements and other public investments.  I know that it is good for the economy of the UP, and the Lakeshore's popularity continues to draw visitors from throughout the world.  On our trip we talked with two young couples on an outing, a group of five men from Chicago on a spiritual retreat, and a park volunteer who retired to the area because of its beauty.  Rather than resenting their presence, I felt a joy at being able to share in our love for the UP.

The Future of the UP must be based on a recognition of its past.  For several hundred years, we have been using the UP.   Its natural resources brought people to the UP and still sustain a cherished way of life; making use of nature will continue in the UP.  Several times, however, we have used the UP so hard that hillsides were torn down, the waters fouled, and the soil literally burned away.  In response, abandoned lands were recovered by the State and Federal government, and the scenic beauty of the forests, swamps, rivers, lakes, and coasts restored.  The UP has always, and increasingly, attracts people because of the uniqueness of its natural resources.


The questions about the future of the UP should not be a debate between using it or losing it.  Rather the questions need to be about "How?" and "Where?"  How and where should we protect scenic lands?  Some areas not now preserved should be saved, perhaps through public acquisition, perhaps through creative approaches like the Big Deal.  How and where should we log?  Timber is a sustainable resource, and we need to bring our best science and economics to the question to ensure both the creation of jobs and the protection of the resource.  How and where should we mine? This is the newest question to perhaps the oldest problem, one we are still grappling with; it is the most important one that needs answers.  All of these questions and more need to be addressed not only for our benefit today, but for the legacy of generations to come.


Watch a video that explains the history, the significance, the and legacy of the Big Deal:  click here



To Visit.   The Dedication Site for the Northern Great Lakes Forest Project was relocated to the McMahon Preserve north of Newberry in 2015. Find directions and more information at the Michigan chapter website.

The Nature Conservancy protects a number of other special places in the UP, from Drummond Island in Lake Huron to Horseshoe Harbor on the Keweenaw in Lake Superior.  You can find details and directions at

The Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore website contains extensive information to help you plan a visit.

thanks Abbie for the photos and for the trip!

updated 8-13-15

Two Superior Preserves

Michigan author Jim Harrison writes about places which "impart an uncommon sense of well-being," and tries, elusively, to define what characteristics they have which make them so. There is no particular scientific or historical definition, though we often search for one. Eventually, he decides that these uniquely personal places are "simply the soul's best habitat." On a trip to the Upper Peninsula, I found two such places.

Echo Lake, northwest of Marquette, is among The Nature Conservancy's newest preserves and Laughing Whitefish Lake, to the southeast, has been a cherished place since the American settlement of the area. My family started the day at Echo Lake, a 480-acre sanctuary of northern forest, granite outcroppings, and a small, cliff-lined body of water. This preserve is an introduction to the rugged and geologically important Michigamme Highlands that dominates the landscape on the south-central shore of Lake Superior. The fauna varies from thimbleberry patches, to hemlock forests, to scrubby red oak and birch stands, to lichen covered rocks.

A short walk on a road leads to Echo Lake and a trail leads around the north side. There an intersection presents a choice between a small peninsula in the lake or a climb. We started first with the uphill route and soon came out to two open areas, one with a view south over Echo Lake, and the other of Lake Superior to the north and east. Returning down the trail we took the junction to the rocky point into Echo Lake and sat on the shore of the calm lake.

Superior Re-creation. Getting to Echo Lake had been trying for us as three related individuals because of the breakdown of our aging VW camper. After an afternoon of mechanical and logistical challenges, a night away from our traveling home, and forced reliance on others for help, we were a bit discombobulated. We found a cure for our unease: a swim in the waters of a mountain lake; just us in this place of sky, rock, and trees. After cleansing away our troubles, we sunned and watched clear-winged dragonflies hover in the bracken. As we walked back around the lake, we came upon a white-tailed deer grazing.

I thought appreciatively of John Woollam, the benefactor that made possible the preserve at Echo Lake, and how such places offer us a connection with the natural world. Protected places are important because of the ecological values they conserve, but also because they are places for human re-creation. They also allow us to come together to learn and care about something greater than ourselves. This is evident at Echo Lake, where a volunteer Friends group has already formed to tend to this place. Earlier this year members of St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Marquette, led by their youth, held a work day at the preserve; they were joined by Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts troops. They were there "to help create a trail from the road to a high point, atop a mountain where we can feel the wind, and reconnect with the better angels of our nature," said church member Kayla West.

A New View of Nature came out of Laughing Whitefish Lake Preserve at the turn of the last century. This area had been the location of the "camp" of Marquette founder Peter White in the second half of the nineteenth century. It was also the summer residence for 70 years of George Shiras III, White's son-in-law and a congressman from Pennsylvania. Here Shiras took the first ever nighttime photography of wildlife which won international acclaim and were featured in National Geographic in 1906.

Today the Preserve persists as a deeply forested retreat of 1,238 acres accessed by a narrow footbridge after a drive down some rarely travelled roads in western Alger County. The George Shiras III Discovery Trail winds through the uneven ground of a hemlock-hardwood forest and presents looks out at the northern, swampy end of Laughing Whitefish Lake. We visited shortly after a summer rain, and were distracted by many frogs of several varieties. The moist smell of the dark woods, the deep quiet of the moss covered logs, and the dominating trees provided a respite from the deer flies at the parking area and the bigger troubles of the world. We were the only people there.

Nature Restores. The bumper sticker on our van that greeted us after our explorations says "Restore the Great Lakes." We know that to accomplish this goal and to preserve the expansive environments of our region, we need to adopt effective public policies informed by science, work at the landscape scale, and build a sustainable economy. In Michigan's Upper Peninsula, The Nature Conservancy has had tremendous success with The Northern Great Lakes Forest Project, a 271,338 acre effort that conserves working forest lands through easements and the cooperation of the public and private sectors. The land is being managed for its environmental values (such as clean water from the rivers that flow through the woods to Lake Superior), and also the timber is being harvested, local real estate taxes are paid, and the land remains open for public use.

So while preserves are small in size comparison, they are large in our consciousness. These are the places that are set aside for our escape, that actively engage people in the out-of-doors, and offer us a sample of the larger landscapes we seek to protect and restore. Often we work to restore environments that have suffered from our neglect or abuse, but sometimes small places of the environment restore us.

And the impact on people who visits these sites cannot be overlooked. George Shiras III first visited Laughing Whitefish Lake at the age of 11. Several decades later, while involved in federal policy-making as a legislator and then as a trustee of the National Geographic Society, Shiras was an early advocate of the Migratory Bird Law. This federal legislation, still a forceful tool for conservation, can trace its roots to one particular place now preserved by The Nature Conservancy. One wonders if some young person recreating this summer at Echo Lake might go on to have an equally important impact on the policies needed to preserve the natural world upon which all life depends.

How to Visit. Information and directions to the Echo Lake, Laughing Whitefish Lake, and 16 other preserves of The Nature Conservancy in Michigan can be found at this page at nature.org.

Thanks to Tina Hall (pictured) and all the staff of The Nature Conservancy's UP Office for their great work and support; a big personal thank you to Danielle Miller.

Jim Harrison quotes from the essay "Tracking" in "The Summer He Didn't Die" (Grove Press, 2005)

George Shiras III photograph from National Geographic (info here); other photos by Anna Owens