Micah

Sure, they are remote, and the terrain can get rough in spots, but nothing unmanageable.

Michigan's Upper Peninsula's beautiful dense forests seep ridges, waterfalls, and in late September, the fall colors were peaking.

Rads and oranges everywhere, like the trees were on fire.

The whole place felt untouched.

I rolled into a tiny town coal pine hollow the afternoon before I hit the trail.

Just one gas station, a diner, and a dusty gear shop wedged between a closed down barber shop and a post office with one of those old crank windows.

I stopped in for a fuel canister and some extra cord.

The guy behind the counter looked like fifties.

Weathered face.

Bright orange knit cap, even though it was fifty degrees out.

We chatted a bit, trail talk, nothing deep.

But when I mentioned I'd be heading out in the Eastern Loop, planning to camp near Government Peak that night, he gave me a look.

Not scared exactly.

More like uncomfortable.

Which trail?

He asked again, like he hadn't heard me.

Eastern Loop, I repeated, hoping to make it near the bluff before dark.

He nodded once, slow, handed me my change, then said almost under his breath, watch for split jaw up there.

I laughed, thinking he was joking, at a bear or one of your local legends.

He didn't dance here, didn't smile, just stared past me like I wasn't even there.