Around the lakeThe trip: 7 nights

When my husband, Kurt, and I bought a 2004 Chevy Astro conversion van with two bucket seats and a convertible bed, we envisioned a future filled with epic road trips launched from the curb in front of our home. For starters, we decided to take on the Lake Michigan Circle Tour. A 1,100-mile route through Illinois, Wisconsin, the Upper and Lower Peninsulas of Michigan, and northwest Indiana, it sounded perfect for a weeklong camping getaway. Kurt handled the maintenance checklist while I picked out a ’70s-style shag rug for the van interior, then we packed up our gear and hit I-94 headed north.

Our first stop was the camping paradise of Milwaukee, where we caught a Courtney Barnett concert before saying goodbye to indoor plumbing for the week. After stocking up on New Glarus beer, we crossed the Michigan border and arrived at Wells State Park. Kurt found us a site on the lakefront with a panoramic view of Lake Michigan that would cost a premium at any Mag Mile hotel. With a crackling campfire as a soundtrack, we watched the setting sun melt into the lake. In the morning, we stopped in Escanaba for a breakfast of pasties (meat-stuffed hand pies), loading up on calories for a day of hiking. We set up camp in Indian Lake State Park, where we parked far from the luxurious RVs, separating the haves from the have-nots (those who have recently showered and those of us who have not).

After two nights there, we visited Fayette Historic State Park, a preserved townsite from the late 1800s surrounded by old-growth forest. It felt like we had stepped into the Midwest set of Westworld. Even hiking the trails along the bluff had a time-travel quality; I had the urge to cue up a sea chantey playlist on Spotify and scan the horizon for ghost ships. We spent the night in Hiawatha National Forest, a sprawling wooded expanse that touches the shores of three Great Lakes (Superior, Michigan, Huron) like a group high-five. Driving the next day, we glimpsed wild mink crossing the road. 

I’d grown up in Chicago but had never traversed the five-mile-long Mackinac Bridge until this trip. As we cruised over the glittering Straits of Mackinac, I wondered why the Golden Gate Bridge gets all the hype when this suspension bridge is nearly three times longer. 

On the last night of our trip, Kurt put his urban pothole-avoiding skills to use as he navigated the unpaved service roads into Manistee National Forest. Eventually, we found a clearing near a river valley. Dispersed camping means zero amenities — no fire ring, no picnic table, not even a questionable outhouse — but the tradeoff is total privacy. This spot ended up being one of my favorite campsites ever. A primitive trail down the steep riverbank led us to a bird’s-eye view of the river valley, and we sat in the sand under a full moon listening to coyote song traveling over the water.

In the morning, we drove the four-hour stretch home, the Chicago skyline welcoming us back. Only one challenge remained to test our survival skills: finding street parking.