Great Lakes Bay Regional Trail - A Rail Trail in Progress

Bay County to Saginaw County Connection

Bridge over a Saginaw River tributary near Stony Island.

The Bay County to Saginaw County Connection, part of the Great Lakes Bay Regional Trail, starts from Bay City's west side along the Saginaw River toward Zilwaukee, or Saginaw County. The trail begins as an overgrown two track path instead of the expected abandoned railroad bed with an occasional railroad tie poking up through the dirt. Bushwhacking through the thick weeds, branches and mosquitos finally takes you to a river crossing over a refurbished trestle. After the trestle, the trail continues over freshly laid gravel and on to a second river crossing near Stony Island where the historic Skull Island Massacre took place just to the north.

The beginning. A rail trail?

The connection transforms through various stages.

Or a path?

Two track. And plenty of Stealth Camping opportunities...

Freshly laid and rolled stone. Progress.

Turns back to two track.

Wildlife abounds.

Approximately halfway through the connection the trail peters out. From here the trail is incomplete and I followed the alternate route - if the proposed rail trail along the river is not secured. Hopefully the alternate route won't be used since it is simply a utility road through a wildlife refuge. While riding on this straight two track I came upon two hunters who were sighting in a rifle along the path and I feared getting a stray bullet in the head...

Alternate route through Crow Island State Game Area.

The alternate route isn't very scenic - hopefully the connection will follow the rail line along the river. 

The connection ends near the Zilwaukee Bridge seen in the far distance.

What I Did on My Vacation

Overnight Bikepacking to Big Mud Lake

"Pics or it didn't happen" is a popular catchphrase these days. Well, that may or may not be the case, simply because I didn't make any new images after shooting much of the same route two years earlier.

Leaving U.S. Bicycle Route 20 (USBR 20) northward, I traveled about five miles over gravel roads to the Mud Lake rustic campground as a destination for an overnight bikepacking trip

Located on the wooded shore of Big Mud Lake in Clare County, the campground overlooks the 230 acre lake featuring eight camping sites, potable water from a hand-pumped well, vault toilets, and fire rings.

With roughly equal hours of day and night this time of the year, I forgot to plan on coping with a solid 12 hours of looong tent time. Don't get me wrong, I was plenty tired after carrying all of my gear 75-miles from home, but I wasn't 12 hours of sleeping tired if you get my drift. After arriving all I wanted to do was to hop off the saddle, eat and drink something, and walk around a bit to try and soothe the monkey butt before setting up camp.

Looking back, Mud Lake isn't a "destination" for a solo bikepacker in my opinion.  If I'd brought along some fishing gear I'd definitely try my luck for the bass, bluegill, crappie or northern pike. A boat would be a nice thing to have here. For other recreation there is the Green Pine Lake Pathway to consider, but after seven hours in the saddle, a nine-mile hike to Pike Lake probably ain't gonna happen. For these reasons I found little to do.

For a cyclist traveling USBR 20 from A to B, I think a better option may be to find a spot alongside the route and "wild camp." My visit took place after the summer's school vacation ended and before the deer hunting season began and I had the entire place to myself, so I can't comment on the campground's atmosphere during peak times. The water well is definitely a plus for the campground since the nearby towns are small and water and food not always available.

Highlights of the trip include near peak fall foliage, plentiful wildlife including deer, turkey, and howling coyotes at night. After straying from USBR 20 west of Clare (that's code for making a wrong turn after attempting a shortcut) I rode past a family of Amish girls playing a game of baseball in their front yard with a tennis racket instead of a bat while their parents watched from chairs behind "home plate" - it was a Sunday after all, so no work was to be done.

The Rock

It was a trip intended to be the last hurrah of summer...

An overnight S24O bikepacking trip to a 120-foot limestone precipice overlooking Lake Huron that is part of the Niagara escarpment.

But it was hot, humid, and the deer flies were biting. Savagely.

Oh, and getting lost more than once didn't help...


All images ©2010 Daniel Staudacher

So, forget about the poor trail markings, and the seemingly endless hike-a-biking around too, too many water-filled ATV scars. Forget about the less than ideal light and running out of water.

Yep, it was still a great time.

Bikepackin' in da U.P., eh!

After reading about the concept of S24O earlier this past winter I already had a particular location in mind. My bikepacking trip would take place in a remote spot of Michigan's Upper Peninsula featuring stark alvar landscapes and limestone outcroppings festooned with fossils.


With a bike loaded down with the bare essentials for an overnight jaunt into the wilds, I'm off to a rugged place where the only sounds to be heard are the wind, the waves, or a raven's call.

Rolling along I can't not notice the numerous large boulders - glacial erratics - deposited by retreating glaciers some 20 thousand years ago.

My path carries me over fractured limestone bedrock scraped free of soil during the last ice age.

And sometimes through puddles...


After pedaling 26 miles I unload the bike and make camp near the shore of Lake Huron.

And grab a bite to eat...

Gorp. It's what's for dinner. Breakfast too.


I prepare to settle in for the night as sunset mounts and hang my "food" from a tree branch with a 40-foot rope away from the tent in case any bears catch scent of the Gorp. I wonder, "Would bears even eat peanuts, raisins and M & M's?"

The day was a cool one as early June days go, with temps barely reaching the 70-degree mark, and I felt remarkably fresh after riding nearly three hours. That was a good thing because it's too cold for a dip in Lake Huron this early in the season.

After bunking down in the sleeping bag I catch a whiff of myself wafting from within. "That's not B.O.," I think. "That's B.R.," for "bear repellant." Mental note to myself: Might want to air out the sleeping bag, or maybe even get it dry cleaned after getting home...


Dawn comes early in these north woods, or at least it seems to get light earlier with no other competing light sources. The night was also a cool one, and that three dollar space blanket turned out to be a pretty good investment. Emerging from the tent, vapor rises from my breath into the early morning predawn light. The temperature on my cycling computer reads 47˚. At least the cold air keeps the mosquitos at bay. Wearing a knit cap, arm and leg warmers, and a light cycling jacket, I start a fire with wood gathered the evening before.


Warmth from the sun can't come too soon now, and eventually it paints an orange glow over the shoreline. Finally, it's bright enough to walk without using a flashlight.


Walking the beach, limestone strata reveals ancient marine fossil invertebrates laid down 440 million-years-ago when warm, shallow seas covered this region.


Since this was my first s24o, mistakes were made, items forgotten. I'm still kicking myself for not carrying a spare battery after my camera died.

I hike the shoreline a bit, relishing the view, and wish I never had to leave. With all this wilderness about me, and no operable camera, I reluctantly realize it's time to go. So I load up the bike once more and say goodbye to this lovely place. At least for today...

I will return another day.

Even if mistakes are made, and most probably they will be made, there is (almost) nothing that you cannot live without for at least one day.

It's all about the adventure.

All images ©2010, Daniel Staudacher