Improv and hack your way out of the shackles of routine. A sure way to turn your basic outing into an adventure is to throw in a dose of something that makes you wonder how the heck you're gonna pull it off.

Fellow Travelers, I was stuck.

So, I came to hammer out this missive at one of my favorite places: an open air public pavilion overlooking the big lake that inspired me to start this project.

I had to get out of the house, because I'd been laboring at this first issue of Third Coast AH!, and --believe me-- there was a lot more "aarrrrghhh" than "ah!" going on. I was having a crisis of confidence.

How was this gonna work? How am I supposed to kick off this adventure bonanza, and inspire anyone to do anything remotely adventurous just by zeroing in on the ho-hum spots that everyone already knows about? Not only that, half of Chicagoland's parents bring their noisy kids there every single summer weekend.

It's gowne be a major flop, Justyna 😰.

***

Clearly, I needed to refocus. I needed to clear my head of the self-questioning and the judgment, and find a way to really sink my teeth into this topic. I mean, the whole point of this project is to show that adventure is where you find it, and an adventurous life is more attitude, less location.

Are you with me?

I knew that if I came to this lakefront spot, I'd be free from the temptations to research procrastinate, because --thank god-- it's one of the few remaining spots in the world where internet connection is iffy at best. What I didn't count on was that (on a freakin' Monday night!!!!) my perfect little spot --normally quiet on weekdays-- would be a site of a wedding reception.

I mean, who the hell gets married on a Monday?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Needless to say, I wouldn't be able to get any writing done with the toasts, the posing for pictures, the primping bridesmaids, the super cute flower girls running all over the place, and the grandmas in their sensible heels racing to catch them, all three generations squealing in delight.

(It was a lovely, touching scene, but not exactly what I came here for.)

However, I was undeterred.

Further away from the pavilion, at the mouth of the harbor, there is a fishing dock with some benches. I wouldn't get the same sweeping lake views, but I'd be directly on the water. And, unless there were more than a couple of people fishing, maybe I could get something done.

There were exactly two fishermen. Older local dudes in tattered baseball caps, each with several poles leaning against the railing.

"How ya doin'?" one of them greeted me with a big, healthy smile, hauling a catfish out of the river.

"I was looking for some peace and quiet, but there's a wedding up there." I said, making my way to the bench.

"A wedding? People getting married?!" he exclaimed.

"Right? Imagine that! On a Monday!!" I parked myself on one of the benches, too sheepish to crack open my laptop with these scrappy characters around. I thought a regular old notebook would make me seem less like a creature from outer space.

So.

Here I am, writing l-o-n-g-hand. And, as I write, I'm also watching two paddlers bobbing in the river ripples. They're fishing too, but at a more languid, less goal-oriented pace than my companions on the fishing dock.

I stop writing for a moment. I look at the water, and the syllable that forms in my mind, and leaves my mouth almost involuntarily is --AH!

Oooooh!

But wait. Before I take that breath, the couple in the kayaks have caught something. Something really big! The woman is struggling; she's hollering for the man to come help her before the beast snaps her line. They pull the fish out of the water, and I am impressed at its almost two-foot body, even as my heart aches for this creature that fell for human cunning and is now out of its element, gasping for breath: the opposite of drowning.

We are drowning in the mundane.

Drowning in tasks, to-do's, obligations, some real, some self-imposed, and some completely unnecessary administrative bulls**t that borders on criminal. It might just kill us one day.

The photo above reminded me that being next to a body of water helps us breathe bigger, cleaner, honest-er. And that's our defense.

Start by breathing. ALWAYS start by breathing.

AH!

When we go up to our place in the Straits of Mackinac, after the long drive and ferry ride, after sweeping the cobwebs out of the doorway and turning on the electrical panel, after emptying the car and hauling in the stuff from the cooler, I walk down the grassy clearing, down the slope packed with pine and cedar needles, over the sharp pebbles lining the steep shore, and I release myself into the arms of the great lake.

And finally, I breathe: AH!

But you don't need to go that far. I don't care what you've been told. You don't need to go to Lake Como, or Lake Titicaca, not to Crater Lake, Lake Tahoe, or even as far the Straits of Mackinac.

Right here, in Chicagoland, we're surrounded by green space (a hundred thousand acres of it between Cook and Lake Counties alone!), much of it along edges of bodies of water, where we can heave giant breaths to our hearts' content.

Does it actually matter that everyone already knows those places are there? We all know the Grand Canyon is there, too. But when was the last time you went there? Why are our local wonders any different? Any less able to give solace?

Is it true that everyone brings their noisy kids there? No. If they're not parked in front of a video game, they're hauled to soccer games, Great America, summer camps, synchronized playdates, movies in the park and street festivals. Or faraway vacation places where throngs of tourists convene on summer holidays.

And even if some portion of them come here on the odd weekend? Find your peace midweek. You'll have few neighbors, and plenty of space to breathe.

Speaking of Alastair Humphries (in the AH! photo above, and, if you don't know who he is, in a nutshell, he's a one-time extreme adventurer who coined the term "microadventure", and now seeks out thrilling experiences exclusively on his home turf), his blog is a good place to start for anyone who thinks their life should have a bit more daring in it:

So how can you turn up the adventure dial on an otherwise mundane trip? For some, it may simply be getting somewhere on your own power. Or going alone. For others, it may be a longer, self-supported tour. Or wilderness camping. (BTW, we will be getting into more of this in future installments!)

Personally, when I only have a day or two to play with, I've enjoyed the puzzle of figuring out how small I can pack, how to cook only with found fuel, how to spend the night in a hammock, how to camp in an unsanctioned spot. The idea is to come up with something that feels a bit uncomfortable, and figure out a way to make it fun.

The moment you throw down the gauntlet and test yourself to step outside of routine— every cell in your body starts rearing to go. It frees you from the tiresome requirements of drawing up priorities, task lists and schedules.

It is the perfect moment when desire, will, enthusiasm and focus merge into one.

Location is important not in a geographical sense, but only insofar as it provides a suitable background for your adventure in terms of its natural setting and/or the challenge of getting there.

For an overnight bike camping adventure on or near a body of water in Chicagoland, I can think of two amazing options, both a sufficient distance away from the city to make getting there a bit of a journey, and serene enough to create a real getaway.

Camp Bullfrog Lake

This beautiful campground is located within the Palos system in the Cook County Forest Preserves. Wrapped around the edge of a placid lake, it is a very tranquil spot —especially midweek or off-season.

The tent sites here get the prime real estate facing the lake, and a couple of them have direct access to a secluded fishing dock where you can enjoy a quiet camp meal at twilight.

You'll wake to the gaggle of geese overhead, with mist lifting from the lake, and the rising sun gently warming up the land, as you prep your coffee, and maybe make a plan for exploring the Palos hiking and biking trails.

Notes on routing, and what to avoid, are here.

Illinois Beach State Park

This northeastern-most corner of Illinois preserves the last section of Lake Michigan shoreline free of any major man-made modifications. It's the only remaining beach ridge shoreline left in the state, with dunes, swales, sprawling marshes, forests of oak, and rich variety of animal life and vegetation. Here's a well-tested route to get there.

While you won't be camping directly on the shoreline, a good portion of campsites along the eastern edge offer easy access to the beach for a meditative lake sit, or a dip in the waves. Best of all, the campground happens to be a prime stargazing spot: far away from street lights and pitch black at nighttime.

You'll feel teeny --and part of everything --all at once!

More from Alastair H. to guide us along here:

If you're unaccustomed to these types of outing, just getting out there on your own power (and by yourself 😳 ⬅DO IT!!) may be plenty challenging enough.

You obviously will need a bike and some rudimentary camping gear to pull this off, but no specialty gear is needed for your first outing.

Your difficulty will be not overthinking, and keeping it as simple as possible. It's only 24 hours, you're unlikely to die out there.

Your only assignment: FIND YOUR BREATH.

You don't know how you're gonna fit this into your schedule? Find your breath.

You're biking, and it's freakin' hot? Find your breath.

There's a steep uphill at the entrance to the park? There is at Bullfrog. (And don't even talk to me about Starved Rock! --topic of another post.) Walk, if you must. #noshame. Find your breath.

You have no clue how to pitch your tent? Find your breath.

And, after you've pitched it, throw your gear inside, and forget about it. Go, find the edge of the water, sit down --with your feet in it if you like-- and find your breath.

You made it.

AH!

The beauty of going on a quickie overnight camping trip --even in the sweltering heat of summer-- is that you can bring almost any food without fear of spoilage.

So, forget dehydrated meals. Bring what you like. If it were me, I'd keep it super simple and pack:

1. An easily reheatable home-made meal in a Ziploc baggie, such as:
   • Spaghetti, premixed with noodles
   • Chili-mac
   • Thick stew
   • Or, in a pinch, a bagged, store-bought curry meal
     ​
     All of the above can be easily reheated in a pot of hot water virtually eliminating the need for cleanup.
2. A way to make coffee using the very same pot to heat water.
3. An ultra-compact stove and a simple small stainless pot.

Easy-peasy.

These bits and bobs don't fit neatly anywhere else, but they may interest you all the same as you scheme your local outings:

🗽 If you want to be inspired by a guy who has turned getting to know his home state of New York into an art, check out this Instagram account by Joe of 718 Outdoors. If there ever was proof that you don't need to go far to find adventure, he is it.

👏 For those not quite ready to venture out on their own (or those who prefer riding in groups --though I'm a loner, to each their own, I won't judge), please acquaint yourself with Out Our Front Door, a Chicago-based organization that leads adults and families on overnight biking trips in the Chicago region.

⛰ Feeling old as the hills? Don't let that stop you. This woman decided to take up backpacking, and carried 35 pounds up a mountain for the first time the year she entered her seventh decade. This article is a few years old, but it's a heck of a lot better than the typical "how to go camping in your 60's" advice that Google spits out.

You made it all the way down here (and I did to 😅, hooray for us!).

For now, we'll give our home base a somewhat cursory glance, before we head off on our summer-long Lake Michigan escapade. There's sooooo much more to do in Cook and Lake counties. Even a couple secret spots that --as a 40+ year resident-- I didn't know about, until very very recently:

• ​Openlands Nature Preserve: The sweeping bluff views above, and a stretch of really wild beach below, all nestled within the affluent, manicured suburbia.
• ​Baker's Lake: tucked away in Barrington, a heron rookery and a bird-lover’s paradise teeming with avian live in the spring and summer migration and nesting season.

We will be back here later in the year to connect all the dots, fill in all the blanks, and dive deeper to explore local adventure possibilities, if your home base happens to be Chicago.

But in the meantime, we'll continue our journey up along the Lake Michigan shoreline.

See you next week for another dose of --Justyna