Recently my family and I took a road trip around Lake Michigan. We love road trips and I had always wanted to visit Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore and Tahquamenon Falls. The plan was to drive up through Wisconsin with an overnight in Marquette and spend the next day touring the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

Now, we have a long-running joke in our family. Ted and my kids think it’s hilarious that I consider myself “outdoorsy.” This irritates me to no end, as I’d venture that I’m much more outdoorsy than they’d like to believe. I could spend a paragraph detailing the many activities that I like to do outdoors but that would be boring. I could also list all the ways Ted is indoorsy, which I could make very funny and not boring, but that isn’t the point of the story. The point I am trying to make is just because I like air conditioning and I prefer hotels to camping does not mean I don’t like nature.

This leads me to our very ambitious National Park Adventure. Yes, this suburban Greek family who usually works their vacation spots around the nearest Starbucks and Culver’s was going to spend a few days in the forests and hills of the Upper Peninsula. Without Wi-Fi.

I had done a lot of research and found some short hikes we could enjoy during our trip across the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. Pictured Rocks is 42 miles long with 15 miles of cliffs. My plan was to make our way through the length of the park, stopping at a number of lookout points including waterfalls, cliff overlooks, sand dunes, and lighthouses. We only had a day to get through quite a few scenic spots while still assuring we could get to Sault Ste. Marie by nightfall. A big day was planned.

I noticed on the map that each stop had a short walk to the actual site. It seemed like a perfect day of exploring. We would “hike” to the photo spot, take our requisite pictures, and move on. This would certainly add up to several miles by the end of the day.

Except that wasn’t really the “hiking” trip I had sold to my family. By the time we got to the second stop, Teddy was asking when we were going to hike. Before I could answer, he noticed the signpost reading that the next scenic stop, Miners Castle, was only 4.9 miles away.

Now let me stop right here. Five miles is no easy trek. Most people who are not regular hikers who are in their 50s and possibly have a few extra pounds on them might balk at this. But also most people who have promised a hiking adventure and are a little bit scared of their kids and also have a little pride might NOT balk at this. So there we were.

I tried to warn them.

Teddy assured me he would be fine. After all, he reminded me, he could run about three miles in half an hour. Teddy, who is 17 and plays soccer and does CrossFit. I was not worried about Teddy. I was worried about Ted, who is 54 and does not play soccer or do CrossFit. I wasn’t sure he could make 4.9 miles on a moving walkway let alone on rugged terrain in the wilderness. Let me remind you of the description on the website: The Pictured Rocks are spectacular but can be dangerous to the careless hiker. Fifteen miles of the North Country Trail are atop 50-200 foot high cliffs. Cliff tops are covered with loose sand and gravel.

The idea of 4.9 miles didn’t scare me. The idea of 9.8 miles did. No one seemed to be considering that we had to get back as well. It was already 12:30 in the afternoon. Once we started hiking it would be at least three hours until we got back. Never mind the fact we wouldn’t be able to eat until we got back because we didn’t have a backpack big enough to carry four Jimmy Johns Number 4s and four bags of Salt and Vinegar chips and certainly nothing to keep the sandwiches cold and the chips unharmed.

Side note: This was actually my thought process as I was trying to decide if we should make the trek. Now that it’s over and I know the actual conditions and time it took, it’s all I can do to not laugh/cry with shock at our complete and utter naiveté in undertaking this excursion.

But even after discussing the complications that could arise, we were all game to try. I think I can say we had passed the point of “outdoorsy” by that point.

I cannot oversell the stupidity of this decision. Almost immediately, the path sloped upward and we began climbing the 200-foot high mountain in front of us. At certain parts there were steps made from wooden planks, however, even having stairs as a crutch, climbing 200 of them was no easy feat for out-of-shape suburbanites. The ground was covered in tree roots and underbrush and you had to keep your head down the entire time to make sure you wouldn’t fall or trip on anything. This quiet focus allowed for a lot of internal musings, the result being that soon into the journey I began to lose any rationale I had started with.

Is it possible there are bears in this forest? Of course there are. How could there not be? I don’t remember what to do when you encounter a bear. Do you back away from bears and avoid eye contact or are they the ones you run toward screaming and make yourself look bigger? Why have I been spending all this time watching TikTok videos of dogs doing adorable things when I could have been watching videos of how to repel bears? Wait. I actually think they make bear repellent. Is it a spray or a horn? How could I be so concerned about my Turkey Tom with cucumbers and not even think about bear repellant?

It went on and on.

Panic had set in. Honestly, I was not even sure that in this state I would save my children had we come across a bear right then. (There was that time I saw a mouse in the kitchen when my kids were toddlers and I ran screaming for my life into the next room and jumped on a desk leaving them to fend for themselves.) I could not guarantee any maternal instincts would kick in.

Once I started thinking about the bears there was no end to my imagination. What about snakes? Of course there would be snakes in a forest filled with trees and creeks. What about coyotes? Foxes? I was used to these back in Downers Grove, but usually in a neighborhood where I was close to other homes where I could scream for help. There was no one around here. And if I DID scream, wouldn’t that just help the bears locate me faster? This insanity elevated until I truly started thinking that I might run into a bobcat or mountain lion. Now I know I tend to exaggerate, but if you have ever been in a situation where fear takes hold of you and your imagination kicks in, you will understand where I was right then. At the time, all of these thoughts seemed very reasonable to me.

Suddenly a calm came over me as I realized that old joke, “You only have to run faster than the slowest person,” and I knew I would be safe. I would miss Ted, but we would manage on our own somehow.

Sometime around this point, Teddy announced we were about a third of the way there. We had been walking for about an hour and twenty minutes. ONE-THIRD OF THE WAY THERE. This hour and twenty minutes felt more like 3 hours in dog time or mountain lion time or 50-year-old-walking-over-tree-roots time.

Ted and I looked at each other with concern. Not only concern that we would not make it for two more hours, but concern that our kids would be mad at us if we made them turn around. This may sound ridiculous, but if you have teenagers you know they can be moody and change on a dime. As parents, there are times when you will play Rock/Paper/Scissors to avoid difficult conversations, or even non-difficult conversations, or let’s face it, sometimes even ANY conversations. Oh yeah, did I mention that Ted had already “twisted his knee,” “stubbed his toe,” and broken a shoe? So we were not in good shape.

This is when Ted suggested getting a Uber for the way back. Let me remind you that we were in the Upper Peninsula in the Hiawatha National Forest without Wi-Fi. But sure, calling an Uber was going to be our solution. The closest we were going to get to an Uber was hoping another tourist family had room in their car and would drive us back and not murder us on the way.

Suddenly, we came upon two women in their mid-30s coming from the opposite direction. Based on their hiking shoes and travel backpacks they were experienced hikers. (So far, you may have been imagining a bustling path filled with periodic mile-markers and tourists exchanging pleasantries. You would be wrong. For one and a half hours we did not see one sign or one person. They were the first.)

“People!” I shouted, as if I were Tom Hanks in Castaway and had been shipwrecked for years. “We haven’t seen anyone this whole time!” They said hello and stopped to get a drink of water from their earth-friendly water filtration bottles. (It is possible that this was when I slowly and inconspicuously shifted my plastic Venti Strawberry Refresher cup behind my back.)

“How far have you guys been walking?” I asked.

“Oh, for like 35 miles,” one said with a wave of her hand, graciously trying to downplay and not embarrass me.

“We are headed to Miners Castle, do you know how much farther that is?”

“Oh yeah, you’re about halfway there,” she answered. “But there isn’t water there. Or bathrooms. And I don’t know how hard the terrain has been so far, but it’s really bad the rest of the way. Lots of mud.”

I got the distinct impression these women did not think we could make it the rest of the way. I don’t know if it was my Starbucks cup, fashion backpack, or Burberry sunglasses that gave it away, but something screamed suburban mom to her. Dare I say, something screamed “indoorsy” about us.

Whatever. We could make this trip as easily as they could with their fancy camping gear and environmentally safe water bottles.

And then one of them mentioned they had seen a bear.

Yep, we were turning back. Those women were right about us after all.

I made some quick mental calculations: By the time we reached our destination, snapped a picture and returned, we would not get back to our car until close to 7 pm if we were lucky. (Providing we couldn’t find the line of Ubers Ted was counting on.) At least we would save time not being able to go to the bathroom or drink any water. Who knows what time it would get dark in these thick woods. Who knows how many creepy animals would come out then. Who knows how many twigs Ted would stumble over. We could NOT carry Ted through the woods if he became immobile. Our only other option would be to hitchhike and probably end up in the back of a local’s pick-up truck nestled among his deer carcasses.

After they moved on, Ted and I made the executive decision we needed to turn back. We broke the news to the kids. Not surprisingly, the kids were furious we were giving up on the promised hike. Teddy stomped off yelling, “I just once wanted to do something cool! We are not a hiking family! We are the LAZY FAMILY!!”.

Yes, yes we are. We are also the ALIVE family I’d like to mention.

It took us another hour and a half to get back, and by then we were all talking again. We ate our sandwiches and drove to Miners Castle. It was gorgeous and a great spot for pictures. We saw a waterfall, a sandy beach, and the beautiful rock formation jutting out into the lake.

You know what we didn’t see?

Ubers.