Isle Royale, September ’23 – Pt 4 Daisy Farm to Rock Harbor, Ranger III

This post concludes my 4-part series recapping my trip to Isle Royale National Park in September 2023.

9/8, 2:30 p.m., a picnic table at Rock Harbor.

The Ranger III docked in Rock Harbor.

We’re 1 ½ beers into our day. We ate lunch at the Greenstone Grill, rather than snack on what little nibbles we’ve got left. We are now well stocked on candy and books and a sixer of Keweenaw beer.

We got up this morning and skipped coffee. We got on the trail around 8:30 and were in Rock Harbor by noon. We are at Site 17, and it’s been a few hours so I do not know if we have neighbors in our campsite. Hopefully not, but I won’t be surprised if we do. Today the skies are sunny and bright. There are just a few clouds in the sky. The temperature is cool, but sunny spots make it all feel different. It feels very good to wash my hands. I mailed off postcards. The original four that I picked up in Houghton, and four more. To Aubs, Joe & Randi, Michael, Ryan and Dave’s parents. We have mashed potato dinner plans, and now all the candy you could want.

4:30 p.m. Site 17

The Ranger is here, but the hikers haven’t decamped yet. We’re expecting a melee when they do. Site 17 appears to be too small to share, so here’s hoping for our seclusion.

I hate to leave the island but I know that this is not a place that needs me even if I need it. We’ll be back, always.

Ranger III docked in Rock Harbor.

5 p.m. Site 17, Rock Harbor

Candy, chips, and mashed potatoes for dinner. Also beer. The finest. I have started reading a new book from the shop. “National Parks and the Woman’s Voice: A History” by Polly Welts Kaufman. It’s the kind of book I like, with lots of citations and tiny print.

6:15 p.m. Camp

I suspect we may have a site all to ourselves tonight. Lucky us. The folks in the overflow site look cramped. We are well-provisioned with candy and chips. Mashed potato and chicken dinner tonight. The veg are gone. We put the last of the cheese in dinner.

Hike report: Real miles 21, mental miles, 23

Small islands in the lake.

9/9 9 a.m. Ranger III Passenger Lounge

Leaving the island this time is a little like leaving summer camp. Everyone is friendly and chatty and swapping stories. No one really knows anyone’s name and it doesn’t matter at all. I’ll miss the island. I always do. Dave got a breakfast burrito from the grill, but he thinks they forgot the potato and added more egg instead. There has to be 5-6 eggs in there. He’s not upset.

I took two chewable Dramamines so we will find out if it still zonks me out. I hope not because I want to stare at the island for as long as I can.

9:30 a.m. Ranger – Outside, facing the island

I think I have talked to about half the people on this boat in the last week. The Dramamine has not zonked me out yet and I just ate a muffin. I hope it will sit down and stay there. (It did.)

Islands in the lake.

Trip Tally September 1-9, 20212

Presented without commentary, or explanation.

Nights                   8

Greenstones       34

Animals (less wolves) 30 + 20 +20 +20 +1 + 20 +2 +6 +2 + 6 = 148

Wolves                 x 2 = 300

Miles (Mental) + 23 = 323

Shelter for storm + 50 = 373

Romance             + 100 = 473

Food budget       + 10 = 486

Gifts received     + 20 = 503

Paunch reduction            = 10 = 513

Packout points   + 23 = 566

Notes unrelated to anything

Types of Bonk on Isle Royale

  1. In the shelters – watch your head. Dave’s bonks |||, Lindsay’s ||
  2. On the trail when your body runs out of fuel. Quick sugar.
  3. In the shelter or a tent between two people who like each other very much.

Glad I had that

  • Packable jacket
  • Pashmina
  • Buff
  • Knitting project
  • Waterproof boots
The knitting project I brought to the island.

Wish I had that

  • Gloves below 60 degrees F
  • Knit hat
  • More coffee, Esbits
  • More TP and hand sanitizer
  • Hot bullion drink

Potential next time hikes:

Washington Creek -> Hugginin -> Washington Creek -> N. Lake Desor ->Lil Todd -> Todd Harbor -> (Hatchet Lake? Or) McCargo Cove. If McCargoe, ferry out 36 miles, if Hatchet -> Greenstone to West Chickenbone, continue onto Rock Harbor.

Windigo -> McCargoe -> Ferry

Ferry  -> Water Taxi  -> Middle of the island  -> Start hike

Windigo  -> Feldtmann, two nights

Island Gifts

Saw TWO wolves 9/2/2023 2:30 p.m.

Replacement trekking pole basket

Two nights shelter 4, Moskey Basin

Fresh apples, 9/2023

Found 34 greenstones

Became skilled greenstone hunters

Daisy Farm shelter 9 for rainy day

The view of Moksey Basin.

Ambient Sounds of Isle Royale

The lapping of the waves

The fwoosh of the Jetboil

The absence of sound

The haunting cry of a loon

The chirps and flutters of the grasshoppers

The call of the ovenbirds

The resonant roll of the big lake

The thunder passing over or past

The pattering rain on the undergrowth

The plopping drips of rain from the shelter roof

The deep horn on a distant ship

The view from Moskey Basin on a misty morning.

Isle Royale, September ’23 – Pt 2 Three Mile to Moskey Basin

A man waving from the middle foreground, with trees and the lake in the background.

9/2 8 a.m. Group Camp 2, Three Mile

The moon was so bright last night, the stars didn’t show much. Coffee and granola. I am going to hike strong today.

11:30 a.m., a shady spot at Daisy Farm

It’s good we didn’t try to press on last night. I’m hiking strong today, but I’d have been flirting with disaster otherwise. Dirtbag charcuterie by the dock. Perfect weather.

3 p.m., Overflow Camp at Moskey Basin

We saw TWO WOLVES at 2:30 p.m. on the trail! Slinking through the woods away from the water. A dark grey one and a lighter color one. The campers here watched them chase a moose into the water.

Sorry for yelling, but not really. I’d show you photos of the wolves, but I was too concerned about not being predated.

The calm blue lake with trees in the background.

4 p.m. on a rock by the dock

The leaves are not yet turning on the island. Isle Royale is already in Kodachrome. The water is cold, but I can keep my feet in for a few minutes at a time. Maybe I’ll be able to swim. Bright clear skies and warm air. Plus we saw TWO WOLVES. Dave is wading carefully.

5 p.m., camp again

Seeing two wolves was cool as fucking fuck. Now we get to make a wolf report. Also at the camp at Three Mile this morning, an all-black fox – save for the white tip of his tail – slunk through our campsite hunting grasshoppers.

A rock with inclusions that make it look like the rock is smiling.

Hike report!

Three Mile to Daisy Farm is a delight. Daisy Farm to Moskey is technically four miles. Mentally, it is six miles. The total distance so far is 2.7 to Three Mile, plus 8.3, so 11 miles. Mentally those miles were 13 miles. So 11 real miles, and 13 mental ones. We have campmates again. Four twenty-somethings from Minneapolis. They’re very funny. They’re all trying to see who can spin on someone’s little folding stool more than twice. No one has done it yet. Hilarious.

5:45 p.m.

We have two new campmates. A couple from Hyde Park.

A toad is easily disguised among the rocks.

8:30 p.m. Camp

The trails and forest floor are still vibrantly green. The lichens and moss on the basalt is every verdant shade. Asters are in bloom and line the trail to camp. I ate two thimbleberries today, tart enough to feel in my cheeks. We watched the water after sunset. No clouds to speak of. Good breeze. Horseflies by the lake.

The fading aurora over Moskey Basin.

9/3 8 a.m. Shelter 4, Moskey B.

The first thing we did this morning was to loosely pack all of our stuff and move it to an open shelter. Now we’re making coffee. The water access is easy and beautiful. We got up and went to the dock rocky overlook around 10 p.m. because we heard the northern lights were out. We nearly missed them because a heavy orange moon had risen low over the eastern horizon. It was stunning, but I hope we see the auroras tonight. (Dear Reader, we did not.) We had a gentle rain pass over us last night it was not predicted. The clouds are pretty much gone again by this morning. Finally heard a loon!

Today’s chores:

  • Eat Sausage ✔
  • Drink wine ✔
  • Fix backpack – Later, thanks
  • Swim? Wade ✔
  • Move to shelter ✔

11:30 a.m. Shelter 4

We waded in the water, and then had lunch. Dirtbag charcuterie this time consists of salami, cheddar, fruit leather, candy and cookies. Dave is cooling the wine in the lake for later. I finished knitting one sock, and started knitting a second. If it gets colder later in the week, I’ll be cozy af. Today is going to be a long lazy day at camp.

2:30 p.m. Near the Dock, in the only shady place we could find

No one is certain if they want to hike to Lake Richie and back tomorrow. We’ve been intermittently soaking in the lake and doing very little. In the heat of the day this place is very sunny everywhere. I stepped wrong coming out of the shelter (boots on) and kind of wanged my right ankle. I think it’s nothing, or something mild, but I’ll monitor it.

6 p.m. Shelter four

We’re both vibing on the site, and there is no rush to leave. We may stay another night. And the one after that. We spent a good chunk of the afternoon with our feet in the lake. Cool. High wispy, puffy clouds over camp this evening. Hot day, sunny.

Tonight’s dinner: Rehydrated chicken, rehydrated tomato-cheese sauce, yellow rice, corn and beans. Recipe: Soak chicken for 1 hour with tomato leather. Cook chicken and tomato for one Esbit pick. Add veggies, boil until Esbit is done. Put broth into one bowl, and chicken into another bowl. Cook the ‘ronis, up to two Esbits in broth for flavor. Divide chicken into two bowls, add cooked ‘ronis and veg. Mix with ghee for flavor. Fucking delicious.

Buggier by the water. I’m going to swab down and put on pants.

Boot got wet getting water :(.

Wolf Report

On 9/2/2023 around 2:30 p.m. we were rounding the trail to Moskey Basin from Daisy Farm. On the last low crossing before the boardwalk to camp, heading up, we spied two wolves slinking through the forest, away from the direction of camp. They traveled perpendicular to the trail. They were about 100 feet in front of us. The one in front was lighter in color, the one at the back had darker fur. I never expected to see a wolf on the island, so initially I thought it might be someone on all fours for some reason. I stopped in my tracks, pointed and whispered to my husband “Wolf. Wolf. Wolf.” To be sure he knew. The wolves hesitated briefly – I assume they heard us. But they continued on and were quickly out of our sight.

At camp we learned that the people on the dock had watched these two wolves chase a moose into the water, and the wolves slunk back into the forest, where I must have seen them.

Mergansers in the water.

9/4 8:30 a.m., Shelter 4, Moskey

No one is moving quickly, not in my camp anyway. We’re staying one more day, hiking to Lake Richie, then back here for one night, then Daisy Farm and Rock Harbor. It looks like the rest of camp is leaving, so we should have a quiet day. My ankle feels fine. My boot is going to spend the day in direct sunlight. I stayed up after sunset watching the stars pop out of the darkness. I could feel the pulse of the island in my hands as they rested on the bare rock. I crawled into bed around 10 and fell asleep instantly. No aurora, but I saw the depths of the night sky until a bright waning moon rose, and the gentle lapping sounds of the water meeting the 1.5 billion-year-old basalt slab that held me.

If I were going to give a piece of advice to the shelter graffiti artists, it would be that I wish haikus were harder so you guys had to think it through, and not just mash syllables together.

Today’s chores:

  • Mentally prepare to go to Richie ✔
  • Fix pack ✔
  • Soak in the lake during the heat of the day ✔
  • Eat sausage ✔
  • Dry boot as much as possible ✔
  • Pack tent ✔

Trash update: the trekking pole basket Dave found fits on my pole. I think I lost mine here in 2021, so the island has given me a replacement.

Tomato sauce leather in yellow rice is a game changing development. Such flavor!

Mid-Morning sometime

I fixed my pack! A seam near the zipper was coming undone, so I sewed the fucking fuck out of it and reinforced it with grosgrain ribbon. A grasshopper that is missing one of its hopping legs is laying eggs in the dirt on the rock by our shelter. She seems totally unconcerned with me. She’s focused on digging her hind end into the shallow dirt on the rock by the water. In May, we’ve only seen teeny tiny grasshoppers on young thimbleberry leaves at Lake Desor S. I wonder if this is her last day?

Noonish

High wispy clouds. Changing weather? Our grasshopper gal pal has expired after laying egg catches for a few hours. Kind of a beautiful life cycle moment. I hope her nymphs are strong and healthy.

3 p.m. Shelter 4

We have lazed about all day. This is a nice place to be married and in love.

The weather is cooler today, but still hot and sunny. More clouds than yesterday. The shelter is staying cooler than it did yesterday, so we haven’t wandered far from camp. Ate all the Sweet Tart Ropes. I have turned the heel on my second sock. Dave has finished Clive Barker’s “The Hellbound Heart” and has moved on to Charles Portis’ “True Grit.”

Sunrise over Moskey Basin.

5:30 p.m. Shelter 4

Dave is making dinner. Once the sun was behind a cloud, I was able to spend a few hours watching the clouds pass over Moskey Basin. Bright puffers, traveling west to east, midway in the atmosphere. Some of them have shadowy bellies, but none look like storm clouds. Dave and I each felt a single drip, we aren’t concerned. The air is cooler. I watched a second grasshopper lay eggs in the dirt on the rock. I think it’s important when you’re on Isle Royale to dedicate a few hours to staring at the sky.

An older man has swum out to the middle of the water. Good for him.

I haven’t seen a camp fox here, but we do have a nosy camp squirrel. Dragonflies are hatching from our shoreline.

6:30 p.m.

The loons are singing many verses tonight. They’re calling from other sides of the lake now. At least three spots, maybe more. The loon’s symphony lasted a full 9 minutes. A wonderful sound to knit to. About halfway up the second cuff. These socks are much taller than I expected. They fit well.

Dinner: Chicken, taco Rice-a-Roni, corn, beans, cheese, ghee. It was voluminous.

Update: There is a camp fox. Dave snuck up on him, as he was sneaking up on me. He was about eight feet behind me, but I didn’t know until Dave showed up.

Grasshopper on a rock.

8 p.m.

High, wispy clouds. Tea with honey after dinner.

9 p.m.-ish

I think the weather is changing. The wind picked up after sunset. Zero percent surprised if we get rain tonight.  

A blue sky over Moskey Basin, with a large, flat rock in the foreground.

Isle Royale, September ’23 – Pt 1 Houghton to Three Mile

Houghton, Rock Harbor and Moskey Basin

A blue lake and cloudless sky with a rocky outcropping in the foreground.

Dear reader, in September 2023 my husband Dave and I took our third trip to Isle Royale National Park. These posts are a record of my trip, and almost directly transcribed from the little notebook I carried with me. Anything in italics is a note from Present Me, who finally got around to posting these in March 2024.

Weather Prediction

Date       H            L             Sunrise                 Sunset

9/1         74           37           7:13 a.m.             8:36 p.m.

9/2         82           64           7:14 a.m.             8:34 p.m.

9/3         83           63           7:15 a.m.             8:32 p.m.

9/4         78           64           7:17 a.m.             8:30 p.m.

9/5         79           60           7:18 a.m.             8:28 p.m.

9/6         66           54           7:19 a.m.             8:26 p.m.

9/7         62           54*        7:21 a.m.             8:24 p.m.

9/8         64*        55*        7:22 a.m.             8:22 p.m.

9/9         63*        54*        7:27 a.m.             8:20 p.m.

*=Not NOAA

9/1 – 8 a.m. Ranger III – Houghton

9/9 – Ranger III – Rock Harbor

No rain in the forecast, but gusty winds. May be rainy or cloudy after the 7th. (Tuesday & Wednesday.)

Note: It did, in fact, rain. It went from the last hot days of summer to proper fall overnight.

Rock Harbor 9/8 – Stay

9/9 Depart 9 a.m.

The Ranger III docked inside Rock Harbor.

Weather Report

9/1         Accurate

9/2         Accurate, HOT

9/3         Rain at night, day sunny, hot, accurate

9/4         Accurate, partly sunny

9/5         Accurate, sunny day, t-storm at dark

9/6         Windy RAINY, Cool, Accurate

9/7         Cool, breezy, humic, clear, wind p.m.

9/8         Sunny, cool, accurate, no breeze

9/9         No entry, probably accurate.

Moskey Basin on a misty morning.

What Litter We Packed Out:

•             Camp soap on a rope

•             Broken glass bottle (old)

•             Trekking pole basket (Replacement for mine!)

•             Baby Hulk sticker

•             Knot of embroidery floss

•             Fishing lure, snap swivel

•             Piece of plastic bag

•             Pieces of glass (small) ||||  |||| ||

•             Someone else’s hair tie (ew.)

•             Piece of clear, hard plastic

Oops don’t do that again

Things to do to improve your next visit

•             Factor in how seasickness affects your hike.

•             Take off quickly from boat, pack to go before boat

•             Toothpaste tabs storage options

•             Do not let lotion bar melt in the sun

•             Hot pepper/hot sauce

•             Get another Osprey bladder

•             Camera, lighter, 18-300 mm lens, night photos, longer battery

•             Magnet for dock fishing (1-5 pound pull)

•             Separate corn and beans

•             Ghee tub in Ziploc

•             More tomato sauce leather, a lot

•             Buff for Dave, neck and hair

•             Alternative (???) options Mainland Me does not know what this means.

•             Better rain jacket for Lindsay

•             More fuel always

Animals seen 2023:

  • Two wolves
  • Family of loons, hunting ||
  • Squirrels ထ
  • Mergansers ထ
  • Water snake |
  • Smol toads ထ
  • Gartner snake ထ
  • Egg-laying grasshoppers ||
  • Herons ||||
  • Beavers |||
  • Large woodpeckers |||| (Pileated woodpeckers!)
  • Small woodpeckers |||
  • Snails in the lake (12)
  • Bald Eagle
  • Black fox
  • Red fox |||| |
A red fox making a funny face.

Friday, September 1, 20212

9 a.m. Ranger III Lounge

We’re just past the bridge. It’s a beautiful morning and I think warmer than when we’ve traveled in May. The tops of some trees are already showing their fall colors. My general nausea has been on high alert recently, so I’ve already put my little motion sickness bracelets on. The Ranger has replaced the puke bags with literal chicken take-out buckets.

Ranger III Chat on Boat

  • Filter and chemical treat H20
  • Blue-green algae, “spilled paint,” “pea soup,” “floating globs or mats” – AVOID TOTALLY
  • Channel 16 on boat radio for park help
  • 4 qts per person, per day, of berries you can eat.
  • 2 gallons of apples per person, per day
  • Poo 50 steps from water
  • Soap and dishwashing – 50 steps from water
  • 1000 moose, 31 wolves
  • Foxes steal hiking boots
A tent set up in a wooded campsite, with laundry hanging on the line.

6 p.m. Three Mile Group Camp Site #2

We did not make it to Daisy Farm today. The water was not smooth and my motion sickness got gnarly. I didn’t get to eat any food on the boat. I spent about 5 hours hugging my chicken bucket and staring at the horizon. When we got to Rock Harbor, I went to the shop to eat whatever was around, which was chips and Skittles. So it made more sense to listen to my upset guts and not walk another four miles. All the folks at this campsite are also refugees and wayward hikers. They’re friendly.

7:45 p.m.

We’ve had dinner – rehydrated chicken and shells and cheese.

9:40 p.m.

The sun has set on Isle Royale for the first time for me. The stars are just coming out and I have already found Pegasus. I’m back in the tent (red headlamp.) We will hike to Moskey Basin tomorrow – 8.3 miles. Continuing today would have been a bad plan. I am glad we stopped. There’s a good breeze, and clear skies forecasted. I hope to stargaze properly at Moskey tomorrow.

A merganser duck in the water.

Eddie and the Trash Fish: Cleaning the Cuyahoga one kayak at a time.

Estimated reading time 12 minutes (2335 words)

Interview conducted and edited By Lindsay Welbers

Eddie Olschansky is the leader of a school of Trash Fishes. He spends most days kayaking the Cuyahoga in Cleveland, Ohio – pulling trash out of the river. He treats it like a job, loading his “gar-barge” with gross, wet river trash all year long. He relies on donations, and is happy to loan a vessel, a grabber and a paddle to any willing volunteer. The Cuyahoga lets out into Lake Erie, so what happens there affects the lives of the forty million people who rely on the Great Lakes, which includes me, over by Lake Michigan.

Eddie recognizes the major flaw of his project: Even if he’s out there 5 days a week, 12 months a year (and he is) more trash washes down the river every day. He’s committed to his work, because he views it as a vital way to serve his community. He’s got the support of community organizations, and with his volunteer crew, pulls bags of trash out of the river every day they can. I was lucky to speak with him about his mission, after I reached out to him via Instagram. If you support Trash Fish’s work, check out his Instagram, donate to his Venmo, and buy less stuff you don’t need. Our conversation is below. It has been edited for both clarity and brevity.

LW: Let’s start at the beginning. How did you become the Trash Fish?

EO: Well, maybe I was born in trash. …. Actually, I broke my leg. I do a lot of fishing, bike riding and hiking and I broke my leg. I was stuck in a wheelchair and crutches for a long time, with multiple surgeries and it was kind of putting a damper on my fishing. So I bought a kayak. … I got into kayaking through fishing and simultaneously, I was realizing that the amount of garbage in (the) waters that I was trying to fish was a real problem.

So in my younger days I would try to fish in the most secluded, beautiful, pristine areas that I (could). I was born here in Cleveland. I moved out to Pittsburgh for a while and the best places to fish around there are under the busiest highways and right in downtown and it was a very urbanized fishing experience that I had. And so I got to that and I was seeing that the trash was a severe problem in a lot of the places I was trying to fish. So I started, if I couldn’t catch fish, I started bringing in my net filled with garbage and that went on for a while and I started leaving the fishing rods at home and packing up my kayak as a garbage truck. A gar-barge as I call it sometimes, and so that turned into my new full-time hobby instead of fishing.

I was doing that either before or after work almost every day, either going out fishing or going out trash picking. … I gave myself a couple of days off of work and basically pretended like I was paying myself to clean up garbage for eight hours in my kayak. After seeing what I got done just in a couple of vacation days, I thought to myself “maybe I shouldn’t go back to work again.” I saved up all my little red pennies as best I could for about a year and moved back to Ohio to keep bills low and tried to make this work. I gave myself six months. That was like “I can pay for this. I don’t have to have a job for 6 months. I’ll do this … I’ll really make difference.” And by the time I was kind of thinking about going back to work members of the community were like, “No you’re not.” Like, a on a real level. At that point. I was doing it mostly in secret. You know, I’m not a big social media person. … The community wanted to get involved. I had to figure out a way to package this as a thing that other people might be interested in. So I did some research to maybe make that work and we’ve turned into Trash Fish. We’re trying to bring accessibility to the river to as many people as possible. And while we’re at it we might as well pick up some garbage.

A fluid situation

LW: We try to get a hike in once a week or so and we started picking up a bag of trash every week. It’s just it’s amazing. It’s so disgusting.

EO: Oh it sure is, you know, but like at least you can feel a little bit better about what you’ve done and the fact that you’re going to hike next time …

LW: It’s true you go back to the second time and there’s just less trash.

EO: Yeah. Well, you’re lucky because that’s not the way it works in the river. … So, on the trails or at a beach … or even on the side of the road, if the trash was there today, it was probably there two weeks ago, and it’ll probably be there in two weeks. If no one picks it up, right? So in the Cuyahoga River, it’s a very fluid situation. Every time it rains, I get a new flood of trash that comes out of the storm drains. It comes off of city streets, out of the suburbs, washes into the sewer and then eventually makes it back to the river and then specifically in our river. If someone, mostly me to be quite honest, doesn’t clean it up, it’s only got a finite amount of time before it travels all the way down river into Lake Erie.

And actually if you look on a map, the map of the Cuyahoga is basically directly in line with what we call the Crib, which is a giant orange building out in the middle of the lake that you can see from shore. That is our Municipal Water Supply pump so (the) river basically dumps directly into our drinking water supply and Lake Erie is the water supply for 11 million U.S. and Canadian residents.

A lot of people (say) “Oh save the turtles” or “save the whales” which, like, don’t get me wrong. I love turtles and wales. I am a little bit more focused on us. On the damages that this does to my human community members. So we’re doing our best to try to keep as much plastic out of my community’s drinking water as humanly possible.

Volunteers and funding

LW: I was under the impression that you are the Trash Fish. But you keep talking about we. So we tell me about we.

EO: We is important to me. We have a very small select group of … small businesses that have helped us raise some funds. They are definitively part of the Trash Fish family. My volunteers are probably ten times as important as those donations are. We’d be nowhere if the community was not involved. Like I could go back to doing this one or two days a week, but I have people from the community that are chomping at the bit to borrow my kayaks, who want to come out and get elbow deep in the garbage with me. I can’t stop those people. They’re my inspiration for when I have to go out on my own.

Winter garbage kayaking

LW: You were out there all winter long. Are there any particular challenges involved in it?

EO: The biggest thing is safety. And safety and hygiene is at the upmost, the very top of our list at Trash Fish and that doesn’t just go for my volunteers. That’s me as well. So, I had to buy some winter specific gear like a full dry suit, ‘cuz the water gets too wet for a wetsuit. So I need to be fully sealed and that’s one of the biggest things.

It goes back to the accessibility that we try to bring with Trash Fish. Kayaks are expensive, water sports is expensive, transporting your boat is expensive. So I know a lot of people can’t do that and so I went out of my way to buy seven kayaks and … and I can bring the right gear to anyone that wants to participate. So to keep myself doing it in the winter, I had to buy myself some very specific winter gear to stay safe and, we have to deal with ice on the river during the winter. So, none of my volunteers’ kayaks leave the garage during the winter. We do all of our volunteer work during the summer and, but I have the capabilities to go out there during the winter.

Where does the trash come from?

LW: So this is a big question, so I’m expecting a big answer. I’m prepared for that. Where does all the trash come from? 

EO: Where does it come from or who do I blame?

LW: I will take both answers.

EO: My best guesses (originate from the) streets around Cleveland and the suburbs. The Cuyahoga River, the last six miles of it is shipping channel … to really really large corporations. And so the last six miles of the river is more like a driveway than a working ecosystem. Before that is the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. And that is basically from Akron up to Cleveland. I think most of our trash … comes from the community around the National Park, where are they’re not the highest quality and most modern sewer systems. So every time it rains basically, we get we get human waste, both biological and trash, flowing into the river unfiltered, unregulated, unstopped. So yeah, I would say ninety nine percent of it is coming directly from the sewers. There aren’t a lot of people who are standing next to the river hucking their pop bottles and chip bags and stuff. So one of the things that really led me to realizing that was the amount of kids’ toys that I find in the river. I get balls and Nerf darts and little plastic toys that I know were not thrown in the river. They were left in someone’s front yard. It rained, the wind picked up or whatever led to those things being tragically ripped away from a child that desperately loved them and ended up in the sewer, ended up in the river. So my best guesses is that most of it comes from the suburbs of Cleveland.

So who do I blame for that? Not the people that are forced to buy plastic bottles and single use plastics. We don’t have good options outside of that and if we (do) it’s priced out of most of my community. Being sustainable is very expensive.

Do your best not to buy anything that you don’t need. Look at your grocery list, pick the thing made out of plastic that you maybe don’t need and find an alternative or stop buying them. Because the blame really falls on these massive corporations. … These plastic manufacturers that pump this stuff out for their own profit with total disregard to how it affects the environment or the wildlife. Plus those people in communities that pay for these products.

If we had better options …I hate using people’s names, but if we decided to boycott Coca-Cola and we decided that the entire country was only going to buy Coca-Cola in glass bottles, do you think Coca-Cola would go out of business? No, they would implement a packaging solution that people were okay with in the snap of a finger. They’ve already spent millions of dollars trying to develop these things because they know the chickens are coming home to roost, their time is coming to an end. It might not happen in the next 20 years, that might not happen in my lifetime, but eventually … we’re not going to have (the) option to continue to flood our environment with plastic. So they have to give us another option. …I could literally watch someone throw a fast-food bag out of the side of their car window and I would not blame them. ’Cuz realistically even if they threw it in the garbage can or they took that cup and put it in the recycling, once it’s out of your hand, there’s no guarantee that anything good is happening to it.

What can we do?

LW: What can the average person who lives anywhere in the Great Lakes region do to keep their trash from getting in their rivers?

EO: The absolute best thing that you can do – you can donate to whoever you want whether it’s your time or your voice or your money – but the best option is to look at your grocery list and start knocking stuff off of it. If you have your favorite brand of, potato chips, pop or whatever it is, find an option that doesn’t come in plastic. If you desperately need to drink your carbonated beverage, get it in something that’s not plastic. Buy it in glass bottles, find a refillery.

One of my favorite things to do just ‘cuz it makes shopping fun, I go to the refillery and fill up my soaps, right? So I use the old plastic (bottle from) my shampoo that I had years ago. And when I stopped buying it, I still use that plastic bottle to go to a refillery and fill it up with brand new (shampoo. Buying) bulk soaps, bulk anything is going to be better for waste than buying individually packaged nonsense.

The biggest thing is if you don’t need it, don’t buy it. ‘Cuz hey that helps you in the long run, you’re saving money by being sustainable, and that’s a really really increasingly hard thing to do. So many people just say it’s too expensive to live sustainably and I’m like, well nothing’s cheaper than not buying it.

Chicago Transit Hikes: Upcoming Presentations

My book Chicago Transit Hikes: A guide to getting out in nature without a car is about one year old, so like all good authors it’s time for me to go on a book tour. Please join me at these (virtual) events where I will speak about where and how to get out in nature around Chicago, without a car.

June 1, 7 p.m. CST – Morton Grove Library   

June 22 6 p.m. CST – Shorewood-Troy Library      

July 26 7 p.m. – ELA Library    

September 30 7 p.m. – Barrington Library

And, yes they are all free. Libraries rule.

Interested in having me speak to your group? Reach out!

Support animals in need, and grow your own seeds

TL;DR – Donate any amount of money to support The Anti-Cruelty Society and I will send you seeds for your garden!

This point in spring means two things for me: Time to plant my garden, and time to support animal welfare in Chicago. I work for The Anti-Cruelty Society, helping them raise the money it takes to care for thousands of animals every year. Spring means it’s time to Bark From The Heart, and raise the money it takes to keep an open door for any animal in need. It also means anxiously checking the weather to determine when it’s safe to plant your garden.

This year, I’m combining two of my favorite things: The seeds I collected from my garden last year, and my dog, Dixie, who I adopted from the Society in March 2020. (She likes playing fetch in the garden while I drink my coffee in the morning.)

Donate any amount to my fundraiser and you will get your choice of mammoth sunflower seeds, Aztec marigolds, bottle gourds, or milkweed. Keep reading to learn what’s so dang cool about these amazing plants.

A perfect furry friend, but she would be a better model if she just sat still.

Your gift as seed money:

The Anti-Cruelty Society is the oldest animal welfare organization in Chicago. It was founded in 1899, first as an organization that lobbied for more humane conditions for Chicago’s children, and horses. Later, the focus of their work shifted to only animal welfare, and that is at the core of their mission today.

This Chicago dog is heads and tails above the rest.

Fun Chicago Fact: The Society moved into its building at 157 W. Grand Ave. in 1910, and the neighborhood has just kind of grown around it. Over the decades, the Society has expanded and built into other adjoining buildings on the block. That makes navigating the internals of the building a confusing mess, with rich history behind every single door.

The last year has been a challenging one for the Society, but they have navigated the pandemic expertly and swiftly, with the safety of all staff, volunteers, adopters, and every animal as the number one priority. At the core of what the Society does today is to create a more humane world for both people and pets. In the last year the Society placed over 4,000 animals into their forever homes, engaged over 5,100 people in our virtual programming, fostered nearly 1,500 pets, and distributed almost 550,000 meals to pets whose owners were economically affected by the pandemic. They keep an open door, and won’t turn any animal in need away regardless of age, condition, species or temperament.

A gift of any amount can go a long way to improving the lives of animals in Chicago. Even the smallest donation can make a world of difference in the life of one dog:

•$10 – One deworming treatment

•$25 – One microchip

•$35 – One veterinary exam

•$50 – One round of vaccinations

•$90 – Five days’ worth of food, water, and care

•$150 – One adoption fee

•$200 – Spay or neuter services

•$400 – Average cost to care for one dog during their stay

Why sunflower seeds are so cool:

Sunflowers are some of the most prolific, abundant, and diverse prairie plants you’ll find out there. Members of the aster family, they grow happily in the forests, savannahs, prairies, and roadsides all over this state. However, there is nothing native whatsoever about the mammoth sunflower, it’s just big.

Mammoth sunflowers, and sunflowers of all kinds, are hearty plants. Like, every good prairie plant its root systems are deep and strong, that’s how it’s able to hold itself up, and move along with the sun all day. Mammoth sunflower roots can push themselves four feet (or more) down beneath the surface, that’s why they’re so great for gardens with less-than-ideal soil. Their roots push down with enough force to break up hardened clay and move small rocks. Once down there, the roots introduce new beneficial bacteria and allow for helpful insects to make their way below ground.

Sunflowers are not picky about soil quality, in fact, they’re very useful at pulling bad gunk out of your dirt. (The word for this is phytoremediation.) Sunflowers are the enthusiastic cleanup crew for soil contaminated by polluted groundwater, lead, heavy metals, and other poisonous chemicals. If you visit Chernobyl and Fukushima, you may find fields of sunflowers pulling radiation directly from the dirt. A friend recently told me about a nonprofit based in Tulane City, Louisiana that filled some of the worst-hit neighborhoods in New Orleans with sunflowers following the devastating damage from hurricanes Katrina and Rita.

These particular sunflower seeds are my personal heirloom variety. They grow as high as 14 feet tall, in the bed of clay and rocks in my backyard.

Marigolds for all season blooms:

Do you like cut flowers in your home? Do you want to feed the pollinators all season long? Did you know that marigold plants can grow about four feet tall? Because I learned that last year when I planted these guys. This variety of marigold grows so easily from seed, that you can sow directly in the dirt right now and feel pretty confident you’ll have blooms until November. This species is known as Aztec Marigolds and if you ever wanted to grow your own flower crown, this is the plant for you.

Marigolds are also known as “companion plants” that help other plants in your garden to grow, and keeps away pests like squash bugs, aphids and even rabbits. If you grow squash, melons, tomatoes, cucumbers, potatoes, lettuce, pumpkins, beans, asparagus or onions, plant marigolds for a heartier harvest.

Taller than you think!

Bottle gourds for fresh foliage:

When we’re talking about the plant, we call them bottle gourds. When we’re talking about the fruit, we call it a calabash. Either way, these trellis-loving climbers will grow large enough to create a wall of foliage to beautify your garden all season. These particular seeds were harvested from last year’s longest gourd, Bert, and the most squat, Ernie. And yes, you can eat them.

Bert, in his youth.

Milkweeds for monarchs:

If you don’t have a green thumb, but do have a patch of dirt you can find, milkweed is the ideal plant for you. This native, weedy plant is a vital part of our landscape and the only host plant for caterpillars of the monarch butterfly. The monarch butterfly is about the coolest species of butterfly you’ll find. Monarchs every year migrate from Canada to central Mexico and back, which is astonishing in its own right. It actually takes three generations of monarchs to make the trip. The first two generations are the ones you’ll see most of the time, they flap those little orange and black wings north every spring. The third generation is what’s known as a super generation – it’s huge. The super generation of monarch is bigger and stronger than its parents or grandparents. It lives eight times longer and travels ten times farther. But the one thing that it needs at every leg of that journey, is milkweed. This is especially true right here in the Great Lakes region because we are often the first or last pit stop for migrating wildlife before or after crossing the lakes.

Photo credit to: US Fish & Wildlife Service, apparently I haven’t got a good milkweed picture.

On privilege and creating space for BIPOC in the outdoors

Hey trail friends,

I started Third Coast Hikes to celebrate the outdoors in Chicago, the Midwest and generally the Great Lakes region. I chose to focus here because it is where I live and where I have always lived. The outdoors industry tends to forget that the Midwest exists, even though we have thousands of miles of shoreline, rivers, lakes, migrating birds of all kinds, and rare plants you can’t find anywhere else. Third Coast Hikes is all about celebrating the outdoors right here where we live. I am based in Chicago, so that is where my focus is centered.

Because of this Third Coast Hikes is proud to stand in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement. I acknowledge that people of color don’t always have safe and equal access to the outdoors in the region. People of color have systemically been pushed away from our outdoors spaces using racist policies, laws, policing, and the bad attitudes of a vocal minority of white people and those of us who chose silence over conflict. The outdoors industry in particular has a largely white and male focus when highlighting those who enjoy hiking, backpacking, camping, birding, fishing and other activities that have nothing to do with skin color.

Moving forward Third Coast Hikes will do a better job of highlighting the stories of BIPOC Midwesterners who enjoy and support our outdoors spaces, and work to support organizations that create access to the outdoors for those who may not otherwise be able to access them.

If you are a white person I want to encourage you to educate yourself on issues facing people of color in the outdoors, and how you can work to create a more equitable space for people of all backgrounds. The Melanin Base Camp Guide To Outdoor Allyship is a good place to start. In acknowledging the inequality that people of color face in the outdoors, I am using my privilege to support the work of the following organizations, by donating directly to their causes. I invite you to join me in supporting their work because it is true that until everyone is equal, no one is.

Chicago Voyagers – This organization empowers at-risk youth through outdoor experiences and adventures that foster healthy relationships and responsible behavior. They provide real-life canoeing, hiking, cross country skiing, rock climbing, river trips and camping to over 400 Chicago area teens each year.

Melanin Base Camp – Which has been working to increase the visibility of outdoorsy Black, indigenous and people of color since 2016. Their #DiversityOutdoors campaign does not shy away from sensitive topics of race or gender, but does so in a way that creates a safe space for people with marginalized identities.

Outdoor Afro – Helps people take better care of themselves, our communities and the planet. They are working in 30 states around the country to connect Black people with nature and changing the face of leadership in the outdoors.

Let me introduce myself.

Hi, I’m Lindsay Welbers.

I’m the voice behind Third Coast Hikes. I started this blog shortly after I went on my first backpacking trip in 2017. Part of my motivation was so that I would have a place to post photos and notes from my own trips, and part of the reason was because I couldn’t find an ultralight blog focused on where I live.

I have lived my whole life in Illinois. I grew up in Central Illinois, outside Spring Valley, on 100 acres of second-growth woodland. I spent summers jumping fences, climbing trees, examining wildflowers and exploring the creeks that ran through my backyard. In 2006 I moved to Chicago to attend Columbia College, where I obtained my Bachelor’s degree in journalism. I moved to Chicago permanently in 2010 and have worked as a journalist, writer and nonprofit fundraiser since then.

Backpacking is the best way I have ever found to connect with nature since I moved away from the woods, but it’s not the easiest thing to do in Chicago. Not impossible, just not simple. Connecting with nature is valuable to every person, especially in urban areas. Most days in Chicago I can get along just fine without a car, but having one makes it easier to access hiking trails and nature preserves. My car is a 1994 Ford Thunderbird, which is both awesome and impractical. It’s not getting any younger, and I don’t want to buy a new car. I do, however, want to keep visiting nature long after the day my car stops running.

In late 2019 I sat down to figure out what hiking trails and natural spaces I could visit using just the transit system Chicago is blessed to have. In my research I found dozens of places to connect with nature, that anyone can visit using just our transit system. That became my first book “Chicago Transit Hikes: A guide to getting out in nature without a car” which was released through Belt Publishing in May 2020.

Today I am a freelance writer, editor, naturalist, gardener, and green transit advocate living on Chicago’s Northwest side. Most days you can find me in my backyard, hiking in the Cook County Forest Preserves, or biking throughout the city.

Check me out on Instagram @ThirdCoastHikes, where I post pictures of the natural world I see around me; or you can find me on Twitter @WritingWelbers where mostly I yell about how we need more bike lanes.

“Chicago Transit Hikes: A guide to getting out in nature without a car” is available for pre-order right now

The cover for Chicago Transit Hikes

Guys, I’m not entirely sure I’ve ever properly introduced myself. My name is Lindsay Welbers and I’m a freelance writer living in Chicago’s Jefferson Park neighborhood. My husband and I moved up here in June 2019, after nine years living in the same apartment in Logan Square. We were attracted to the access this neighborhood had to public transit, I’m a 10-15 minute walk away from two Metra lines, the Blue Line, and a ton of CTA and Pace buses. Also, the forest preserves are up here and that’s as close as you can get to wilderness in the city of Chicago. White tailed deer screw up traffic about as often as the Metra does up here.

That’s what inspired me to write “Chicago Transit Hikes: A guide to getting out in nature without a car.” I was in a new place, and I wanted to know what natural spaces I could find. This book is a guide for anyone interested in getting out into nature, without the use of a car. All the hikes in this book are accessible from a train. I tried to make it as useful as possible for as many people as possible, so there should be something for everyone in this book. That includes families with little kids in strollers, people with mobility concerns, and people like myself who prefer a rugged and disconnected hike.

The differences in the natural landscapes of Logan Square and Jefferson Park are subtle but clear. I knew how to find nature when I lived in Logan Square, that was easy. I lived between Palmer Square, The 606 and Humboldt Boulevard, so the natural world felt in many ways fully integrated into the pace of my life. Those are all places I traveled through on my commute, and they’re major pedestrian thoroughfares. They are vibrant natural spaces full of people any day of the year.

Here in Jefferson Park, it’s a little different. In Jefferson Park the nature lives in people’s yards, trees and forest preserves. You have to step into the residential areas to find nature. There aren’t places like Humboldt Boulevard to stroll, or The 606 to easily bike. Instead nature is accessed from people’s backyards. The pace is slower and the natural landscape reflects that. Palmer Square is full of sculptures and the occasional guerilla swing set. Jefferson Park is full of gardens, lawns and most of the swing sets are behind fences. That said it is gorgeous up here. My home office overlooks my backyard and I probably saw a dozen different types of birds today alone. Also, I’m pretty sure there’s an opossum living in my backyard. So I feel #Blessed about that.

My very favorite way to really connect with nature is to backpack across what wilderness we were smart enough to keep that way, but I still live in the city. It’s where my friends are, it’s where I work, it’s where my husband works. I’ve lived my whole life in Illinois, and the entire time I’ve been exploring and trying to better understand our natural landscape. It helps to be able to walk in nature. There’s something about looking in 360 degrees and seeing nothing but oak trees and tallgrass prairies on all sides of you that acts as a salve for the too-connected world we live in. We all haven’t got the time, skills or desire that it takes to wander into the remote corners of the country, like I enjoy doing. There are a few campgrounds in this book, which make it pretty easy to immerse yourself in nature without having to travel too far. The rest of the hikes in this book are more like day hikes, so you can sleep in your own bed at night. Chicago sits at a place of unrivaled beauty in the Great Lakes region, my goal with this book was to show my neighbors how to see that beauty, using the transit system we already have.

Chicago Transit Hikes: A guide to getting out in nature without a car” is available for pre-order now, and will be released through Belt Publishing in May 2020.

Solo Camping in Buckhorn State Park

A cup of coffee held in front of a scenic image of the river.
That feeling of drinking hot coffee when all the air around you is about 52 tops.

I have wanted to go camping solo for a number of years. Suddenly, I had the time. My schedule opened up in an unexpected way and I made the decision to extend my time at Buckhorn State Park to stay a few nights by myself. I loved it immensely.

A cup of cocoa held in front of a scenic image of the river.
That feeling when you’re drinking cocoa at the end of a lovely day all by yourself when the air around you is back down to 52 again and it’s going to be dark in about 20 minutes.

I did not prepare to go camping solo in any way that was notably different than how I would normally go camping, except for a few things.

  1. I kept my phone turned on and nearby at all times. Normally, the idea is to get as far away from 21st century communiques as possible, which means turning off your phone when you get to the trailhead and leaving it in your bag until you get back to the trailhead. I can get away with this because normally I’m out with my husband, and he keeps his phone on him throughout the trip. It felt like it would be irresponsible for me to completely disconnect myself, while also camping half a mile away from my car, in the middle of nowhere, where I am a strange lady camping by herself. Mostly I used it to watch the weather. I had daily check-ins with someone back in civilization so I was not quite as far off the grid as I would normally go.
  2. My campsite was only .4 miles from my car. Car camping is straight-up more convenient than backpacking. There’s a reason that there are more car campers than backpackers. For one, you’ve got a mobile, fortified living room. The first night I was out there by myself storms rolled through just after dark. Wind gusts were north of 20 mph, and I was directly on a river so the force of water was a concern. I would be a liar if I didn’t tell you I was running over in my mind how quickly I could get to my car if I absolutely had to. (I never had to. It was great.)
  3. I wore a big, scary, knife on my belt. Hello, I’m a somewhat short blonde woman camping by herself. It is my natural element and where I belong. I’ve spent a lot of time in my life alone in the woods and it is a deeply comfortable place to be. The trouble starts when other people don’t see things the same way that I do and might consider me to be a target, or equally bad, in need of assistance that I don’t need. Let me tell you, no one wants to chit chat with the woman wearing a big scary knife.

Number three may or may not have been necessary, to be honest. My friend stayed with me at the site on Friday and Saturday nights. She left around 10 a.m. Sunday morning and I don’t think I saw another soul for about 36 hours. I walked all over the rolling oak barrens where the hiking trails near the South Campgrounds are and don’t think I saw anyone else until Monday afternoon. The loud campers who had been staying at the adjacent sites went home on Sunday, and the rain all day kept most (all?) day-hikers far away from where I was. I wanted to be left alone in the woods, and by gum I got it.

An image of the wild raspberries growing at Buckhorn State Park.
Wild raspberries tho. <3

Rain most of Sunday kept me in my tent. I read and read and read. I listened to the sounds of the rain on the tent. When it wasn’t raining I walked and observed the fungi. I stared at the river as it gently rolled past. I watched the clouds change shape and color and density. All of these things took too much of my time and attention, so I didn’t even bother with a campfire. Instead, I watched the sun set, and huddled back in my tent when storms rolled through again that evening.

A bowl of dinner held in front of a scenic image of the river.
Backpacking dinner of packet chicken and broccoli chicken pasta side.

The storms were loud and wind was gusting above 20 miles per hour. It did something similar the night before, but my friend was there with me. This particular night, and this particular storm was my first solo night out and I would be a liar if I said I wasn’t running through all the horror movie scenarios in my head. What if that rustling outside wasn’t a raccoon, but instead a murdering madman I hadn’t noticed all day for some reason. How quickly could I run to the car from here? Could I carry anything or would it just be best to bolt with the keys and my cell phone? Around 11 p.m. the rain stopped and regular night sounds began. I fell asleep.

Oak trees where they meet the open prairies.
You know that spot where the open prairie abuts the forest? That’s the best spot.

Monday morning was glorious and bright, without a cloud in the sky. The day’s temperatures probably peaked around 75 and the sun more or less dried out everything in camp by that afternoon. If the rain Saturday and Sunday kept crowds away, the work week caused them to disappear completely. I hiked the remaining trails that I hadn’t yet visited on the south end of the park. I was able to spot this handsome Bufo Americanus and had a brief commune with a legless lizard. (A legless lizard, NOT a snake.)

A legless lizard.
A legless lizard! Not a snake!

I stopped in to speak with the rangers (to get help identifying what I learned was a Common Woodcock that had alighted in my camp the night before). This was probably the first person I had seen since my friend left around 10 a.m. Sunday morning. Later I ran into two day hikers on the trail. Basically, I went looking for a solo outdoors adventure and I found one. I was able to explore miles of hiking trails, shoreline, oak barrens and sand blows without running into another human. I encountered legless lizards, toads, frogs, songbirds, grasshoppers, dragonflies and whitetail deer without another ape for miles. I observed acorns fall from branches and land on the ground, just to be carried off by a squirrel who will either eat it or hide it and forget about it, allowing it to turn into an oak tree. I remembered that it was the equinox as I watched the sun setting due west. I read every page of every book I brought and fell asleep.

A particularly golden sunset behind the river.
So that’s what the sun did at the equinox.

I genuinely think I sleep better on the ground, you guys.

On Tuesday I had a leisurely morning around camp. The sun was out, and I hoped I could encourage some of the water to evaporate from the rain fly before I packed up my tent (partial success). Truthfully, I probably would have just stayed at Buckhorn a few more nights. I was rested for the for time in what felt like a long time, refreshed, renewed by the sun and the rain. I think sometimes you have to spend a few days outside just to hit the reset button on your personal body clock. It’s good to realign it with the natural light cycles. However, I was running low on food and I had read all of my books. Also, I think my husband was starting to miss me.

Plant leaves covered in dew.
Tons of rain all weekend. Learn to love it, or quit

Before I left I hiked the trails on the north end of the park. This is where the fishing pond is stocked with fish and kids are encouraged to cast a line. It’s also where the group campsites are found. There are about 5 miles of hiking trails on the north end of the park, they make up fully half the hiking trails within the park itself. You won’t hear me say a nasty word about the pines or the gently rolling oaks on this end of the park, but if seclusion and a landscape similar to natural Wisconsin, stick to the southern end of the park.

Ramen noodles in a bowl, with a scenic image of the river in the background.
Lemon pepper ramen dinner.