Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore

We have lived within a few hours of Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore for more years than I can remember and have never been there until recently. We have been to the Indiana Dunes State Park, which lies within the national lakeshore, to lie around the beach and soak up the sun, but never really took the time to enjoy the surrounding beauty. (Need I say we were very young at the time?)

The Indiana Dunes is set up similar to Cuyahoga Valley National Park in that it is interspersed with the surrounding communities throughout the park. Unlike Cuyahoga, however, Indiana Dunes is more compact. It runs for nearly 25 miles along the southern edge of Lake Michigan, one of the largest lakes in the world. Bordered by Gary, IN on the west, Indiana on the east and Michigan City on the north-east, as its name implies, it lies totally in Indiana. It encompasses 15,000 acres which includes the state park.

Shaped from the last great continental glacier, the park landscape represents at least four major historic stages of the shoreline, making it one of the most extensive geological records. Four major dune complexes can be seen with the older ones inland and the younger ones still active. Besides the dunes, the lakeshore has bogs, marshes, wetlands, oak savannas, prairies, rivers, forests and swamps.

You can experience the highest dune in the lakeshore park by climbing the strenuous trail to the top of Mount Baldy. This is a moving sand dune that is ever moving inland. It is soon to bury the trees and parking lot on its south side. The south side is currently fenced off to visitors, as the numerous people traipsing over the vegetation are why there is so much movement of the sand dune. Without the vegetation to hold the sand in place, the sand dune continues its coarse inland. It was sad to see that in spite of the signs asking people to stay off that side of the sand dune, you could still see that not only did people walk up and down that side of the sand dune; they also broke the fence climbing over it. There is a path on the side of the dune that allows you to get to the summit and either head to the beach or climb to the top and view the fantastic lake views.

With numerous beaches available, there are plenty of opportunities to soak up the sun if that is your desire or to swim in the lake. The beaches are well maintained and draw thousands of people during the summer to enjoy the breezes and deep blue water. With this many miles of shoreline, there is plenty of room for everyone. Be mindful of the beach rules and the presence of riptides in some locations. Parking fees are often charged.

Birdwatching is a very popular activity in the lakeshore. There is an unusually high diversity of autumn birds in northwest Indiana due to the size of Lake Michigan. Many birds pass by and stop to rest on the shores. There are also a large number of shore birds that are not normally found in the Midwest because of the depth of the lake and the beaches. You can see bay and sea ducks, pelicans, loons, grebes, sandpipers and gulls, lots of gulls. The wetlands provide vital habitat for birds like herons, warblers, wrens, the American Woodcock, Swamp Sparrow and Sora. Everywhere you go you can hear the trills of the birds.

There is one campground in the national lakeshore and one in the state park. During the summer these can fill up quickly, but they do not take reservations so it is best to arrive early. Most of the sites are in a shaded woody area. Showers with hot water are available as well as flush toilets. Each site has its own firepit and picnic table. It is usually very quiet and peaceful.

Hiking is another popular pastime and there are many miles of trails ranging from easy to strenuous. These traverse bogs, forests, sand dunes, marshes and beaches. The Ly-co-ki-we Trail is for hiking, horseback riding and cross-country skiing. The Calumet Trail offers hiking and biking options. The Marquette Trail is also open for biking. We brought our bikes with, but the weather was too rainy for bike riding. Wherever you go, though, you are sure to see great lakeside views, unique wildlife and rare botanicals.

Another great site to take in is the Chellberg Farm and Bailly Homestead. They are connected by a ravine-side trail that is beautiful. The farm is a Swedish farmstead typical of the 1890’s to 1910. You can watch the ranger feed the animals and on weekends, go through the house. During festival times there are people dressed in period costumes. The Bailly Homestead is a National Historic Landmark and was home to Joseph Bailly de Messein who played a role in the development of the Calumet region of northern Indiana. He was an independent trader in furs and was one of the earliest settlers in northern Indiana. The complex is the last remaining site of its nature in the Calumet region.

During the 1933 World’s Fair, five houses were built to demonstrate modern architecture, experimental materials and new technologies like air conditioning and dishwashers. These were moved to the community of Beverly Shores, IN in 1935 and are now on the National Register of Historic Places. We were disappointed not to get to view these as they are all being renovated presently and are closed. You can drive by them on Lakeshore Drive that runs along the lakefront offering rugged views of shoreline. Incidentally, you should see the other houses that are along this road. They are absolutely phenomenal. Not that they have anything to do with the national lakeshore, but they are still interesting.

Because it is a smaller park, there are many things you could see and do in a few days time. We managed to camp, climb Mount Baldy, visit the new Dorothy Buell Memorial Visitor Center, the Chellberg Farm, hike part of the Inland Marsh Trail, drive down Lakeshore Drive and Beverly Drive (to see the birds), see some wildlife, eat some awesome food, and visit the state park and climb their dunes to capture great photos of the beach, dunes and sunset. All in all it was a wonderful experience and one we want to repeat very soon.

By Corie Marks

First and foremost, when you get to the park or wilderness area where you are going, check at any ranger station or visitor center for current safety issues that are pertinent for the areas you will be visiting. The rangers and staff are there to help in any way they can and are very willing to answer any questions you may have. It is also helpful to have checked the park out ahead of time for anything that could be a red flag for whatever activity you wish to pursue. In other words, plan ahead.

Secondly, never backpack or climb alone in the wilderness. Even in “civilized” parks, it is not advised. If something were to happen to one of you, the other one could go for help. Admittedly, this is not always the best option, but if there is no hope of someone seeing a signal or ever finding you accidentally, this is the next best procedure. Maybe if you were trained in wilderness survival, you might make it fine on your own, but remember the guy who got his hand caught in a boulder and ended up cutting it off just to survive and get out of the canyon? He was not a novice, but he had gone alone and not told a soul where he would be over the weekend. Solitude is all well and good, but not if you don’t survive your solo trek or climb.

This brings up my next point. Make sure you tell someone where you are going and when they can expect you back. This will go a long way towards getting someone to rescue you, if you need it, providing you tell a reliable person. The parks do not always have the personnel to follow-up on missing backpackers unless someone says something to them. As far as they are concerned, you could have just forgotten to check back in with them or gone home another way. There was another incident of a man in Alaska that went camping alone and never told anyone. He was two weeks over his wilderness permit expiration before they even started looking for him. No one ever reported him missing. To my knowledge, he was never found. His tent was, but not him.

Next, follow the safety rules for that park or wilderness. Some places, like up in Alaska, you are warned up front that you are on your own and you will need to rescue yourself, but even some places in the lower 48 tell you the same thing. If you are told that an area has a high avalanche risk at the time you are there, don’t head out for that area. And if you just HAVE to go that way because it has the best scenery, ice fishing, ice climbing, or trailheads, then you had better be familiar with strategies to either avoid or face an avalanche. (Use swimming strokes, grab a sturdy tree, best is take a course!) Or if an area is a high fire risk, DO NOT light campfires and be very careful with your camp stove. You get the idea.

Really, just use common sense and know your limitations. If this will be a first for you, then by all means, take along someone who knows what they are doing or has proficiency in the activity. I realize that sometimes we don’t know our own limitations which is another reason to take someone with you. Go easy your first time doing a new activity and you will lessen your risk factor. Obey any warning signs you come across. They are there for a reason!

Make sure you have a good first aid kit and be familiar with what is in it and how to use everything. If you will be in an area where you know there are a lot of venomous snakes, bring a venom extractor. I also like to bring some hydrogen peroxide in a small container as this works great for cleaning out wounds to help prevent infection. It is also great to gargle with half peroxide and half water if you wake up with a sore throat one morning. It almost always works to eliminate the sore throat. Know the signs and symptoms for hypothermia and altitude sickness and also how to avoid and treat them.

Avoid wild animals when you can. Elk are dangerous during the rut season in the autumn. They are extremely aggressive at this time. Bears are generally shy, but those that are acclimated to humans can be aggressive. You will not be able to outrun a bear, so it is better to avoid them and definitely keep your distance. Moose are also potentially dangerous if stirred up, so walk and talk softly around them and let them know you are not a threat. Unlike bears, it is OK to run away from moose, but you might want to put some thing solid, like a tree, between you and them. We have a good Wildlife Precautions page on our website that has more tips about animals.

Lastly, have adequate supplies for your trip. It is better to have your pack just a little too heavy and have adequate food, bandages, clothing for the weather, water purification stuff, rain gear, compass, GPS unit, topographical maps (and know how to read them), signal mirror or whistle,  repair kits, and a length of rope. If you do become lost or injured and you are by yourself and can’t make it back, know that bright signals or objects placed in sequence of three are widely recognized as distress signs.

By Corie Marks

Editor’s note: This version adds comment from The Access Fund.

Climbing in Denali National Park and Preserve, NPS Photo

It will cost more in 2012 to climb Mount McKinley and Mount Foraker in Denali National Park and Preserve, as park officials are moving to offset the cost of protecting and rescuing climbers.

The decision to boost the fee from $200 to $250 for climbers age 24 and younger, and to $350 for all others, comes after a long public engagement process and meetings with the country’s foremost climbing organizations. The exchanges weren’t always complimentary, as at times the climbing community questioned whether all park visitors should bear the costs of the program and insinuated that perhaps Denali’s mountaineering program was bloated.

However, in a prepared statement issued by the park this morning Phil Powers, executive director of the American Alpine Club, expressed satisfaction with the fees.

“This is an example of the kind of considered process that results in policy we can support. I want to applaud (Denali Superintendent) Paul Anderson and the National Park Service for opening up their process and listening to the concerns of the climbing community,” Mr. Powers said.

At The Access Fund, policy director Jason Keith also was satisfied with the outcome.

“It’s been a long road. We didn’t get everything we wanted, but we’re happy with how things worked out in the end,” Mr. Keith said in a phone call with the Traveler, noting in particular the $250 youth fee.

“The park worked hard to get there,” he said.

Denali’s mountaineering program has evolved substantially since 1992, when 13 climbers died on McKinley, which is considered to be one of the most dangerous mountains in the world to summit due to the weather spun off from the Gulf of Alaska. In the aftermath, officials adopted a three-part strategy to heighten the safety of climbers: (1) a mandatory 60-day pre-registration; (2) enhanced preventative search and rescue education (PSAR), and; (3) a special-use fee to partially recover the costs of the program.

That third leg, the special-use fee, in 1995 was set at $150 per climber for those heading up either 20,320-foot McKinley or 17,400-foot Foraker. Part of that revenue was used to establish the 7,200-foot Kahiltna Basecamp, the 14,200-foot Ranger Camp, and the 17,000-foot High Camp for climbing rangers so they could be properly acclimated to the elevation and ready to respond to rescues or other assistance.

The revenues also enabled the park to create a “preventative search and rescue” — PSAR — program to educate climbers to the risks and hazards they might encounter on the mountains. The results of that approach were recognized in 2008, when a “study published in 2008 by the Journal of High Altitude Medicine and Biology concluded that the Denali PSAR program had reduced the fatality rate by 53%.”

However, while the fee increased to $200 per climber in 2005, the park has been spending much more than the revenues generated by the climbers. This past March, park officials said those climbing fees covered just 17 percent of the costs of maintaining the mountaineering program, which for fiscal 2011 was estimated to run $1.1 million.

The park has received a total of $440,000 in base increases to fund the high altitude helicopter program and expects to collect $200,000 from the cost recovery mountaineering special use fee. This leaves $520,000 in direct operating costs that must be funded from either other park program funds, an increase in the user fee, or a combination of both.

Climber numbers over the past decade have remained essentially flat, as has NPS staffing, the park officials noted. Excluding costs of the high altitude helicopter portion of the program, operational expenses have gone up significantly, due mainly to inflation.

In an effort to find a more sustainable funding model, park management began informal discussions in 2006 with leadership from the American Alpine Club, the Access Fund, and the American Mountain Guides Association, as well as park concessioners and other stakeholders in the climbing community. In October 2010, the park formally initiated a proposal to increase the fee.

Almost 500 public comments were submitted, the majority of which indicated they would support some aspect of a climbing fee increase, as long as the increase was reasonable and equitable. Other comments submitted called for the elimination of the use fee altogether, while at the opposite end of the spectrum, several comments suggested full cost recovery including a fee increase up to $1,500 per climber.

The new climbing fees will take effect for the 2012 mountaineering season. In future years, fees will be adjusted periodically based on actual costs, not to exceed changes in the cumulative consumer price index, a park release said.

“Mountain climbing represents a longstanding tradition at Denali National Park dating back to the first ascent of Mt. McKinley in 1913,” said Superintendent Anderson. “Climbing fulfills one of our park’s fundamental purposes. As such, we are committed to sharing in the cost of the program and continuing to allocate appropriate levels of the park’s base funding to the climbing program.”

The superintendent added that the park’s mountaineering program will strive to institute many of the suggestions for operational efficiencies gathered during the public process.

For additional information on the mountaineering program or cost recovery special use fee visit the park website at www.nps.gov/dena/. Contact South District Ranger John Leonard for questions about the fee at (907) 733-9105 or john_leonard@nps.gov.

The park is located a days drive east from Anchorage and lies adjacent to Canada’s Kluane National Park. There are three ways to view and get into the interior of the park. The 61-mile McCarthy Road is a dirt and gravel road that can take up to 3 hours to traverse. The Nabesna Road is a 42-mile gravel road from Slana to Nabesna that traverses the headwaters country of the Copper and Tanana drainages. The third way to view the park is by airplane where you can fly past massive peaks, over jagged glaciers, and endless expanses of wild Alaska.

The park and preserve encompasses four mountain ranges, the Chugach, the Wrangell, the Saint Elias, and the end of the Alaska Range on the northern borders. This in turn holds some of North America’s most remote wilderness. The terrain runs the gamut of mountains, glaciers, coastal and intertidal communities, rivers and lakes. Mountain climbing and ice climbing are big options to consider.

This truly wild Alaska is waiting to be explored by kayak, rafting, hiking, backpacking, mountaineering and mountain biking. Mountain biking can be done on the McCarthy and Nabesna Roads, some dry creek beds and a number of trails in the Glennallen, Copper Center-Chitina area. Sea kayaking can be done in Icy Bay on the coast and along the 150 miles of rugged coastline. Keep in mind that the coastline is for experienced sea kayakers as the coastline is wild and exposed to the open waters of the Gulf of Alaska or Yakutat Bay. Most kayakers are flown into the area to start at Kageet Point on the eastern edge of Icy Bay or Pt. Riou, located on Chugach Alaska Native Corporation land southeast of Icy Bay. Rafting opportunities are available in the rivers.

Hiking and backpacking can be done almost anywhere in the park, but conditions can often be muddy. Better hiking is available on the trails and routes that lead into the Mentasta Mountains north of Nabesna Road or past mile 36. You can also charter a plane to drop you off in the more remote interior. The landscape offers tremendous scenery and wildlife viewing. During the summer there are a wide variety of beautiful butterflies to be seen.

There are ample opportunities for fishing in the park and preserve. With the numerous lakes and rivers it can be a fly fisherman’s dream. Grayling, whitefish, Dolly Varden, lake trout, rainbow/steelhead trout, cutthroat trout, sculpin, burbot, lamprey, smelts, and suckers are all found in the park. The Gulkana River is a good place to catch salmon.

Sport hunting is allowed only in the preserve and in accordance with Alaskan regulations. It probably offers one of the biggest varieties of animals to hunt in the state. There are opportunities to hunt bear, Dall sheep, mountain goat, muskoxen, moose, waterfowl, and caribou. Off-road vehicles (ORV) can be used on established routes.

Winter also offers its share of outdoor adventure. Ice climbing, cross country skiing, snow skiing, snowmobiling, and snow shoeing are all options to enjoy if you love the cold weather. Remember that it can get minus 50 degrees F. in the dead of winter.

So no matter what your outdoor pleasure is, if you enjoy solitude and ruggedness, Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and Preserve is the place for you. With the numerous shorebirds and two passerine migratory routes, the numerous wildlife, dragonflies and unique butterflies along with the rugged beauty of the terrain, you will experience something you won’t get any where else. This is definitely a park that should be on your must-see list.

Bachar Portrait (Photo By Karl "Baba" www.peaklightimages.com)

Renowned climber John Bachar was found dead at the base of the Dike Wall near his home in Mammoth Lakes, California on Sunday, July 5. Environmentalist and outdoorsman Auden Schendler wrote the following eulogy after hearing of Bachar's death.

As a recreational rock climber and mountaineer, I’ve always seen my work on environmental issues as a natural extension of that passion for the outdoors, and also part of a long tradition: climbers and mountaineers have a long history of moving from their sometimes solipsistic, self-involved, and meaningless-by-definition sport into hugely important and weighty work, often in the environmental field. Names that come to mind include Yvon Chouinard, a shy and soft-spoken dirtbag climber and gear inventor who later founded Patagonia and became one of the leading thinkers, philanthropists, and spokesmen on sustainability. David Brower, the pioneering American mountaineer and tenth mountain soldier who ran the Sierra Club and defined modern environmentalism; Ed Hillary, whose mission in life and identity was tied as much to helping Himalayan villagers as summiting Everest for the first time; and of course John Muir, who was first and foremost an alpinist. Today, we have Greg Mortensen, Peter Metcalf, and many others working on important environmental and human issues.

This is not to indict those who were, or are, simply, climbers. In the climbing community there have always been other sorts of characters too—for some, climbing was the end in itself, and what the world did with that was up to them. John Bachar, who died yesterday while climbing solo in California, was one of those. He was a pure rock climber who redefined the sport by ascending sheer rock faces of extreme difficulty without ropes to protect him in the event of a fall. What he did was athletic achievement at the highest levels of human ability and training, on par with the skill and discipline of Nadia Comeneci, Michael Phelps, Lance Armstrong, or Michael Jordan. His climbs, only a few years earlier, had been deemed impossible, even roped; climbing them without protection was as absurd as if a man had presumed to fly. But Bachar did fly. And as a result, one can’t compare his numinous climbing to climbing: instead, you have to compare it to art. To explain it best requires words used for Beethoven’s transcendent ninth symphony; it was an “expression of the divine.”

I had never heard of Bachar, or rock climbed myself, until I was sixteen and read an article in Outside magazine, in 1986. There was Bachar, climbing the impossible, alone, wearing red striped tube socks and revealing running shorts. The article changed the way I looked at the world. When I started climbing, I also wore tube socks (it actually meant your shoes fit poorly, most climbers go barefoot inside their shoes) in homage to Bachar. And there was rarely a day of climbing that passed without a reference to Bachar. “Here’s Bachar pulling the crux on the hideous 5.7 directissima…”

Today, I work in an office, and I don’t climb that much, or that well when I do. Several of us at work convinced management to fund a small climbing wall, and we get out there for ten minutes a few days a week, returning to our desks to type awkwardly with pumped forearms. On the bouldering wall, it’s almost certain someone will mention Bachar, just for the fun of it: coming around a corner, a moderately difficult move, a colleague slips, and complains about the slick hold. “What are you, chickenshit?!” someone yells, referencing an alleged comment by Bachar to his partner on a legendary Tuolumne climb.

In college, when we were most avid, Bachar was always more than just a climber for us; he was more than a human being: he was a talisman, a kachina doll, a phylactery that we carried with us for courage and for inspiration. A friend on a climbing trip to Yosemite came back one summer and, as if he had seen Sasquach, reported that Bachar walked in front of his car. “He was huge,” my friend said. Bachar was ripped, for sure, though no giant. But he was huge to us.

Though I never met him, I didn’t need to. I had seen him climbing on videos, his smooth and deliberate and meditative progress up vertical and overhanging faces of granite. This virtuosity in fact and in concept tied to what I was learning in school: Bachar was proof of what Lincoln called “the better angels of our nature,” evidence for a human will powerful enough to do great things; to end slavery; to solve large and pressing problems. I imitated him in the same way that I imitated McEnroe’s awkward but beautiful serve.

I spend my days working on what I consider an impossible task as a footsoldier in the battle to solve climate change. If you know even a little about the science, the challenge is awe inspiring. The best scientists tell us we have to cut global carbon dioxide emissions 80% by 2050, and even then we’ll have warmed the planet by several degrees and suffer the consequences. I call solving climate change the challenge not of our generation, but of our species. And the things we’ll have to do are so absurdly difficult that they are almost literally impossible: we have to retool society away from fossil fuel almost immediately, if we hope to succeed, and that means we have to change a cripplingly slow political process, reinvent capitalism, and bring the rest of the world along with us. I spend some of my time in despair. But perhaps that is too strong a word, because there are rays of hope. One of those rays is Bachar.   

Of all things, in this office today, as far from his life and his beloved Tuolumne as conceivable, John Bachar is helping me in my work. Bachar didn’t so much influence the sport of climbing as he altered our understanding of what is possible in the human world. His life suggests that if we’re not pursuing something impossible, we’re not achieving to our full potential. He unlocked a door of possibility, the idea that in the same way that we only use a tiny portion of our brain, we are also only tapping a tiny portion of our potential, a potential so great that like some of Bachar’s climbs, we can’t even fathom it. We will all need—and use—that vision in our common struggles ahead.

--Auden Schendler