Searching for Morgan Falls

    While on a camping trip near Marquette in the Upper Peninsula, I decided to hike to a waterfall since the U.P. Is full of small, picturesque falls. What was called “The Unnamed Morgan Falls” appeared to be a relatively short hike of just over a mile from our campsite. I checked with the campground desk clerk who confirmed that the trail to the waterfall started at the edge of the campground. I was told to just follow the path that went under a bridge and along the river. So I did.

     It was soon obvious that the path I was taking was primarily a mountain bike trail. I navigated twists and turns, deep descents and rather steep hills, going one way then reversing direction to go in the opposite direction seemingly getting no closer to the waterfall I was seeking. For a mountain biker, this trail looked like fun. In fact, I encountered three pairs of mountain bikers on this trail, all looking very fit.

     On the other hand, I am 72 with shooting pains in my hips, knees that buckle and a weight issue. I didn't encounter any fellow hikers on my trek. My legs soon convinced me to give up my search and I found a road that seemed to parallel the spaghetti maze of paths I'd been hiking. The road took me right back to the campground. It was then that I discovered that the trail I was on WAS in fact a mountain bike trail that WOULD eventually after some miles reach Unnamed Morgan Falls. That campground desk clerk must have mistaken me for one of those extreme mountain bikers. I wasn't sure whether to be angry or flattered. Either way I shouldn't have trusted her.

     But I still was determined to find Morgan falls. I checked Google and they said the road I had found the day before would actually take me right to the waterfalls after about a mile of walking. The short cut-off path to the falls would be marked by a sign and there was a parking lot there, Google instructed.

     Starting off on the road early the next morning, there was an older couple walking a pair of Golden Retrievers ahead of me. The lady was wearing a backpack and I assumed they were all heading to the waterfalls as well. I soon passed them as dogs like to stop to smell the flowers and often water them too.

     But every once in a while I'd look behind me to see if they were following. Then after walking for quite a while I turned to see they were gone. Did I miss a path? I knew I didn't miss a parking lot. So I kept walking. Finally after walking quite far I thought I'd pull out my cell phone and use a navigator app to find where I was and maybe how close to the falls I was.

     The navigator found me and identified a nearby river, but no waterfalls. Then I found a large trail sign with a map. It didn't show the falls either. While I was there a mountain biker came along. I asked him where the waterfalls were. He said it was his first time on this trail but he would check his navigator app. It didn't show Morgan Falls either. So I headed back on the road I came. After a while I saw the old couple I had followed coming onto the road, their Golden Retrievers wet from frolicking in the water. Yes, they were at Morgan Falls all the time I'd been seeking it myself.

     There was no parking lot here. You can't trust the internet, neither what artificial intelligence nor what people say there. I'll give you another example. The next day I went to a restaurant hoping to get a breakfast pastie. an iconic Upper Peninsula culinary delicacy.  I read on the internet that people say you have to get to this particular diner early as the pasties sell out quickly. Not to be denied, we actually arrived before they opened at 7 a.m. We were their first customers. I asked for a breakfast pastie.

     “We don't make breakfast pasties,” the waitress replied.

    Like I said, you can't trust what people tell you and you can't trust the internet. Maybe that's why I don't own a cell phone.