Transit Hike Trip Report: Fort Wayne on the Fourth of July – Part 1

Story by Lindsay Welbers, photos by Aubrey and Lindsay Welbers

I didn’t leave the state of Illinois at all in 2020. Illinois has been a blue island in a red sea for most of my life, so after months of COVID-19 statistics showing our neighboring states weren’t taking the pandemic as seriously as Illinois was, I kept my travel limited, and in-state. I didn’t visit family for the holidays and read books about Isle Royale National Park rather than visiting it. The second I obtained my first vaccination appointment, I was eager to get out into the outdoors far away from my own urban environment.

Jefferson Park Blue Line platform

I think road trips are okay, but they aren’t my favorite. I get motion sick pretty easily, and I think driving a car is a boring, prolonged experience where I can’t even read a book or nap. So when my sister, Aubrey, suggested meeting up somewhere between my house in Chicago and hers in Cleveland, to visit for a few days, Fort Wayne floated up to the top. Her husband planned to drive to Rockford, Ill. to visit his family over the holiday weekend. Aubrey would drive with him to Fort Wayne, where he would drop her off, before continuing onto Rockford. He would then pick her up on his way back to Cleveland. I decided to take a Greyhound Bus to Fort Wayne, from my home in Chicago. Neither of us would have a car while we were in Fort Wayne.

The view from the Clinton Blue Line station.

Around 8:45 a.m. on Friday, July 2, I hoisted my 25L REI backpack over my button-down shirt, kissed my husband, scratched my dog’s ears, and walked out the front door towards the Jefferson Park Blue Line stop. Tapping my Ventra card on the turnstile, I began the first public transit leg of my adventure.

I hopped off at the Clinton stop, still as dank as always, and walked to the Greyhound Bus Station, a place I had never been. An employee pointed me to the correct door for my bus. Once boarded, I plugged my phone in, pulled my mask up, plunked my headphones in, and let my mind wander while the scenery rolled past.

Greyhound Bus, which is actually serviced by Miller Bus Lines.

From the Skyway you can get a brief glimpse of Lake Michigan, which I always try to do. Wolf Lake’s industrial landscape tells a dramatic story from a geological perspective. The bus stopped in Gary, giving me a glimpse of City Methodist Church, a stunning gothic building now in ruins and returning to nature in its own climactic way. Things get nice and agricultural east of Gary, and I spent much of my time between bus stops looking for shapes in big, fluffy cumulus clouds. What little I saw of South Bend didn’t suggest it is quite the transit utopia the current transportation secretary would have you think it is, but admittedly, I didn’t get off the bus. By the time we stopped in Elkhart to stretch our legs, the sun was high in the sky and I was glad I put on sunscreen that morning.

Hey Aubs.

The bus rolled into Fort Wayne around 4:30 p.m., a little later than scheduled, but not enough to irk me. I tucked my button-down behind the spot on my backpack where I’d clipped my bike helmet, and walked for about 10 minutes through south Downtown Fort Wayne. I rounded Parkview Field to Jefferson Avenue, I had to shield my eyes from the afternoon sun and as I walked to my Airbnb in the West Central neighborhood. My sister had arrived about 30 minutes before and we hugged for the first time since November 2019.

The river was a little high the afternoon I arrived at Promenade Park.

We first hiked up to Promenade Park, on the St. Joseph River. I learned that the residents of Fort Wayne call themselves Hoosiers and not Fort Wayniacs, but they come from every corner of the city to spend time here. It was about a 10-minute walk from our apartment to this stunning park, completed in 2019. Strolling past Adirondack chairs, we admire the beautiful native landscaping and modern sculpture. The amphitheater is elegantly designed to accommodate the river’s seasonal flooding, and everything in this park is accessible. Aubrey and I grabbed beers and pretzels from Trupple Brewing’s café in the building and enjoyed them in the beer garden. We texted an old friend, John Wagner, who lives in town about our plans to meet up the next day, before deciding to hike further into Downtown and try to find something to eat.

Bison mural at The Landing, the oldest block in the city.

We strolled past a four-story-high mural of a bison and found ourselves at The Landing. The site of the first trade houses built in Fort Wayne in the mid-1800s, it’s now a pedestrian-only street with abundant restaurants, arts spaces, and patios. The street was mostly blocked off for a live band and beer tent, so we moved on towards The Deck at the Gas House. At the corner of Superior and Clinton, the former site of a now-defunct Amtrak station, we ran into our friend John, and his wife, Dani Wagner, biking towards their favorite vegan-friendly restaurant. Fort Wayne is a denser city than you would think, and its 120 miles of bike-friendly trails mean many people own a bike and use it to get around, even if they do still rely on a car for day-to-day commuting. We finalized our plans to meet up the next day and went on our separate ways.

The view from The Deck at the Gas House.

We arrived at The Gas House, we learned that it was busy. The restaurant wait was long, so we went to the adjacent The Deck at The Gas House, where we watched kayakers paddle past while waiting for a seat to open up at the bar. The water in the river is muddy but relatively clean. European Americans founded Fort Wayne in the 17th century, in part, because it is the site where St. Joseph River, St. Mary’s River, and the Maumee River all converge. At every point in this city’s history its rivers, from trade to flood, were the main driver of change.

The Old Fort, and our pal John.

Across the river from The Deck at the Gas House is the Old Fort. The grounds are open to visitors every day with special programming occasionally. The original fort was built in 1815, less than a quarter-mile from where this replica now sits. The replica was reconstructed in the 1980s, as faithfully as possible to the original fort. Today, it’s sited on a beautiful campus adjacent to Headwaters Park. When I rolled in on my bicycle, the main fort was open and the barracks were full of soldiers in period clothes, eating sandwiches. The grounds are open at all times, but the buildings are only open during events. Admission is free but donations are welcome.

That’s me, on the bicycle.

The lands that present-day Fort Wayne sits on are the ancestral lands of the Myaamia, Kaskaskia, Kiikaapoi (Kickapoo), and Bodéwadmiakiwen (Potawami) and Peoria tribes. The Miami tribe chose this site as the location of its capital city, and called it Kekionga. It was the central meeting and trading site for many decades, hosting official tribal councils and the large meeting house. When Europeans moved in, the Miami at first benefitted from trading with them. Europeans noted that this place was a short two-mile portage from the Little River, which connected to the Mississippi. The Miami continued to live at Kekikonga through British colonialism, the French-Indian War, and the American Revolution. During the Northwest Indian Wars, the United States Army burned villages and food stores but was forced to retreat after suffering high casualties at the hands of forces led by Little Turtle. In 1794 American General Anthony Wayne led his forces of well-trained former Revolutionaries through what we know today as Northwestern Indiana. Wayne wrote to a colleague during this time that his troops were “laying waste [to] the villages and corn-fields” of fleeing Native Americans. On September 17, 1794, Wayne personally chose Kekionga as the site for a new fort, which was named for him. In a speech at the Treaty of Greenville in 1795, Little Turtle called Kekionga “that glorious gate … through which all the good words of our chiefs had to pass from the north to the south, and from the east to the west.”

To the northwest of The Deck is Headwaters Park. By 1982, flooding was becoming without question A Problem in Fort Wayne, even then-President Ronald Reagan showed up to help sandbag Downtown after flooding made national news. The Headwaters Park Flood Control Project set out to find an environmentally sound solution for what was an inevitable annual problem. Businesses were removed from the flood-prone area, in a “thumb” of the St. Mary’s River. By 1985 flood damage in the “thumb” alone was estimated at $3.9 million ($9,922,755.82 in 2021 dollars) and represented half the flood damage in Fort Wayne that year. Today, native plants and wildlife flourish here, and 600,000 people visit each year. This sort of forward-thinking project is exactly what we should replicate all over the U.S. to help curb climate change.

Veo bikes are a great and cheap way to get around Fort Wayne.

The next morning I grabbed my first Veo Bike. The local bike share program is easy to use, and scooters are more popular than bikes. Riders download the Veo app, input credit or debit card information, and scan an available, dockless, bike or scooter to unlock it. Bikes cost $1 to unlock and 5 cents per minute to ride. My longest ride was about 35 minutes and cost about $3. Scooters cost $1 to unlock and 25 cents per minute to use. End the ride by locking the bike’s rear wheel, and following logging the end in the app. Aubrey was able to bring her personal bike, so when we met up with John the next morning at the Fort Wayne Farmers Market’s, she spent a few minutes locking her bike to one of the city’s ample bike racks, but I was able to just put up a kickstand, lock its wheel, and walk away.

Collectivo Coffee and GK cherry hand pie. (If I could do it again, I wouldn’t change a thing.)

There are over 60 vendors at the Fort Wayne Farmers Market. It’s attended by thousands of people each week. It is held from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. on Saturdays and 3 p.m. – 7 p.m. on Wednesdays. I had a GK cherry hand pie. It was flaky, crisp, and buttery without leaving my hands feeling greasy. The cherry was bright and sweet without being cloying or saccharine. From the market, we went to Collective Coffee, which faces Headwaters Park from the southeast side of the St. Joseph river. I had a cold brew black coffee there, it was served in a pint glass and at first, I assumed it was someone else’s because the nitro process made it look like a freshly poured Guinness. I happily drank it in the bright, airy space underneath the potted tree in the converted warehouse space.

Fort Wayne Outfitters at Promenade Park. Hi John.

Feeling caffeinated and fueled, we started the big bike adventure part of our day. John Wanger, in addition to being an old friend from my hometown in Central Illinois, is currently a photographer at Fort Wayne’s NBC affiliate. This year he was nominated for an Emmy for his work reporting on the protests surrounding the murder of George Floyd at the hands of a white Minneapolis police officer. When John moved to Fort Wayne from Los Angeles he quickly realized that he loved the community, history, arts scene, trails, and transit options he found there. He graciously spent the day giving us a tour of the best Fort Wayne had to offer.

Bike racks everywhere.

First, we rode, with me trailing on my sturdy Veo, to Fort Wayne Outfitters at Promenade Park, where I rented a Scott Bike. Four hours and a bike lock cost $33. My own bike at home is a little beat up, and a bike share bike is about comparable in terms of brake responsiveness to my own bike, so I am in the habit of jamming on my bike’s brakes to get it to slow down. At first, the Scott’s sensitive disc brakes nearly sent me over the handlebars, but I managed to keep it upright.

Johnny Appleseed’s Gravesite at Johnny Appleseed Park.

From there we rode onto the River Greenway. The River Greenway is 25 miles long, and as we peddled we saw public art on a permission wall, where talented spray paint artists use the space as a rotating, self-regulating art exhibit. We also rode past Lawton Skate Park, a 20,000 square foot park where Tony Hawk once showed up, unannounced, as part of his American Wasteland Secret Skatepark Tour in 2005. The park’s flowing design gave the legendary skateboarder the chance to do tricks and stunts he wasn’t able to do anywhere else on the tour.

The final resting place of John Chapman, better known as Johnny Appleseed.

From the Rivergreenway, we hopped on the Spur Trail, a sweet, leisurely ride along the very edge of the river, which lead us to our destination, Johnny Appleseed Park. In 1845 John Chapman arrived in Fort Wayne. In his lifetime, John had already become an American legend. He was better known then, and to this day, as Johnny Appleseed. He traveled the United States planting apple tree nurseries and leaving them in the care of a neighbor who sold trees on shares. Johnny returned every year or two to tend to the nurseries, so the popular image of him planting seeds all over the continent isn’t far off. He planted 15,000 trees within the 42-acres he maintained in Fort Wayne. He was known around the city and lived here until he was 70 years old. He was buried in the cemetery on the farm of some friends, and Hoosiers have cared for his grave ever since. I wanted to visit the final resting place of this American legend.

The headstone reads “He lived for others.”

Johnny Appleseed’s Gravesite is a thoughtfully maintained plot of land, that Chapman would probably approve of. The simple grave is covered with rocks and surrounded by a short wrought-iron fence. The headstone reads “He lived for others.” The landscape is full of native plants, and decorative fruit trees, including apples and cherries. This meditative space really shows the affection Hoosiers have for this American legend.

Each fall Fort Wayne hosts the Johnny Appleseed Festival in this park, where thousands of people eat apple pies, drink cider, and celebrate the legacy of an American legend. Visitors who want to learn more about Chapman should visit the Fort Wayne History Museum, 302 E. Barry St., which has a permanent exhibit on his life, and time in the city. Today the park’s 31-acres include a campground, with key code-protected shower facilities, and Camp Canine, a members-only dog park.

Junk Ditch Brewing (good gose.)

Leaving the park, we hopped back on our bikes and took the Rivergreenway to the Junk Ditch Brewing Company, 1825 W. Main St. This James Beard-award nominated restaurant opened in 2015. Their blackberry gose is tart without hurting your cheeks, and more dry than sweet. Would recommend.

From Junk Ditch we rode on bike lanes, city streets, and sidewalks. Fort Wayne changed the law to allow cyclists to ride on sidewalks, but please be considerate of people who may be slower than you, or who have mobility concerns. While crossing a bridge over a river, with a railing to our right and traffic to our left, all three of us got off and walked our bikes to give room to a woman pushing a stroller, because anything less would be very dangerous. Please use consideration and caution while riding your bike on the sidewalk in Fort Wayne, and take bike lanes or trails whenever possible.

Even Death likes pizza.

Our next stop, we visited the Fort Wayne Museum of Art, 311 E. Main. Though these two stops were on opposite ends of the same street, the Rivergreenway remains the best way to get around Fort Wayne’s central district without your car. It’s mostly separated from traffic and the landscape and public art keep it from being boring.

Good art.

For $8 admission, we walked through eight galleries featuring works from notable African Americans, glass sculptors, historical Hoosiers, and two galleries full of works by early 19th-century artist Alphonse Mucha. This small, but dense, museum is thoughtfully laid out, with rotating exhibits from all around the world.

I learned that Minor League Baseball has $14 tickets and wine slushies, so that rules.

That night Aubs and I met up again with Dani and John and went to a TinCaps game at Parkview Field. Fort Wayne’s minor league baseball team draws a packed crowd all season long. We bought tickets 15 rows from third base for $14. The team name refers to the fabled tin pot that Johnny Appleseed was known to wear on his head as he wandered the country. Their logo is an apple wearing a cartoon tin cap. In the gift shop, I bought a t-shirt featuring a sub-brand of the logo they did, Manzanas Luchadoras. Because it is a luchador apple I mean come on. The home team lost that night, but the gameplay was taut for the last few innings.

Manzanas luchadores

Check out Part 2 here.

Transit Hike Trip Report: Fort Wayne on the Fourth of July – Part 2

Story by Lindsay Welbers, photos by Aubrey and Lindsay Welbers

Check out Part 1 here, if you missed it.

The next morning we started our big paddle adventure. Aubs and I packed a picnic lunch, towels, sun hats, and swim gear and hiked back to Promenade Park. Because we reserved our kayaks online the night before, check-in was a breeze. I am not 100 percent comfortable on boats. Kayaks on a slow-moving, clean river, I can handle. Getting into and out of the kayak is usually the most traumatic part if the weather cooperates, and this boat launch has made getting into and out of your boat almost fun. The boat is set on a stable platform that allows it to slide into the water. You pull yourself in and out using convenient handrails. Because the boat is not in the water when you get in it, there is almost no wobble. The launch and dock are both fully accessible, and cool as heck.

The beautiful, sprawling pump station. Hey Aubs.

Once in the water, we paddled all three rivers over the course of about four hours. First, we paddled down the St. Mary’s, past The Deck at the Gas House, which at noon on the Fourth of July was somehow very quiet. There are beautiful views of downtown from this spot river. We turned around after the old municipal pumping station, a beautiful, sprawling stone building with gorgeous windows. It’s situated at the base of what is today, Headwaters Park. We turned back from there and floated west for a while, where things get less urban and it gets easy to spot wildlife. Rounding a big wide bend in the river around noon, Aubrey and I stopped to eat sandwiches and granola bars that had melted in the sun. Here we spotted no less than 10 turtles sunning themselves on logs. We paddled under a bridge where cliff swallows were nesting. Paddling underneath is the best way to get an up-close view of hundreds of tiny flyers darting in and out of the small openings to their mud-and-stick nests.

There are tons of bridges in Fort Wayne, and your humble author paddled under some of them.

We paddled back towards Spy Run Creek, which has a very small dam and is today popular with anglers. I should warn you this is not the dam on the St. Mary’s River, that dam is a much bigger, more serious dam that would be dangerous for a kayaker who found themselves on the wrong side of it. There is a warning sign at the convergence of St. Joseph and St. Mary’s rivers, so look out for it to avoid a dangerous situation. The dam on Spy Run Creek, however, is calm but the water can get shallow and sandbars are common. Heron and softshell turtles can be spotted along the shore.

It’s very easy to paddle off into some wild places in Fort Wayne.

After going home to shower and rest, Aubrey and I headed back into town to grab a bite to eat and watch the fireworks. We got to Coney Island Hot Dog Stand, the oldest hot dog stand in the United States, and I learned that I don’t like onions and mustard enough for this to be my go-to, but it was served promptly and politely and cost $1.65, so it’s a good hot dog. John Mellencamp’s Ain’t That America came on the radio while we were there, which felt a little on the nose.

Visit Coney Island Hot Dog if you like feeling like an extra in a John Mellencamp music video. (I had fun.)

After that, Aubs and I killed a few hours wandering the alleys of Downtown Fort Wayne seeing how many murals we could find. It’s a lot. The alleys are narrow, so they’ve been turned into an ever-expanding art instillation, with pedestrian spaces wherever possible. 77 Steps, features LED-pendants of all different lengths, and hung at different heights. They change color constantly, and their flowing shape is reminiscent of the meandering rivers in the city.

816 Pint & Slice was out of slices, but not out of pints.

We popped into 816 Pint & Slice just moments before they closed, they were out of pizza so we grabbed a beer each and sat on the patio under the vibrant alley murals. Afterward, we ambled past Sweets on Main, where I got a gooey Bear Claw scooped into a waffle cone. It was too rich and I couldn’t finish it. (Would recommend.) We spent the remainder of the night sitting near a grassy spot Downtown, watching families set up for the fireworks.

Fort Wayne shoots its fireworks show off from the tallest building Downtown, so it can be seen from just about anywhere in the city.

On the Fourth of July in Fort Wayne, the fireworks are shot off from the top of the Indiana Michigan Power building, the tallest building around. The fireworks can be seen from miles in every direction. The finale, however, happens in every neighborhood all night. Indiana has some of the loosest fireworks laws in the nation, so this is not a place to be during a holiday if fireworks are bothersome to you.

Good art though.

On our last day in Fort Wayne we got up and walked to The Landing for breakfast. I had a cold brew coffee from Utopia, and a sausage, biscuit, and egg sandwich. The sage in the sausage is delightful, and the biscuits are big and lightly sweet. Then we headed back to the apartment, gathered our stuff, and rode off for our last bike adventure.

The Lindenwood Nature Preserve loves you, and wants you to stay hydrated.

We took the River Greenway west towards the Lindenwood Nature Preserve. The part of this ride where it diverges from the Greenway and goes north on Lindenwood is a little tricky. There are blind corners, and while it is a designated bike path, there are not markers, barriers, sidewalks, or shoulders to ride on. Ride with caution in the lane, and watch for cars. Bike racks are available in the parking lot of Lindenwood Nature Preserve. This one was by far the longest Veo ride I took, 34 minutes, about 4 miles, at a total cost of $3.

A hub-and-spoke trail system.

Lindenwood Nature Preserve is 110 wooded acres that the city of Fort Wayne bought from the Lindenwood Cemetery across the road. The cemetery is where some of the oldest graves in the city, including those of several founders, are located, but the preserve was never developed. Today, it’s a beautiful natural setting not at all far from Downtown. The Campfire Ring acts as the trailhead for everything, and the trails are laid out in loops from the ring. The Trail of Reflection is a one-mile loop that, at least up to the Pond Overlook, is fully accessible and relatively flat with low grades. The Maple Spur is a quarter-mile trip through tall maple trees. If you look closely you might spot a garter snake here. The Trillium Trail is abundant with wildflowers, especially in the spring. Look for wild geranium, wild ginger, bloodroot, spring beauties, jack-in-the-pulpit, and three kinds of trillium.

The Pond in the Lindenwood Nature Preserve.

We hiked back to the parking lot just in time to see Aubrey’s husband, Scott Heisel, drive in to pick her up and go back to Cleveland. I finagled a ride back to Downtown in the back seat with their dog, Mia.

Mia, who allowed me to share the backseat with her for a short while.

This is the one car ride on the trip, and I am including it here to be honest with you. Transit hikes are an imperfect system, but catching a ride with someone you know, who is already going that way, I’ll allow it this time. We headed back to 816 Pint & Slice, to enjoy a slice before everyone headed back their separate ways. Scott realized there was a used record store just a few minutes away, so we killed another hour there. The temperatures soared to around 90 that day, which wasn’t a problem when we were under the canopy of the nature preserve, but in the concrete jungle, the heat is more oppressive. I was glad to have a little air conditioning.

The Maple Spur at the Lindenwood Nature Preserve.

Scott and Aubrey dropped me at the Citilink Station, 121 W Baker St., about an hour before my bus arrived. The station was closed to observe the holiday. There wasn’t anyone at the station, and city buses were not running. On government holidays, riders at this station should not count on being able to access its indoor shelters. My Greyhound bus arrived about 25 minutes early and left about 5 minutes early. The driver back to Chicago was a mask-enforcer, which I appreciated. I plugged in my phone and headphones and watched the scenery roll past back towards Chicago.

Wolf Lake is always so dang pretty, even from the Skyway.

By the time we got to Wolf Lake the sun was setting and reflected purple and orange against the water. I noticed that Lake Michigan was a darker shade of blue than it was when I rolled through a few days before. From the south, the sun setting west of downtown gilds the edges of our tallest towers.

GO!

Walking from the bus station I tapped my Ventra card on the turnstile and an old familiar sound dinged, telling me to “Go!” After about 5 minutes on the platform, I step onto a Blue Line car and sit comfortably away from the mostly masked car full of socially distancing riders. Above ground once again, I remembered all the rides I’ve taken down the 606, when we pass the Damen Avenue Bridge. Exiting at Jefferson Park the art decorating the bus stop reminds me that I am returning to REALITY.

REALITY

I hiked the 10 minutes from the station to my house, and when I get there I found my husband outside trying to encourage our anxious herding dog to take a walk. The moment she saw me, she practically pulled him down the block with all 26 pounds of her force. Her docked tail wiggled furiously when she got to me. Good dog.

Home is where my dog is.

August is the slowest

August is the slowest month, compared to the rest. January to August races past you in a flurry of impatience, frustration, and aggressive growth.

You need to focus on the tiny things right in front of you until August. It’s the only way to ground yourself in the moment and not to get lost in what you hope the fruit of your labor will be like. August is when you finally are obligated to take that step back and look at the whole forest.

It’s the season of canning and pickling. It’s the month you start throwing tomatoes in the freezer for winter stews. The forest and the garden are as alive as they are going to get in August.

This is the moment to breathe in that temporary expression of vitality. The vitality is always there, but in January it is heavily concentrated and below ground.

In August that vitality shows up as pollen on your shirt pockets, bug bites on your legs, and the flitting flash of the red cardinals’ wings. We should all get the summer off every year.

Isle Royale Trip Report: Part I – Voyageur II, Feldtmann Lake, and Siskiwit Bay

Dear reader,

Isle Royale National Park is the least visited of all National Parks, but it’s the most returned to. When I first visited in 2019, I had done minimal reading about the place. I knew that I had gotten into backpacking, that this was a Midwestern National Park I had not visited, and that it was called a “backpacker’s paradise.” If you do any amount of research about Isle Royale you’ll find that people speak about it with great reverence, almost like the island is a magical place. I was ready to round those folks up to “romantics” and let them hike their own hike. By the time I left Isle Royale the first time, I knew without a doubt that it is a magical place for which I, personally, feel great reverence. The island got me. I haven’t spent a single day not thinking about Isle Royale since I left. I wasn’t able to make it in 2020, so I took the very first chance I could in 2021 and spent eight nights in early June, hiking the island. I should note that the Grand Portage Band of the Lake Superior Chippewa have been the caretakers of Isle Royale since time immemorial. They call it “Minong” which means “The Good Place.” That description, thankfully, is as accurate today as it always was.

I haven’t exactly figured out how to write about Isle Royale. Generally, I like to take the tone that everywhere I find in the Midwest is a place that you should visit. Especially those trails that are less traveled than others. I can’t do that with Isle Royale. Everyone who can and wants to go to Isle Royale absolutely should go to Isle Royale. It’s without a doubt the best place I have ever been to. It is difficult to get there. It is difficult to get around once you are there. The amenities are very sparse. There is no cell phone reception. Wi-fi doesn’t exist. I learned that there is a satellite phone, but it costs $1 a minute. The weather can change on a dime, which could delay arrival or departure by days. A visit to Isle Royale requires a great deal of planning, preparing, and doing your homework before you get there. The island rewards those who slow down, this is not a place for a quick visit. The average visitor stays about 4 days, and from my perspective that wasn’t close to long enough.

I won’t claim to be an expert on Isle Royale because I am not. I also won’t encourage you to go there on a whim, this is a very different place than your neighborhood park. Instead, I’m going to share with you my own travel journal. I literally carried this little notebook with me on the trail, and in this and the next two posts, I have transcribed and clarified them for you. The photos are all mine, and all from this trip. This will be a 3-part series, to keep things manageable. All notes in italics are added by me, on the mainland, to help clarify or add context to places where I was talking to myself when I wrote it.

Weather predicted for IR and what happened:

If you try to predict the weather for Isle Royale you will find most weather reports change hour-to-hour or vary depending on what end of the island you’re looking for. In effect, it’s impossible to predict Isle Royale’s weather. The night before we left for the island, I wrote down the predicted weather and all week that became the official weather report. It turned out to be about as accurate as I could ask for.

               H            L What happened

6/7         77           61           ☼                     Sounds right

Tues 8  70        59        ⛅                   Rain (t-storms) 6:30 a.m.; nice, sunny p.m.

Wed 9  65        57        ⛅                   No rain, wind change, cooler by the lake

Thurs 10           69        55   🌧83% noon    Rain 4 a.m., t-storms all a.m., overcast, temp right

Fri 11   56        50        🌧 92% all day             rain midnight, fog all day

Sat 12  56        50        🌧 76% a.m.                Fog a.m., rain at night, nice afternoon

Sun 13 69        51        ⛅ 3%             nice, sunny a.m. rain noonish, clear p.m.

Mon 14             73        57        ⛅                   GLORIOUS

Tues 15             66        60        ⛅                   Cooler on the lake

6:30 a.m. Hat Point departure ✓

10 a.m. Fri – Box delivered to the dock, Windigo ✓ It worked!

10 a.m. Tues 15 catch Voyageur II at Malone Bay ✓

More aquabats if you can (I meant Aquatabs. All the water available Royale must be treated.)

Trash bag too                                   Pen?

On-the-go Dave Food ✓                                  Bug spray

Camp towel? ✓                         Dry bag? ✓

Voyageur II docked at Grand Portage, Hat Point. A fine ferry, just check on your seasickness meds.

June 6 Feldtmann Lake Site 1

Sharing a site with my new buddy Austin from Minneapolis, and Dave (Dave is my husband). Covid rules (and previous ones) have caused us to share a campsite. No big deal. The Voyageur II isn’t quite as charming to my seasickness as the Ranger III.

Pink lady slippers – orchids that are native to Isle Royale National Park. These were spotted on the Feldtmann Lake Trail on June 6, 2021.

The second we hit the Feldtmann Lake Trail we saw at least a dozen pink lady slippers. The hike to the overlook is deceptively easy and the hike from there to camp is deceptively long.

The hike to Grace Creek Overlook is easier than you’d think. A good day hike option if you plan to stay in Windigo.

Saw a bull moose almost immediately upon getting into the camp. Notable day for flora and fauna. Hot, sunny, glad I got a brimmed hat. Black flies in abundance.

Bull moose swimming across Feldtmann Lake on Isle Royale National Park in June 2021.
That same bull moose ignoring me.
A moose in water is kind of like an iceberg. Above the neck is just like 2% of the moose.

6:30 p.m. – As we were making dinner, we heard something big splashing on the shore. I spied a bull moose diving for supper – too close for comfort but so amazing. Eventually, he came on land! Right on the trail! My campmates and I kept a grove of trees between us, and it as it walked right through our campsite! We worried about the dinners we abandoned when we abandoned camp, and now his big hoofs were hoofing right past them! He wandered off (without upsetting dinner any more) into the woods behind our camp and shook the water off like a dog. Another camper told Dave it was a “swamp donkey.”

This big guy came swimming up by my campsite one evening. Then he wandered through my campsite. It was terrifying, I thought he would step on my dinner.
Moose are great swimmers. They dive deep to the bottom of the inland lakes on Isle Royale National Park because that is where the saltiest, protein-rich plants grow.
During the growing season these plants will make up 30-40% of the moose’s diet.
Then he came up on land and ambled right through my campsite and it was terrifying. He must have been 9 feet tall.
That’s my foot, size 9 in women’s, next to the footprint of the moose that wandered through my campsite.

June 7 – The beach at Siskiwit Bay, 3:10 p.m.

The sun wakes us up at 5 a.m. here, which worked out because the thunderstorm started at 6:30. Leaving Lake F. (after rushing to pack) I watched a storm cloud rise 90 degrees straight up over the warm air of F. Lake. Thankfully, the trail is mostly away from the water between there and Siskiwit, which insulated us from some of the worst of it. Things had more or less moved on by the time we got to the little overlook at the top of the ridge.

Handsome little butterfly.

My rain jacket came off just after F. tower. That’s when the mosquitoes found us. F. ridge trail is beautiful and an easy descent. The bugs can fuck off.

We took Site 1 (group site). IR is very crowded, but everyone is behaving themselves. I waded up to my knees in the brisk bay first chance I got. Dave is combing the beach for rocks.

Siskiwit Bay, looking out towards the lake.

Last night after our dinner date with a moose, we wandered to Rainbow Cove for some great rockhounding. We didn’t bring our headlamp, or we may have stayed for sunset. Another time. (We were so tired.)

Dave skipping rocks at Rainbow Cove.

Having camped on a moose highway, we were concerned about setting a guy line and causing a moose to trip and crush us in the night, so we left the flaps flat on Dave’s side of the tent. No one got crushed, so it must have worked. It’s so sunny and warm, I am glad I brought this dress. (I brought a t-shirt dress. It was a great idea. Bring a t-shirt dress! It’s just a long t-shirt.)

A different swamp donkey at Feldtmann Lake.

10.2 miles is probably the longest Dave and I have ever hiked on purpose. All our dogs are barking. No more big hikes for 6 nights, and nowhere to be tomorrow.

The beach at Siskiwit Bay.

8:25 p.m. Sitting on the dock at sunset

Some campers are building a campfire in the community ring. We hung out all afternoon while dudes played frisbee. Everyone was enjoying the heat and sun. A nice Canadian family made dinner on the dock. Very wholesome party scene.

When my fellow campers got to Siskiwit Bay and read the signage, they learned that fires were allowed in the community ring, but no one could find the community ring. So they did their best and made one where it looked like others had set one previously. The very next day trail maintenance crews came in and installed this brand-new grate. I didn’t stick around for the inaugural fire, but we did move the grate up and down a few times because neither of us had ever seen one that hadn’t been warped by 1000 previous fires.

June 8 Group Camp 1 10 a.m.

I have had such a leisurely morning. It’s downright l u x u r i o u s. I got up with the sun, Dave slept in. I drank coffee on the dock. At around 6:30 a.m. I had the place all to myself. I got some writing done. Just clearing out the brain. I chatted with Austin again before he left for Island Mine. He’s green in some very cute ways. Rain tomorrow might block the eclipse and ruin our hike, but nothing to be done about that. (You may not have heard, but there was a solar eclipse on June 10, 2021. It was far more visible in Canada, Russia, and Asia, but if you were on one remote island at the top of America like I was, you may have been able to see it. Spoiler: It rained. No eclipse visible.)

Merganser ducks, mergansing at Siskiwit Bay in June 2021.

2:40 p.m. Around 10:30 this morning Dave and I had climbed out onto the jetty to go get water when a small boat came into the bay. Owned by the NPS, it was two trail maintenance guys here to clean up the camp. They’re great. A large fallen pine was firmly blocking the main trail to our campground, so when they walked through to inspect, I pointed them to it. Like two young lads, they were clearly gleeful to get to use the chainsaw. Our site is now dramatically bigger, with a new walkway.

The jetty on Siskiwit Bay.

The wind picked up on the lake, it’s cooler than yesterday. Nothing but clear blue skies with wispy white clouds. White caps in the bay. Even the trail guys don’t know what the weather will do, but everyone talks about rain tomorrow morning. Might be no eclipse for us if clouds happen.

The mouth of the Big Siskiwit River, which was overrun by swallowtails.

We walked down to the beach to the mouth of the Big Siskiwit River. Dave picked up many rocks. I’m packing out someone’s Mountain Dew can. 🙁

The Big Siskiwit River. The trail is washed out here because beavers have redecorated. The park service advises you to walk on the beach instead.

Sitting on the beach while the crew chainsawed our site, a wild fox appeared at the lake! First, he just came in for a drink and slunk back into the weeds. We were gleeful.

This fox wasn’t as sly as he thought he was.

A moment later, he appeared again on the other side of us, and he came so close! I think he hoped we had food for him (sorry, buddy!) he made the same face my dog does when she wants something.

That is the same face my dog makes when she wants me to throw the tennis ball. THE SAME FACE.

I feel really smart and rewarded for keeping my food about six feet up a pine tree. It’s safe from foxes up there, and the shade is keeping it cooler than the air is.

Food security matters so much on Isle Royale because of those tricky foxes and squirrels. The added bonus I got, was by keeping my food in a shaded pine tree, my snacks (and cheese) were kept at least 15 or 20 degrees cooler than the air.

We’re running low on provisions but won’t starve before our resupply in Windigo in 2 days. No snacks today, just rest.

He tried sneaking up on us from four separate directions. These foxes are sly.

8:40 p.m. – tent away from bugs

Our foxy friend got close in camp during dinner. He came sniffing around as we were cooking chicken and vegetables. We had to get up and shoo him away four times before he got the hint. No food here, sorry buddy.

But, like, also clearly just a dog sniffing smells. It’s weird.

As I was getting ready to hit the trail this morning, I stepped out of the tent into the pouring rain to visit the latrine. I turned a corner and came within 10 feet of an adult cow moose. She stared at me, determined I was neither food nor wolf, and moved on. I remained frozen in place the whole time. (I have no photos of this, sorry, I was terrified and it was raining.)

The sun sets at around 9 p.m. on Isle Royale in June. It ends up feeling like perpetual daylight, but it does wonders for your circadian rhythms.

We are running low on provisions. Nilla wafers have been promoted to breakfast food and granola rations have been halved. Cut into the parmesan – a delight! Looking forward to reprovisioning in Windigo. I’m gathering quite the shopping list. We learned a lot about fueling Dave on the go yesterday. Long hikes mean he needs constant refueling. He’s taken all the Popeye’s Chicken honey packets.

No notable new people except for the maintenance guys. One called Island Mine “so beautiful” and the other has huge gauged out earlobes and a former career as a merchant marine.

Click here to read Isle Royale Trip Report: Part II – Island Mine and Windigo

Click here to read Isle Royale Trip Report: Part III – South Lake Desor to Malone Bay

Stay updated when a new post goes up on Third Coast Hikes.


By submitting this form, you are consenting to receive marketing emails from: . You can revoke your consent to receive emails at any time by using the SafeUnsubscribe® link, found at the bottom of every email. Emails are serviced by Constant Contact
Dave skipping rocks on Feldtmann Lake.
Splish.

Isle Royale Trip Report: Part II – Island Mine and Windigo

June 10 – Island Mine Site #2 1 p.m.

You’re not supposed to take the rocks you find, so I took a picture of this smiling guy instead.

The eclipse was a bust. Thunderstorms rolled in around 4 a.m. we so didn’t get to see it at all. We waited in the tent for the worst of the storm to pass and got on the trail by 7 a.m. The rain didn’t really stop the whole way.

The beaver redecorating on the trail from Siskiwit Bay to Island Mine was extensive. They put a creek right through the trail. NPS advised us to walk on the beach itself to the point where the ascent begins, so we did that. I understand a cloud of mosquitoes were following me the whole way.

Updated NPS advice for the trail between Siskiwit Bay and Island Mine. They advise taking the beach, and since the beavers’ have relocated a marsh to the middle of the trail, that was the way to go.

We rolled into camp around 9 or 9:30, chit chatted with some (damp) hikers who were trying to wait out the rain. Then we set up the tent and crawled into our sleeping bags and snoozed the rest of the morning. Island Mine camp is just a small ridge in the woods. If maple trees make you swoon, this is the place for you. We could make a fire, but everything is so wet we won’t bother.

Campsite #2 at Island Mine. Campfires are allowed (downed wood only) but it is also Bugs’ Town.

I hung a line for our wettest things to drip dry. If the sun comes out and heats them up, great. I am not counting on it beating the humidity or canopy drips. Better than nothing, for sure. I am glad I wore the slightly damp socks on the trail today. I have one dry hiking pair left. (Pro tip: Keep a dry pair of socks in your sleeping bag and put them both in a dry bag.)

We’re in the tent all day, probably. So. Many. Bugs. No worries about finding water in the creek though. Windigo tomorrow, resupply box, clean hands, and one cold beer.

Fun fact: Antler sheds are commonly found by signage at campgrounds at Isle Royale. This gives you and me, regular folks, the opportunity to pick up an antler and get to know it. Antlers are, however, a vital source of calcium for the forest creatures that need it. So, if you find an antler shed on Isle Royale, pick it up and check it out, just leave it where you found it.

The storms on F. Lake came in from the west and moved east. Today the storm came from the east and moved west. There’s not much exploring at Island Mine. We’ll be back in two days, but we may feel less rushed to get here. If your main task is dodging bugs, Island Mine is the place for you, my friend.

The creek by Island Mine campground. The park service cannot guarantee that water will be available here, but the flow was strong in June 2021. The water you pull from this creek will probably be light brown in color, because it’s full of tannins from decaying leaf vegetation. If you think about it, that’s kind of like drinking a tea made by the very forest itself, and it does have a weak tea flavor. Dave is convinced it cured his acid reflux.

5:10 update – This is Bugs’ Town. The water is easy to get to and – now, at least – abundant. The flow is strong. The water is full of tannins. Like drinking the very forest itself. The water filters through decaying vegetation and just kind of tastes like weak tea. Dave loves it.

Island Mine is about 5 miles west of Windigo, 5 miles east of Lake Desor, and about 4.5 miles north of Siskiwit Bay. It’s a good place to stop, but I would consider walking 5 extra miles not to camp at Bugs’ Town again. I bet it’s real nice early or late in the season, though.

7:45 – Two guys next door posted up around 3 p.m. clearly soaked. They hung up their tents and sleeping bags and then went about building a large fire. The temp is dropping. I hope they don’t get hypothermia.

When I say Island Mine is Bugs’ Town, what I mean is the businesses are bug businesses, the banks deal in bug money, the nightclubs play bug music, the mayor is a bug who ran on a pro-bug platform. Island Mine is a town for bugs, so prepare your spray and mosquito netting if you’re going to visit.

Friday, June 11 12:30 p.m. Site 13 Washington Creek

We got a shelter! We got up at dawn and were on the road to Windigo by 7 a.m.

The view from Site #13 at Washington Creek in Windigo. This shot was taken while it was actively downpouring. Rain in a tent is a mix of pluses and minuses, rain under a shelter is kind of nice.

We got here in time to see a ranger carrying our supply box up from the dock. It worked! We’re munching on the last of our cheese and Nilla wafers now.

The hike down was nice and easy and very wooded. The rain started around midnight and had let up by the time we got up. Trees spit on us most of the hike. We took the first available shelter we could find and hung our tent up to drip dry. It’s all covered in wet leaf litter.

This pretty damselfly hung out a good part of the day on the front of our shelter.

The weather is cooler today and foggy. The new tourists in Windigo looked soggy and sick. I guess we’re expecting this to continue for a few days. Ew. Dave has hung up absolutely every sock, bandana, shirt, and boxers he can.

A view of the pretty damselfly from the other side where you can see how green and iridescent she is.

We did a bit of commerce while we were in town. At the Windigo store we got a dry bag specifically for my sleeping bag. I had been storing it in the food’s dry bag during travel, and swapping back at camp, but that is done now. We also got banana chips to fuel Dave on the go, candy and Moon Pies, which we ate on the Visitor Center patio. In the Visitor Center we threw down on new wool socks, stickers, bandanas and a junior ranger book. We’re go back into town later and pick up a couple of beers.

Washington Creek is the place to be, if watching birds is your thing.

We’re spending the afternoon drying out in the shelter. I’m not sure how far we’ll go with all this humidity. I’m not expecting this to be a thing, but we are in the designated isolation shelter so if someone comes up with the ‘rona, we may get booted. Not really expecting that. We’re in no rush to get out of here tomorrow and back to Island Mine. The sun may come back after that, they say in Windigo. (This would be an absolutely terrible place to be in quarantine, by the way. Medical help is on the other side of a pretty big lake. It’s probably not a good idea to go to Isle Royale at all unless you’ve received your covid vaccine.)

I think there’s a law that you have to take a photo of someone holding a couple of antlers to their head next to the National Park welcome sign, so I am posting this here to avoid being fined.

Island Mine was so humid they only reason our clothes dried at all was because we hiked through the rain and maxed out our drying time. Another rain squall around 2:30 today, with some thunder. A few hikers walked by looking for a site but moved on. There is a nest of baby merganser ducklings right below our campsite. Little black and white poofers. Our tent is finally dry. Hoping to get the laundry try too.

These baby merganser ducks were nesting almost directly under our campsite in Windigo. If you find yourself at campsite #13 at Washington Creek, please take extra care not to bother these adorable little popcorn snacks. They’re very cute, but heavily predated.

8:30 – Great bird action on this site all evening. Lots of nesting ducklings. A duo of Canada geese parents came up by our campsite to feed their (11!) goslings just after our dinnertime. Dave and I sat motionless at our picnic table. The geese stared us down like two angry bouncers guarding a K-pop band at a frozen yogurt shop. Their goslings ran through and over the foliage, like a little gosling salad bar.

A couple of big, angry-looking Canada geese parents stared me down while they ensured their 11 goslings enjoyed the salad bar by my campsite. You ever see an angry bouncer stare at someone like they’re looking for a reason to kick that person out of the bar? That’s what these geese did, but at me.

A merganser duck swam by with 8 lil’ ducklings riding on her back.

A mama merganser carrying as many of the little popcorn snack mergansers on her back as she possibly could. The sight of this caught me so off guard that I went full-on white girl and could not even for quite some time afterwards.

Laundry drying nicely. We got to the shop too late for beers, so we drank the half liter of chardonnay in our resupply box instead. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Saturday June 12 6:15 a.m. Still Windigo

A foggy morning on Washington Creek.

A thunderstorm rolled in just after dark last night. The rain continued all night, but by now it’s calm. The skies are overcast, but there’s no wind. Most of our stuff is mostly dry and our rations are full again.

We’re going to have a long, foggy morning in Washington Harbor. We’re headed back to Island Mine next, so once we get there, we’ll (probably) be in the tent avoiding bugs again. The plan is to hike to Lake Desor at around 6 or 7 a.m. tomorrow, so we’ll have the whole day. Then we’ve got the long hike to Malone Bay the next morning, and all day.

The fog delayed the sea planes by 4 or 6 hours, so all the people planning to take the seaplane to Isle Royale had their trips cut a bit short. You should always plan for that to happen on Isle Royale, it could even delay your departure by a few days.

I felt extremely human after washing my hands with soap and fresh water.

I found this moth inside the latrine at Windigo and I thought the moth itself looked like a beautiful agate, so even the shitter moths are gorgeous here.

2:45 p.m. Site 2 Island Mine

The creek at Island Mine, but on a sunny day for a change.

No one else here so far.

As we were walking up the Greenstone today, maybe 3 miles or so west of Windigo, and about 100 feet ahead of us on the trail – we saw a young moose traveling at a full gallop through the thick forest. He ran perpendicular to the trail we were on, and I am grateful he wasn’t any closer. It was so quiet, even when all its hoofs hit the ground. How is it they do that? Silently? It was gone just as quickly as it came. This one was smaller than the cow I ran into at Siskiwit Bay. We’re having all the good animal encounters this trip.

What makes a moose gallop?

Just a bug enjoying a day at Bug Town.

I. Mine is still very much Bug’s Town. Grateful for head nets. The weather has improved. The sky above the canopy is crystal blue and the temp is nice.

This morning before we left Windigo, we returned to the Visitor’s Center with our completed application to be Junior Rangers. We were sworn in by Ranger Jenna, which was actually rad as fuck. There is no age limit on the Junior Ranger program, and Jenna was genuinely glad to do it for us. We give stickers and a really cool laser cut wood pin. We swore an oath to protect and defend Isle Royale’s wilderness and wildlife. I think we made the park rangers’ day.

A couple of bugs who have annexed my tent into the Bug Town city limits.

We ran into the Cold Dudes from Island Mine again before we left Windigo. I am glad to say they did not get hypothermia. One guy did melt his shoes a little trying to dry them out over the fire.

3:30 p.m. – Just shoo’d a squirrel out of the outhouse.

This is not the squirrel I shoo’d out of the outhouse. They look alike but probably don’t even know each other.

5:45 p.m. – A dinner of chicken and Knorr’s Spanish rice. Our dehydrated beef had gone bad so now we’re rationing chicken. Boo. Why does Knorr’s Spanish rice taste like a warm blanket on the trail, but back in real life it tastes like an insult to both Spain and rice? We’re saving mashed potatoes for after the long hike. We have enough noodles we won’t go hungry if the boat were delayed for bad weather.

Prepare for bugs at Island Mine, and get ready to drink some real tasty forest tea pulled right from the creek.

Two more parties came to the campground, including one loud Floridian who was not prepared for the mosquitoes. He said they were like “small cats.” He’s with a chipper lady who looks very prepared. She loaned him her headnet. The other is a quiet couple. One more camp cocktail and then we’ll start powering down, inside the tent, away from Bug Town. (A camp cocktail is what Dave and I call an 8 oz cup of water with a Nuun tablet in it. It’s less about having fun and more about replacing your electrolytes. Camp cocktails are very important.)

Camp cocktail, is just 8 oz of water with an electrolyte tablet in it. I once completed running a marathon, and realized when I got home that I couldn’t read words anymore. That’s because I was low on electrolytes. Electrolytes are so important, you’ve got to put them back.

7 p.m. – Bugs win, and I am now in my tent. The water bladder in my pack malfunctioned today, spilling about ½ l of water in my pack. Thankfully, everything critical was in a dry bag. The sun and wind refreshed all the laundry today. Hopefully, the weather stays like this. We hope to get on the road to S. Desor bright and early. Dave’s snoring did not wake me up once last night. I think the island improves our allergies.

Click here to read Isle Royale Trip Report: Part I – Voyageur II, Feldtmann Lake, and Siskiwit Bay

Click here to read Isle Royale Trip Report: Part III – South Lake Desor to Malone Bay

Stay updated when a new post goes up on Third Coast Hikes.


By submitting this form, you are consenting to receive marketing emails from: . You can revoke your consent to receive emails at any time by using the SafeUnsubscribe® link, found at the bottom of every email. Emails are serviced by Constant Contact
This little lady is probably an ant queen nymph, so let’s think about that. She’s here, she’s just hatched, she’s still learning the ropes and now she’s got to go find a mate, then go off and found – and manage – an entire new ant colony. This girl has a lot on her shoulders. Remember #Queen that #SelfCare is important. We spotted her on the shores at Siskiwit Bay.

Isle Royale Trip Report: Part III – South Lake Desor to Malone Bay

Bugs are to Island Mine what pollinators are to Lake Desor.

Sunday, June 13 1:30 p.m. S. Lake Desor Site 3

 We packed out of Bug Town around 8 this morning and got to the lake around 10:30. We had our pick of sites. The sky was crystal clear blue all morning. I even wore my last remaining pair of clean, dry socks on the trail today. The hike was gently rolling the whole way with gorgeous weather.

This is not a bee. It’s a fly that’s mimicking a bee’s colors. This is just a regular boring ol’ fly, but it’s incognito as something with a stinger. Smart fly.

We got to camp, set down our stuff, snacked (we may have too many snacks now) and took a few minutes to select a site with the best water access. We got the tent up and 6L of water filtered in exactly enough time to see a storm roll in. It’s just a light rain so far, and all of our stuff is safe and dry, but this has put a hamper on the lake wading I wanted to do.

Clouds rolling in from the west over Lake Desor.

If Island Mine is Bug Town, this is Pollinator City. Painted Ladies, Swallowtails, bees, bee-mimics, spiders, grasshoppers. The flowers here are abundant. We’re in the tent right now, hoping the storm is mild and quick.

An actual bee, picking up pollen from thimbleberry flowers.

The other travelers we met are seaplane people who were delayed yesterday due to the thick fog. One couple we met on the trail today seemed bummed because they hadn’t seen a moose yet. They got in late yesterday and stuck to their original travel plans. They hiked 18 miles from Rock Harbor to Lake Desor in one day and planned to hike to Windigo today for a tomorrow departure. These plans strike me as rushed and unfun. The island rewards you for slowing down, and they didn’t have much to say about the scenery. No wonder they hadn’t seen a moose yet.

A handsome daytime moth.

The island gave me a bit of clarity this morning with regard to how to proceed with an annoying personal issue. I feel like the island is a cold place, on a billion-year-old uncaring rock, and there is a lot to love about that. I, too, can learn to evaluate what I need and clearly make my presence unignorable or act with intention that supports myself primarily. A week on the island will give you many gifts if you slow down.

The tiniest baby little grasshopper hopping happily on the undergrowth.

We scared another family of merganser chicks at site 2 here. I might end up napping in this tent.

We napped in the tent during a super pleasant thunderstorm at Lake Desor and this was the view that greeted us when we woke up.

4:30 p.m. – We napped for two hours. It was a gentle pattering rain with the sun high behind low clouds. It’s impossible not to nap under that sound. The skies are clear again. The wind is picking up from the west again but no clue to say what the weather will do. The water access at this site is something else. We waded out onto the big rocks and the crystal-clear water. Island Mine’s water is a light brown with a weak tea flavor, these are the clear unbothered waters of a glacier that melted 10,000 years ago. Lake Desor is about 200 feet above Lake Superior. It is at least 15 degrees cooler by the water than at our campsite. The climb between them is steep. We’re both using walking sticks to go up and down it. Damselfly larvae are hatching in abundance just further down shore.

A little dragonfly nymph emerging from Lake Desor. We sat there for a few minutes literally watching its little wings harden, which is bonkers.

This is the kind of lake where every shore looks like trees are about to fall right into the water. The little islands in the lake look like evergreen punch bowls. This lake is full of glacial erratics.

It’s tough to take pictures of those punch bowl islands, but I swear they’re in this picture.

The wind is giving the lake a shimmering effect in the long waning sun. There are so many swallowtails here. Tiny whitecaps on the lake. The north side of the lake is primarily pines and conifers. To the east of us is a stark stand of aspens – tall, branchless and bright in the sunlight. Here on the south side is a mix of cedar, aspens, birches and a few pines. Our campsite is full of thimbleberry flowers.

Dave just found the tiniest snail next to the biggest slug on a beaver-chewed stick.

The biggest snail Dave ever found, and just above it you’ll see the smallest snail. It’s a real Odd Couple situation on this stick, but they make it work.

The plan is to get another early start tomorrow and try to get to Malone Bay at 1 or 2. The whole trip is 10.8 miles – the longest hike with a heavy pack either of us have ever done. Earlier in the trip Dave was psyching himself out about it. The #2 longest hike ever with a heavy pack we have ever done was the hike from Feldtmann Lake to Siskiwit Bay. He feels way more confident in his abilities now.

This flower looks exactly like an asparagus spear, but red, before it flowers. I genuinely thought they were some weird, wild asparagus but nope. Anyway, don’t forage and eat foods if you don’t know what they are and that’s advice for life.

We have seen two kinds of orchids so far. A dozen pink lady slippers, and one yellow orchid with tendrils that looked like pigtails. I did not get a photo of the second one because we were hiking in the rain.

The first little snake I was able to get an eye on. I found at least half a dozen lurking in the waning sunlight of our campsite.

6:45 p.m. – Our campsite is Snake Central. I’ve chased off four or five so far. One was close to an inch thick – which was the only good look I had at it.

This wasn’t the thickest snake I saw (I think) but he did hang around for a long while. I don’t think there are any poisonous snakes on Isle Royale.

Dave found two giant moths (Luna moths!) copulating, which is nuts. They must have followed each other’s scents for miles. This is a romantic spot, so that makes sense.

Luna moths! Two of them! The lady of the pair lets out some pheremones into the air when she is ready to do such a thing, and then the male of the species follows that scent for miles and miles until they find each other. I guess normally, they like to do this in the midnight hour (a time for romance) so I was very lucky to see them in broad daylight, right along the trail. Who knew luna moths were exhibitionists?
A view from the other side. I understand that once a pair of luna moths start getting funky, the process can last several hours, and they won’t stop.

BAD OUTHOUSE. (Don’t ask. It was gross.)

7:20 p.m.  – A tiny and very brief r a i n b o w.

A little rainbow! A little guy! All the colors are in there, you just have to look.

8:15 p.m. – Red sky low on the horizon. Good weather tomorrow maybe? We’re watching another dark cloud roll in now.

8:40 p.m. – Not sure but maybe we heard a wolf pack howl? Either that or it was a pack of fox kits? Or there are some jovial campers nearby.

If I had two or three days to just chill at a campsite, Lake Desor would be a top candidate.

June 14 6:10 a.m. (Still L. Desor)

Clear skies (sorta) today. Beautiful weather for a long hike. 10.8 miles to Malone Bay and our last full day here.

Malone Bay, a couple of geese, a gaggle of goslings, and not another human for miles and miles.

3:10 p.m. Malone Bay #1

We made it. We hiked 50 miles in heavy packs.

Clear waters as far as the eye can see, and a pebbly beach to comb at sunset.

The bay is just breathtaking. The lake stretches to the horizon. There are some huge rocks to sit and sun on. The water is icy and clear. If it were warmer, I’d jump in. I think Siskiwit Bay was warmer but there isn’t a single other soul in sight here. We’ve seen exactly one other person on the trail today and he was coming from here. I know I don’t want to do that hike going up, down was tough enough.

Clear waters and undeniable evidence of the power of glaciers over time.

The hike was arduous. Leg 1 to Ishpeming Point was a 400-foot climb over 3.5 miles. Ish. Point to Lake Siskiwit was a 600-foot drop over 3.5 miles and you have to walk on top of the beaver dam where the trail is washed out. The third leg from S. Lake to camp was the toughest. There is more up and down than you expect, and it just. keeps. going. Someone in Windigo told Dave that the last leg “fucks with you” and now I know what they mean, and I agree.

When you get there, there’s not another soul in sight, and this is the view from your campsite.

This is the nicest campground with the least traffic, this whole trip. A winner’s circle in a way. Mashed potatoes, chicken, veggies and cheese for dinner. The boat comes for us at 10 a.m. tomorrow. We’re in a shelter so no need for a tent.

Today you could not ask for better weather. Fuck black flies though.

Another one of those little punch bowl islands, except this one is much bigger and out in the big lake.

They told us on the Voyageur II last week that the last was 33 degrees, and here you can absolutely feel that. Your toes get numb after a few minutes in the lake. The air is absolutely beautiful though. The sky is warm, bright and sunny. One of those glorious Lake Superior days you always hope for. The terrain down was so rough and uneven we all have barking dogs and aching ankles. That hike was tough. It is mentally and physically exhausting to walk on terrain that chaotic and uneven for so long. I don’t think there was a single flat-footed step I took those last 3.5 miles.

I want you to pay attention to the tiny crescent moon in the corner because it is dreamy.

My camera is low on battery, and I have space for about 75 more photos. Eep.

Brook trout in the mouth of the nearby river. We saw them while walking over the bridge. Might have just seen a goshawk go by, on the hunt for fish.

Site 1 plus: Excellent sunset view.

Minus: All afternoon sunbake.

The best view of sunset I had the whole trip, which works out because I was too tired to stay up for sunset most of the trip.

We both feel fitter and stronger.

I think when you come to Isle Royale it evaluates what you’re about and it rewards you, or doesn’t reward you, depending on your intentions. It plays by its own rules, and it won’t teach them to you. Since time immemorial it has rewarded those who come here with good intentions and not-rewarded those without the island’s rules or interests at heart. Want to find copper for tools? Yes, copper for you. Want copper for profit? No copper for you. Want to slow down, take it all in, and have a willingness to plan for a difficult journey? Yes, you get to experience wildlife in great abundance. Want to speed down the Greenstone and spend 48-hours or less on the island? No moose for you. Come with open eyes, willing hearts, and reasonable expectations? That’s like being wrapped in a wool blanket by someone who loves you without question or hesitation. Put up with bug town? See two giant moths making more moths. Come with no plan, provisions, skills or trusted people on the mainland providing promised support? Starve to death. (Literally, that happened.) The island rewards you for preparing, slowing down, patience, adaptability, and willingness to embrace discomfort. It does not reward cutting corners or speed. On the sunken wreck of the steamship America, there is a Model T Ford. I have to wonder what the intentions of the person bringing a car to this roadless island were, and if the island didn’t intervene to keep the island car-free.

This is a place where extremes find balance. The sun is baking my skin right now, but if I put my feet in the lake for too long, my toes will go numb. I don’t dare wade in.

I really could not get over the sky and water at Malone Bay.

7:00 p.m. – What makes a moose run? Was he running from something? For the joy of it? Was it a recently liberated yearling just getting a feel for his hooves? Google this when you get home. (Update, I don’t have a good answer and I have googled it. If you know what makes a moose gallop, please let me know.)

I’m just one lady who can’t stop thinking about cloud formations.

8:00 p.m. – It’s easy to see the different air currents here, just look at the cloud layers. Especially when winds come from the west. They just break up in all directions when they hit the island like that.

Still no one else here. The nearest humans as the crow flies would be at Hatchet Lake – an 11-mile uphill hike from here. The nearest ones I could talk to? No good answer. We’re about 20 miles on foot from Windigo. Hope the Voyageur II is on time tomorrow. Clear skies tonight. (Normally, there is a ranger station at Malone Bay, and I could rely on them to help me in the event my ferry was delayed or something. The ranger station at Malone Bay is closed this year, so if you go there, don’t count on being able to find a ranger.)

8:45 p.m. – Found a pebbly beach nearby. We’re likely to stay up and see the sunset tonight – the first of the whole trip! Spotted a beaver swimming in the lake around 8:30 p.m. What was it looking for?

That little blip in the foreground? That’s a beaver. In Lake Superior! Will wonders never cease.

Tuesday, June 15 8 a.m., Site 1 Malone Bay

Another glorious day and an easy rest day. The boat comes for us at 10 a.m. (hope they remember!) and all we have to do is hike the .3 miles to the dock. I am packed. Dave may take the full two hours. (He did not, he only took one full hour.)

I took one photo of myself, and so it’s the best you’re going to get.

We slept in this morning! Until 6:15 a.m.! The latest I have gotten up in a week. We have two granola bars left, some cookies, cheese and jerky. There’s a 3L of Lake Superior water coming with us. The seas are smooth as glass from my view in the bay. Not one cloud in the sky today. The Milky Way was out last night. The Isle Royale lighthouse was lit. The shoal can get to be as shallow as 3 or 4 feet over there. This shelter had the best graffiti of the whole trip. “Cowabunga it is then,” – Abe Slinkin.

Honestly, I find myself living by a similar motto very often. Thanks for the wise words, Abe Slinkin.

11:30 a.m. – On the Voyageur II. I can’t believe that worked. Dave and I hiked over to the closed ranger station around 9 and waited there. The ferry came sailing into harbor, and we boarded at 10:05 a.m.

The Voyageur II made it right on time. They’re professionals, so I shouldn’t doubt them.

The lake is smooth today, but we’re still in the quiet waters of the park. I had a few cookies (let’s hope I hold onto them). Sailing past Rainbow Cove now.

It’s a strange and wonderful thing to hike all over the corner of one, magnificent, island over the course of a week, and then view your entire hike by boat in about 3 hours.

Epilogue

The Voyaguer II made one more stop at Windigo to pick up departing passengers before we headed back to Grand Portage. There was a party that wanted to leave the island ahead of schedule, and another that had changed their plans to leave that day, so the boat was overbooked. For a moment, Dave and I debated hopping off, giving our seats to two others, and staying another four days. Unfortunately, we were out of water purifying tablets and didn’t feel ready to take on that risk. The ferry got pretty crowded after that, but Dave and I managed to plant ourselves on the seats at the back of the boat. I get motion sick very easily, so I wanted to be prepared to stare at an unmoving horizon the whole time.

The one lone radio tower that exists on Isle Royale. There is no wi-fi, your cell phone is useless, but if you have a radio you might do okay.

I think the island evaluated my intentions when I arrived and rewarded me with smooth easy seas the whole ride back. I was able to watch the island as I sailed past, leaving Malone Bay, rounding The Head and ultimately sailing into Washington Harbor. Everything I could see, I hiked in the previous week. I kept my eyes fixed on Isle Royale the whole boat ride home. While other passengers napped or fidgeted with their phones the second cell reception came back, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It almost seems rude to check your email while Isle Royale is still within sight. I regret not letting those other folks take our spot on the ferry.

Click here to read Isle Royale Trip Report: Part I – Voyageur II, Feldtmann Lake, and Siskiwit Bay

Click here to read Isle Royale Trip Report: Part II – Island Mine and Windigo

Stay updated when a new post goes up on Third Coast Hikes.


By submitting this form, you are consenting to receive marketing emails from: . You can revoke your consent to receive emails at any time by using the SafeUnsubscribe® link, found at the bottom of every email. Emails are serviced by Constant Contact
The Rock of Ages lighthouse greets visitors as they come and go from the western end of the island. I am confident this won’t be the last time I see it.

Backyard Wildlife: Birds and quadrupeds in spring 2021

I was cleaning out some photos taken at random intervals all spring, and thought I’d share with you what the wildlife in my backyard has been up to. The feeder system expanded to include nectar to attract hummingbirds, and oranges to attract orioles. So far, one of those has worked, and I have not yet seen an oriole.

Robins are abundant all spring. They start off all poofy from the cold, when they first start appearing. I liked this guy’s cool hairdo.

Later in the season, they start to leave the nest and these skinny little fellas start showing up.

The cardinals are easy to spot all year round. I managed to catch this guy in flight. Seeing their wings in motion almost makes the birds themselves feel like they’re made of the air itself. Check out his little feet!

But, for what it’s worth, I’ve always liked the lady cardinals understated outfit. It says, “sure, I like red, but quit looking at me.” She just wants to eat seeds, and go about her day, and I respect that.

The mourning doves are year-round residents. I caught this pair in early spring when she was sunning herself on the deck. He was just chilling out nearby. What really caught me by surprise was the variation in blues in her tail feathers. You can sort of see this when they’re landing or taking off, but spread out, there really are many more shades of blue than you would expect.

The collared doves are newcomers to my backyard. At least that I have noticed. These are Eurasian Collared Doves. At first, I thought it was the Ring-Necked Dove but once I learned those only exist on the continent of Africa, and I am in the Great Lakes region, I did some more googling. They’re still the sharpest dressers in the backyard, imho.

It’s tough to get attached to finches. Maybe it’s because there are so many of them. But I do like that they’re agile and curious and adaptable.

I was surprised when the finches started nipping at the oranges. Still no orioles though.

However, the best visitor so far this year has been the one hummingbird I managed to attract.

I have been keeping a very informal list of what I consider to be the top ten all-time birds. Hummingbirds are very close to the top of that list.

Because they fly backwards. They hover. They are the only bird who can do those things. Plus they’re so tiny!

But look at the sheen on those feathers. Downright dreamy.

Hoping for more hummingbirds all season. They’re always welcome in my yard.

There’s pretty much nothing you can do about the squirrels, I have decided. Though, I do wish they would demonstrate a bit of dignity.

And the little tiny mouse I don’t mind so much. He’s small and unobtrusive. I haven’t seen him since things started leafing out anyway.

Those ears though! Those little, round ears!

The rats, however, I am less fond of. They benefitted from my good nature during the polar vortex, but now it’s nearly summer and baby rats are starting to get bold in the daylight hours.

This is what a baby rat looks like. It is an adorable abomination.

I am still not 100% sure what I’m going to do about that, short of depriving everyone of the bird feeder for a few weeks.

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.

Trip Report: backpacking Forest Glen Nature Preserve May 2021

Recently a pal on Instagram pointed me in the direction of Forest Glen Nature Preserve in Vermilion County, Illinois. How this place had not already been on my radar is a mystery. I grew up in a house, on the top of a ridge, leading down to a crick, leading into a creek, leading into the Illinois River. Walking down steep embankments covered in layers of decaying leaves, underneath a complete canopy was as easy as walking a little too far off the deck. I felt absolutely at home at Forest Glen Nature Preserve, which traverses cricks, creeks, and ridges leading into the Vermilion River.

Forest Glen is located a little south of Danville, IL. Practically on the Indiana border. There’s plenty here for day hikers and RV tent campers to enjoy, but where this park really shines is its backpacking trail. Managed by Vemilion County Forest Preserve District Correct Name since 1966, this 11-mile backpacking loop is very rugged, but probably one of the most rewarding hikes in Illinois.

As a natural born flatlander when I heard this hike was “very rugged” I thought “okay, sure, maybe by prairie standards.” Past Lindsay was wrong. This hike is not easy. If you plant to hike it, you should be in good physical condition, prepared for frequent elevation changes, ready to recover from sliding down muddy embankments, and prepared to cross over creeks on a bridge that is just one narrow board. Oh, and there’s that vertical climb by the waterfall bridge.

The County requests that backpackers register a week in advance. The campground at East Camp is located 7.5 miles from the trailhead at Lorna K. Nosis Visitor Center. There are five sites in East Camp and during the good weather they will book up. I made my reservation about four days in advance by emailing the visitors office and asking nicely. Luckily, they had a spot available for me. We arrived on Friday, May 7, hiked to East Camp on Saturday and hiked out on Sunday during a torrential thunderstorm. That might explain why I could snag a campsite. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

If you go to Forest Glen to just enjoy the tent campground and do a few day hikes, you are in for a treat. This campground is beautiful, spacious, set back against a stunning ravine where white tail deer are easy to spot. There is a loading lot, with a 20-minute limit, but cars are asked to be parked further up the road. Water is available at a tap, near-ish the pit toilet, and the RVs are located out of sight and sound. For my money, it’s Site 11 all the way. Look at that view. It’s a tremendously peaceful spot. Every site has a fire ring and a picnic table.

Saturday morning we packed up camp, left our car at the visitor center parking lot, and hiked 7.5 miles to East Camp. The landscape first follows low-lying marshlands where you’ll easily see turtles sunning themselves on fallen logs, and an abundance of birds. Following the red and white blazes that mark the backpacking loop, you’ll eventually move west, and follow the ridges overlooking creek beds. The trails are well marked, and well maintained for the first day’s hike. There is a little bit of creek hopping, lush meadows, abundant wildflowers and relative protection from the sun when the canopy is leafed out. (Though, you should always guard against ticks by wearing a hat or bandana over your head.)

Group Camp is about halfway to East Camp, and it’s where we stopped for lunch in a sunny field. About two miles after that is where the trail finally meets the Vermilion River. This stunning spot features a sandstone outcropping with shale that resembles the pages of a book. Except it’s an ancient sea bed. It’s probably full of fossils, but as Forest Glen is a designated Illinois Nature Preserve its rocks are protected from me poking around in there to look for fossils. Probably you too, sorry. It’s the law. If possible, I think this would be a beautiful lunch spot, you just have to hold out for a few miles past Group Camp.

The trail follows the Vermilion River for quite a ways after that and it’s easily the most scenic part of the trail. It’s also where the endless flow of water over millennia tends to start flexing on us. There’s this bridge, just after a curve in the trail, after you see a rock outcropping in the river itself. To get to the bridge is a descent about six feet down a steep slope, and across a bridge over a waterfall. The sandstone here is magnificent. You will probably use the sandstone to help you climb up what is essentially a mud-and-rock ladder at the other side of the bridge. Straight up. No joke. I took it on hands and knees because I am not tall.

After that, you’re really just one big, steep climb away from East Camp. There’s a small stream at the base of this climb, but it isn’t too painful to set up camp, and then come fetch water. East Camp is nice, at the top of a ridge and relatively protected under a canopy of youngish trees. There is a pit toilet that some previous campers had not treated with respect prior to my arrival. I also hiked out quite a bit of their trash. I wish them nothing but wet socks for their next fifty hikes.

Site 3, where we stayed, was probably the flattest and most spacious. Site 1 on the edge of the ridge is probably the most private, but it can be windy. Sites 2 and 4 are closer together and 5 looked sloped. Each site has a picnic table and fire pit.

We rolled into bed at the standard backpacker time of 9 p.m. which is jut about when the storm started. I’ve camped in storms before, they don’t bother me. My stuff mostly stayed dry, and once you’re hiking in the rain there’s nothing else to do but hike in the rain. I find peace in that.

We started the hike out around 8:30 the next morning, when the rain had subsided a bit. The rain did not stop until well after I hiked out. Day 2 of that trail is about half the length, and twice as hard as Day 1 is. For sure. There’s much more ascending and descending, the trail is closer to the edge of a steep drop off at points, and the bridges get a little … scarier, in places.

Hiking out in the pouring rain made everything much harder. All that lovely sandstone and shale I admired on Day 1? Well that’s why we’ve got all this thick clay in the soil. That clay is a slip’n’slide after 12 hours of pouring rain. I fell more times than I care to admit, but thankfully landed mostly on my butt. There was one bridge where I took it as slow as I could, facing sideways, because a single-plank of old, worn wood, hanging at a slight angle, had about a 5 foot drop beneath it. If you’re going to visit Forest Glen on a rainy day, be prepared for the slipperiest mud I have ever encountered.

You know you’ve hit the home stretch when you get to the fields. On one side, a still active farm shows you what Illinois did with all those magnificent prairies. On your other side, is a young prairie in the midst of restoration. It’s full of birds, flowers, low lying grasses, and waterfowl.

This was my first visit to Forest Glen but there is absolutely no way it will be my last.

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.