It is hard to believe that it has been roughly three weeks since the first day of summer made its appearance on the calendar. It seems as though the two most popular ways to spend it were either racing outside to catch some sun rays before a random downpour made an appearance, or bask in front of an air conditioning unit. Looking back at the first weekend of the new season, personally, I am happy to have spent it with my dear husband and our two friends, chattering teeth in unison around a campfire.

Tahquamenon is a beautiful area to be in, but from personal experience, it is also one of the coldest. It seemed as though every morning there was a sleeping bag race to the fire and a constant war over the warmest spot around the fire ring. I am sure any other weekend the temperatures near the falls can rise, but sadly it seemed as our camping trip was going to be spent wishing for warmer sweaters while chomping away sausage links every morning.

When the temperatures slowly rose enough for us to rise out of our cocoons, we set out to explore the lower falls. It was quite surprising to find the water to be so warm compared to the teeth chattering temperatures a mile back at the campsite. This seemed to provoke my friends to test the waters on several occasions. As soon as one went out to seek a thrill, our other friend would follow.

They started out slow by walking out to a dead tree on the edge of one of the last falls. Surprisingly they somehow coerced my husband into heading out onto the tree as well. I finally caved after a long while because motherly instincts kicked in when one of my friends decided to swing from branch to branch as if it became a playground. I also went out because I realized that it’s better to die as a group and live a little, then stand on the sidelines and watch them have fun. Besides, the tree looked like it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Our adventures continued as we climbed rocks to the second level of the falls. The roar was louder and the current was stronger. Yet somehow this didn’t stop my dear friends from crossing it. We spent a little over thirty minutes watching them shuffle their way to the island in the middle of the falls. The remainder of the two hours was spent hollering back and forth over the 20,000 gallons of water rushing through each second. Needless to say, our throats were sore after the first sentence.

Once they made it back safely, we climbed the stairs to view another one of the falls. We went from hanging out on a tree, to taking pictures for our moms as we dangle from a rock over the angry waters. We climbed trees, fixed a few fences that had fallen, and possibly caused a few heads to shake. We took as many pictures as we could, woke up seeing our breaths, and ate undercooked food over the campfire. We fed a chipmunk a Dorito chip out of our hands, kayaked backwards, and even played the game “Who Am I?” with a Sharpie and a torn up paper plate.

All that I may have forgotten to mention that has also taken place, is not a total loss. It might be amongst the 300 pictures we have taken together as a group, but it will not be lost for forever. Our memories will forever be shared with the falls and of course each other. As we continue on with our daily lives, I am certain that adventures across Tahquamenon Falls will forever be at the back of our minds.

Hannah Hobbs is a millenial, a wife and a college student living in Hubbard Lake. Her column will appear bi-weekly on Saturday.