In 1944, the Smokey Bear public awareness campaign launched with the famous tagline, “Only YOU can prevent forest fires.” Poorly extinguished campfires, reckless use of fireworks, even smoldering cigarette butts carelessly discarded can ignite a woodland conflagration of immense and tragic proportions. And then there’s the CO2 emissions tinderbox we’ve created. According to the Canadian Climate Institute, “Accelerating climate change, largely from the burning of fossil fuels, makes wildfires bigger, hotter, and more destructive.” Now it’s all come home—to my home and yours.
Many (many) moons ago, a close friend invited writer Tim Mulherin to visit the Grand Traverse region for the first time. While showing him some of the myriad fantastic scenic areas during his long-weekend trip, the friend made a cynical remark that stuck with Tim: “Welcome to the playground of the rich.” Fast-forward to the present day and an epiphany sparked by, of all things, a cheeseburger.
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“When an opportunity arose to create my ideal North Manitou Island backpacking excursion seven years ago, I reached out to some female friends and acquaintances,” writes Abby Chatfield in this first installment reflecting on the Manitou Islands that are all but closed to visitors this year (unless you have a private boat)—as the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore rebuilds the docks. “Outdoor adventures with fellow women are some of the most rewarding experiences for me. There is no hierarchy or alpha in the group, but instead genuine camaraderie and a supportive dynamic that allows everyone to connect with and learn from their surroundings. Women work together, teach each other, and address challenges as a team in the outdoors.”
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Author, activist and bioregionalist Stephanie Mills gave the following address as the keynote speaker at the 18th annual Freshwater Summit in Traverse City on Oct. 30, 2025. (Mills will appear with artist and community organizer Seth Bernard at the Grand Traverse Circuit from 6-8 pm on Jan. 14 for a program titled “Starting From and Staying With the Nature of Place.” The event is sponsored by the Michigan Citizens for Water Conservation and TitleTrack.)
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This reflection on a nocturnal Alligator Hill ski was first published in our Winter 2000 edition. The alligator’s new look, following the Aug. 2, 2015, storm, prompted us to revisit these words.
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“By the time you read this, I’ll be gone for the year. I left with the annual southbound migration. Songbirds, hummingbirds, raptors, monarch butterflies, hand-sized common green darner dragonflies, downstaters, out-of-staters, and me,” writes Tim Mulherin, author of This Magnetic North: Candid Conversations on a Changing Northern Michigan. “About 10 p.m. on a Sunday night in September, a Cedar neighbor excitedly posted, ‘The northern lights are on!’ So I forced myself out of bed and went outside. Peering through the stand of towering sugar maple trees on the northside of our property, I instantly discerned that telltale ghostly glow. Minutes later, I was leaning against my car in a nearby vacant lot, awed by the incredible celestial light show.”
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We chatted with the experts, the bookworms, and bookstore owners, and here’s our roundup of local books—or books written by local authors—that were published in 2025. All make great holiday gifts! Find them at Leelanau County’s locally owned, independent bookstores: Cottage Book Shop in Glen Arbor, Bay Books in Suttons Bay, Dog Ears Books in Northport, and Leelanau Books in Leland; or at your local library. Happy reading!
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“Gratitude doesn’t always arrive on schedule; sometimes it’s a day late. Somewhere between the boiling pots on the stove, embarrassing memories being dished out, and laughter echoing off the living room walls, my family and I find our own rhythm of Thanksgiving,” writes Isabelle Plamondon. “My mom is a [Leelanau County] dispatcher who often has to work holidays since she’s a single parent. She’s worked on Thanksgiving almost every year, helping people whose holidays may not be going as planned. She, and other first-responders like her, see the dark side to every holiday before celebrating their own.”
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You won’t get bedbugs from reading this. Since we all grew up with the nursery rhyme, “Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” and were told they didn’t exist anymore, we thought bedbugs were mythical. What did a bedbug even look like? A mosquito? A beetle? And ant? No one knew because, pretty much, there weren’t any.
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When I pulled into the Alligator Hill Trail parking lot, it was just me, writes Tim Mulherin. Then the heart-rousing ascent did the trick. When I arrived at the Islands Lookout’s panoramic northern view of the Manitou Passage about 30 minutes later, I ignored the impulse to immediately pull out my iPhone and begin snapping photos. Instead, I just looked. And looked. Then I sat down on the bench and looked some more, imprinting the breathtaking scene for future reference. There would most always be an iPhone in my pocket whenever I felt the need to point and shoot. This moment of my being there, however, would not repeat itself. So, for a change, I wanted to be fully present, not somewhat removed by staring through my smartphone screen’s viewfinder. More participant, less observer.
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