Day 1
270 Overlook to Kimball Creek Camp
Feeling eager, scared, and a little hungover we pulled into Otter Lake trailhead, the northernmost trailhead on the Superior Hiking Trail. We hadn’t planned to drink the night before our 310-mile thru-hike, but letting ourselves indulge in an abundance of food, drinks, and laughs felt like the right thing to do at that moment.
After only a few short hours of sleep, our alarm woke us at 4:30 am. We loaded our 15 lb packs into the car and started our drive from Grand Marais up Highway 61. The sun was peeking through the trees, painting the sky orange. We turn onto a gravel road that grew more and more narrow the deeper we drove into the woods. The remote trailhead was quiet. There were a few empty cars at the trailhead, but no sign of anyone but us.
We grabbed our packs, had Alex take our picture, said goodbye, and headed down the trail toward the southern terminus, the 270 Overlook.
Tim and I hadn’t known each other for long, but after connecting at a group run at Mill City Running Tim quickly became my running and adventure partner that was always up for anything. We were both relatively new to ultrarunning, but he had all of the experience with backpacking that I lacked. I had never even been on a backpacking trip. Tim, on the other hand, had attempted to thru-hike the trail with his wife just a couple years earlier. We poured ourselves into planning and learning all we could about lightweight backpacking, measuring grams, and cutting the weight of our gear. We would do the hike self-supported, moving light and fast, resupplying every couple of days.
Hungover and tired wasn’t how either of us imagined we would start our hike, but here we were. In hindsight, this might have helped us avoid overdoing it on day 1. The 270 Overlook, which borders Canada, greeted us with a sweeping view of a beautiful sunrise that painted everything with a warm, golden tint. I was filled with excitement and gratitude. We spent a few minutes soaking it all in. At 6:44 am we signed the trail register and officially begin our thru-hike.
It didn’t take long for our feet to get wet, just a few miles in as we crossed some low-lying wetlands. Wet feet will end up being one of the biggest challenges for me as it ends up wearing on me both mentally and physically. The wetlands are moose territory and we see tracks and droppings everywhere, but no moose. The trail eventually ascends out of the wetlands, climbing to the highest spot of the trail, an unassuming point marked by a small sign that we manage to miss.
Late morning brings warmer temps and I feel myself starting to struggle, already, feeling tired and lethargic. Tim mentions he’s getting a hot spot on his foot. My feet are also causing issues from being wet all morning.
What did we get ourselves into?
I feel my confidence squandering as I realize how distant the usual comforts of life are from us. Nine days seems unimaginable at this point. I try to bring myself back to the present moment, getting through each section, each mile, and each step. Nine days feels unimaginable at this point as I start to transition to life on the trail. I had never gone through a transition of this magnitude before. I had never done anything longer than about 34 hours. Adjusting to this new way of life was a challenge, but one that I would eventually cherish. I didn’t know it yet, but our only chance at success depended on our ability to adapt to the trail. It can’t adapt to us, we must adapt to it. We don’t conquer the trail, or anything in nature, we become a part of it.
As the afternoon turns to evening, we arrive at Magney State Park. The quiet, empty trail we knew all day is now filled with tourists and day hikers. It’s a nice change that seems to bring some energy to both Tim and I and we find ourselves jogging along the Brule River past Devil’s Kettle Falls. The miles and the time seem to pass by more quickly.
Arriving at the Lake Walk is what I’ve been looking forward to all day. The 1.5-mile section of “trails” is actually just walking across a pebble-filled beach right on the shore of Lake Superior. The cool breeze coming off of the lake is a welcome reprieve after an unseasonably warm day. The sun is sitting low in the sky as wave crash against the shoreline. I feel a sense of peace as we walk along the lake, enjoying the vast views.
We spot a campfire surrounded by a group of ladies, enjoying food and drinks. I find myself longing for the comforts they’re enjoying; food and relaxation. As we pass by they ask us about our hike, giving us handfuls of trail mix and an abundance of positive energy. I walk away feeling re-energized. Just a couple more miles to camp, or so we think.
The first campsite, the one we had planned to stay at, is full. We search for a place to put our tent, but to no ado. We continue to the next one, which is also full. It’s Memorial Day weekend so the full campsites aren’t a surprise. It’s dark, now and I feel myself growing impatient, ready to give my legs and wet feet some much-needed rest.
At 10:30 pm we reach Kimball Creek Camp. I can hardly keep my eyes open as we look around for a place among the other campers to pitch our tent. We find a spot and in a matter of minutes we’re climbing into our tent to crash. Sleep feels amazing.
42.5 miles / 42.5 total miles
Day 2
Kimball Creek Camp to Cut Log Camp (Cascade River)
We slept right through the alarm on our cheap Timex watch. Luckily, our secondary alarm, the sun, did not fail us. We realized during this trip that getting up early is not our strength. As a result, we would have to go later into the night, sometimes past midnight to stay on track. Once we rolled out of bed we ate breakfast, tore down camp, and headed out at 6:20 am.
The first few steps were the hardest, but as we made our way down the trail I realized that the aches, pains, and sore muscles of yesterday were gone. Surprisingly, I feel fresh and energized. The morning air didn’t have the usual chill to it, making it very obvious that we were in for another warm day.
The miles passed quickly and we arrived in Grand Marais at 10:45 am, our first resupply. We took a short detour into town to get some more socks and eat some burgers for lunch. On our way out of town, we stop at the resupply cache we hung in a tree near the trail.
This wouldn’t be our only detour into town for a resupply. While it added miles and time to our trip, we found it was a huge boost to our morale and provided an opportunity to replenish calories.
The day was going smoothly until Tim mentions he was having some pain in his ankle. Tendonitis, maybe? It seems to be the same issues we both experienced at Superior 100, last year, which took weeks to heal. We tried to remain optimistic and start problem-solving. He tried everything from adjusting his shoelaces to taping his ankle for support, hoping something would help. Unfortunately, nothing did. His ankle was getting worse and our pace slowed. Finally, we decided to end the day early, hoping some rest would help.
We managed to make it to Cut Log Campsite, right before Cascade River State Park, which was just a few miles short of our planned campsite for the night. Tim was convinced he was done, and while I was trying to stay optimistic, I didn’t think his chances were good. We decided to delay any final decisions until morning, but we started making plans for me to go on without him.
Hiking the rest of the trail solo would mean I would have to add a couple extra pounds to my pack from the shared gear, mainly our tent and stove. I wasn’t worried about the weight, but losing my hiking partner would be a little bit harder to swallow. I didn’t sleep well that night as I tried to process everything.
29.5 miles / 72 total miles
Jared VanderHook 
This is awesome!
LikeLike