I have lived in Leelanau County for 17 summers, and have spent many hours staring at North and South Manitou Islands that lay just off the county’s west coast, in Lake Michigan. I’ve long been curious as to what may be out there. Are there still buildings out on the island? Does anyone live out there? I knew nothing about the Manitou Islands. When Fishtown Preservation Society offered me the opportunity to take a day trip with Manitou Transit out to South Manitou Island, I was ecstatic. The island seemed so far away, though it is just 16 miles from Fishtown. I’d long taken the view of the islands for granted, and had no idea that it offers an experience that is out of the ordinary.
To better prepare for the experience I did some research about the island before my trip. I found that the perfect place to learn about the history of islands is the National Park Service website, https://www.nps.gov/slbe/planyourvisit/smihiking.htm. The website explains the natural history and settlement of the island, and how it became a wood refueling station for steamers travelling through the Manitou Passage. Over the years a tight-knit year-round community developed, at different times made up of lumbermen, farmers, commercial fishermen, and those in the Lifesaving Service. By the mid-20th century it was no longer economically viable to live on the island so families began to leave, with many settling in Leelanau County.
The National Park Service website also gives information about the sites there are to see on the island, including the lighthouse, a one room schoolhouse, a farm, long stretches of pebbled beaches, massive sand dunes, and cedar groves. With so many places to see, it is almost impossible to see them all on a one-day trip. Manitou Transit offers a wagon tour to take visitors around the island to see all the sites, but my friend Grace and I decided we wanted to explore on our own. We were excited to head out on foot and immerse ourselves in the quiet and remoteness of the island.
The morning of my journey was a foggy, dreary day. Grace and I arrived in Fishtown at 9:15 a.m. with our bags packed full of snacks and lots of water. As we approached Fishtown the fog that consumed the lake seemed to get thicker. From the shoreline you could not even see North and South Manitou Islands. I was worried that our trip might be canceled due to the weather. We checked in at the Manitou Transit building located in Fishtown and were relieved to hear that, despite the weather, we were still able to make the trip to South Manitou Island.
After a loud blast of its horn we left the dock at 10:00 a.m. on the two-story steel Mishe Mokwa, packed with families and other groups all excited to explore the island. Most people traveled with big back packs and rolls of sleeping bags, ready to camp on the island. Camping, although not my forte, seems like a popular activity when planning a visit to the island. There were just a handful of us that were going for a day trip, returning to the mainland by 6:00 p.m.
The Mishe Mokwa has inside seating with windows running down both sides of the boat, as well as open seating on the top of the boat. Grace and I sat inside due to the fog and the morning chill in the air. The Manitou Transit staff made sure the passengers were comfortable during the journey, and chatted casually with everyone about their island plans. The Mishe Mokwa even offers a mini bar service during the trip. Nothing calms a little motion sickness like a spicy Bloody Mary!
As the boat crossed the Manitou Passage we could not see more than 30 feet in any direction due to the fog. I thought I would be disappointed but it was such a serene feeling. I felt like I was on the ocean traveling a never-ending sea as the boat rolled along with the waves. This was the first of many moments of quiet and peace throughout the day. As we approached the island, Grace and I gathered our belongings and lined up with the others, ready to step on the long wood dock that led us onto the island.
The end of the dock led us to a village that consisted of several white buildings. Some of the structures looked like old houses, many surrounded by old rusted and unused farm equipment. Grace and I decided to follow a path through the woods that led to the lighthouse on the southern edge of the island, facing Glen Arbor. As we walked through the forest I was again stilled by the quiet. By this time most people had dispersed into groups and started their own island explorations. There were not many people around us for our entire trip and we reveled in being alone in nature.
As we approached the lighthouse we noticed two construction workers doing maintenance on the building that was attached to the lighthouse. They greeted us happily as they continued to work. I asked if they stay on the island while doing these projects. One of them explained that they take the ferry out on Monday and then return to the mainland at the end of the day Thursday for the weekend. While on the island some stay in tents while others stay in old houses. I couldn’t help but imagine how fun it would be to live on an island in Michigan during
the summer.
I was surprised to hear that many houses on the island are still functional with running water, stoves, and fridges. One of the workers then told us that throughout the summer they were restoring structures and paths throughout the island. I’d just been learning about the preservation work Fishtown Preservation Society has been doing for Fishtown, which made me more attuned to the work being done on South Manitou Island by the National Park Service. It is amazing to see all of the effort that goes into preserving these special places and pieces of history so that people can continue to experience and learn from them.
The lighthouse stretched 100 feet high and I had to crane my neck to be able to see the very top. The lighthouse, like other buildings, was bright white on both the inside and outside. When we entered, we discovered that a beautiful spiraling black iron staircase dominated the space, spiraling around and around and around to the top of the lighthouse. Grace and I climbed the stairs, hugging the wall and gripping the railing as we made our way up the flights of stairs. Finally after making it to the last flight of stairs, heads spinning, we paused and looked out the open window and saw the fog still clung to the water. Below us was what seemed to be an endless lake that faded into fog on the horizon. To reach the final landing, where the light was, we climbed a small ladder and shimmied through a small opening in the ceiling. As massive as the lighthouse is the light that is now there is no bigger than my fist! The lighthouse does not operate as it used to, so where there used to be a giant light is now occupied by a 150 watt lightbulb.
Once we made it back on solid land, still dizzy from the spiraling stairs, Grace and I decided to walk back towards the village and explore the other side of the island. We’d hoped to walk the island’s entire 10-mile loop but knew that if we tried to do that we would miss the boat back. Instead we headed towards Gull Point, the furthest point of the bay. During our hike we passed several places where visitors are authorized to set up camp. Looking to the left was dense forest and to the right beach grass and sand and a clearer wooded area, giving campers the option of being closer to the beach or further back in the woods.
Grace and I walked out from the path onto the beach and decided to take a break for lunch. As the sun rose higher in the day, some of the fog began to burn off the lake and it seemed as if it was going to turn into a beautiful day.
We set our blankets down and enjoyed our lunch with the sun on our faces and the little rocks and sand between our toes. We were still a little less than halfway to Gull Point, and decided that if we wanted to see other sites we should probably reroute and change directions. It was warmer by the time we finished lunch, so we shed some of our layers before heading back on the trail that would lead us to the schoolhouse.
As we walked the 2.5 miles towards the schoolhouse near the center of the island, it felt as if Grace and I were the only two people on the entire island. We saw small garden snakes and enormous centipedes slither across the path. Grace told me that she had been on the island seven years previously and that the only thing she remembered was the amount of snakes. I kept my eyes alert for other wildlife such as squirrels or rabbits, but other than the chirping of birds and crickets we did not see or hear anything else. The silence, the few animals, and the isolation made the island feel much bigger than we knew it was.
As we approached the schoolhouse, the woods became thicker, filled with massive trees that blocked out the sun. We discovered immediately that the woods hosted hundreds of thousands of hungry mosquitos. I was glad my mom forced a can of bug spray in my hand that morning, as it quickly became very important. Grace and I walked around the one-room schoolhouse that taught children from kindergarten to eighth grade from 1889 to mid-1900s, when it closed down. We learned that the schoolhouse was built in the middle of the island so no child would have to walk more than a couple of miles to get to school. It was hard to imagine what it would be like being a child on the island and walking miles through the mosquito-filled woods to get to school. But then we remembered that many of these woods were once open farm fields and orchards, so our experience may have differed much from theirs.
Due to the mosquitos, we left the schoolhouse more quickly than we had hoped, and soon came to a crossroads. We could either head back to the village or go see Florence Lake. We decided to take the .25 mile long trail that led to the east side of the inland lake. Named after Florence Haas, postmaster and midwife to many of the children born on South Manitou Island, it is the only inland lake on the island and is filled with bright blue waters with tons of vegetation surrounding it. We couldn’t stay long, though, because the afternoon was going far faster than we expected.
Grace and I hurried back to the trail that led to the village and made it back right before the boat left the dock at 4:00 p.m. We grabbed a seat at the top of the boat and enjoyed the view now that the fog had cleared. The ride back across the Manitou Passage was calm and relaxing as the wind blew my hair and kissed my face. I could see a giant sand dune in the distance that I knew had to be Pyramid Point, a popular hiking spot in Glen Arbor. Pyramid Point seems large on land, but seeing it from the water it looked enormous.
Tired as we were from the day, Grace and I began to make plans to return to the island before the end of summer and camp with our friends. In the span of one day I went from being against the very idea of camping anywhere ever to excitedly imagining all the adventures we could have spending a few nights camping on the island. We spent the rest of the journey planning out where we would want to set up our camp and what site we would see first.
I’ve been back on shore now for over a week and find myself reflecting on the experience I had on South Manitou Island. I have discovered a part of Michigan that I hadn’t even imagined existed. Learning about the island revealed a hidden history about Michigan that not many people know about, so now, whether working in the Fishtown Welcome Center, or talking with friends and family, I can’t help but share all that I have learned and urge others to venture to the island, too. South Manitou Island is a place with a long history worth exploring. But it is also a feeling that will linger with me forever.