Lake Superior was the last of the five Great Lakes left for Gary and me to visit—and I think we saved the best for last. Standing at the shoreline, it’s hard to believe this is a lake. Its vastness defies the term. The horizon stretches endlessly, cloaked in a mist that greeted us upon arrival and lent a mystical, almost ethereal quality to the scene. It felt more like standing at the edge of an ocean—or even another world. Aside from a few fellow travelers, two college students and perhaps three older couples, we were practically alone. All of us stood quietly, united in awe.
We had pulled into Munising, a small harbor town tucked between Lake Superior and the Hiawatha National Forest in the Upper Peninsula. It’s quaint, quiet, and full of character—with at least two shops proudly selling Michigan’s beloved pasties. Our campground for the next few nights was clean, new, and just dusty enough to feel authentic.
The town offers two major attractions. Unfortunately, we only managed to catch one. The other? Well, it’s a bit elusive… This happens to be Bigfoot country! Apparently, this tall, shaggy legend has been “spotted” in both the Hiawatha Forest and the Seney National Wildlife Refuge. We didn’t catch a glimpse ourselves, unless you count the life-sized replicas scattered around town for tourists to pose with. Still, who knows? Maybe Bigfoot just drops by for the pasties.
But Munising’s real treasure is without a doubt the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. It’s accessible by foot on over 100 trails, by kayak, or by ferry—and we chose the latter. Gliding along the lake’s surface as the sun dipped toward the horizon, we were treated to a stunning visual symphony. Towering cliffs—some reaching over 200 feet—rose above us, streaked with brilliant colors: yellow, red, green, blue, and black. These shades aren’t painted by human hands but by millennia of minerals—copper, iron, manganese, and limonite—seeping through the rock, shaped by time, water, and weather.
It was nature’s canvas, ever evolving and never duplicated. A perfect evening. A perfect lake. A perfect reminder that beauty doesn’t need explanation—it just needs to be witnessed.