The Lake Michigan Overlook on the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive. This overlook, 450 feet above Lake Michigan, provides a magnificent view of the shoreline. Photo by Frank Hosek

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She leaned over her young daughter, maybe 6 or 7, pointing towards a small hillock in the distance, “Do you see the bear, honey?” Wisps of blond hair curled out from beneath the hood of the young girl’s coat as she looked into the distance and replied, “No, Mommy.” Mom insisted, “Look at the hill, doesn’t it look like a bear?” “No,” was the emphatic reply as the little one ran off.

I had to smile. It did take a little imagination to see it.

The Native American people of the Great Lakes region tell the legend of a mother bear and her two cubs. During a time of famine, they sought a place with more food.

They waded into the waters of Lake Michigan, one cub on each side of the mother bear, and they swam off into the lake a long way. After a while, the cubs began to get very tired, and so the bear said, “Try hard. The land is not very far.” And very soon, they did come in sight of land.

But gradually, the cubs got weaker, and only ten miles away, one cub sank into the water. Soon after, the other also drowned.

The bear’s heart was broken, but she could do nothing. She waded ashore and lay down, looking out on the water where her cubs had died. Eventually, both of them came to the surface as two little islands, and so the mother bear still lies there atop the dunes, looking after her children.

This sad but heartfelt story explains the name of Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore.

Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore

The Covered bridge on the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive, usually associated with New England and Pennsylvania, protects the wooden bridge from rain and snow. Photo by Frank Hosek
The Covered bridge on the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive, usually associated with New England and Pennsylvania, protects the wooden bridge from rain and snow. Photo by Frank Hosek

Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore is tucked away in the northwest corner of Michigan’s Leelanau Peninsula. The 71,000-acre park, with towering sand dunes, lush forests, and pristine beaches, lies along the third-largest of the Great Lakes, Lake Michigan.

The day we set out to explore the park could have been better. A front had moved down from Canada. Lead-hued clouds hung low over the horizon, casting a shadowy pall across the land.

The sun occasionally sent a shaft of light piercing through to touch down on the land, only to be enveloped by the clouds still hanging low over the water.

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Sporadic sheets of rain were swept across our windshield by the wind, disappearing as quickly as they came. It laid a dreary blanket across what turned out to be a palette of natural splendor.

To get our bearings, we began the day at the Sleeping Bear Dunes visitor center in Empire. This former lumber mill hamlet of 362 is located in the middle of the park. This quaint village is full of charm with its well-kept turn-of-the-century homes and petite shops that beckon visitors.

With our vehicle pass, some helpful suggestions from the ranger, and a map in hand, we set out for the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive. This scenic drive is a 7.4-mile loop that skirts the high shoreline dunes along Lake Michigan and is interspersed with 12 stops of picturesque beauty.

Read More: Immerse Yourself in a Pristine Wilderness at Michigan’s Isle Royale National Park

Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive

Mother bear (small green covered hillock in the center) lies facing her children islands. The Sleeping Bear Dune is the namesake of the park. Photo by Frank Hosek
Mother bear (small green-covered hillock in the center) lies facing her children islands. The Sleeping Bear Dune is the namesake of the park. Photo by Frank Hosek

Passing beneath the roof of a covered bridge, we drove through second-growth forests that provided a verdant canopy above our heads. It’s hard to believe that most of these trees are only a little over a century old.

Lumbering felled the majority of the old-growth forests in the region during the 19th century. Kathy, my wife, pointed excitedly as two deer ran across our path.

Glen Lake Overlook

Our first stop on the scenic tour was Glen Lake Overlook. The hill on the north (left) side of Little Glen Lake appeared to be sliding into the waters, giving it an appearance of an alligator. As it turns out, the hill is referred to as Alligator Hill, with its green snout disappearing beneath the waves.

Our first glimpse of the unique landscape that gives rise to the park’s name was the Dune Overlook. A high, windswept plateau covered in scrub brush was interspersed with large, striking khaki-colored patches of glacial-aged sand.

In the valley below, we could make out the white-washed barn and outbuildings of the D. H. Day farm. A local legend, Day moved to the area in 1878, eventually establishing a small lumber and canning empire for himself.

Lake Michigan Overlook

By far, the most breathtaking vista is stop #9, the Lake Michigan Overlook. From the parking lot, we walked a few hundred yards over a sandy trail through a grove of saplings and a few tall oaks, exiting upon an unbelievable escarpment. The dune rose 450 feet above Lake Michigan, providing a panoramic view of the turquoise waters framed by the ashen sky above.

Beyond the edge, the sandy dune vanished into a steep vertical drop towards the water’s rocky shore. As I worked my way down some 60-70 feet, I met a gentleman huffing and puffing as he stood catching his breath.

I stated the obvious that coming up was far harder than going down. He replied that he had gone about a third of the way before sanity overcame him, and he began his trek upwards, paying the price.

I returned to the top as quickly as the ever-shifting sands beneath my feet would allow. At the top, I stood next to a sign that warned: “The only way out is up. Rescues cost $3,000.00. Keep yourselves and our rescuers out of danger.”

Sage advice.

Nearby, a wooden platform jutted out over the dune, providing safer views of the waters below. From here, you can see what gave rise to the Sleeping Bear legend. The Sleeping Bear Dune lies about one mile away, along the edge of the bluff overlooking her two island cubs.

To be fair to the young visitor who doubted her mother, with a century of erosion, it hardly looks like a bear now, but if you turn your head a little and squint your eyes, the legend takes form.

The Dune Climb

Daredevils sail boarding off the beaches of historic Fishtown. Photo by Frank Hosek
Daredevils sailboarding off the beaches of historic Fishtown. Photo by Frank Hosek

There is something about a pile of sand that beckons children of all ages to race towards its peak. Roughly six miles north of the Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive, there is a stunningly tall hill of sand that invites all to fulfill that urge.

The Dune Climb is unquestionably the most popular spot in the park. A tier-stepped mound of sand that rises nearly 300 feet skyward beckons more than 300,000 people annually to try their luck at reaching the top.

This open dune is the entry to a four-square-mile field of dunes that extends to Lake Michigan to the west and Sleeping Bear Point to the north. It is the ultimate sandbox.

We pulled into the parking lot just as another rain squall passed overhead, its wind-driven drops slashing our faces as we ran toward the ranger station at the base of the dune. As Kathy puttered around the displays, I stood at the door and watched a young lady, hood pulled tight over her head, attempt to race up the incline.

Halfway up, her feet began to slide out from beneath her, and as she tried to regain her balance, momentum carried her forward onto her hands and knees. Slowly rising, she started pulling herself forward, hands over feet.

This, I had to try.

A Humbling Trek with a Worthwhile View

Once the rain subsided, we stepped outside where I pointed towards the dune and stated, a little too confidently, “I’m going.” My patient wife looked towards the dune, looked back at me, and “I’ll wait for you back at the truck,” was all she said.

One step forward, two steps back came to mind as I slowly trudged up the sandy slope. With each step, it felt as though the bottom was slipping out from beneath my feet. I discovered, simply by happenstance, that if I stepped in the footsteps of others, the compacted sand provided a slightly firmer foothold.

Slowly, very slowly, I slogged upwards. I made the mistake of looking upwards only to discover I was only halfway when, by my accounting, I should have been at the top.

It’s nearly 140 feet to the top of the first mound of the Dune Climb, at which point I discovered there was another 130 feet beyond. It did not seem fair.

At this point, I took a much-needed respite to enjoy the view of Glen Lake behind me, well past the parking lot.

I eventually made it to the top of the second rise and, with a little more traipsing, saw the shimmering gray-green distant waters of Lake Michigan. The whole trip to the shoreline is about 3.5 miles and may take 3-4 hours, depending on your condition and the weather. The one mile that I covered was sufficient enough for me.

The trip back down was much quicker as my feet got carried away into a near gallop. At the car, I emptied a beach worth of sand from my shoes before we headed onwards.

Glen Haven Historic Village

Glen Haven's Cannery Boat Museum currently displays a variety of older boats. Photo by Frank Hosek
Glen Haven’s Cannery Boat Museum currently displays a variety of older boats. Photo by Frank Hosek

In 1881, Glen Haven had 11 buildings, including an inn, a general store, a blacksmith shop, a wagon shop, and a school. It was a lumber town owned by David Henry Day that eventually expanded into a canning operation. Today, within the confines of the park, the National Park Service has preserved several of its buildings and the history of Glen Haven.

The blacksmith shop was the one-stop hardware store of its time. Needed a pound of nails, a set of door hinges, or, of course, a horse shod? You went down to your local smithy. I walked into the warmth of the Glen Haven blacksmith, where a volunteer was huddled around the blazing forge.

He was pulling hard on the bellows handle to provide more oxygen to the flames. His other hand held a hunk of wrought iron to the flame. He quickly took the red-hot piece to the anvil and began hammering it into shape. Eventually, a fireplace poker took shape that was set aside for sale.

Next door, I found my wife in the General Store. In its day, it served as the grocery store, the post office, and the communal communication center. The aged floorboards were shiny from decades of footfalls; the rustic shelves that were once filled with canned goods now hold boxes of Lincoln Logs and fudge.

We had a quick lunch of cheese and apples while sitting in our car, watching the wind slam waves against the grass-strewn shoreline. Afterward, I strolled into a large cherry-red building that once was a canning company.

Today, it houses a small boat museum. Where boxes of cherries were once sealed into colorfully clad steel cans, now sit large and small wooden boats, many of which were used by the Coast Guard to prowl the local waters, keeping sailors safe.

Fishtown, Michigan

Along the Leland River which feeds into Lake Michigan, is Leland’s Historic Fishtown - one of the last working and thriving fishing districts on the Great Lakes. Photo by Frank Hosek
Along the Leland River, which feeds into Lake Michigan, is Leland’s Historic Fishtown – one of the last working and thriving fishing districts on the Great Lakes. Photo by Frank Hosek

Just north of the confines of Sleeping Bear, as I was seeking a caffeine pick-me-up, we discovered the village of Leland, Michigan – on the Leelanau Peninsula. After jump-starting myself with a double espresso from the Harbor House, an eclectic emporium where ice cream and hiking shoes stood side-by-side, we headed down to Fishtown.

Nestled on the banks of the Leland River, as it feeds into Lake Michigan, is Leland’s Historic Fishtown. It is one of the last flourishing fishing districts on the Great Lakes. The area was first fished by the native population long before European settlers arrived in the 1850s.

Fishtown is a collection of ramshackle, weathered fishing shanties that now house a cheese merchant, a smokehouse, and various charming shops catering to the tourists who tramp across overhanging docks lined with ancient fish tugs and gleaming, modern charter fishing boats.

As I stood on the dock, a colorful kite rose above a nearby dune. Soon, another joined it. I was perplexed until I realized that a surfboard and its occupants were attached to the kites.

Several daredevils were taking advantage of the day’s breezes and were kiteboarding across the lake’s wind-tossed waves. It was an amazing display.

Our discovery of Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore was a truly serendipitous find. When we left, we took with us memories of sweeping vistas of Lake Michigan, gleaming beaches, forested wilderness, and, of course, not too little sand in our shoes.

If You Go:

Sleeping Bear Dunes National Seashore is 29 miles west of Traverse City, MI. via M-72 W or approximately a 45 minute drive.

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Frank Hosek

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