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.
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.
I’ve got a soft spot for native plants, but jumpseed jumped to the top of my shit list this year.
I’m going to war with the jumpseed in my yard. When I moved in two years ago, the side yard was overrun by thistle, dandelions, and invasive, weedy things that thrive in moist soil and semi-shade. The giant hostas planted there did just fine in this environment, so I left them alone. The first year I was here I spent hours filling dozens of lawn bags with noxious, invasive plants that have no business in my backyard. But in my choice to remove all the nonnative plants, I made a mistake in leaving the jumpseed. It has since taken over, and it’s even starting to crowd out the giant hostas.
Jumpseed is a native plant, which is why I left it there in the first place. It’s not as pretty as its cousins, smartweed, and knotweed, which thrive in sunnier conditions than jumpseed does. Its flowers attract honeybees, bumblebees, wasps, and ants, who are all good. It also attracts stink bugs and leafhoppers, which are less cool.
It’s crowding out the giant hostas, for funk’s sake.
It’s called jumpseed because it practically jumps right out of the ground, with alternative leaves splitting into pairs off of a singular stalk. The seeds themselves also jump as far as 10 or 13 feet from the plant when ripe. From that, almost overnight, the seed stalk jumps up, growing tall. It’s a prolific self-seeder, and it’s starting to spread to the front yard.
These jumpseeds took root in the dark space beneath a juniper bush and my front steps.
This labor day weekend I spent a long, sweaty hour on the west side of my house pulling jumpseed. I know I pulled it too late, and it’s going to do it again next year. Immediately after every part of my body remotely exposed to the task was itchy, and jumpseeds had gripped tightly onto my hair. I spent 30 minutes in the shower just washing seeds down the drain. This is another reason jumpseed is such a prolific spreader. It’s seeds have tiny hooks that easily grab onto the hair or fur of traveling wildlife, including me.
Be careful, these little guys stick to everything.
I put down a seed mix I got from my brother, who works with a native plant restoration company in central Illinois. That mix includes obedient plant, new England asters, swamp milkweed, rosemallow, bundeflower and indigo
Next spring I will go out there early with my clippers and snip all the little jumpseed leafs I can find before they go to seed. I’ll probably do this for many years to come. If we’re lucky in a few years the seed mix will outcompete the jumpseed. By then the front and back prairies should be established well enough that I’ll be in a beautiful little prairie oasis on my little slice of an urban acre.
It took me about half as long just to de-seed my hair, as it did to de-seed the yard.
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.
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.
There is a cooper’s hawk in my neighborhood. I’ve seen her more than once. The first time I saw her, I was ticking away at my laptop, near the window that faces my backyard. It was around noontime, and she flapped into my view swiftly and suddenly. She landed weightlessly on my deck railing, carrying a rat for lunch.
I called my husband over and we both marveled at our predatory visitor. From inside the house, we couldn’t have been more than ten feet from her. Admiring her white and auburn feathers, all puffed up against the January afternoon.
She hung out for a while, at least 15 minutes. I assume she was surveying the landscape, making sure it was a good spot for a picnic. Cooper’s hawks kill their prey by squeezing it with their sharp talons and strong feet. The rat picnic she brought to my yard had already met its fate, its tail hung limply under the hawk’s foot. I did not watch her eat the rat, she spent all that time surveying the landscape, before gliding into my neighbor’s yard to dine. They have grass, where I have a concrete patio, so I assume that was they key difference to the hawk.
I keep referring to her as “she” but I didn’t have the opportunity to ask her pronouns. Among Cooper’s hawks, the females can be as much as 20 percent larger than the males of the species. I don’t have much to compare her size to, but she seemed pretty dang big, so I’m going with it.
Cooper’s hawks are remarkable for their adaptation. Their population was, at one point, endangered. Since DDT was banned in 1972, their numbers have returned and they are now listed among the animals we should be “least concerned” about. DDT was disastrous to birds of prey. The chemical caused their eggshells to become so thin and brittle that the mother bird herself would often crush them just by sitting on them. Since then, cooper’s hawks are more commonly spotted where people are than any time in the last 50 years. Their rise has been particularly impressive in Illinois. They find plenty to eat among the wilds of the forest preserves, but that rat was probably an alley resident until a few minutes prior. Around here a cooper’s hawk might be just as likely to dine on a rat as they are a chipmunk, squirrel, mouse, bat, robins, blue jays or finches.
I recently saw her again while I was walking my dog around the elementary school near my house. I live about half a mile south of the Cook County Forest Preserves. I don’t know where she nests, but between the forests and the alleys, this is a pretty good hunting ground.
She was riding thermal masses high over the now-mown prairie that grows in the school yard. I caught sight of her, and kept track with my eyes as she perched on the tallest pine tree on the block. She stayed there for only a few minutes, before taking to the skies again. I lost sight of her after that, and kept walking along my usual route. About 20 minutes later, I spotted her again – riding thermals high above the backyards and alleys in my neighborhood.
Cooper’s hawks are famous for their vision. Their wide binocular eyes, minor blind spots, and super speedy eye movement, help them scan for prey from far above. I wish I’d gotten to see her strike, and maybe one day I will. They evolved to hunt for varmints on the endless acres of tallgrass prairie that used to cover the state, but they’re equally ready to hunt among the forests and shrubby areas. Cooper’s hawks are built for agility, their rounded wings help them glide nimbly, and their long tails act as rudders, enabling them to change course quickly. Now they’ve adapted pretty well to city life by hunting for rats darting between garages and trash cans in quiet alleyways. Any backyard can be your picnic spot when you’re a bird of prey, who no one ever explained property lines to.
A cooper’s hawks favorite meals are common at your backyard bird feeder. Finches, jays, robins, juncos are all tasty treats to a cooper’s hawk. That means if you set out your birdfeeder, you might attract a cooper’s hawk, which will want to feed on the birds that dine at your feeder. This is the equivalent of eating a patron at an all-you-can-eat buffet. In the human world, we’d consider that at the very least, rude. In bird world, it is what it is. I haven’t seen one of my diners attacked by the cooper’s hawk yet, but I’m not ready to say I’d change anything about my habits if it did.
There’s lots of birds in my neighborhood, but hawks tend to stand out. They’re often much bigger than other birds, for one. An adult cooper’s hawk can stand up to 20 inches high, and weigh about a pound. To contrast, the next largest bird that visits my yard, the blue jay, can get up to a foot tall and weigh almost four ounces. The hawk is also harder to spot. A flock of grackles makes itself known, no matter what, but unless she literally plunks down on your deck, the cooper’s hawk is harder to get a good look at. I googled it, and the most a cooper’s hawk can carry, is at much as it weighs. A cooper’s hawk can weight about one pound, so most pets are probably safe.
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.
Sterne’s Fen is on the right, the woods are the left.
Lately my car has been in the shop. That’s just as well, really, because my car is a nearly 26-year-old American muscle car with rear wheel drive. That means, it’s useless on snow and ice. I can usually get around without it, but when I need a car, I need a car. This time the brake lines gave out on me, so getting it fixed was a priority. Getting it back was not.
Wingate Prairie Nature Preserve
A few weeks ago, I wanted to get out and see
the fall colors. I’m really glad I did because a week later a wind storm blew
all the leaves off the trees and a week after that it was snowing. Fall was,
like, three weeks long this year. Lame.
A handsome goldfinch eating goldenrod seeds.
Since I didn’t want to fuss with my car, I
took advantage of my neighborhood’s robust transit system and took the Up-Northwest
Metra line to Crystal Lake. From there, it was a short 10-minute walk through a
cute residential neighborhood leading directly to Veteran’s Woods and Sterne’s
Woods & Fen.
The pond in front of the Nature Center.
VW and SW&F features beautiful hikes
through gently rolling hills, thick stands of oak, aspen and ash trees,
low-lying wetlands with grasses that are taller than you, and a vibrant prairie
filled with wildlife. The trailhead is directly next to the Crystal Lake
District Nature Center, and a short 10-minute walk from the Crystal Lake Metra
station.
This place is known for it’s glacial erratics.
The Nature Center should be the first stop for
any visitor to this park. Get a map, there are a lot of illegal, outdated or
deer paths in this park (especially in the prairie) and it can be easy to go
off the trail. Below the Nature Center is a pond, with a bridge path, and ancient
willow trees, but it can get quite mushy if the water is high.
Oh, aspens, you are so cute.
Veteran’s Acres is home to the Wingate
Prairie, which is a designated Illinois State Nature Preserve. Visiting the
Wingate Prairie gives a modern-day glimpse into what Illinois looked like
before the 19th Century and the invention of the steel plow. A previous
landowner tried to turn the area into a Christmas tree farm in the mid-20th
Century, as a result a stand of pines juts oddly from the center of the prairie.
The dense grasses native to the area are slowly reclaiming that land. Today,
the prairie is home to protected species of butterflies and plants that can’t
be found anywhere else on the planet.
A pair of goldfinches in Wingate Prairie.
Moving past Wingate Prairie and further into
the park, you will encounter a row of power lines running over a wide ribbon of
prairie. If you follow the path to the right, you can join up with the Des
Plaines River Bike Path, which will net you access to 56 miles of trail north
to Wisconsin. If you continue straight, underneath the power lines, you will
come to Sterne’s Woods and Fen.
Bellflower
Sterne’s Woods is
notably hillier than Veteran’s Acres. There is the steep slope of a moraine
between the woods and the fen. If the idea of ending your hike with a steep,
long, uphill hike that will have your hamstrings screaming sounds appealing to
you, take a right and follow the path through the woods and gently slope down
to the low-lying fen. As you return to the trailhead, you’ll come upon a quarter
mile march up a steep incline. If that does not sound appealing to you, take a
left and head down the hill first, letting gravity do the work for you. The
trail is a loop, so if you go either left or right you will follow the same
path and end back at this spot.
In case everything I said above didn’t make sense, here’s a map.
When you return, head back across the prairie
in the direction of Veteran’s Acres. This time choose a different path than the
one you came in on and take in a little more of the surrounding woods and
prairie. The trails all converge back at the entrance to Wingate Prairie, which
you passed on your way in. Visit during the late afternoon hours and you’ll
probably get to see tons of birds feeding on the seeds found among the prairie
grasses.
When you’re ready to leave the park, exit via the
trailhead near the visitor’s center, and return the way you came. There is no
shortage of cafes, shops, breweries and restaurants in the blocks around the
train station. Most days the train into Chicago runs about every hour, so it
isn’t the worst thing in the world if you miss it. Remember that the train
heading back into Chicago is on the opposite side of the tracks from where you
got off, so make sure you are where you need to be when it arrives.
Bridge paths throughout the pond area in front of the Nature Center.
