This post concludes my 4-part series recapping my trip to Isle Royale National Park in September 2023.
9/8, 2:30 p.m., a picnic table at Rock Harbor.
We’re 1 ½ beers into our day. We ate lunch at the Greenstone Grill, rather than snack on what little nibbles we’ve got left. We are now well stocked on candy and books and a sixer of Keweenaw beer.
We got up this morning and skipped coffee. We got on the trail around 8:30 and were in Rock Harbor by noon. We are at Site 17, and it’s been a few hours so I do not know if we have neighbors in our campsite. Hopefully not, but I won’t be surprised if we do. Today the skies are sunny and bright. There are just a few clouds in the sky. The temperature is cool, but sunny spots make it all feel different. It feels very good to wash my hands. I mailed off postcards. The original four that I picked up in Houghton, and four more. To Aubs, Joe & Randi, Michael, Ryan and Dave’s parents. We have mashed potato dinner plans, and now all the candy you could want.
4:30 p.m. Site 17
The Ranger is here, but the hikers haven’t decamped yet. We’re expecting a melee when they do. Site 17 appears to be too small to share, so here’s hoping for our seclusion.
I hate to leave the island but I know that this is not a place that needs me even if I need it. We’ll be back, always.
5 p.m. Site 17, Rock Harbor
Candy, chips, and mashed potatoes for dinner. Also beer. The finest. I have started reading a new book from the shop. “National Parks and the Woman’s Voice: A History” by Polly Welts Kaufman. It’s the kind of book I like, with lots of citations and tiny print.
6:15 p.m. Camp
I suspect we may have a site all to ourselves tonight. Lucky us. The folks in the overflow site look cramped. We are well-provisioned with candy and chips. Mashed potato and chicken dinner tonight. The veg are gone. We put the last of the cheese in dinner.
Hike report: Real miles 21, mental miles, 23
9/9 9 a.m. Ranger III Passenger Lounge
Leaving the island this time is a little like leaving summer camp. Everyone is friendly and chatty and swapping stories. No one really knows anyone’s name and it doesn’t matter at all. I’ll miss the island. I always do. Dave got a breakfast burrito from the grill, but he thinks they forgot the potato and added more egg instead. There has to be 5-6 eggs in there. He’s not upset.
I took two chewable Dramamines so we will find out if it still zonks me out. I hope not because I want to stare at the island for as long as I can.
9:30 a.m. Ranger – Outside, facing the island
I think I have talked to about half the people on this boat in the last week. The Dramamine has not zonked me out yet and I just ate a muffin. I hope it will sit down and stay there. (It did.)
In the shelters – watch your head. Dave’s bonks |||, Lindsay’s ||
On the trail when your body runs out of fuel. Quick sugar.
In the shelter or a tent between two people who like each other very much.
Glad I had that
Packable jacket
Pashmina
Buff
Knitting project
Waterproof boots
Wish I had that
Gloves below 60 degrees F
Knit hat
More coffee, Esbits
More TP and hand sanitizer
Hot bullion drink
Potential next time hikes:
Washington Creek -> Hugginin -> Washington Creek -> N. Lake Desor ->Lil Todd -> Todd Harbor -> (Hatchet Lake? Or) McCargo Cove. If McCargoe, ferry out 36 miles, if Hatchet -> Greenstone to West Chickenbone, continue onto Rock Harbor.
Windigo -> McCargoe -> Ferry
Ferry -> Water Taxi -> Middle of the island -> Start hike
We’re moving on today. It did not rain, and there are no clouds in the sky. We’ve decided to head back to Daisy Farm and make our choices from there – skipping Lake Richie completely. The trail to here and Daisy Farm is all along the side of a rocky ridge, and frankly the idea of hiking those rocks while it’s slick makes me nervous. We may head to Lane Cove after that, or Three Mile so we can access the tourist boat to Edisen Fishery. We found an apple tree at Daisy Farm, which should really class up our dirtbag charcuterie. I saw the sunrise this morning.
12:20 p.m. Shelter 9, Daisy Farm
How did DF -> MB take three hours but MB -> DF only takes two? Isle Royale governs its own time and place.
This site is surrounded by thimbleberries. Some of which are still good to eat. There is an apple tree with tart, little green apples. I ate one sliced right off my knife, which feels correct. Dirtbag charcuterie today: Lemon blackberry Propel, pepper salami, cheddar, green apples and fruit leather.
A lady we met on the trail says the weather now only predicts rain on Wednesday, which if true, puts us in a good spot to ride it out.
Hike update: Real miles, 14. Mental miles, 17. My active outfit is getting dank.
Ovenbirds love Daisy Farm.
2:15 p.m., the beach at Daisy Farm
I have just learned that I have survived a forest fire. I watched a crew dressed in wildfire fighting gear leave in a ranger boat. The word around camp is at about 10 a.m. this morning, someone came to Daisy Farm and told everyone to stay put and off the Greenstone. Then two firefighting crews arrived about half an hour apart, docked, and marched right up. I guess the fire was at the Mt. Ojibway Fire Tower. Another person heard at Rock Harbor around 12:30 p.m. that the fire was already out. There’s still one ranger boat here, so I assume the crew is still cleaning up.
4:50 p.m.
I found a Greenstone! Dave has found several nice agates. This is a good rock-hounding beach.
5:25 p.m.
We are now skilled Greenstone hunters. After the first, we put on our greenstone-hunting eyes and have found 8 so far. Many little cannardlies. (As in you can-ardly see them.) We’ll probably stay here again tomorrow night. We plan to throw them all back one at a time and make wishes.
We’re hearing a loud rumbling coming in from the southeast and the sky is becoming overcast. We can see the cabin for the Wolf and Moose Study from our picnic table.
I can’t believe finding greenstones is so easy and so fun.
6:15 p.m.
A cool wind is blowing in from the south.
Dinner: Garlic mash, chicken, cheese, ghee and vegetables.
7 p.m.
Camp fox came sniffing around our dinner. The clicking of the camera scared him off. A second camp fox that came for dinner does not fear the camera.
8:20 p.m.
It gets darker here earlier than it does at Moskey Basin. No rain yet. I finished my socks on the dock so now I have to read my book. Knitting is handy for when you want to keep your hands busy, but still look at scenery. The thunder has moved west of us.
9/6 Shelter 9, 8:30 a.m.
The rain came in just after dark. A booming and thunderous storm that brought the wind to knock down branches, and lightning to backlight the trees while it did so. The thunder was low, loud and its deep rumbling sounded like it sat on top of us and bounced between the archipelago for hours. From the inside of the shelter, it was pretty romantic.
It rained all night. The morning’s sky is very overcast. I finally broke out my rain jacket for the first time this trip. We’re finally back on track according to our itinerary if we just stay here tonight. But between hunting greenstones, and possibly hiking up to Mt. Ojibway to see the aftermath of the fire, I think that is what we’re inclined to do today. There’s still wind, and the air is cooler. I’m glad we left Moskey yesterday, because I was not keen on hiking those rocks after a rain. If this concern is going to affect my hiking, I should probably get one of those GPS locaters for my person.
Our camp fox joined us for breakfast, one of them anyway. He’s a young guy with skinny little legs. He looks sad and damp. He doesn’t make the faces Dixie makes.
Noonish
We’re up to 19 Greenstones. I’m showing them to everyone. The air is misty today. The wind is high and the lake is turbulent. We’re spending the afternoon reading with our backs resting on the shelter and the wind in my hair.
Loons and songbirds each have a lot to say. Winter wrens, goldfinches, sparrows (very friendly), ovenbirds and orioles. According to the book I’m reading “The Crooked Tree, Indian Legends of Northern Michigan” by John C. Wright, the reason today’s weather changed so drastically is because Nanaboju and his brother are running a footrace nearby.
2:30 p.m.
Lazy day at camp. The weather is cooler, so we’ve budgeted dirtbag charcuterie to include a hot drink. Today was jasmine tea and honey, apples, fruit leather, 3-year Irish cheddar, pepper sausage and jerky. Fucking luxury. Why would you want a Mountain Hardware bag when that’s an option?
One a misty , cool afternoon, with the resonant lake lapping just 150 feet away. Our shelter faces the other side of a large thimbleberry, grass and pine. One skinny old pine cracked in the storm last night, and fell in a way that should not create any work for the park service, so it’s a nice redecorating moment. The lake is a little too turbulent for rock hunting right now.
3 p.m.
A rainy afternoon with just enough wind to make it pleasant. Today the sky is a flat grey, the trees on the islands in the water are misty, dark silhouettes. The lake is an uninviting blue grey. Today it is fall on Isle Royale.
Meals left:
3 dinner
2 lunch
2 snack
3 breakfasts
What we’re rationing:
3 chicken portions
1 fried Rice-a-Roni
1 baby red mash
1 chili seasoning packet
1 mac and cheese meal
1 bag of shells, just shells (noodles)
Meager amount of veg mix
1 meal of tomato sauce
7 granola bars
0 wine
½ sausage
2 slabs of fruit leather
8 pieces of jerky
½ brick of cheddar (3-4 oz)
4-6 oz of ghee
Electrolyte tabs: 24 regular, 15 caffeine
1 green tea
1 spice tea
2 cocoa packets
2 honey
4 starbursts
11 Esbit tabs
The rain drove us inside around 4:15 so we took stock of our supplies. We won’t starve before Rock Harbor but we are dangerously low on candy. The Sweet Tart Ropes are long gone. At 7 p.m. we’re going to hear the Wolf and Moose presentation. I’ll be a fangirl if Carolyn Peterson shows up.
While I have always preferred trail runners, I like boots for both grippiness and waterproofing. My feet haven’t been damp at all except when I wanted it.* The new socks I knit are my new sleep socks and they are indulgent. We are consuming the last of the wine. Soon it will be gone, to the realm of the cookies and the Sweet Tart Ropes.
*Excepting at Moskey Basin when I went in up to my socks.
Dinner: Fried rice, chicken, veg and ghee.
Dave saw a tiny grey mouse on the path while cooking dinner. It grabbed and nibbled at a head of grain before disappearing into the underbrush.
7 p.m. Presentation, Pavilion
Moose watch (100 skulls/week)
967 moose, 31 wolves
At least 3 litters this summer
19 new wolves came from four sources
5800 moose bones collected
Heat deadly for moose, can be more easily predated.
Balsam fir, alder to stain antler
Beaver population down, wolf pop. up
Stranger on a train – Describe how I feel here that encourages them to feel the way I feel here.
Ecstasy with adrenaline
8:45 p.m.
I just had a lovely conversation with Candy Peterson after her presentation. She pegged us as good candidates for Moose Watch.
9/7 8 a.m. Inside Shelter 9, Daisy Farm
The air is cold this morning. The kind of night where it’s easy to mummy down to sleep, and hard to mummy up in the morning. We’re spending one more night here and heading to Rock Harbor in the morning. Another long lazy, cool day. We’re rationing fuel picks, so I have to wait for Dave to wake up before coffee.
9:30 a.m.
We’re onto coffee. We may run out of coffee before we get to Rock Harbor but that’s okay. You can solve problems there with money. I heard a low, intermittent thumping sound at Moskey Basin a few nights ago. Dave didn’t hear it. But I learned at the presentation last night that it may have been a bull moose calling out for a cow. So, cool.
11:30 a.m.
We have found two more Greenstones. People keep walking past and I am subjecting them all to a small lecture about Greenstones. No regrets.
Today’s chores:
Top off water before bed ✔
Throw back greenstones ✔
Apples for tomorrow ✔
Pack lunch easy access for the hike ✔
The air is less windy today, but colder. I wish I had gloves and a hat. A ranger on the dock said things should improve by tomorrow. We’ll finish Dirtbag Charcuterie on the trail tomorrow.
Did I just see a yellow oriole?
Dave just noticed that the beavers have girdled all the aspen in camp. They’re working on a project.
3:30 p.m.
I have found nine more greenstones, bringing our current total to 33. They’re easiest to find in matrix and there are far more unpolished than polished. Dave is rubbing one against a sandstone rock to see if it will polish at all. Results: Inconclusive. We will toss them all back into the lake before bed tonight. They’re abundant in the little creek from the beaver dam.
The sky today is muted shades of grey. The trees aren’t hiding in mist anymore. The lake is cold, and the waves are unpredictable. I was hesitant about going near the shore this morning. I think Minong was pleased to see Greenstone hunter. They aren’t as common as they used to be. Minong went to all the trouble of making these beautiful little agates. We honor it by picking up the prettiest parts of it and tossing them back into the lake.
We treated all the water we need to treat for the rest of this trip.
Update: Dave polished a rock. He’s exposing a beautiful turtleback pattern. Someone on the dock told me that the Ranger III left an hour early yesterday to avoid weather, so that may happen again Saturday. We hope to be in Rock Harbor by noon tomorrow. It will be heavenly if I get a hot cup of coffee in my hands.
I think the landscape over the last two days has changed to include more reds and golds than it had just a few days ago.
6:15 p.m. Site 9
We just saw beavers! Up close and munching on bark.
Dinner success: Chili mac: Chicken veg mix, tomato leather, chili seasoning packet (about half), Kraft dinner.
8:30 p.m.
Time for bed. The sky cleared up a little towards evening so the wind and lake are calmer. We’re hiking out early tomorrow morning. By 8:30 or so. We’re headed to Rock Harbor and since we’re so low on provisions, we’re both jazzed to visit a civilized town, such as it is. We’re hoping to be there by noon. We may go to the Greenstone for lunch because DBC looks sparse for tomorrow. What’s left of the food bag is practically adorable.
Dear reader, in September 2023 my husband Dave and I took our third trip to Isle Royale National Park. These posts are a record of my trip, and almost directly transcribed from the little notebook I carried with me. Anything in italics is a note from Present Me, who finally got around to posting these in March 2024.
Weather Prediction
Date H L Sunrise Sunset
9/1 74 37 7:13 a.m. 8:36 p.m.
9/2 82 64 7:14 a.m. 8:34 p.m.
9/3 83 63 7:15 a.m. 8:32 p.m.
9/4 78 64 7:17 a.m. 8:30 p.m.
9/5 79 60 7:18 a.m. 8:28 p.m.
9/6 66 54 7:19 a.m. 8:26 p.m.
9/7 62 54* 7:21 a.m. 8:24 p.m.
9/8 64* 55* 7:22 a.m. 8:22 p.m.
9/9 63* 54* 7:27 a.m. 8:20 p.m.
*=Not NOAA
9/1 – 8 a.m. Ranger III – Houghton
9/9 – Ranger III – Rock Harbor
No rain in the forecast, but gusty winds. May be rainy or cloudy after the 7th. (Tuesday & Wednesday.)
Note: It did, in fact, rain. It went from the last hot days of summer to proper fall overnight.
Rock Harbor 9/8 – Stay
9/9 Depart 9 a.m.
Weather Report
9/1 Accurate
9/2 Accurate, HOT
9/3 Rain at night, day sunny, hot, accurate
9/4 Accurate, partly sunny
9/5 Accurate, sunny day, t-storm at dark
9/6 Windy RAINY, Cool, Accurate
9/7 Cool, breezy, humic, clear, wind p.m.
9/8 Sunny, cool, accurate, no breeze
9/9 No entry, probably accurate.
What Litter We Packed Out:
• Camp soap on a rope
• Broken glass bottle (old)
• Trekking pole basket (Replacement for mine!)
• Baby Hulk sticker
• Knot of embroidery floss
• Fishing lure, snap swivel
• Piece of plastic bag
• Pieces of glass (small) |||||||| ||
• Someone else’s hair tie (ew.)
• Piece of clear, hard plastic
Oops don’t do that again
Things to do to improve your next visit
• Factor in how seasickness affects your hike.
• Take off quickly from boat, pack to go before boat
• Toothpaste tabs storage options
• Do not let lotion bar melt in the sun
• Hot pepper/hot sauce
• Get another Osprey bladder
• Camera, lighter, 18-300 mm lens, night photos, longer battery
• Magnet for dock fishing (1-5 pound pull)
• Separate corn and beans
• Ghee tub in Ziploc
• More tomato sauce leather, a lot
• Buff for Dave, neck and hair
• Alternative (???) options Mainland Me does not know what this means.
• Better rain jacket for Lindsay
• More fuel always
Animals seen 2023:
Two wolves
Family of loons, hunting ||
Squirrels ထ
Mergansers ထ
Water snake |
Smol toads ထ
Gartner snake ထ
Egg-laying grasshoppers ||
Herons ||||
Beavers |||
Large woodpeckers |||| (Pileated woodpeckers!)
Small woodpeckers |||
Snails in the lake (12)
Bald Eagle
Black fox
Red fox |||| |
Friday, September 1, 20212
9 a.m. Ranger III Lounge
We’re just past the bridge. It’s a beautiful morning and I think warmer than when we’ve traveled in May. The tops of some trees are already showing their fall colors. My general nausea has been on high alert recently, so I’ve already put my little motion sickness bracelets on. The Ranger has replaced the puke bags with literal chicken take-out buckets.
4 qts per person, per day, of berries you can eat.
2 gallons of apples per person, per day
Poo 50 steps from water
Soap and dishwashing – 50 steps from water
1000 moose, 31 wolves
Foxes steal hiking boots
6 p.m. Three Mile Group Camp Site #2
We did not make it to Daisy Farm today. The water was not smooth and my motion sickness got gnarly. I didn’t get to eat any food on the boat. I spent about 5 hours hugging my chicken bucket and staring at the horizon. When we got to Rock Harbor, I went to the shop to eat whatever was around, which was chips and Skittles. So it made more sense to listen to my upset guts and not walk another four miles. All the folks at this campsite are also refugees and wayward hikers. They’re friendly.
7:45 p.m.
We’ve had dinner – rehydrated chicken and shells and cheese.
9:40 p.m.
The sun has set on Isle Royale for the first time for me. The stars are just coming out and I have already found Pegasus. I’m back in the tent (red headlamp.) We will hike to Moskey Basin tomorrow – 8.3 miles. Continuing today would have been a bad plan. I am glad we stopped. There’s a good breeze, and clear skies forecasted. I hope to stargaze properly at Moskey tomorrow.
In late April of 2022, I took a convoluted transit hike. I went mostly solo because she who travels fastest goes alone, but I also got to spend time with a close friend. I made the whole journey without driving once, but I relied a lot on cars to get me where I wanted to be. I often took rideshares or cabs when I wanted to go somewhere further away than I wanted to walk. Amtrak did the heavy lifting for me, and I consider it an overall win. Not a perfect score, but a passing grade at least.
Canada geese just look so much better in the wild, compared to the parking lot median.
Wednesday, April 27
I packed my bag the night before, but my train didn’t leave until the afternoon so I spent the morning anxiously pacing around my house until noonish when my husband kindly drove me to the Forest Glen Metra station. It’s about a mile from my house, but I was carrying two overstuffed bags, and my therapist tells me it’s okay to accept help sometimes.
Remind me to tell you guys about dirtbag charcuterie one day.
Sadly, disaster struck when the very exact same moment that my Metra train to Glenview arrived, so did a big honkin’ freight train. I was on the side of the tracks with the freight train and literally did not see the Metra go by. So the first leg of my transit hike was already a bust. I pulled out my phone and called a rideshare.
My driver pulled up in her Nissan to Forest Glen Metra stop, and I unloaded my 65 L REI backpack into the trunk. My second bag was a smaller, leather-like backpack I had stuffed full with my camera, phone, backup battery, laptop and charger, as well as books, knitting project and snacks. Everything in my 65L was going to keep me fed, clothed, warm and sheltered for the next 10 days. In my smaller backpack were the tools I needed to take for this particular journey.
All my junk on the floor of Union Depot.
I had two reasons for heading north in the first place. The first, was to spend some long-overdue time with my bff. We picked a place between us to rent a cabin, that just happened to be the Wisconsin Dells. My commitment to not driving or renting a car is so immense, that I spent an hour on the phone with Amtrak trying to sort out my travel for this. Amtrak claims that for reasons starting with covid and ending with staffing shortages, they are unable to provide a PDF of the train schedules. This makes no sense to me whatsoever, and I don’t really believe it. Long story short, if you want to take an Amtrak train from Chicago to Wisconsin Dells right now, the train arrives Sunday-Wednesday. There is no train from Chicago Thursday-Saturday. Which seems shortsighted to me, but okay. My friend wouldn’t be able to make it until Friday, and the last train that I could take was on Wednesday.
The view from my campsite at Mirror Lake State Park.
So I booked the Wednesday ticket and planned to spend two nights in the woods. When I booked the trip in early March, I’d hoped late April would be at the very least a little leafy. This spring did not play ball. Rocky Arbor State Park was my first choice for camping, because it’s a short two-mile stumble from the train station. Unfortunately, the campgrounds weren’t open the week I was there. Honestly, I probably would have taken a cab to Rocky Arbor had I stayed there, because that makes me feel far less nervous than walking down two miles of sidewalkless, unshouldered, 55 mph speed limit highways, and that is what I’d be doing to get there. (I would not want to do this.) Instead, I headed to Mirror Lake State Park.
I am honestly surprised it worked.
As the Amtrak train headed north, leaving me at the Wisconsin Dells Amtrak station behind it, the sky was orange with the late afternoon sun. I took my chances trying to get another rideshare, but after five minutes waiting for a driver to find me, I picked up my bags and headed into the station to wait indoors. A few moments later, a taxi cab came and picked up another train passenger, so I called the number on the side of the van and one arrived for me shortly thereafter.
I had a pretty good experience with City Taxi 608-448-1818 but be aware they can get pretty busy during tourist season.
It was pretty cozy in there, honestly.
My driver was cool enough to drive me right into my campsite at Mirror Lake State Park. Absurd as this trip was, I wanted to minimize the amount of stressors I’d encounter. So I booked one of the few reservable campsites in this park at what was still the tail-end of winter season. I stayed in Campsite 60 – nestled in the heart of RV territory, but snuggled up against a ravine on two sides. An excellent mix of privacy and visibility – and if you’re a lady solo camping without a car, visibility can be your friend.
I got to camp and realized slightly too late that the water was still turned off for the winter season. There wasn’t a single faucet turned on in camp. There was a shower house with brightly lit, steamy windows, but every door was locked. The ranger station at the park entrance did have water, but by the time I realized that I would have been tromping back in the dark, which is never ideal. A kind RV camper took pity on me, and gave me a gallon jug of spring water he’d purchased when he realized the same thing I had just realized about the water in camp. I wish for him that every campground he stays at this summer has a neatly stacked pile of dry firewood a previous camper did not finish burning.
When all else fails, social engineering is worth a shot.
By the time I’d solved my hydration situation, I had exactly enough time left to eat dinner, lose my headlamp, and crawl into bed before things got too dark. This was my first real opportunity for cold-weather hammock camping. It had gotten pretty chilly when I was in Forest Glen Preserve a few weeks ago, but I spent the night uncomfortably chilly and sought out a new underquilt before coming to Wisconsin. I’d picked up, on advice from a friend, the Arrowhead Equipment New River Underquilt. I got the one rated for 25f, in average length, and in blue. I emailed the team before I ordered to make sure it could arrive in time, and it did with well over a week to spare. I have zero complaints about this quilt so far. It rained Wednesday night, and temps dipped into the 20s, but I didn’t feel chilled by any means. Not-warm at times, but never uncomfortable. It even rained a little bit, but the quilt kept the moisture away from the hammock and all my critical gear, and dried itself fairly quickly even on a cold, humid day. We’ll see how it stacks up over time, but overall, not bad.
I honestly think I like spring cold best of all.
Thursday, April 28
The weather was colder than predicted. It had rained all night, into the morning. It let up by the time I wanted to drink coffee, but I could still see my breath while I made it. I needed two esbit pucks to get the water as hot as necessary. I’m glad I brought the 2-in-1 jacket, so I could use the water-resistant layer to keep my butt dry while wearing the puffy layer to keep warm. The ephemerals were still asleep, but I saw plenty of crows, chickadees, jays, and robins around my campsite. I never did see the camp host. After a lengthy breakfast of a lot of instant coffee and granola, I emptied the rest of the gallon jug into my 3L bladder, and went in search of water.
Mirror Lake from the Newport Trail.
I took a meandering two-hour stroll to the ranger station. There are a lot of trails that criss-cross all over Mirror Lake State Park, so I tried to see as many of them as I could while my water jug was still empty. Eventually, I caught up with the Newport trail and made my way to the ranger station. With my jug filled up, I continued to follow Newport along the more direct path to camp – right on the lakefront. (What was that thing Buddha said about achieving enlightenment?)
Cozy af in here, guys.
I got back to camp just in time to snack on pretzels and cheese before the rain came through again. I spent the afternoon reading. The gentle thuds of each raindrop hitting the tarp, and the occasional breeze causing my hammock to gently rock, made for a highly relaxing afternoon. I nestled into my sleeping bag and put on extra wool socks. It was an excellent way to spend an afternoon.
Thousands of little birds skimmed the surface of Mirror Lake all evening.
Around 5 p.m. the skies had cleared enough that I walked down to the boat launch. Mirror Lake’s placid waters really live up to the name. The skies were flat and grey, but the shimmering water was vibrant. Thousands of sparrows and finches flitted across the surface hunting for bugs. I sat there for hours before I saw a single other person. Geese honked violently in what appeared to be a courting ritual. I snapped photos and knit on the dock until the breeze off the lake got too cold for me.
It was really something to see.
Walking back at camp I’d noticed some new neighbors. Early that morning, while it was still cold and rainy, two guys had set up a pretty serious tent camping operation. Their big tent was made of thick canvas, and pointed at the top to vent the stove inside. It must have been cozy in there, but I waved at those two GI Joes as they sat eating their breakfast in the cold rain this morning. They didn’t wave back. Their clothes and gear, including Yeti cooler, were all camouflaged so maybe they just didn’t expect me to be able to see them? While I was off at the lake, a couple had set up their blue pup tent, right next to their Ford hatchback right next to the Joes. It was a pretty funny contrast.
Before I went to bed, just at dusk, I think I saw a red raccoon climb into a tree. I never did see it come out. Did it live in the tree? Did it feast in the tree? It held its body flat and secure against the trunk of the leafless giant, pulling itself up with silent grace. Its ringed tail was the last to slink out of sight.
A fine mallard.
Friday, April 29
I think the temps stayed above freezing all night, so that wasn’t even bad. However, the pup tent car campers did not stay the night, so maybe that’s a point in the Joes favor. In the morning a woman staying in an RV near my campsite told me I had “some balls” for staying out without a car, in the cold. I take this as a compliment. I wonder how many balls I have? It’s “some” at least!
Canada geese over Mirror Lake.
I spent a leisurely morning in camp drinking coffee and eating granola. Instant coffee tastes like camp to me. If you’re physically uncomfortable while you drink it, it tastes much better. Eventually, I headed back down to the dock. The sun was out, and the day was looking brighter and warmer. I noticed Canada geese land loudly and gracefully on the surface of the water. Canada geese are really dependent on their setting. When I see them landing on the surface of Mirror Lake, it’s hard not to see them as majestic and fearsome forces of nature. When I see them on the median of a big box parking lot, they look like mean pests. There were fewer little skimming birds on the surface the next morning, possibly due to the bright day or the early hour.
Bufflehead family.
A family of ducks landed at once in a flurry of flapping and splashing moments before a classroom of kindergartners did the same thing. One of the associated adults told me the ducks were buffleheads and the kindergartners were on a canoe trip. A local summer outdoors program was kicking its season off early and loudly. The program owns one, very long, canoe, where two can sit side-by-side. Each of the four or five adults seated throughout the long canoe was surrounded by excited toddlers. The adults were able to paddle with, apparently, enough force to counter any drag created by the kids’ mini-oars, which they paddled with clumsy asynchronicity.
The weather was warmer, near 60. The bright light highlighted the stone outcrops against the glassy lake. I watched the silent lake, and the wildlife that crossed its open waters, while the remaining adults on the field trip chatted amongst themselves and ignored me. By the time the kids came back their singing indicated that the Muffin Man lives in Mirror Lake, which at best, sounds soggy.
Leaving Mirror Lake and going to Oxford, Wi.
I needed to be out of camp by 3 p.m. so I spent a leisurely afternoon packing it all up. The 65L bag was easier to pack this time (less food.) I wouldn’t be able to get into my AirBnB until 4, but because we waited way too long to book our cabin (and the first one we booked canceled on us anyway) the nearest one I could get was in Oxford, Wisconsin – about 40 minutes north. How me, and my bags, could get from Mirror Lake State Park to Oxford, was probably the largest transit challenge of this trip.
I’d like to tell you we got great use out of the fire pit, but it rained the whole time.
First, and with reasonable expectations, I tried to get a rideshare. One quickly booked me, but canceled just as fast when he realized that I lived in Chicago, but did not want to be driven to Chicago. I called the cab company that dropped me off, but no cabs were available. A second cab company was available, and was willing to drive me as far as I wanted to go, but I think I absolutely lucked out on that one. Normally, the driver told me, they don’t like to take cabs so far out of town on Fridays when they’re usually busier. Because I was there on a slow day, they were willing to take me. The fare was around $80, including tip, so it was also the longest and most expensive car ride of the trip.
This is the international symbol for “Don’t come over here if you don’t like gross people.”
The first thing I did when I got to the cabin was throw all my dirty laundry in the sink with some OxiClean and let it soak. I wouldn’t have access to a washing machine at all during my trip, so I took advantage of the chance to remove some camp funk before making myself presentable for town. I hung a line in the backyard and that helped shake them dry enough that they could air dry on an unused bunk bed when the rain rolled through.
Waiting for my friend I noticed how in Chicago we were just seeing mayapples and spring beauties come up, but in the Dells region, it was still leafless all over. Not an ephemeral in sight. Herons, sandhill cranes, and bald eagles were in good supply though. Vultures circled low in the sky. I could hear more wild turkeys than I could see. By the time my friend got there around 8 p.m. The rain had let up enough for us to drive to a tavern on the outskirts of Oxford, and have a beer with dinner. (She had the fish fry. We both had blueberry beers.)
There were plenty of Bald Eagles I could spot around this corner of Wisconsin.
Saturday, April 30
The rain never really let up. I was more interested in being damp and cold than my friend was, so we spent the day walking around the most touristy spots in Wisconsin Dells, doing all the touristy things.
My haul from the Dells Mining Co.
The highlights, for me, included a trip to Dells Mining Co., where I paid $40 for a bucket of sand out of which I could sift many gemstones. If I went back again, I’d pay for the bigger bucket. This was a delight.
After that, we took a ride on the Dells Boat Tour. This tour is one of the oldest continuous tourist attractions in the Dells and it’s not hard to see why. We took the two-hour tour which included stops at Witch’s Gulch, and Standing Rock.
I can see why they film all those tourism commercials here.
The rain created a foggy mist on the sandstone cliffs and canyons. Raindrops clung to delicate pine boughs and the fresh growth of ferns. Bald eagles hunted high above the Wisconsin River and the breeze was pine-scented as the shores of the river rolled past us. Eventually, when all the seats on the boat were soaked, I went inside.
It was a really beautiful place to be rained on, at least.
Mostly, my friend and I did a lot of hanging out, and you guys don’t need that info. The cranes that live near our AirBnB were bold, which was cool because it gave us an up-close view of them as we drove past.
My friend needed to head back to Minneapolis, and I needed to head north, but first we had a leisurely breakfast in our bnb. The plan had been initially to find some place to hike but the rain never let up, so we ditched that plan. She dropped me at Union Depot in St. Paul a few hours before my bus was scheduled to arrive.
Bigfoot knows that you can’t solve systemic problems by closing the fucking bathrooms.
The St. Paul Union Depot is gorgeous, I saw at least two wedding parties and a maternity photoshoot while I was there. It’s also, apparently, located in an economically disadvantaged part of the city. The public restrooms adjacent to the great hall were closed completely. A security guard told me without prompting that the restrooms were closed because “people were doing drugs in the bathroom.” Closing the bathroom seems like an inefficient way to solve that problem. I had to travel down two escalators and down a hallway to get to the tiny, open restroom. Not only was that a huge inconvenience to me, but when I got there I found a man doing drugs in the women’s room. (He ran off as soon as he saw me.)
Point is, St. Paul chose the least effective way to deal with a problem. Instead of offering supportive services to people who have substance abuse issues, and likely no homes, they just closed the bathrooms for everyone. This is disrespectful to every traveler who passes through St. Paul, and it’s disrespectful to every St. Paul resident who is experiencing homelessness. Shame on whoever made that move, I hope someone sues them for discrimination (which is what this is.)
Lake Superior is the prettiest dang thing I’ve ever seen.
My bus arrived just a few minutes behind schedule, but it quickly rolled north past marshy landscapes, and north woods suburbs. I arrived at the Duluth Transit Center around 9 p.m., a cozy little spot nestled into some of the larger buildings in Downtown Duluth.
Getting a ride from the Duluth Transit Center is not hard. I arrived into the bus depot around 9 p.m. on a Sunday, and while I wouldn’t call it a happenin’ place, there were signs of life. A security guard warned me that rideshares weren’t easy to get in Duluth, but I managed to get one in about 10 minutes. There are also a fair number of cab companies that are easily googable in Duluth.
The greatest bathtub in Duluth.
My rideshare dropped me off at a heckuva cute early 20th-century mansion-turned-BnB. I stayed in the Edwin Hewitt Room of the Thompson House on Third Street. My room had a view of the lake from the bed, and a clawfoot bathtub big enough for me to lie down in. I saw almost no other people there the whole time, which is normally something I look for in a camping spot, but got in a dang mansion this time.
I could lie down in it. That’s all I’ve ever wanted from a bathtub.
Monday, May 2
My goal in going to Duluth in the first place was to spend some time flipping through some undigitized documents at the University of Minnesota Duluth. I’m still processing all the information I turned over while I was there, and I’ll be happy to tell you all about it when the time is right, but the short story is I didn’t get to see very many of the sights in Duluth. And I had a whole google map made in case I had time! I saw almost none of the things I hoped to see, but I found everything I came there to find.
Mind the glare, this is the only shot I took of the bridge apparently.
During the day, I flipped through pages in a library surrounded by students stressed over finals week. In the evenings after they would kick me out of the library, with about four good hours of daylight left, I’d take some time to wander around Duluth. The first day I was there caught a ride to Duluth’s Aerial Life Bridge – right there at the edge of all the tourist stuff. I was there just before tourist season started, and the week graduates celebrated their achievements by taking robe-clad group photos in front of the bridge. Which makes sense, it’s pretty emblematic of the city. I then walked around the touristy spots, what few were open, just to see what I could see.
The view from my table at Va Bene.
Eventually, I wandered north on the Lake Walk. I spent some time picking rocks on the 12th Street Beach before having dinner at Va Bene. This Italian restaurant is one of the highest-rated in the city, and even before tourist season started, had a lengthy wait for parties without reservations. However, I learned that if you arrive this time of year as a solo traveler, you can probably walk right in and get the corner table, without waiting, and sit at a table with a full 200-degree view of Lake Superior. So that was cool. I had the nicest glass of red wine (Aglianico) to sip while I viewed life on a vast freshwater sea.
The day I was there the lake was calm as glass, a diner behind me commented you could “canoe on it without fear” that day. He was right, it was a glassy sea of calm, soft ripples, in all directions. Ships loaded heavy with ore slumped lazily offshore, waiting for their turn in the Soo Locks.
The clouds were low and grey as two fishermen slowly trawled. If the Keweenaw peninsula didn’t cut across the horizon the sky would have blended with the sea.
Offshore a family of mallards drifted noiselessly. Indoors my fellow diners dined at various volumes. It’s a cold spring this year, and while I was still dressed in a hat, scarf, and jacket, Duluth residents dressed in anything from shorts and flip flops, to full winter gear. Maybe some of them must have thick skin, but it’s mostly got to be stubbornness, right? The sudden rooster tail of a speedboat briefly broke the mirror-finish of the lake. After dessert, I decided that I’d be hard-pressed to agree that Georgia O’Keeffe wasn’t painting the space where a great lake meets the sky when she wasn’t painting flowers.
Full of cheese, wine, gelato, and heavy sauce, I made the decision to walk the two miles back to my bnb. Not because two miles is far, but because I realized too late, that everything in Duluth is uphill. That was on me, I should have thought of that. So, after walking two miles uphill with a food baby, I realized why it must be that there is no bikeshare in Duluth. The whole dang city is uphill. (There is a scooter share, but I didn’t see it widely used outside the Lake Walk area.)
The Lake Walk is the flattest walk in Duluth, unfortunately, everything is uphill from it.
Tuesday, May 3
I had such a productive day in the library that immediately after they kicked me out at 4 p.m. I had a car take me to Canal Park Brewing so I could get all my thoughts onto a blank Word doc while they were still fresh. Canal Park was kind enough to let me camp at one of their nice tables, with a view of the lake, for entirely too long and never even acted annoyed so I am grateful. I tikka tikka’d away at my laptop for nearly three hours and I felt alive, it was great. By the end I was lightly drunk, well fed, and mentally drained. So I went back to my bnb, talked to my husband on the phone, and fell asleep.
They’re very nice to campers who keep ordering beers and food.
Wednesday, May 4
By the time they kicked me out of the library I realized that the weather the last two days had been absolutely glorious. I’d missed it all. The sun was out, and things got as high as the 60s. Back in Chicago, they were on day 46 or so without sun, and I was wasting the sunshine indoors. That day, I decided to do the smart thing and walk three miles downhill, to see what I could see.
One of the many creeks that bisect Duluth.
Walking around is one of the best ways to get to know a place on its own terms and I got to know a lot about Duluth. There are creeks that cut across the neighborhoods and highways, which means most people are never very far from real wildlife. I saw deer grazing in people’s front yards. I saw plenty of ravens and gulls. I hiked about 500 feet of the Superior Hiking Trail, so I probably deserve a medal for that.
Maybe next time I’m in Duluth I’ll be able to hike this properly.
I wound up having dinner at Fitger’s Brewhouse, and needed to put my hat and scarf on by the time I got close to the lake. When I was done, I called a rideshare to bring me to my bnb, because I wasn’t feeling the uphill hike this time.
So sour, so tasty, but that can was larger than I expected.
Thursday, May 5
The sun brightened my bnb so early that I woke up well before my alarm every morning. I rearranged the room so the comfy chair I sat in while I drank my coffee each morning gave me the maximum possible lake views. Getting up so early gave me the chance to stand outside on the private attached deck, feeling the cold spring air on my skin. Earlier that week, I’d had a leisurely morning and was able to run a bath for myself while the chilly morning light filtered through the windows.
The view from my private porch in the room with the best bathtub in Duluth.
But on this day, I had to travel. All my laundry was filthy, my camera battery was dead, my snacks were all eaten, and all this made packing everything into my 65L bag incredibly easy. I shoved my laptop, notebooks, remaining snacks, and knitting into my backpack-purse, which had been my go-to carry-all for the last four days. After shoving everything into two bags, miraculously, I headed downstairs to vacate my room. I called four cab companies, and the nearest rideshare was 20 minutes away. I stayed less than a mile from the library, but it was a mile uphill and I was now carrying two heavy backpacks. Walking wouldn’t be impossible, but it sure wouldn’t be pleasant. Luckily, a rideshare driver who happened to be starting her workday found me and brought me to the library.
I spent the day reading old newspaper articles in the largely vacant library. By the time I was done, it was time for me to head toward the Duluth Transit Center. It’s kismet how that worked out. I had no trouble finding a ride to the center at that time of day, and no trouble at the Transit Center. My Amtrak ticket also paid for my transit on Jefferson Bus Lines, which runs daily service from Duluth to Minneapolis-St. Paul. The driver was friendly, my luggage was well-treated, my fellow riders were largely silent, and there was even an outlet for my phone. I caught one last rideshare of the day from the St. Paul Union Depot to my bff’s house in Minneapolis. I fell asleep so hard that night, you guys.
Bye Duluth, you were really nice to me.
Friday, May 6
I awoke to a notification that my train was delayed. It was super delayed. It was supposed to roll out of St. Paul at 8 a.m., and it didn’t until 1 p.m.
Ultimately, it left St. Paul at 1 p.m.
That morning at my bff’s house gave me the chance to share my journey on social media, while she worked in an adjacent office. I also took her puppy on a walk. (If you’re seeing this Kim, please tell Hazel she’s very, very good.) I caught a rideshare from her place to Union Depot and got to make friends with two fellow travelers in the waiting room. Two women, traveling separately, both of whom had never been on an Amtrak train before. Lucky them! The long ride from St. Paul to Chicago is just beautiful from the seat of an Amtrak train.
This is Chaplin, he’s a cat. I’d show you Hazel but she’s a puppy and wouldn’t sit still. Hazel fears Chaplin, which is reasonable.
As you roll out of St. Paul you follow the path of the Mississippi River for quite a ways. The landscape alternates between marshy paradise and rocky outcrop after rocky outcrop. You travel through the Driftless region of Wisconsin, which was spared from the glaciers, and so has a gently rolling landscape that, at times, remodels itself into impenetrable rock. At Tunnel City, Wisconsin the train car goes pitch black as your car skims through a limestone mountain, in a tunnel first carved by dynamite in 1847. By the time we rolled through Milwaukee, the setting sun bounced off the glassy windows and rivers of the city. As the sun sunk low and orange in the sky we traveled past the unmistakably flat landscape of northern Illinois. Ah, home. I’m glad I was smart enough to book a ticket to Glenview, because I live in Jefferson Park, and technically that’s the closest Amtrak station to my house. I was exhausted, and had no trouble getting one last rideshare all the way to my home. I got there just before 9 p.m. The driver, who was the best of them all, refused to let me carry my 65L bag, and delivered it to my door against my protests. It was nice. When I opened the door, my dog suddenly stopped borking and looked at me like she never thought she would see me again.
Home is where my dog is.
Transit summary
I took a lot of rideshares, you guys. I know that. I was also on a trip that should have been at least two separate trips, and one of them required a laptop. I walked as often as it made sense for what I was doing, but I wasn’t there to punish myself or compete with anyone else. Duluth does have a municipal bus service, but I was there with a mission, and didn’t take the time to learn how it works. I probably should have. But I also got to know a couple of really nice rideshare drivers. Including one guy who I had twice, and he’s the kind of guy who turns the Pantera down to a conversational volume so you can discuss the temperature of the lake and where best to camp around Duluth, so I obviously think he’s great.
Considering the great distance that I did travel and how 98% of that distance was covered via transit, I am willing to give myself a pass on this. There’s an adage in journalism that “perfect is the opposite of good.” It means that if you keep writing and rewriting your article over and over again until it’s “perfect” you’ll end up missing deadline, which is the opposite of good. So I could try and do a 100% transit-perfect trip, but for the breadth and goals of this trip, that would make things challenging. I can only show up where I need to be as the person that I am, and the person that I am is not as young as she used to be. I could make excuses, but a huge, Midwest-spanning, multidimensional trip would be hard to plan if I was taking a car, so since a 100% transit trip would have been extra super hard, (and sometimes dangerous in certain settings or places) I’d be setting myself up for failure in many ways. And that’s the opposite of good. So an imperfect transit trip, with last-mile support from rideshare drivers when I’m especially burdened with luggage, I’m going to round up to at the very least “good.” Maybe “pretty good.” I sure had a good time, and came back refreshed and full of ideas. If I’m not updating this blog as often, it’s probably because I’m writing. You can always drop me a DM on Instagram @ThirdCoastHikes if you’ve got something you think I should know about.
Thanks for coming on this long northern journey with me, everyone.
Address: 1411 North River Road, Oregon, Illinois 61061
Size: 207 acres
Activities: Boating, camping, canoeing, biking, birding, cross country skiing, fishing, hiking, hunting, metal detecting, statue-viewing, concessions
Reservations: Most campsites can be reserved through ReserveAmerica.com, but some are first-come first-served.
Pros: This is a small but very pretty little park. The trails are well marked, maintained and they are popular with families on bikes. Campsites are big, plentiful and pretty widely spaced. Bird watching from on top of the bluff overlooking the Rock River is amazing and white pelicans are easy to spot.
Cons: There are only about 4 miles of trails in this park, so it’s better suited for a weekend napping in under the sun-dappled canopy than a big hiking adventure. Off road bikers looking for a challenging course might find this park insufficient, but families with little kiddos should have plenty to do.
Report: I visited Lowden State Park the first chance I got after Illinois began reopening following months spent indoors due to coronavirus. I have a tendency to never stop working, which means working from home is both great and terrible. I’ve never been more productive and I am very tired.
On Friday morning I packed up everything I needed hastily, remembering everything but my coffee. I wanted to get there early to get one of the eight hike-in sites available at Lowden, which are not reservable online. Hike-in sites don’t allow vehicular access, so you have to haul all your gear from your car to camp. This usually means you’ll find a quieter campsite with a bit more privacy.
Lowden State Park is primarily for campers. There are two main campgrounds, one with electrical hookups, showers, restrooms, sport courts, a playground, and a concession stand. Those are located just a short walk to the statue and the main trail system. The other campground is just on the other side of River Road, and involves crossing a two-lane highway to access. This campground, called the White Oak Area, includes more primitive sites with fewer amenities. Restrooms are vault toilets in the White Oak campground. White Oak Campground has the hike-in sites, so that’s where I headed.
Site 7 was available. The site was a short walk away from vault toilets, and included a fire pit with grate and a picnic table. The site was pretty big, and set back far enough from the trail that I had plenty of privacy. The hike-in sites are connected to the Pines Trail, a one-mile looped trail that guides you back to the White Oak Campground, or offers a way to access the main trail system. Caution: Crossing between the two trail systems involves walking across a lightly trafficked two-lane highway, but there is no crosswalk or signs that might indicate to the divers that a pedestrian would be here. The signage for this crossing is unclear, I walked a few hundred feet down the side of the road before I found the path into the larger trail system.
The trails inside the park are wide, flat and hard. They are made of packed dirt with occasional roots or sticks that may create a trip hazard. The main trail system is built into the side of a bluff along the Rock River. If you follow the lowest trail to the end you will find a strong spring flowing out of the side of the hill. There are staircases leading to the top of the hill, but two of the three are a bit dilapidated and the trail is rough. A center staircase is long but in good condition, and will take you right up to the top of the bluff. Once you get to the summit, you’ll be greeted by a 48-foot-tall concrete statue of a Native American man and that’s where we start talking about the history of this land.
A park with a lot of history:
This spot on the Rock River and the surrounding region are the ancestral homeland of the Sauk people. European settlers arrived to the region starting in the late 1700s. By 1804 a series of treaties, collectively called The Treaty of St. Louis, were signed between the United States are various Native American tribes. One signed by William Henry Harrison and Quashquame, a representative of both the Sauk and Meskwaki tribes, was signed on November 3, 1804. A consequence of that treaty was that all the land stretching from northeast Missouri through almost all of Illinois north of the Illinois River, and a large part of southern Wisconsin was traded for $1,000 in goods delivered to the tribe each year. The Sauk people deeply resented this treaty, especially Chief Black Hawk, who felt that Quashquame was not authorized to sign the treaty. The land that would become Lowden State Park was included in that treaty.
Black Hawk never recognized that treaty as valid and he actually sided with the British during the War of 1812 in an attempt to push white settlers out of the region. By 1828 Sauk and Fox tribes were removed west of the Mississippi River. In 1832 Black Hawk, who had not moved from the land, forged alliances with other tribes and Britain. Black Hawk led this band of 1500 men, women and children into Illinois from Iowa in an attempt to reclaim their homeland. About 500 of those were warriors. This group was called The British Band and was victorious at the Battle of Stillman’s Run against the Illinois Militia on May 14, 1832. This was the start of the Black Hawk War. The war lasted through August of that year when hundreds of men, women and children were killed by a U.S. gunboat at the mouth of the Bad Axe River.
Following the British Band’s, defeat President Andrew Jackson had Black Hawk, along with other Native American leaders, paraded around the nation as a spectacle for white Americans. That’s not the end of the story of Chief Black Hawk, but it is the end of the part of the story that pertains to this park.
Jump ahead to 1843.
America’s first female war correspondent was a woman named Margaret Fuller. She was also a journalist, editor, critic, translator, women’s rights advocates and transcendentalist. That year Margaret made a trip through the Great Lakes region, from Chicago to Buffalo. She spent much of that year interacting with Native American tribes, including the Ottawa and the Chippewa. That year she made her only stop in Oregon, Illinois. Walking along the east bank of the Rock River Margaret noticed a natural spring at the base of the bluff. She named it “Ganymede Spring” and sat down beneath a striking cedar tree at the top of the bluff to write “Ganymede to His Eagle,” a poem which won her some acclaim. Today, the spring still carries that name and an island in the middle of the Rock River has been named in her honor.
Fast forward again to 1898.
Sculptor Lorado Taft and a bunch of his friends from the Art Institute and the University of Chicago were searching for a place to spend their summers away from the city. After their first colony at Bass Lake, Indiana ended in malaria, they were planning to search in Wisconsin. When Wallace Heckman, a wealthy attorney and arts patron, purchased this plot of land on the Rock River and invited Taft and his pals to visit this spot for the Fourth of July. The group was so charmed by the site, and Heckman so charmed by the group, that by the end of that week the group signed a lease on 15 acres of land for $1 per year, with the stipulation that each member of the colony give a free lecture or demonstration in the area. This became the Eagle’s Nest Art Colony, named in honor of that cedar tree where Margaret penned that poem. Today the cedar tree has been cut down and only a stump remains. Circle of life.
Beginning in 1908 Lorado began work on what would become the centerpiece of the park today. Officially titled “The Eternal Indian” but often called the “Black Hawk Statue” this 48-foot-tall concrete statue stands directly above the spring on top of the bluff. It weighs 536,770 pounds and is said to be the second largest concrete monolithic statue in the world, after only Christ the Redeemer in Rio de Janeiro.
According to Lorado in 1911, when the statue was unveiled, this work “represents the unconquerable spirit of Native Americans.” While it was partially inspired by Chief Black Hawk, it is not directly named in his honor and bears no resemblance to his likeness. Taft ran short on funds prior to completing the monumental task, but then-Governor Frank Lowden stepped in to finance the completion. The park is named in his honor for this reason. The statue has recently been restored to its original condition and the land where the colony was located is now owned by Northern Illinois University.
I think it’s reasonable to say that as a monument to Chief Black Hawk and the Native Americans who called (and still call) this land home, the sentiment could have been better executed. If Taft were taking on this project today, he would be wise to consider the history of the land a little more thoughtfully, and incorporate ideas and suggestions from local Sauk, Fox and other Native American tribes. In a time when Americans are taking a more critical eye at the statues and monuments we keep on display, this particular statue seems to have avoided much of that controversy. What I do know for sure is that much of the information presented on the signage around the history glosses over some of the nastier parts of that story and should be updated to include a more accurate history of the region.
I started Third Coast Hikes to celebrate the outdoors in Chicago, the Midwest and generally the Great Lakes region. I chose to focus here because it is where I live and where I have always lived. The outdoors industry tends to forget that the Midwest exists, even though we have thousands of miles of shoreline, rivers, lakes, migrating birds of all kinds, and rare plants you can’t find anywhere else. Third Coast Hikes is all about celebrating the outdoors right here where we live. I am based in Chicago, so that is where my focus is centered.
Because of this Third Coast Hikes is proud to stand in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement. I acknowledge that people of color don’t always have safe and equal access to the outdoors in the region. People of color have systemically been pushed away from our outdoors spaces using racist policies, laws, policing, and the bad attitudes of a vocal minority of white people and those of us who chose silence over conflict. The outdoors industry in particular has a largely white and male focus when highlighting those who enjoy hiking, backpacking, camping, birding, fishing and other activities that have nothing to do with skin color.
Moving forward Third Coast Hikes will do a better job of highlighting the stories of BIPOC Midwesterners who enjoy and support our outdoors spaces, and work to support organizations that create access to the outdoors for those who may not otherwise be able to access them.
If you are a white person I want to encourage you to educate yourself on issues facing people of color in the outdoors, and how you can work to create a more equitable space for people of all backgrounds. The Melanin Base Camp Guide To Outdoor Allyship is a good place to start. In acknowledging the inequality that people of color face in the outdoors, I am using my privilege to support the work of the following organizations, by donating directly to their causes. I invite you to join me in supporting their work because it is true that until everyone is equal, no one is.
Chicago Voyagers – This organization empowers at-risk youth through outdoor experiences and adventures that foster healthy relationships and responsible behavior. They provide real-life canoeing, hiking, cross country skiing, rock climbing, river trips and camping to over 400 Chicago area teens each year.
Melanin Base Camp – Which has been working to increase the visibility of outdoorsy Black, indigenous and people of color since 2016. Their #DiversityOutdoors campaign does not shy away from sensitive topics of race or gender, but does so in a way that creates a safe space for people with marginalized identities.
Outdoor Afro – Helps people take better care of themselves, our communities and the planet. They are working in 30 states around the country to connect Black people with nature and changing the face of leadership in the outdoors.
That feeling of drinking hot coffee when all the air around you is about 52 tops.
I have wanted to go camping solo for a number of years. Suddenly, I had the time. My schedule opened up in an unexpected way and I made the decision to extend my time at Buckhorn State Park to stay a few nights by myself. I loved it immensely.
That feeling when you’re drinking cocoa at the end of a lovely day all by yourself when the air around you is back down to 52 again and it’s going to be dark in about 20 minutes.
I did not prepare to go camping solo in any way that was
notably different than how I would normally go camping, except for a few
things.
I kept my phone turned on and nearby at all times. Normally, the idea is to get as far away from 21st century communiques as possible, which means turning off your phone when you get to the trailhead and leaving it in your bag until you get back to the trailhead. I can get away with this because normally I’m out with my husband, and he keeps his phone on him throughout the trip. It felt like it would be irresponsible for me to completely disconnect myself, while also camping half a mile away from my car, in the middle of nowhere, where I am a strange lady camping by herself. Mostly I used it to watch the weather. I had daily check-ins with someone back in civilization so I was not quite as far off the grid as I would normally go.
My campsite was only .4 miles from my car. Car camping is straight-up more convenient than backpacking. There’s a reason that there are more car campers than backpackers. For one, you’ve got a mobile, fortified living room. The first night I was out there by myself storms rolled through just after dark. Wind gusts were north of 20 mph, and I was directly on a river so the force of water was a concern. I would be a liar if I didn’t tell you I was running over in my mind how quickly I could get to my car if I absolutely had to. (I never had to. It was great.)
I wore a big, scary, knife on my belt. Hello, I’m a somewhat short blonde woman camping by herself. It is my natural element and where I belong. I’ve spent a lot of time in my life alone in the woods and it is a deeply comfortable place to be. The trouble starts when other people don’t see things the same way that I do and might consider me to be a target, or equally bad, in need of assistance that I don’t need. Let me tell you, no one wants to chit chat with the woman wearing a big scary knife.
Number three may or may not have been necessary, to be honest.
My friend stayed with me at the site on Friday and Saturday nights. She left
around 10 a.m. Sunday morning and I don’t think I saw another soul for about 36
hours. I walked all over the rolling oak barrens where the hiking trails near the
South Campgrounds are and don’t think I saw anyone else until Monday afternoon.
The loud campers who had been staying at the adjacent sites went home on
Sunday, and the rain all day kept most (all?) day-hikers far away from where I
was. I wanted to be left alone in the woods, and by gum I got it.
Wild raspberries tho. <3
Rain most of Sunday kept me in my tent. I read and read and
read. I listened to the sounds of the rain on the tent. When it wasn’t raining
I walked and observed the fungi. I stared at the river as it gently rolled
past. I watched the clouds change shape and color and density. All of these
things took too much of my time and attention, so I didn’t even bother with a
campfire. Instead, I watched the sun set, and huddled back in my tent when storms
rolled through again that evening.
Backpacking dinner of packet chicken and broccoli chicken pasta side.
The storms were loud and wind was gusting above 20 miles per
hour. It did something similar the night before, but my friend was there with
me. This particular night, and this particular storm was my first solo night
out and I would be a liar if I said I wasn’t running through all the horror
movie scenarios in my head. What if that rustling outside wasn’t a raccoon,
but instead a murdering madman I hadn’t noticed all day for some reason. How quickly
could I run to the car from here? Could I carry anything or would it just be
best to bolt with the keys and my cell phone? Around 11 p.m. the rain stopped
and regular night sounds began. I fell asleep.
You know that spot where the open prairie abuts the forest? That’s the best spot.
Monday morning was glorious and bright, without a cloud in
the sky. The day’s temperatures probably peaked around 75 and the sun more or
less dried out everything in camp by that afternoon. If the rain Saturday and
Sunday kept crowds away, the work week caused them to disappear completely. I
hiked the remaining trails that I hadn’t yet visited on the south end of the
park. I was able to spot this handsome Bufo Americanus and had a brief commune
with a legless lizard. (A legless lizard, NOT a snake.)
A legless lizard! Not a snake!
I stopped in to speak with the rangers (to get help
identifying what I learned was a Common Woodcock that
had alighted in my camp the night before). This was probably the first person I
had seen since my friend left around 10 a.m. Sunday morning. Later I ran into two
day hikers on the trail. Basically, I went looking for a solo outdoors
adventure and I found one. I was able to explore miles of hiking trails,
shoreline, oak barrens and sand blows without running into another human. I
encountered legless lizards, toads, frogs, songbirds, grasshoppers, dragonflies
and whitetail deer without another ape for miles. I observed acorns fall from
branches and land on the ground, just to be carried off by a squirrel who will
either eat it or hide it and forget about it, allowing it to turn into an oak
tree. I remembered that it was the equinox as I watched the sun setting due
west. I read every page of every book I brought and fell asleep.
So that’s what the sun did at the equinox.
I genuinely think I sleep better on the ground, you guys.
On Tuesday I had a leisurely morning around camp. The sun
was out, and I hoped I could encourage some of the water to evaporate from the
rain fly before I packed up my tent (partial success). Truthfully, I probably
would have just stayed at Buckhorn a few more nights. I was rested for the for time
in what felt like a long time, refreshed, renewed by the sun and the rain. I
think sometimes you have to spend a few days outside just to hit the reset
button on your personal body clock. It’s good to realign it with the natural
light cycles. However, I was running low on food and I had read all of my
books. Also, I think my husband was starting to miss me.
Tons of rain all weekend. Learn to love it, or quit
Before I left I hiked the trails on the north end of the
park. This is where the fishing pond is stocked with fish and kids are
encouraged to cast a line. It’s also where the group campsites are found. There
are about 5 miles of hiking trails on the north end of the park, they make up
fully half the hiking trails within the park itself. You won’t hear me say a
nasty word about the pines or the gently rolling oaks on this end of the park,
but if seclusion and a landscape similar to natural Wisconsin, stick to the
southern end of the park.
This tent was a gift to Dave and I from his parents. His
dad had purchased it with his own money for himself in Spring 2017, used it for
one season and wanted to upgrade again for his own reasons. The tent was gently
used when it arrived to us. It has spent almost two weeks this year being
tested in various conditions across Wisconsin and Michigan, during which these
opinions were formed.
The view from the REI Quarter Dome 2 at Lane Cove on Isle Royale
The REI Quarter Dome 2 is a durable and reliable shelter that keeps you and all your stuff warm and dry.
All of our tents seem to be hand-me-downs from my husband’s dad. (I’m okay with me.) Before upgrading to this tent we had spent several seasons in an older but respectable Orion tent. My father-in-law is a cross country bike guy. He likes to load up the panniers on his recumbent bike and ride the many miles of bike trails that extend from the Chicagoland region (it’s more than you’d think.) Retirement means Glenn spends a lot of time pedaling across the vast plains. Good for Glenn. He’s also the kind of guy who likes to loan out his stuff so that he can “decide to upgrade his equipment” and then never ask for his stuff back. Shout out to Glenn.
REI Quarter Dome 2 at Bewabic State Park
Bike Guy Glenn and the Backpacking Prybers both have similar requirements in a tent. It needs to be fairly light, it needs to pack down somewhat small, there needs to be a reliable rain fly and a somewhat sizable vestibule. The REI Quarter Dome 2 does all of this, and kind of excels at some of them.
Notable stats on the REI Quarter
Dome 2:
Weight:
3 lbs. 5 oz.
Packed
size: 7 x 18.5 inches
Floor Area: 28.7 square feet
Vestibule Area: 21.5 square feet
Peak Height: 42 inches
Doors: 2
Vestibules: 2
Hubbed pole set: 1
REI Quarter Dome 2 at Kettle Moraine State Park
The two vestibules make up quite a bit of space, which is ideal
for protecting your gear from rain even if there’s two of you and you each have
large backpacks. Glenn liked it because the two doors and two vestibules made
it easier for him to get his shoes on and get moving first thing in the
morning.
The last time I assembled this tent it was by myself in the dark and it wasn’t too difficult at all (once I’d gotten the placement of the rain fly sorted out.) The hubbed pole set is pretty idiot-proof and the footprint of the tent is more of a trapezoid than a rectangle, meaning you’ve got a wide end and a narrow end. Once that much is sorted, assembly is a breeze. The poles also make it a free-standing structure. It’s very easy to pick it up and move it, or turn it over and shake the bugs out of it. Over the coming days on that trip I was battered by rain and thunderstorms. I spent probably a solid 24 hours inside this tent and never felt claustrophobic or trapped. That said, I was solo on that trip and might feel differently if there were two people in there. (That’s not this tent’s fault). For a two person ultralight tent, it’s really quite cozy.
Moisture collecting on the rain fly of the REI Quarter Dome 2.
If you are expecting wet weather to roll through, it’s a good idea
to make sure your rain fly is taught before the drops start. If you do that,
you’ll never see a drop of water inside the tent. The rain will roll right off
the fly and never bother you inside.
This bit of the fly didn’t exactly sit right on the tent poles, possibly because I assembled it by myself in the dark. Moisture did collect on this spot more than elsewhere, but no moisture entered my tent.
I’m not exactly sure what the hanging bit is for, but if you’re experiencing rain in this tent, make sure it’s fully on the OUTSIDE or it will drip water directly on your head Chinese-water-torture-style.
A note on this vent: If there is a large temperature discrepancy between
the air in your tent and the air outside, or you expect humidity to roll in
during the night, make sure this vent is closed. We stayed one night at L’Anse
Township Campground this spring, directly above Lake Superior. When we went to
sleep the temperatures were probably in the 40s, and had likely dipped into the
30s during the night. The trouble was, humidity off the lake (cold humidity, at
that) crept in through this vent in the night and settled on top of everything.
When we woke up e v e r y t h i n g was chilly and damp (clothes, sleeping
bags, shoes, everything). Thankfully, it was our last night out and we were heading
home that day anyway, but if it had been earlier in the trip it would have been
a downer.
Overall: Highly recommended. This tent looks almost brand-new even after three years of use. Price: REI asks $349 for a full priced version of this tent, and that seems very fair for what you get. Good for: Retiree bike guys, backpacking couples, solo camping near-ish to your car. Not good for: Solo backpacking. I’m not entirely sure how I would carry this, and also everything else, if I were doing a solo backpacking trip.
Site 15, where we moved after we saw Site 16 (eesh).
This year we’re planning to take our annual trip at Isle Royale National Park up in Lake Superior. There isn’t much in the way of new equipment that needed testing, but y’know it’s good practice to do that. For our test camp we spent one night up at Kettle Moraine Southern Unit just outside Dousman, Wisconsin. This is a stunningly beautiful piece of land that unfortunately has been marred recently by capitalism.
Site 16, which is allegedly a private hike-in site (except for the part where all the surrounding vegetation was logged away.)
Our trip overlapped with the Aquarids Meteor Shower and a new moon, so initially we were hoping to visit Green River Wildlife Conservation Area, which is a designated dark sky site. Unfortunately, rains all week led to floods and the staff there advised us to stay away. Seeking higher ground, which isn’t easy to find in this part of the Midwest, we headed up to Kettle Moraine. Green River is about 600 feet above sea level, Kettle Moraine gets a lofty 1300 feet above sea level. This is what we consider rugged topography in the Midwest.
Please enjoy this terrible shot of the night sky.
A Moraine is an accumulation of glacially formulated debris. Kettle Moraine stretches from Walworth County on the south to Kewaunee County on the north end. Extending over 120 miles of rough terrain, it’s a collection of irregular ridges and upland areas. It was formed when glacial sediment was deposited between the Green Bay and Lake Michigan Lobes between 18,000 and 15,000 years ago.
Elephant ears. <3
Since we booked our campsite only about 48 hours in advance, we didn’t do much research beforehand. There’s not a lot of huge variances in our topography around here, so I focused on where I could find the highest ground within about 100 miles of Chicago. We selected the Pinewoods Campground (because it’s designated as a 24 hour quiet zone and that matters to me so much) and chose the walk-in Site 16. Campers staying at the Pinewoods campground are asked to check in at the Ottawa Lake park headquarters.
This crow is probably thinking “Sqwak, where’s my habitat?”
We headed up to Pinewoods, found Site 16 and then just kind of stood there processing what we saw. Apparently on his way out of office former Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker felt he should do some redecorating across Kettle Moraine. Just about every tree surrounding what had previously been a hike-in site, was just gone. Logging at the campgrounds on this end of Kettle Moraine has done a number on the scenery, particularly the campgrounds on the north end of the Southern Unit. Hikers who take the green path of the Scuppernong Trail will get a pretty good view of the destruction. Apparently you need to bulldoze rows and rows of pine trees just to remove the ones they cut down. It doesn’t seem there was much rhyme or reason, and it was all done apparently for a little bit of money. I picked up bits of discarded truck tires, gas caps and other litter left behind in my campsite by some heavy machinery.
The view from the back of Site 16, looking back towards the main road through the campground. Cannot recommend.
We asked the camp hosts if anyone would mind if we stayed at Site 15 instead, and they allowed it. Site 15 was less damaged by the logging operations, and has shade remaining. Site 16, which had previously only been accessible after about a 200 foot hike away from your car, is now a full-sun site more or less all day. I cannot recommend Site 16 at this time. Site 15 is fine, if you don’t mind being adjacent to an open field where a bunch of pine trees used to be.
Mosses and spores, mosses and spores.
Sunday we got up and lazed about camp and made breakfast and putzed around looking at birds and mosses. This period was excellent. Dave took a leftover potato from the night before (baked in the fire, obviously), he made bacon and eggs and coffee. We broke camp maybe around noon and headed to the Scuppernong Trail Head, fully loaded with our packs.
I’ve got zero beefs with the Scuppernong Trail though. Overall, it’s a beautiful and excellently marked path. It would be much improved if they left the trees alone along the north end instead of cutting them down for private profit.
The Scuppernong Trail System intersects with the Ice Age Trail and includes three shorter loops of varying difficulties, ranging from 2.3-4.9 miles in length. At the trailhead there is sufficient water, parking and a vault toilet. The trails meander through hardwoods and pines, including some truly gorgeous giants you’ll find at the end of the trail. Bikes are not allowed on this trail system, and in the winter it becomes a ski-only trail. I hope the Wisconsin DNR takes the time to very clearly mark the trail this winter, especially on the northern end of the Green and Yellow loops. The logging done on that end of the park has left wide scars across the land, and it’s pretty easy to see how a skier could easily get lost down a bulldozed path if the trail were not clearly marked.
I”m a sucker for a big ol’ oak though. <3
Verdict: Kettle Moraine is a beautiful park, Pinewoods are a beautiful campground, avoid Site 16 and shame on Scott Walker. Shame shame shame, Scott Walker.
The view from Overlook Trail. The Scuppernong Trail is clearly marked and beautifully maintained. The waste left behind by the capitalist dogs that logged the Scuppernong Trail. This bluejay is probably thinking “Chirp chirp motherfucker what did you do with my habitat!”Yeah but then we got burgers and I drank a 22 oz beer.
