Great Lakes: Natural relief
NEARBY TRIPS | Great Lakes a great start in vacations battling 'nature deficit disorder'
My annoyed mother used to dispatch her noisy rugrats with a sharp look and a stern command: Go outside!
A University of Illinois at Chicago researcher is saying pretty much the same thing these days -- not only to kids but to grownups as well.
Oliver Pergams, a UIC assistant professor of biological sciences, isn't just annoyed. In a new study funded by the Nature Conservancy, he reports that not only children but adults, too, are spending far less time outdoors than ever before -- a development he finds dangerous.
Poring over data on camping, backpacking, fishing, hiking and visits to state and national parks, Pergams and fellow researcher Patricia Zaradic concluded that since the 1980s, overall "nature use" has dropped by as much as 25 percent. The consequences could be "deep and far-ranging for health, for human well-being and for the future of the planet," Pergams said.
I read of Pergams' warnings in a recent Newsweek article titled "Out of the Wilderness.'' But my interest in "nature deficit disorder" was first raised a couple of years earlier by Richard Louv's book Last Child in the Woods (Algonquin Books, $24.95). In it, Louv described "the rapid slide from the real to the virtual, from the mountains to the Matrix.''
If Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn were around today, he wryly notes, they'd be plugging in "Becky's PlayStation 2" and mastering Grand Theft Auto. Of course, there's always been a little Aunt Polly in everyone over 30: What these kids today need, harrumph, is a paintbrush, a bucket of whitewash and a long fence. But Louv says the matter goes beyond gumption.
"As the young spend less and less of their lives in natural surroundings, their senses narrow -- physiologically and psychologically -- and this reduces the richness of the human experience," Louv writes.
Pergams -- who blames the nature disconnect to "videophilia," or too much time spent with electronic games, television, DVDs and the Internet -- says the fallout can be obesity, depression and attention disorders. And, both say, it can lead to a fundamental lack in appreciating and protecting nature.
This wasn't what set me and my wife to camping; we simply looked to it as a way to satisfy our wanderlust without wounding our wallets too deeply. What we found, though, was how amazing natural beauty, surprisingly as close as the Great Lakes states, can be so mentally rejuvenating. And we have felt blessed that by venturing outdoors, our two children, now 11 and 14, have acquired a taste for adventure and a sense of ownership of nature.
Pergams, 50, of Oak Park, seems a kindred spirit. With his wife and three children (18, 16 and 11), he has camped for years -- the "National Lampoon thing," he says with a laugh. Mostly his family has stayed in tents, but the Pergams rented a pop-up trailer last year for a trek to Canada's Riding Mountain National Park in Manitoba.
As campers tend to do, we talked camping. My advice to novices is borrow a tent, find a sleeping bag, get yourself a cooler and an old pot and purchase a camp stove (about $50). You don't want to try cooking over a campfire unless you're looking to lose a few pounds.
Your first trip should be short: a couple nights in the middle of the week. Stick to pasta, pre-frozen chili, sandwiches and cereal for the maiden journey -- when mixed with fresh air even lunch meat tastes like heaven. And it's no sin to head off to a restaurant if you want -- nobody's keeping score.
Camp sites can run $30 a night at some premium, lakeside Michigan state parks, though some less popular places charge half that. Also be aware that many Midwest state parks outside Illinois charge daily admission fees.
Ready?
The Midwest offers hundreds of prescriptions for nature deficit disorder: reliable Wisconsin, Michigan's star-studded shoreline parks and some unexpected gems in Illinois and Indiana -- all within a tank or two of driving.
In Michigan, the Pergams enjoyed Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park in Ontonagon in the Upper Peninsula. "The Porkies," as they are known, have cabins for rent for those who want to speed-date nature but aren't quite ready to go steady.
For years we have worked our way up Michigan's western lakefront, finding the farther north we ventured, the richer the natural experience. Near Muskegon, P.J. Hoffmaster State Park's three miles of forest-covered dunes -- giant sand mountains that serve as perches for family-bonding sunsets over Lake Michigan -- have provided great Great Lakes memories. At night, we've dipped deep into the vastness of the universe as rangers guided our stargazing from Hoffmaster's sugar-fine beach.
Better yet is Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore, with 35 miles of Lake Michigan coastline and the Manitou islands. Federally operated, clean and well-run, the Bear provides a week full of outdoor fun, from scaling the dunes to watching blacksmiths hammer away at work in a hands-on history lesson to touring its lighthouse.
The shallow, sandy-bottom Platte River lazily winds its way through forests and past sleepy blue herons, the stream gently carrying sun-splashed swimmers aboard inner tubes and air mattresses to Lake Michigan.
As Alfred E. Neuman used to say, What, me worry?
In the Midwest, Pergams likes Illinois' Starved Rock and Matthiessen state parks, about 100 miles southwest of Chicago. "The sandstone bluffs and waterfalls are very pretty,'' he noted.
Southern Illinois' Shawnee National Forest has 270,000 acres of fantastic hiking among towering trees and mossy gorges, he added.
Once my own brood got past all the bad jokes and the possible horrors that could await us at a place called Kickapoo State Recreation Area, we were pleasantly surprised, which is often the case with Illinois camping.
Near Downstate Danville, Kickapoo's pluses are twofold: It has a separate, non-electric campground that makes for a more natural experience and it rents kayaks to explore the the scenic Middle Fork of the Vermilion River.
Once you've done the kayak, you never go back -- to canoeing that is. Amazingly nimble, kayaks are generally lighter and easier to handle, allowing the energetic to silently glide along the waterways once navigated by Native Americans.
America's Dairyland likes to boast that it has more than 15,000 inland lakes, 43,000 miles of rivers and 659 miles of Great Lakes shoreline -- more water-based fun than many coastal states. The Door County peninsula is home to the Five Jewels -- Newport, Peninsula, Potawatomi, Rock Island and Whitefish Dunes state parks. However, they can get crowded, as the area is a favorite for Chicago area nature seekers.
One of Wisconsin's lesser-populated places we've sampled is Blue Mound State Park, about 25 miles west of Madison near Mt. Horeb. Billed as the tallest spot in southern Wisconsin -- 1,700 feet above sea level -- its hills make it an exciting place for bicycling, But experience has painfully shown that Blue Mound can be a dangerous place to sail on those Razr scooters. (Did I mention that every camper should have a good first aid kit?)
Tears may be washed away in Blue Mound's swimming pool, the only Wisconsin state park to have one.
Not convinced on camping yet?
Indiana's Turkey Run State Park, about three hours southeast of Chicago, is another place for the camping-wary. Its 82-room inn is homey and affordable and puts you within strolling distance of its saddle barn. No horseback riding experience is necessary to gallop through the woods and along ravines on buckaroo-led jaunts.
Yipee-i-ays are optional -- but go ahead and shout 'em out.
Mother Nature is one mom who doesn't mind the noise.









