Just minutes north of Ludington, Nordhouse Dunes Area has a lot to offer

“You’re not going to make it through,” the stranger said, as he passed us heading in the opposite direction. “There are too many trees in the way.”

My son, Kayden, and I stopped in our tracks, sizing up the man’s warning.

“I think we’ll be all right,” I responded, with that characteristic certainty I often exhibit before making another poor choice. I shot a glance in Kayden’s direction, and he nodded as though he thought it might be a good idea to listen to the man, who continued past us, in search of a trail that would get him to his particular destination.

“Let’s go,” I said, and we resumed our journey into the heretofore unknown, up an apparently impassable trail.

I practically giggled at the prospect.

We were about 20 minutes north (by foot) from the Nurnberg Trailhead on the southern most end of Nordhouse Dunes Area, a 3,500-acre Federal Government set-aside which butts up against the northern edge of Ludington State Park, on Lake Michigan. Though most remain unmarked, the vast majority of the park’s trails are fairly easy to find and traverse; several map boards in the south parking lot will also get you started in the right direction. I knew we’d want to be staying near the Lake Michigan beach that night, so we’d chosen a path which sent us northwest into the park before it met up with another on the ridge along the lake shore.

But, as downed trees began covering our path, it looked increasingly likely that what the old man had said was true, that there were just “too many trees in the way.” Soon enough, the trail was completely swallowed up in fallen trees and brush; uprooted trees with jagged roots littered the view as far as the eye could see. My son and I wondered what could have possibly caused such devastation.

I had remembered a particularly nasty storm had thumped the Ludington area one year prior. While those of us living to the south escaped with little more than some rain and wind, the further north you went, the worse things got. I’d also heard that flooding had closed several Ludington-area roads, and fallen trees and sink holes appeared in roadways in just minutes. Apparently, the effects of the storm were so bad, Nordhouse itself was closed for several weeks.

I did some checking when we got back and learned: Last year’s storm had dropped up to 11 inches of rain on parts of Mason County in just one night (June 12-13), costing the county nearly $4 million in damages, while emergency responders racked up nearly 2,500 hours directly related to the storm. Apparently, Nordhouse Dunes area was at ground zero, as the desolation spread throughout the valley we were trying to cross could attest. In fact, we quickly abandoned our plan and headed west toward a break in the debris, up a very steep embankment at the edge of the valley, until we could turn around and get a perfect view of the havoc left in the storm’s wake.

The wreckage was simply incredible (see photo above), and it took several minutes for it to sink in. I’d never seen anything like it, and was certainly happy I wasn’t in the valley one year prior. As luck would have it, the trail above the valley would later converge with the one we’d started on, so soon enough we were back on our way toward the Lake Michigan Shoreline, traveling through stands of jack pine and hemlock, suddenly exposed dunes — which promptly disappeared again under the duff without notice — and periodic marshland. About 35 minutes in, we finally joined the trail that runs atop a ridge parallel to the Lake Michigan coastline and soon found a good spot to scale the forest-covered dune to the Lake Michigan shore. We found a perfect spot (at least 400 feet from the lake’s shoreline, as park rules require) and quickly set up camp.

Nordhouse Dunes Area is the only Federally designated wilderness area in the lower peninsula. With dunes as old as 4,000 years old — some of them reaching as high as 150 feet — the total area of the park is just under 3,500 acres. Established in 1987, the park’s dunes are part of the world’s largest expanse of wind-blown dunes and interdunal wetlands adjacent to fresh water, according to US Forest Service literature.

“Open and active dunes, wooded and stabilized dunes, interdunal wetlands, and bogs are present on the site,” says the forest service literature. “One of the world’s two largest populations of the Great Lakes’ endemic dune thistle (Cirsium pitcheri) is present within this RNA. One federally-listed Threatened plant species, dune thistle (Cirsium pitcheri), two state-listed Threatened species, fascicled broom-rape (Orobanche fasciculata) and red-shouldered hawk (Buteo lineatus), and two state-listed Special Concern species, ram’s head lady-slipper (Cypripedium arietinum) and Cerulean warbler (Dendroica cerulea) are known to be present within (the park).”

“White tailed deer, coyote, fox, raccoon, porcupine, skunk and squirrels may be seen throughout the area,” the pamphlet adds. “ Many species of waterfowl and songbirds are also present.”

That’s all well and good, but the truly remarkable thing about Nordhouse is the over 7,000 feet of nearly pristine Lake Michigan shoreline and the dunes which run, undisturbed, beside it. You get a sense, as you enjoy a sunset or a mid-day hike, what it must have felt like to see the Lake Michigan shoreline 200 years ago, before beach houses were erected, before beaches were widened and inundated with beach-goers, even before pathways to the beach were established.

You get a slight glimpse what it must have been like to step off a boat, bound for who-knows-where, and make the first human foot impression in the seemingly never-ending sand. That is surely one of the reasons to keep and maintain such places: So that we may know what life was like in the place of our birth before we were even born. I, for one, was filled with that sense many times during my visit to Nordhouse, and thanked my lucky stars I could experience it before it was all once again swept away.

Of course, I wasn’t filled with any of those transcendent, ooey gooey feelings when I realized I’d forgotten half our dinner back at the car. Leaving my son to finish setting up camp, I took the opportunity to follow the southern-most dune ridge trail, which eventually loops back around and ends back at the parking area. Doing so, I found the same kind of storm damage along the lakeshore ridge trail, very close (due east) to where it had occurred in the destroyed valley. It was as if someone had dropped an enormous finger from the sky and dragged it east, knocking down nearly everything in its path. The power of nature, I was quickly learning, is not something you want to mess with.

Soon enough, I was back at camp, this time with dinner, and Kayden and I got to making our final meal of the day. Unfortunately, while I was boiling our pasta, the cooking pot I was using spit out some very hot water right on my knee, causing me to leap into the air like a frightened cat. It wasn’t long before the blistering started. I ran to my first aid kit only to find it devoid of any anti-burn cream. Note: check all your camping gear, especially the first aid kit, BEFORE you leave (even if I haven’t had to use it in years). The pain subsided eventually, and Kayden and I ate dinner while the Tigers lost to Pittsburgh 9-3. The loss didn’t spoil a thing, however, as we were treated to a spectacular sunset and fell asleep underneath a clear sky filled with stars.

The next morning I got in a six-mile run along the beach, and then we packed up a soon as breakfast was eaten.

Perhaps not exactly like explorers from the 18th Century, but close enough to know what it felt like back then.