The Big House

Clues…

So here I am, 6 days before Christmas, exactly 42 years old, plodding through the snow looking for a letterbox. But not just any letterbox — this is one I saved specifically for today, although I’m not sure that was such a good idea… I swear I’m gonna die if I have to climb up and down one more sand dune. I wonder how many people do that, statistically — check out on the same date they were born on, that is…

Okay, this must be the sandy bowl, and there’s the large, tall pine tree. Hmmmm, I never did see the “abandoned concrete block building,” but I appear to be on the right trail. Down another sand dune… my knee is killing me. I’m getting old… Due south 60 paces to the gnarly pine, and there it is! Oh, the thrill… Oh, my freezing fingers!

Victorious in my quest for yet another stamp in my logbook, I headed back down the trail to the parking lot. On my drive out of the park, curiosity got the best of me and I decided to take the road off to the right and check out what’s back there. The road ends at a parking lot, across from a house… a big house… the big house.

Now, when a person says “the big house” some people think of a really large house. Other people use this term as slang for prison, so I suppose you might be wondering specifically in which context I am using this description. Well… actually, both. After doing a bit of research, I came to realize that the big house had a somewhat diverse and colorful history, and decided it would make an interesting place for a letterbox. And so, I carved a stamp, and a few weeks later, returned to plant the box.

Now you have to understand, this big old house is supposedly haunted by the ghost of its former mistress, and it’s not exactly in my backyard or anything, so by the time I got there, it was starting to get dark. The empty parking lot told me the dog-walkers and cross-country skiers had all headed home already, and I was the only person there… And it was cold being so close to the lake… And well, you get the point — I intended to make this quick.

Walking along the trail, I looked into the trees for the perfect hiding place. All the while, it was getting darker and I kept thinking about that big old haunted house behind me. My pace quickened as I spied a potential spot up ahead. Yes… the round plastic container fit perfectly into the hollow! I quickly covered it with a handful of snowy leaves and twigs and jotted down a few notes, confident I would remember the intended directions and landmarks once I got home.

Back at home, I sat down to write up the box clues, except I couldn’t really remember what exactly most of my scribbled notations meant, and whether the numbers were counts or paces or degrees or measurements… Oh well, I’m sure I could find my way back to the box without the directions, so I don’t really need to figure them out.

But you do… so I’ll just let you make sense of them.

Sugarbowl

Site Notes…

At the entrance to Muskegon State Park stands a large sand dune, known locally as the “Sugarbowl.” In the winter it is a favorite sliding hill for area young people, although it is quite a hike back up the hill between trips! Don’t worry, you don’t have to climb the hill (well, at least not the whole way up)!

This box is located in Muskegon State Park. A Michigan State Parks vehicle pass is required for entry and can be purchased at the park. Please check the park web site for dates and hours of operation.

Getting There…

Follow Memorial Drive west toward Muskegon State Park. Where Memorial Drive ends at Lake Michigan, turn left. Across from the guard station at the entrance is a small turn-out, with a large sand hill visible in the distance. You will need to pick up the trail at the turn-out, however it is posted, “no parking” here. Parking is available just up the road in the beach lot.

Clues…

“Hey let’s go sliding after school,” Ralphie caught up with me in the lunchroom, as an early winter snowstorm gusted outside the window and dumped fluffy white stuff on top of the couple inches that had fallen the day before.

“Do you think there is enough snow on the hill?” I asked, referring to the infamous Sugarbowl, a huge sand hill at the State Park where the local kids went sliding.

“Yeh, I heard some kids saying they were there last night and it was great!”

“Okay, but I have a few chores to do first before my mom will let me go.”

Ralphie made a face and said, “Well I’ll meet you there then, at 4:00.”

“Okay, where do you want to meet?”

“Meet me at that tree that kind of stands there all by itself, in the middle, at the bottom of the big hill,” Ralphie said.

“Okay…” I answered a bit hesitantly. Being new to the area just last year, I had only been to the Sugarbowl a couple of times, and wasn’t quite sure I knew the tree Ralphie was talking about. I remembered that there were three hills, with the big hill in the back being the one everyone went sliding on, but it seemed to me it was a bit tricky how to get back there without climbing up and down the front two hills.

“Remind me how to get there,” I said.

“Take the trail from the turn-out, up along the left ridge of the front hill. When you get to the tree that’s twisty like a pretzel stick, go down into the woods and follow the trail that runs in the valley all the way around the back of the first hill and along the edge of the second hill. You’ll see the tree from there; just follow the path down the back of the second hill into the clearing to get there.”

“Sounds easy enough,” I answered confidently. Although I couldn’t quite picture it in my mind, I was sure it would make sense once I got there. “I’ll meet you there at 4:00,” I said as the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch hour.

I hurried home from school and completed my chores as quickly as possible, anxious to get to the hill. “Mom, I’m going sliding,” I called as I headed out to the garage to get my sled down from the wall brace where it had hung all summer.

Ralphie’s directions ran through my head as I arrived at the park and started down the path from the turn-out… I followed the ridge to my left along the edge of the front bowl and immediately saw the twisty-trunk tree up ahead. Taking the path down into the trees, I picked up the trail that headed to my right along the valley. After a bit, the trail broke out of the trees and wrapped around the back of the front hill, where it turned to the left toward the middle hill. It was all beginning to look familiar now. I could see the meeting tree in the distance and I anxiously walked up along the ridge of the middle hill to the path that led down the back side. Up ahead, past the tree, the big hill was filled with kids and sleds and even a couple of dogs.

I arrived at the meeting tree promptly at 4:00 p.m. Ralphie was not there yet, and I sat down on my sled to rest for a minute, looking anxiously around, hoping that I was at the right tree. Spotting another, bigger tree standing kind of by itself, just north of where I was, I headed across the path about 30 paces to wait there.

As I waited impatiently for Ralphie, I noticed a lot of commotion up on the ridge of the hill, 100 degrees from where I was sitting. Tired of waiting, I hiked over to see what was going on. As I neared the bank of the hill, I asked a man what had happened.

“There was a kid racing a big guy in a red snowsuit down the hill, and they collided and came sliding right up the side of the hill here into the trees. The kid is all tangled up in the roots of that tree up there.” The man answered, pointing ahead into the crowd of onlookers, to a tree, whose gnarly roots clung to the ridgeline, with several inches protruding over the path, creating a tangled mess of roots and hollow cavities.

I pushed my way in past the crowd, and there was Ralphie, wedged in a tight crevice between two thick fingers of root.

Anatomy of a Murder

In March of 1959 Hollywood came to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula to film the 1956 best seller, Anatomy of a Murder. The story tells of a bartender murdered by an Army Lieutenant (Ben Gazzara) who claims the victim had beaten and raped his wife (Lee Remick). She supports her husband’s version but no physical evidence supports the rape incident. The wife was a well known tramp about camp and was accused of lying to protect her husband. The defense (Jimmy Stewart) claimed that both were telling the truth and the husband became temporarily insane and killed during his rage over what happened to his wife. Due to use of explicit language, the movie marked the biggest challenge to the movie morals code since Clark Gable said “damn” in “Gone With the Wind.”

Director Otto Preminger led his group of 150 movie makers to the Upper Peninsula, much to the delight of local residents. He used about 300 extras who were paid $10 a day; those with speaking roles $90 a day. More than 1,500 people applied for the jobs. The movie company spent six weeks in the area and left behind over $300,000, as well as giving local residents their first up-close view of the movie industry and its stars.

Clues…

Begin your quest for clues to the body box in the town where the majority of filming was done, at the hotel, originally named for a prominent Michigan businessman, which was later renamed to be the fictional name used for both the town and the hotel in the movie.

Follow Deutsch as it curves around onto KK. Pass the cemetery, which would have been a logical place to dispose of the body box or any other crime-related evidence had it been more remotely located. A short quarter mile down the road from the cemetery, as the main road curves to the left, a seasonal dirt road lies straight ahead (if the road is closed for the season when you come, you can park here and walk in).

Follow the dirt road, which is not much more than a logging trail, as it immediately winds to the left into the woods. After approximately 1/2 mile, you will come to a small clearing with a wire-gated drive. From the north end of the clearing, 50 paces reveals a blue-blazed tree on your right. 100 degrees from this tree, the body box has been disposed of in a dead stump hiding behind a clump of trees.

Muskegon Pier Light

History…

In 1851, the first Muskegon Harbor Lighthouse was constructed on shore, and consisted of a keepers dwelling with an integrated roof-mounted tower. This lighthouse bore a close resemblance to the Old Mission Light near Traverse City. In 1903, the existing Muskegon South Pier Light, a cast iron cylindrical tower, standing 53 feet tall, was constructed. The current light is still in operation and is located on the south side of the entrance to the channel connecting Muskegon Lake to Lake Michigan. The tower sits in front of the old Muskegon Coast Guard station, which now houses the NOAA research team, and a seasonal Coast Guard rescue crew. The city of Muskegon has recently turned the site of the original Muskegon Harbor Light into a small park, aptly named, Lighthouse Park.

Site Notes…

This box is located in Muskegon State Park. A Michigan State Parks vehicle pass is required for entry and can be purchased at the park. Please check the park web site for dates and hours of operation.

Getting There…

Follow Memorial Drive west toward Muskegon State Park. Where Memorial Drive ends at Lake Michigan, turn left and enter the park. Park in the beach parking area just past the entrance.

Clues…

Near the southern end of a beach between two rocky breakwalls, find a sandy hollow in the eastern ridgeline. Walk up the backside of this bowl — at 208 degrees see the tip of the lighthouse, at 220 degrees find additional colored navigational aids. 48 paces and 100 degrees from the lonely little pin oak standing on the eastern rim of the hollow beyond you at 60 degrees find a pair of dying popples with stones at their feet. This was where the box was originally hidden, but I kept finding it laying in the open, so you’re not quite done yet…

Proceed 85 paces at 40 degrees beyond the headless tree standing on the hill ahead at 40 degrees. Here you will find a small clump of trees; you will find the box in a detached, broken arm.

Happy Feet

Site Notes…

This hike will take you along some of the more desolate stretches of shoreline in Muskegon State Park, as well as into the forest on one of the many trails heading up from the shoreline. Take your shoes off and splash in the lake… you will truly have happy feet!

This box is located in Muskegon State Park. A Michigan State Parks vehicle pass is required for entry and can be purchased at the park. Please check the park web site for dates and hours of operation.

Getting There…

Follow Memorial Drive west toward Muskegon State Park. Where Memorial Drive ends at Lake Michigan, turn left toward the park entrance. Park in the first beach parking area past the guard station.

Clues…

While visiting some friends in Muskegon, Kali spent an afternoon walking the beach and exploring trails at Muskegon State Park. She remembered a trail where she had walked a few years earlier, and recalled a broken tree she had found artistically interesting. Not having her camera with her at the time, she had marked a tree at the trailhead, hoping to return another time.

She parked her car in the first beach parking area at the park and set off north along the water’s edge. If she remembered correctly, the trail was about a mile up the beach. It was a sunny summer day, the water sparkled in the sunlight and gentle waves lapped at the sandy beach. She removed her shoes and splashed through the edge of the warm water, her feet happy.

After a bit she reached an area of rocks along the beach. The water was deeper here so she decided to hop from rock to rock rather than walk around them in the water. About halfway she stopped to sit and admire the view, watching a sailboat lazily cruising the shoreline, carefree and graceful. Grateful she had her camera, she took several pictures to show her friends back in Denver, where they had no beaches, and somehow managed to live without them.

Reaching the other side of the pile of rocks, the beach opened back up and a few sunbathers relaxed here on this secluded section of beach. Past here the road turned away from the beach and the tree line began. A large sand-faced hill basked in the mid-day sunshine, dotted with tell-tale footprints of adventurous weekend climbers. The dune gave way to gently sloped sand hills covered with beach grass. Up ahead she spotted the two sprawling, though diminutive, young pin oaks perched on the sandy slope, she had remembered as landmarks indicating her trail up into the woods. Her eyes moved just a bit further up the beach, looking for a family of young sassafras trees, congregated on the hillside, as if sitting in theater seats, waiting for evening’s sunset show.

And there, nestled between the pin oaks and the sassafras, at the northern corner of a sand-faced hill, a sandy path led up into the forest. Confident this was the trail she had taken before, she climbed the hill and at the top, located the sprawling beech tree where she had carved her name in 1999. She rested her camera for a moment in the low crook of the tree branches, while she brushed the sand off her feet and put her shoes back on before heading along the trail into the trees. She playfully swung herself down the hill on the low-hanging maple branches, the screech of hawks overhead.

Up the trail, as she passed by a large sand hill with a stump at the bottom, things began to look vaguely familiar, although she didn’t remember there being so many downed trees across the path the last time she was here. Looks like this part of the forest took on the wrath of a Lake Michigan storm since then. The trail got quite narrow and twisted around several large pine trees. Ahead on the right, she found the hollow knot of a dead beech tree rather interesting and stopped to take a picture. Just ahead of this, a large tree trunk lay on the ground at a 45 degree angle to the right edge of the trail, wedged between two trees, 1 living, 1 dead.

As the trail widened and went down a small hill, along the right side of the trail, she spotted the familiar grouping of 4 pine trees growing side to side, and noticed that 1 of the trees was now dead and had broken off about 15 ft. from the ground, although not the double-trunked one that had amused her, appearing to hug itself.She looked over her right shoulder, and there it was — the sculpturous tree trunk she had remembered, pointing toward the sky like a rifle rested on a soldier’s shoulder. The trunk had rotted since she last remembered, it’s hollow belly now filled with leaves and other forest treasures.