Osgood Creek Aug 24

Our third canyon to round out our time at Jervis Inlet was Osgood Creek, which some alleged was the best. We knew it would be a big day between the 3.2 mile roundtrip paddle, 2 mile bushwhacking approach, and bonus 0.6 mile bushwhacking exit. As we started paddling northeast along the coast, sunbeams through thick clouds and silvery shimmers of waves gave way to sun. Once again we had a headwind but thankfully much more manageable intensity than the previous day. My shoulders were sore from the previous day such that I felt like I was dragging an anchor as I paddled. On the way we spotted some red pictographs high up on a cliff and a sea otter clambering up into the forest at the sight of us. It took us about an hour to get to the mouth of Osgood, and quite a bit more time to get the boats settled to start hiking.

The forest hiking was easily the worst of the three approaches with the oldest overgrown logging roads giving us dense regen to wade through. The technical canyon section ended 0.6 mile up from the ocean so we had bonus approach and exit. I mostly led the way through some washouts, past an old rusty shell of a car, and up some steep slopes. Once again it was obnoxiously humid and sweaty in the forest. Near the end the bushwhacking only got worse, at one point sending us through a dense stand of 3" diameter trees that felt like we were squeezing through prison bars. After covering 1.9 miles ascending 1200 ft in 1hr45min (good considering), we finally arrived to the start of the canyon. After a deserved snack break, we suited up for the descent.

Overall I found Osgood to be a mixture of styles between Soda and Seshal, and relatedly it ended up being my second favorite canyon. It had more greenery and was more enclosed than Seshal, but also had some lengthy boulder sections that broke up the good bits. There were some logs to traverse, some jumps, and even an interesting slab of rock that formed a brief cave-like section. 

The clear standout feature was a 40ft steep chute slide with two slight bends in it that rocketed us cleanly into the biggest pool in the canyon (frontispiece). Nearly everyone lapped this two or three times because it was that good (Osgood As It Gets" the first descenters named it).  

At one point I got into the lead position and was constantly rope or carabiner poor which was a bit silly. Kenna and I checked out something that seemed like a borderline slide (perhaps a bit too rough with mid-slide drops and turns?). Kenna went for it with ragdoll results that looked unpleasant; I tried a slightly different line but ended up similarly thrown around so we made everyone else rappel. Later I noticed the beta said this had been slid but would result in the slider being a human pinball! As we neared the end of the technical canyon we had one excellent 33ft jump then a scenic but very slippery rappel. The last rappel was supposed to be off a log, now absent, so we improvised with a meat anchor and me rappelling off a meager little rock arch. We soon recognized the side stream where we crossed the creek on our approach so we desuited for the hike back down. After a little more than three hours and about 13 rappels we were through the canyon. 

The paddle back to camp took about 40 minutes, despite me hugging the coast to try to catch as much shade as possible since the sun was perfectly positioned to blind and burn me. Pulling into camp was jolting to the senses as the other group of canyoners had arrived. Eleven people, enormous tents, four full-size coolers, a propane grill, music, !Starlink!, hammocks blocking our path to water, and gear on our clothesline; though friendly, it was hard not to feel invaded and our little wilderness retreat turned into a car camping weekend. Though I'm sure we had common interests and probably could have made a useful connection or two, I had no interest in socializing with them given the circumstances.

We had an early final day packing ahead of an 8am water taxi pickup that the boat captain was actually early for, and a smooth ride along the inlet back to the dock. The rest of the travel went as smoothly as it could. We said our goodbyes to Lukas and Suhei, and new friends Jack and Kenna on the ferry. The border crossing only took about 5 minutes coming back which was a relief. There was enough warm sun to dry out my gear on the Weidert's back patio, which was appreciative for airplane packing. At one point Ryan and I went out with his dad on their boat to drop some shrimp traps. Later we had a nice meal outside including a stellar homemade cobbler. The following morning I was on my way back home.

Thanks to Lukas for the impetus for this British Columbia canyoning adventure, to Heather and Ryan for the airport pickup and driving, to Ryan's parents for their memorable hospitality, to Ryan and Keith for the gear loans, and to everyone in our group for making such a fun and awesome team (Lukas, Suhei, Keith, Rob, Jack, Kenna, Ryan). While I think I still prefer the style of South Island canyons, it was nice to get a taste of these Pacific Northwest canyons and to realize just how much is still unexplored in the region.

Soda Creek Aug 23

We started our second full day camping in Jervis Inlet with low clouds draping the hillsides and high clouds blocking out most of the blue in the sky. More worrying was the notable wind swell and whitecaps in the inlet that we would have to cross 2.2 miles in a headwind to reach Soda Creek on the other side. This being the shorter of the three canyons, we had a more leisurely morning waiting to see if the wind swell conditions were stable or would improve. Around 9:45am we inflated packrafts and decided we might as well give it a try, the general consensus being we would return to camp if we found the conditions to be too borderline. Ryan's sea kayak became quite helpful for storing and transporting some of our canyon gear.

I led the charge hugging the coast for a touch of shelter, paddling to the headland 0.7 miles southwest of our Seshal camp. I paused to wait for everyone to collect here, every lapse of paddle strokes having the current and swell push me back towards camp! Eventually we assembled and all were keen to try the 1.4 mile crossing. I picked a landmark a quarter-mile upwind of the white sliver of the last falls of Soda Creek, started paddling and virtually did not stop until I reached the other side. Unsurprisingly the GoPro footage does little to convey the topsy turvy feeling of the constant swell, occasional whitecaps, and gusts of wind. Despite my upwind landmark, my GPS track showed my crossing as being more perpendicular towards a destination 0.5 miles downwind of Soda Creek, a testament to the strong currents. I was the first to arrive by about 15 minutes, taking me 1hr15min including the wait for everyone to gather. The last waterfall of the canyon plunging straight into the ocean was an awesome sight that got me excited for this canyon. Carefully I carried my packraft over the sharp barnacled rocks to a position well above high tide, then worked to arrange everyone else's boats with the limited space at our landing. 

In contrast to the other two canyons whose approaches follow overgrown logging roads, Soda Creek had a more direct line steeply climbing through the forest, which was much more pleasant. This being our only north-facing canyon, we immediately recognized the forest as lusher, with more ferns and mosses. Later when we reached the canyon we realized this north-facing canyon also translated to it being the most slippery and coldest of the three canyons. Our 0.5 mile approach took us about 35 minutes to gain 500ft in elevation.  

The canyon was immediately recognizable as very different in style from Seshal. Soda was mossy green, slippery, cold, lower flow, and more enclosed than Seshal. We suited up and began our descent, enjoying a great mixture of rappels, slides, and jumps.

Previous canyoners rated this as the worst of the three canyons so I went into it thinking it was just a short "add-on" canyon. What I found turned out to be my favorite of the three canyons, even if it did leave me wishing it was longer. For a 0.3 mile long canyon it was at least very consistent with little boulder hopping and mostly a continuous chain of waterfalls and pools and enveloping greenery. Crossed logs also added to the allure. Slipperiness aside, it was a beautiful canyon. 

The final section of 3-4 waterfalls was the best as the tunnel of greenery let in a view of distant peaks across Jervis Inlet and fantastic pool horizonlines. My favorite waterfall was a nice jet plunging away from the wall straight into the middle of a dark pothole with a view of the ocean beyond (frontispiece).

I was initially surprised to see a fixed boater rope at the last rappel but it made sense that boatgoers would do the quick jaunt to the last waterfall to plunge 35ft since the waterfall is very visible from the water. We debated jumping this final waterfall into the ocean but in the end all of us rappelled. It almost looked like it could be a steep slide too but I had visions of hitting the wall at the end or being cheese-grated by barnacles. The initial plunge into the ocean was a shock at how warm it was compared to the creek. The canyon descent took a little less than 3hrs with about 11 rappels and 6 slides.

We had some difficulty in pulling Lukas' rope (again!), resulting in Ryan actually climbing back up and around to free it from the last anchor. Ryan also won the day by pulling out a bottled margarita to share before our paddle back across the inlet. The wind swell was only slightly improved from the morning but at least now we were going at an angle in the downwind direction. It took me a fairly deliberate 45min of paddling to travel 2.1 miles back to our camp, this time recording a sinusoidal path that started and ended more perpendicular to the shore. 

Everyone was stoked to have done the canyon successfully and to have made the somewhat intimidating crossing in our modest boats. We had a nice chill evening in camp, enjoying the shifting light and tides, the lack of bugs, and the great company. 

Keweenah Peninsula July 28-31

 

After the go, go, go of the previous two days we had a more relaxing day of playing it by ear, driving west across the Upper Peninsula towards the Keweenah Peninsula, a true peninsula sticking out into Lake Superior. We drove about 1.5 hours west to the historic town of Ishpeming for a short geology hike I heard of. Through a series of steep streets (and past lots of rusty red rock buildings and red dirt ground) we reached Jasper Street and started hiking past old mine diggings and up the small hill of Jasper Knob. At its crest was a slight clearing with about a half-acre of glacially polished banded iron formations, something I had not seen in the wild before. Banded iron formations (BIFs) are unique sedimentary rocks with alternating layers of iron oxides (hematite, magnetite) and silica (jasper, chert) that only really formed in the Precambrian when Earth still had an oxygen-poor atmosphere. Here the BIFs had silvery hematite and red jasper in interesting post-deposition folds. From the hilltop clearing we could see the downtown of Ishpeming; instead of church steeples and belltowers there were strange obelisks protruding which I later learned were the 1920s Egyptian Revival-styled concrete headframes of an important iron mine. This area in the central Upper Peninsula was a major global producer of iron ore and essentially kickstarted America's Industrial Revolution and fueled major war efforts. On the way back down the hill we ducked through a cut fence and checked out a small flooded iron mining pit occupied by some happy green frogs.

Banded iron formation (BIF; and below)

Ishpeming, iron country

On the way out of town we stopped at a self-proclaimed tourist trap rock shop. Copper and iron specimens were in abundance. There were nice labels describing many of the local specimens but every one was also exaggeratingly labeled very rare or one-of-a-kind with prices relatedly out of touch. Onward, we pulled into a very busy parking lot at the Canyon Falls Roadside Stop for a short detour to break up the drive. A short hike led down alongside a ledge-y creek, which abruptly plunged over the wide sheet of Canyon Falls into a dark and mysterious little canyon. Vertical walls, lots of rock shelves, deep tannic waters, and lush greenery continued horizontally for over a thousand feet in what is apparently unironically referred to as the grand canyon of Michigan. After walking to the bottom I scouted a natural waterslide I wanted to try and I took the first plunge before I went in. It was too bumpy to really be fun but I went a second time just to be sure. After, I suggested we instead migrate to the pool just below Canyon Falls when Heather noticed I was coated (coated!) in small wriggly black things (from sliding) she was convinced were leeches. I knew they were larvae of mosquitos or some other bug but still was happy to remove them as fast as possible. Eventually I managed to convince her to slide into the pool below the falls for a brief soak before we continued on. It was quite a pleasant little roadside wonder.

Canyon Falls

Out of iron country and into copper country, we drove through Houghton, the main town at the base of the Keweenah Peninsula, to Michigan Tech's A.E. Seaman Mineral Museum. I had heard good things but was really not prepared for what turned out to be a truly excellent museum. There were fantastic and unique specimens from around the world and a very nice fluorescent display, but the easy standout was the vast collection of Michigan minerals, most of which were collected within a 50 mile radius. Large, shiny, ornate and crystalline forms of copper were in abundance and on a scale and quality I have seen nowhere else in the world. A favorite was a one of a kind specimen of featherlike copper crystals that transitioned into a feather of silver crystals. Other local treasures included Lake Superior agates, strange howlite-like nodules of pastel-colored datolite, and highly fluorescent sodalite granitics I hoped to find on the beaches nearby at night. I took quite a few photos at the museum but my favorites were the textures more than the specimens including a Widmanstatten-patterned meteorite and the finest variscite I have ever seen. We stayed in the museum until just before closing time and then on the way back to our car spotted a strange pavilion. Inside was a 19 ton piece of copper found by scuba divers and dredged up from lake Superior, the largest known single specimen. The museum was a nice introduction to the importance of copper production in the region's history. 

Meteorite 

Variscite detail

No big deal, just a 19 ton chunk of nearly pure copper

After the museum and grocery store we drove out to Trail's End Campground near Copper Harbor at the top of the peninsula. First we checked out Agate Beach at Hunter's Point Park. Here we saw about thirty people very deliberately hunting for agates on the beach. I took this as a clear sign the beaches would be very picked over for agates and the fluorescent sodalite pebbles ("yooperlites" as popularized locally but potentially better named "canuckites" since glaciers dragged them here from Canada) I hoped to find. Sure enough this was the case, but at least the beaches were very scenic with clear waters and a long crisp horizon over Lake Superior. 

We found our campground to be a weird place with lots of their workers living there, weird buildings and projects in various states of construction, and lots of electrified gardens plots. Between weather and my interest in trying to look for UV minerals at night (and late sunsets...), we struggled to figure out a plan for our next couple days. An ambitious option was to drive on to Wisconsin to check out some of the Apostle Isles, which would be neat to see but a lot more driving. We decided to hike out to the end of Hunter's Point and packraft the narrow 300ft gap over to Porter Island (frontispiece), which I hoped would be less picked over. We did not really find all that much but it was a beautiful beach and a pleasant night to be out paddling. Returning under a nearly full moon, we opted to paddle the half-mile back to the carpark instead of walking.

One of many beaches named Agate Beach

Shaping up to be a mellow day, we drove through Copper Harbor the next morning and stopped briefly at Fort Wilkins State Park for some interesting old historical buildings and exhibits then to Astor Shipwreck Park and a return drive along Brockway Mountain Road.

Fort Wilkins

We drove a bumpy road out to Gratiot River County Park, another surprisingly busy beach for agate collecting. The beach had a nice bank of pebbles and cobbles and we did find a few agates and interesting rocks. In hindsight it probably would have been the better place to look for UV minerals than where we ended up. I unsuccessfully tried gathering an assortment of granitic rocks to hide under my hat to check with my UV light. 

Gratiot River County Park

We visited one of the stranger, more deranged, and expensive rock shops I have ever been to then walked around Calumet a bit. Eventually we drove to Calumet Water Works Park, again a busy beach with everyone seemingly looking for rocks. We hung out here for a good long time waiting for dark so I could look for some fluorescent sodalite. Eventually it came and we walked to the beach to find dozens of UV lights shining up and down the beach. It was supremely silly and I was about to be the worst of them all. With considerable effort I suited up in my wetsuit/boots/hood, donned my mask and snorkel, and skimmed over the rocks in the shallows with my waterproofed UV light. For all that effort I turned up one small pebble of sodalite; with less effort Heather found a single one too. After all that we crashed late at a campsite in Hancock Recreation Area, setting us up for a late morning.

We stopped in at a cafe in Houghton and Heather took the initiative to schedule us a tour of the Quincy Mine, one of the area's major historic producers of copper. The tour was actually quite interesting, showing off several generations of hoists including one that was the largest of its kind in the world, well-designed buildings, and a cog railcar that took us down the hill to a horizontal adit we walked 2000 ft into at the 7th level of the mine. The cool 43F air blasting out the adit was particularly notable. Interestingly a lot of the copper fissure veins were too large and too pure, taking days, weeks, and months to extract the malleable copper so the mining instead switched to extraction of lower grade amygdaloidal basalt deposits. Essentially the ore body was too good and worked against them! Probably the thing that impressed me most was seeing the map of the mine with its nearly dozen shafts to 9260 ft, 92 different levels, and realizing that all that volume was completely flooded up to the 7th level we toured. After the tour we found a nice rock shop in downtown Houghton and then began our drive back across the Upper Peninsula. We zigzagged through a bizarre series of backroads to eventually reach the very primitive one site campground of Iron Jaw, completed with horrendous flies.

The largest steam hoist ever constructed

Ore hoist cart in foreground, hoist houses at right

Looking up the mine shaft and ore body the adit intersected at the back

Remnants of a Michigan Tech mining engineering classroom

Cog railway

Quincy #2 Shaft Rockhouse

30 man transport cart at right, water cart at left

In the morning we cloaked ourselves in long sleeves, pants, and bug nets to guard against the flies and gathered our own breakfast of tasty roadside raspberries. 

Driving back we stopped in at Kitch-iti-kipi Spring (technically not on the Keweenah Peninsula like half the things in this post but oh well). We waited a good long time for the opportunity to take the slow people-moved raft across the source spring. Though from my perspective a modest sized karst spring, it nonetheless had pretty colored waters, crisp reflections, and interesting views of the source springs below us kicking up sediment as if boiling.

Our last Upper Peninsula stop within sight of the Mackinaw Bridge was to stop to try a pasty, a folded crusted pie the area is supposedly famous for. They were fine. Another long drive across the mitten and we were back. A huge thanks to Heather's parents for our home on wheels and to Heather for helping put together a pretty chill week of experiencing this mysterious Upper Peninsula I had been hearing about.