Postcards

A remote getaway steeped in history and natural beauty

Every year, thousands of single-engine aircraft fly VFR across northern Lake Michigan’s "Tropic of Hypothermia" via Beaver Island—the most remote island in the Great Lakes with a permanent population (about 450 residents off-season). The lemming-like drill goes something like this: Save plenty of daylight, climb to at least 6,500 feet, and aim for Beaver Island. Few of the crossers ever intentionally stop there, which is a pity. The place is steeped in characters, folklore, and rare natural beauty. More on that later.

My plan was to depart Green Bay, Wisconsin, late Friday afternoon, cross the lake via Beaver Island, and then spend the night in tony Harbor Springs, Michigan, before tackling the island on Saturday. Sometime during the planning stages, it occurred to me that I could save another drive to the airport by front-loading my flight review onto this trip.

But work ran late that day, the flight review went long, and there wasn’t much daylight left. I canceled my Lake Reporting Service flight plan and keyed Harbor Springs’ runway lights as twilight faded to black. Perhaps the nearby Coast Guard helicopters at Traverse City helped me rationalize this idiotic decision chain. But on the Harbor Springs ramp there was no escaping the consequences.

I had kept my friend waiting for more than an hour, and she had put the time to good use by making dinner reservations for us—at the most expensive restaurant in town. When the town is cluttered with summer homes valued in the seven figures, this is a painful check indeed. My friend informed me of this just as I looked into the Skyhawk’s empty baggage hold. A quick phone call confirmed another stupid pilot trick: I had left my luggage in Green Bay. Perhaps appropriately, I would commune with nature on Beaver Island unshaven and in dirty clothes.

Beaver Island boasts two airports, Beaver Island (SJX) and Welke (6Y8). SJX has oodles of ramp space, a paved 4,000-by-50-foot runway, and nonprecision instrument approaches. It is also a hike from town and, at least on the day I was there, unattended. You could wait a long time for fuel or a car. (Because of its abundant real estate, SJX is the site of the island’s annual September fly-in, which features vintage and unusual aircraft. At press time this year’s event had not been scheduled.) Welke is privately owned, well-attended (the owners live on the airport), and closer to the island’s main town of St. James (and rental cars). At 6Y8, turf Runway 17/35 is the runway of choice; Runway 9/27 is a combination of dirt, turf, and what the pavement professionals call "asphalt deteriorated surface." Short/soft-field techniques are advisable on both. Welke pumps avgas and has full-time A&P mechanics on staff.

"Airline" service began from Welke to Charlevoix, on the Michigan mainland 27 nm away, in 1943. Today, Beaver Island Airways (BIA) operates a fleet of four Britten-Norman Islanders and a Piper Apache from the island year-round. This tiny fleet moves as many as 35,000 passengers a year. (Car ferry service is available from Charlevoix, but it takes several hours—versus 17 minutes by air—and does not run continuously in winter.) In this region of rapidly changing weather, BIA pilots are often the best information sources on local conditions. "It’s wild country over the water," says BIA’s Paul Welke. "We run a sort of unofficial lake reporting service on our unicom," keeping track of everyone.

On the ground at Welke, a quick call to Beaver Island Marine produces a Geo Tracker for $55 a day with "unlimited mileage." On a 53-square-mile island this is hardly largesse, but marina owner Pat Anderson proves to be a cordial and valuable source for information and maps.

Unlike nearby Mackinac Island, which bustles with boutiques, restaurants, and ubiquitous fudge shops, Beaver Island appeals more to those seeking a rustic getaway and a sense of history. As such, it is something of a refuge for thoughtful contrarians and even a few Celtic metaphysicists. (Thanks to the influence of Irish settlers, Beaver Island is known as "The Emerald Isle.") Other residents of note include folk singer Claudia Schmidt, who owns the Bluebird, a solar-powered bed and breakfast. Washington Post columnist David Broder summers here; and Land’s End Inc. Chairman Gary Comer and his Learjet were once residents. There are other luminaries, but the locals fiercely protect their privacy.

Among the modern attractions: a dozen lodging establishments and rental agencies, several good restaurants, two fine museums devoted to the island’s Mormon and marine eras, and a toy museum. But the island’s natural abundance is its greatest resource.

Ringed by almost 20 miles of white sand beaches and numerous shipwrecks, the island has seven remote inland lakes, more than 100 miles of rustic (dirt) roads, an intricate network of hiking and biking trails, and two deep-draft marinas. Sailing the area is a rewarding challenge. Sea kayaking between Beaver Island and the archipelago’s seven out islands is gaining popularity. For the serious outdoorsman, Beaver Island has long been an obligatory destination: superb hunting and fishing abound. The rabbit hunting is particularly good (no Elmer Fudd jokes, please). There also is a golf course, but let’s just say it’s not Augusta National.

What makes Beaver Island unique is the extent to which the locals have preserved its rich history, in both mortar and folklore, without succumbing to typical tourist-trap pitfalls. The Indians settled here first, some 4,500 years ago. Then, in 1640, the French established a colony named Isle du Castor. Irish immigrants built a fishing colony at Whiskey Point in the 1840s. Soon thereafter, James Jesse Strang founded a renegade Mormon colony on the island, began to incite the Irish, and appointed himself king. Strang’s antics earned the ire of President Millard Fillmore, who in 1851 dispatched a Navy steamer to take Strang to Detroit to stand trial for what amounted to racketeering. Strang defended himself and was acquitted, only to be assassinated five years later. Without Strang, the Mormon colony collapsed and the Irish reasserted their prominence.

By the 1950s, commercial fishing—the mainstay of the island’s economy—had all but evaporated on the Great Lakes. The Irish departed in droves, and the island’s permanent population dwindled to 100. General aviation later played a big part in reinvigorating the tourist trade and boosting land values.

Today, the high price of mainland waterfront real estate has fueled residential development pressure on Beaver Island. Beach frontage sells for up to $1,000 a foot. More than two-thirds of the island is owned by government or otherwise protected against development, however.

I parked the dusty Tracker, munched a gourmet sandwich from the Dalwinnie deli, and walked the unspoiled and uninhabited beaches of Iron Ore Bay. I admired the dunes, yews, cedars, and grasses; climbed the old lighthouse stairs; absorbed the natural splendor of Miller’s Marsh and Barney’s Lake; and soaked in the solitude. Back in St. James, the summer sun darkened, the wind shifted, and weathered old men told "sea" stories across red vinyl tablecloths at the Shamrock Bar.

On cue, flight service suggested that this would be a good time to leave. Driving back to Welke, I spotted a wild turkey wandering through the cemetery. I climbed off the runway and headed west. I will come back to this place—next time with clean clothes.

For more information on Beaver Island, visit the Chamber of Commerce’s Web site ( www.beaverisland.org) or call 231/448-2505. Information about other Great Lakes fly-in destinations may be found on AOPA Online ( www.aopa.org/pilot/links/links0005.shtml). Mark Huber is a marketing executive and an occasional contributor to Pilot . He lives and flies in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.