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.
Isle Royale National Park is the least visited of all National Parks, but it’s the most returned to. When I first visited in 2019, I had done minimal reading about the place. I knew that I had gotten into backpacking, that this was a Midwestern National Park I had not visited, and that it was called a “backpacker’s paradise.” If you do any amount of research about Isle Royale you’ll find that people speak about it with great reverence, almost like the island is a magical place. I was ready to round those folks up to “romantics”and let them hike their own hike. By the time I left Isle Royale the first time, I knew without a doubt that it is a magical place for which I, personally, feel great reverence. The island got me. I haven’t spent a single day not thinking about Isle Royale since I left. I wasn’t able to make it in 2020, so I took the very first chance I could in 2021 and spent eight nights in early June, hiking the island. I should note that the Grand Portage Band of the Lake Superior Chippewa have been the caretakers of Isle Royale since time immemorial. They call it “Minong” which means “The Good Place.” That description, thankfully, is as accurate today as it always was.
I haven’t exactly figured out how to write about Isle Royale. Generally, I like to take the tone that everywhere I find in the Midwest is a place that you should visit. Especially those trails that are less traveled than others. I can’t do that with Isle Royale. Everyone who can and wants to go to Isle Royale absolutely should go to Isle Royale. It’s without a doubt the best place I have ever been to. It is difficult to get there. It is difficult to get around once you are there. The amenities are very sparse. There is no cell phone reception. Wi-fi doesn’t exist. I learned that there is a satellite phone, but it costs $1 a minute. The weather can change on a dime, which could delay arrival or departure by days. A visit to Isle Royale requires a great deal of planning, preparing, and doing your homework before you get there. The island rewards those who slow down, this is not a place for a quick visit. The average visitor stays about 4 days, and from my perspective that wasn’t close to long enough.
I won’t claim to be an expert on Isle Royale because I am not. I also won’t encourage you to go there on a whim, this is a very different place than your neighborhood park. Instead, I’m going to share with you my own travel journal. I literally carried this little notebook with me on the trail, and in this and the next two posts, I have transcribed and clarified them for you. The photos are all mine, and all from this trip. This will be a 3-part series, to keep things manageable. All notes in italics are added by me, on the mainland, to help clarify or add context to placeswhere I was talking to myself when I wrote it.
Weather predicted for IR and what happened:
If you try to predict the weather for Isle Royale you will find most weather reports change hour-to-hour or vary depending on what end of the island you’re looking for. In effect, it’s impossible to predict Isle Royale’s weather. The night before we left for the island, I wrote down the predicted weather and all week that became the official weather report. It turned out to be about as accurate as I could ask for.
Voyageur II docked at Grand Portage, Hat Point. A fine ferry, just check on your seasickness meds.
June 6 Feldtmann Lake Site 1
Sharing a site with my new buddy Austin from Minneapolis, and Dave (Dave is my husband). Covid rules (and previous ones) have caused us to share a campsite. No big deal. The Voyageur II isn’t quite as charming to my seasickness as the Ranger III.
Pink lady slippers – orchids that are native to Isle Royale National Park. These were spotted on the Feldtmann Lake Trail on June 6, 2021.
The second we hit the Feldtmann Lake Trail we saw at least a dozen pink lady slippers. The hike to the overlook is deceptively easy and the hike from there to camp is deceptively long.
The hike to Grace Creek Overlook is easier than you’d think. A good day hike option if you plan to stay in Windigo.
Saw a bull moose almost immediately upon getting into the camp. Notable day for flora and fauna. Hot, sunny, glad I got a brimmed hat. Black flies in abundance.
Bull moose swimming across Feldtmann Lake on Isle Royale National Park in June 2021. That same bull moose ignoring me. A moose in water is kind of like an iceberg. Above the neck is just like 2% of the moose.
6:30 p.m. – As we were making dinner, we heard something big splashing on the shore. I spied a bull moose diving for supper – too close for comfort but so amazing. Eventually, he came on land! Right on the trail! My campmates and I kept a grove of trees between us, and it as it walked right through our campsite! We worried about the dinners we abandoned when we abandoned camp, and now his big hoofs were hoofing right past them! He wandered off (without upsetting dinner any more) into the woods behind our camp and shook the water off like a dog. Another camper told Dave it was a “swamp donkey.”
This big guy came swimming up by my campsite one evening. Then he wandered through my campsite. It was terrifying, I thought he would step on my dinner. Moose are great swimmers. They dive deep to the bottom of the inland lakes on Isle Royale National Park because that is where the saltiest, protein-rich plants grow.During the growing season these plants will make up 30-40% of the moose’s diet.Then he came up on land and ambled right through my campsite and it was terrifying. He must have been 9 feet tall. That’s my foot, size 9 in women’s, next to the footprint of the moose that wandered through my campsite.
June 7 – The beach at Siskiwit Bay, 3:10 p.m.
The sun wakes us up at 5 a.m. here, which worked out because the thunderstorm started at 6:30. Leaving Lake F. (after rushing to pack) I watched a storm cloud rise 90 degrees straight up over the warm air of F. Lake. Thankfully, the trail is mostly away from the water between there and Siskiwit, which insulated us from some of the worst of it. Things had more or less moved on by the time we got to the little overlook at the top of the ridge.
Handsome little butterfly.
My rain jacket came off just after F. tower. That’s when the mosquitoes found us. F. ridge trail is beautiful and an easy descent. The bugs can fuck off.
We took Site 1 (group site). IR is very crowded, but everyone is behaving themselves. I waded up to my knees in the brisk bay first chance I got. Dave is combing the beach for rocks.
Siskiwit Bay, looking out towards the lake.
Last night after our dinner date with a moose, we wandered to Rainbow Cove for some great rockhounding. We didn’t bring our headlamp, or we may have stayed for sunset. Another time. (We were so tired.)
Dave skipping rocks at Rainbow Cove.
Having camped on a moose highway, we were concerned about setting a guy line and causing a moose to trip and crush us in the night, so we left the flaps flat on Dave’s side of the tent. No one got crushed, so it must have worked. It’s so sunny and warm, I am glad I brought this dress. (I brought a t-shirt dress. It was a great idea. Bring a t-shirt dress! It’s just a long t-shirt.)
A different swamp donkey at Feldtmann Lake.
10.2 miles is probably the longest Dave and I have ever hiked on purpose. All our dogs are barking. No more big hikes for 6 nights, and nowhere to be tomorrow.
The beach at Siskiwit Bay.
8:25 p.m. Sitting on the dock at sunset
Some campers are building a campfire in the community ring. We hung out all afternoon while dudes played frisbee. Everyone was enjoying the heat and sun. A nice Canadian family made dinner on the dock. Very wholesome party scene.
When my fellow campers got to Siskiwit Bay and read the signage, they learned that fires were allowed in the community ring, but no one could find the community ring. So they did their best and made one where it looked like others had set one previously. The very next day trail maintenance crews came in and installed this brand-new grate. I didn’t stick around for the inaugural fire, but we did move the grate up and down a few times because neither of us had ever seen one that hadn’t been warped by 1000 previous fires.
June 8 Group Camp 1 10 a.m.
I have had such a leisurely morning. It’s downright l u x u r i o u s. I got up with the sun, Dave slept in. I drank coffee on the dock. At around 6:30 a.m. I had the place all to myself. I got some writing done. Just clearing out the brain. I chatted with Austin again before he left for Island Mine. He’s green in some very cute ways. Rain tomorrow might block the eclipse and ruin our hike, but nothing to be done about that. (You may not have heard, but there was a solar eclipse on June 10, 2021. It was far more visible in Canada, Russia, and Asia, but if you were on one remote island at the top of America like I was, you may have been able to see it. Spoiler: It rained. No eclipse visible.)
Merganser ducks, mergansing at Siskiwit Bay in June 2021.
2:40 p.m. Around 10:30 this morning Dave and I had climbed out onto the jetty to go get water when a small boat came into the bay. Owned by the NPS, it was two trail maintenance guys here to clean up the camp. They’re great. A large fallen pine was firmly blocking the main trail to our campground, so when they walked through to inspect, I pointed them to it. Like two young lads, they were clearly gleeful to get to use the chainsaw. Our site is now dramatically bigger, with a new walkway.
The jetty on Siskiwit Bay.
The wind picked up on the lake, it’s cooler than yesterday. Nothing but clear blue skies with wispy white clouds. White caps in the bay. Even the trail guys don’t know what the weather will do, but everyone talks about rain tomorrow morning. Might be no eclipse for us if clouds happen.
The mouth of the Big Siskiwit River, which was overrun by swallowtails.
We walked down to the beach to the mouth of the Big Siskiwit River. Dave picked up many rocks. I’m packing out someone’s Mountain Dew can. 🙁
The Big Siskiwit River. The trail is washed out here because beavers have redecorated. The park service advises you to walk on the beach instead.
Sitting on the beach while the crew chainsawed our site, a wild fox appeared at the lake! First, he just came in for a drink and slunk back into the weeds. We were gleeful.
This fox wasn’t as sly as he thought he was.
A moment later, he appeared again on the other side of us, and he came so close! I think he hoped we had food for him (sorry, buddy!) he made the same face my dog does when she wants something.
That is the same face my dog makes when she wants me to throw the tennis ball. THE SAME FACE.
I feel really smart and rewarded for keeping my food about six feet up a pine tree. It’s safe from foxes up there, and the shade is keeping it cooler than the air is.
Food security matters so much on Isle Royale because of those tricky foxes and squirrels. The added bonus I got, was by keeping my food in a shaded pine tree, my snacks (and cheese) were kept at least 15 or 20 degrees cooler than the air.
We’re running low on provisions but won’t starve before our resupply in Windigo in 2 days. No snacks today, just rest.
He tried sneaking up on us from four separate directions. These foxes are sly.
8:40 p.m. – tent away from bugs
Our foxy friend got close in camp during dinner. He came sniffing around as we were cooking chicken and vegetables. We had to get up and shoo him away four times before he got the hint. No food here, sorry buddy.
But, like, also clearly just a dog sniffing smells. It’s weird.
As I was getting ready to hit the trail this morning, I stepped out of the tent into the pouring rain to visit the latrine. I turned a corner and came within 10 feet of an adult cow moose. She stared at me, determined I was neither food nor wolf, and moved on. I remained frozen in place the whole time. (I have no photos of this, sorry, I was terrified and it was raining.)
The sun sets at around 9 p.m. on Isle Royale in June. It ends up feeling like perpetual daylight, but it does wonders for your circadian rhythms.
We are running low on provisions. Nilla wafers have been promoted to breakfast food and granola rations have been halved. Cut into the parmesan – a delight! Looking forward to reprovisioning in Windigo. I’m gathering quite the shopping list. We learned a lot about fueling Dave on the go yesterday. Long hikes mean he needs constant refueling. He’s taken all the Popeye’s Chicken honey packets.
No notable new people except for the maintenance guys. One called Island Mine “so beautiful” and the other has huge gauged out earlobes and a former career as a merchant marine.
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Bugs are to Island Mine what pollinators are to Lake Desor.
Sunday, June 13 1:30 p.m. S. Lake Desor Site 3
We packed out of Bug Town around 8 this morning and got to the lake around 10:30. We had our pick of sites. The sky was crystal clear blue all morning. I even wore my last remaining pair of clean, dry socks on the trail today. The hike was gently rolling the whole way with gorgeous weather.
This is not a bee. It’s a fly that’s mimicking a bee’s colors. This is just a regular boring ol’ fly, but it’s incognito as something with a stinger. Smart fly.
We got to camp, set down our stuff, snacked (we may have too many snacks now) and took a few minutes to select a site with the best water access. We got the tent up and 6L of water filtered in exactly enough time to see a storm roll in. It’s just a light rain so far, and all of our stuff is safe and dry, but this has put a hamper on the lake wading I wanted to do.
Clouds rolling in from the west over Lake Desor.
If Island Mine is Bug Town, this is Pollinator City. Painted Ladies, Swallowtails, bees, bee-mimics, spiders, grasshoppers. The flowers here are abundant. We’re in the tent right now, hoping the storm is mild and quick.
An actual bee, picking up pollen from thimbleberry flowers.
The other travelers we met are seaplane people who were delayed yesterday due to the thick fog. One couple we met on the trail today seemed bummed because they hadn’t seen a moose yet. They got in late yesterday and stuck to their original travel plans. They hiked 18 miles from Rock Harbor to Lake Desor in one day and planned to hike to Windigo today for a tomorrow departure. These plans strike me as rushed and unfun. The island rewards you for slowing down, and they didn’t have much to say about the scenery. No wonder they hadn’t seen a moose yet.
A handsome daytime moth.
The island gave me a bit of clarity this morning with regard to how to proceed with an annoying personal issue. I feel like the island is a cold place, on a billion-year-old uncaring rock, and there is a lot to love about that. I, too, can learn to evaluate what I need and clearly make my presence unignorable or act with intention that supports myself primarily. A week on the island will give you many gifts if you slow down.
The tiniest baby little grasshopper hopping happily on the undergrowth.
We scared another family of merganser chicks at site 2 here. I might end up napping in this tent.
We napped in the tent during a super pleasant thunderstorm at Lake Desor and this was the view that greeted us when we woke up.
4:30 p.m. – We napped for two hours. It was a gentle pattering rain with the sun high behind low clouds. It’s impossible not to nap under that sound. The skies are clear again. The wind is picking up from the west again but no clue to say what the weather will do. The water access at this site is something else. We waded out onto the big rocks and the crystal-clear water. Island Mine’s water is a light brown with a weak tea flavor, these are the clear unbothered waters of a glacier that melted 10,000 years ago. Lake Desor is about 200 feet above Lake Superior. It is at least 15 degrees cooler by the water than at our campsite. The climb between them is steep. We’re both using walking sticks to go up and down it. Damselfly larvae are hatching in abundance just further down shore.
A little dragonfly nymph emerging from Lake Desor. We sat there for a few minutes literally watching its little wings harden, which is bonkers.
This is the kind of lake where every shore looks like trees are about to fall right into the water. The little islands in the lake look like evergreen punch bowls. This lake is full of glacial erratics.
It’s tough to take pictures of those punch bowl islands, but I swear they’re in this picture.
The wind is giving the lake a shimmering effect in the long waning sun. There are so many swallowtails here. Tiny whitecaps on the lake. The north side of the lake is primarily pines and conifers. To the east of us is a stark stand of aspens – tall, branchless and bright in the sunlight. Here on the south side is a mix of cedar, aspens, birches and a few pines. Our campsite is full of thimbleberry flowers.
Dave just found the tiniest snail next to the biggest slug on a beaver-chewed stick.
The biggest snail Dave ever found, and just above it you’ll see the smallest snail. It’s a real Odd Couple situation on this stick, but they make it work.
The plan is to get another early start tomorrow and try to get to Malone Bay at 1 or 2. The whole trip is 10.8 miles – the longest hike with a heavy pack either of us have ever done. Earlier in the trip Dave was psyching himself out about it. The #2 longest hike ever with a heavy pack we have ever done was the hike from Feldtmann Lake to Siskiwit Bay. He feels way more confident in his abilities now.
This flower looks exactly like an asparagus spear, but red, before it flowers. I genuinely thought they were some weird, wild asparagus but nope. Anyway, don’t forage and eat foods if you don’t know what they are and that’s advice for life.
We have seen two kinds of orchids so far. A dozen pink lady slippers, and one yellow orchid with tendrils that looked like pigtails. I did not get a photo of the second one because we were hiking in the rain.
The first little snake I was able to get an eye on. I found at least half a dozen lurking in the waning sunlight of our campsite.
6:45 p.m. – Our campsite is Snake Central. I’ve chased off four or five so far. One was close to an inch thick – which was the only good look I had at it.
This wasn’t the thickest snake I saw (I think) but he did hang around for a long while. I don’t think there are any poisonous snakes on Isle Royale.
Dave found two giant moths (Luna moths!) copulating, which is nuts. They must have followed each other’s scents for miles. This is a romantic spot, so that makes sense.
Luna moths! Two of them! The lady of the pair lets out some pheremones into the air when she is ready to do such a thing, and then the male of the species follows that scent for miles and miles until they find each other. I guess normally, they like to do this in the midnight hour (a time for romance) so I was very lucky to see them in broad daylight, right along the trail. Who knew luna moths were exhibitionists? A view from the other side. I understand that once a pair of luna moths start getting funky, the process can last several hours, and they won’t stop.
BAD OUTHOUSE. (Don’t ask. It was gross.)
7:20 p.m. – A tiny and very brief r a i n b o w.
A little rainbow! A little guy! All the colors are in there, you just have to look.
8:15 p.m. – Red sky low on the horizon. Good weather tomorrow maybe? We’re watching another dark cloud roll in now.
8:40 p.m. – Not sure but maybe we heard a wolf pack howl? Either that or it was a pack of fox kits? Or there are some jovial campers nearby.
If I had two or three days to just chill at a campsite, Lake Desor would be a top candidate.
June 14 6:10 a.m. (Still L. Desor)
Clear skies (sorta) today. Beautiful weather for a long hike. 10.8 miles to Malone Bay and our last full day here.
Malone Bay, a couple of geese, a gaggle of goslings, and not another human for miles and miles.
3:10 p.m. Malone Bay #1
We made it. We hiked 50 miles in heavy packs.
Clear waters as far as the eye can see, and a pebbly beach to comb at sunset.
The bay is just breathtaking. The lake stretches to the horizon. There are some huge rocks to sit and sun on. The water is icy and clear. If it were warmer, I’d jump in. I think Siskiwit Bay was warmer but there isn’t a single other soul in sight here. We’ve seen exactly one other person on the trail today and he was coming from here. I know I don’t want to do that hike going up, down was tough enough.
Clear waters and undeniable evidence of the power of glaciers over time.
The hike was arduous. Leg 1 to Ishpeming Point was a 400-foot climb over 3.5 miles. Ish. Point to Lake Siskiwit was a 600-foot drop over 3.5 miles and you have to walk on top of the beaver dam where the trail is washed out. The third leg from S. Lake to camp was the toughest. There is more up and down than you expect, and it just. keeps. going. Someone in Windigo told Dave that the last leg “fucks with you” and now I know what they mean, and I agree.
When you get there, there’s not another soul in sight, and this is the view from your campsite.
This is the nicest campground with the least traffic, this whole trip. A winner’s circle in a way. Mashed potatoes, chicken, veggies and cheese for dinner. The boat comes for us at 10 a.m. tomorrow. We’re in a shelter so no need for a tent.
Today you could not ask for better weather. Fuck black flies though.
Another one of those little punch bowl islands, except this one is much bigger and out in the big lake.
They told us on the Voyageur II last week that the last was 33 degrees, and here you can absolutely feel that. Your toes get numb after a few minutes in the lake. The air is absolutely beautiful though. The sky is warm, bright and sunny. One of those glorious Lake Superior days you always hope for. The terrain down was so rough and uneven we all have barking dogs and aching ankles. That hike was tough. It is mentally and physically exhausting to walk on terrain that chaotic and uneven for so long. I don’t think there was a single flat-footed step I took those last 3.5 miles.
I want you to pay attention to the tiny crescent moon in the corner because it is dreamy.
My camera is low on battery, and I have space for about 75 more photos. Eep.
Brook trout in the mouth of the nearby river. We saw them while walking over the bridge. Might have just seen a goshawk go by, on the hunt for fish.
Site 1 plus: Excellent sunset view.
Minus: All afternoon sunbake.
The best view of sunset I had the whole trip, which works out because I was too tired to stay up for sunset most of the trip.
We both feel fitter and stronger.
I think when you come to Isle Royale it evaluates what you’re about and it rewards you, or doesn’t reward you, depending on your intentions. It plays by its own rules, and it won’t teach them to you. Since time immemorial it has rewarded those who come here with good intentions and not-rewarded those without the island’s rules or interests at heart. Want to find copper for tools? Yes, copper for you. Want copper for profit? No copper for you. Want to slow down, take it all in, and have a willingness to plan for a difficult journey? Yes, you get to experience wildlife in great abundance. Want to speed down the Greenstone and spend 48-hours or less on the island? No moose for you. Come with open eyes, willing hearts, and reasonable expectations? That’s like being wrapped in a wool blanket by someone who loves you without question or hesitation. Put up with bug town? See two giant moths making more moths. Come with no plan, provisions, skills or trusted people on the mainland providing promised support? Starve to death. (Literally, that happened.) The island rewards you for preparing, slowing down, patience, adaptability, and willingness to embrace discomfort. It does not reward cutting corners or speed. On the sunken wreck of the steamship America, there is a Model T Ford. I have to wonder what the intentions of the person bringing a car to this roadless island were, and if the island didn’t intervene to keep the island car-free.
This is a place where extremes find balance. The sun is baking my skin right now, but if I put my feet in the lake for too long, my toes will go numb. I don’t dare wade in.
I really could not get over the sky and water at Malone Bay.
7:00 p.m. – What makes a moose run? Was he running from something? For the joy of it? Was it a recently liberated yearling just getting a feel for his hooves? Google this when you get home. (Update, I don’t have a good answer and I have googled it. If you know what makes a moose gallop, please let me know.)
I’m just one lady who can’t stop thinking about cloud formations.
8:00 p.m. – It’s easy to see the different air currents here, just look at the cloud layers. Especially when winds come from the west. They just break up in all directions when they hit the island like that.
Still no one else here. The nearest humans as the crow flies would be at Hatchet Lake – an 11-mile uphill hike from here. The nearest ones I could talk to? No good answer. We’re about 20 miles on foot from Windigo. Hope the Voyageur II is on time tomorrow. Clear skies tonight. (Normally, there is a ranger station at Malone Bay, and I could rely on them to help me in the event my ferry was delayed or something. The ranger station at Malone Bay is closed this year, so if you go there, don’t count on being able to find a ranger.)
8:45 p.m. – Found a pebbly beach nearby. We’re likely to stay up and see the sunset tonight – the first of the whole trip! Spotted a beaver swimming in the lake around 8:30 p.m. What was it looking for?
That little blip in the foreground? That’s a beaver. In Lake Superior! Will wonders never cease.
Tuesday, June 15 8 a.m., Site 1 Malone Bay
Another glorious day and an easy rest day. The boat comes for us at 10 a.m. (hope they remember!) and all we have to do is hike the .3 miles to the dock. I am packed. Dave may take the full two hours. (He did not, he only took one full hour.)
I took one photo of myself, and so it’s the best you’re going to get.
We slept in this morning! Until 6:15 a.m.! The latest I have gotten up in a week. We have two granola bars left, some cookies, cheese and jerky. There’s a 3L of Lake Superior water coming with us. The seas are smooth as glass from my view in the bay. Not one cloud in the sky today. The Milky Way was out last night. The Isle Royale lighthouse was lit. The shoal can get to be as shallow as 3 or 4 feet over there. This shelter had the best graffiti of the whole trip. “Cowabunga it is then,” – Abe Slinkin.
Honestly, I find myself living by a similar motto very often. Thanks for the wise words, Abe Slinkin.
11:30 a.m. – On the Voyageur II. I can’t believe that worked. Dave and I hiked over to the closed ranger station around 9 and waited there. The ferry came sailing into harbor, and we boarded at 10:05 a.m.
The Voyageur II made it right on time. They’re professionals, so I shouldn’t doubt them.
The lake is smooth today, but we’re still in the quiet waters of the park. I had a few cookies (let’s hope I hold onto them). Sailing past Rainbow Cove now.
It’s a strange and wonderful thing to hike all over the corner of one, magnificent, island over the course of a week, and then view your entire hike by boat in about 3 hours.
Epilogue
The Voyaguer II made one more stop at Windigo to pick up departing passengers before we headed back to Grand Portage. There was a party that wanted to leave the island ahead of schedule, and another that had changed their plans to leave that day, so the boat was overbooked. For a moment, Dave and I debated hopping off, giving our seats to two others, and staying another four days. Unfortunately, we were out of water purifying tablets and didn’t feel ready to take on that risk. The ferry got pretty crowded after that, but Dave and I managed to plant ourselves on the seats at the back of the boat. I get motion sick very easily, so I wanted to be prepared to stare at an unmoving horizon the whole time.
The one lone radio tower that exists on Isle Royale. There is no wi-fi, your cell phone is useless, but if you have a radio you might do okay.
I think the island evaluated my intentions when I arrived and rewarded me with smooth easy seas the whole ride back. I was able to watch the island as I sailed past, leaving Malone Bay, rounding The Head and ultimately sailing into Washington Harbor. Everything I could see, I hiked in the previous week. I kept my eyes fixed on Isle Royale the whole boat ride home. While other passengers napped or fidgeted with their phones the second cell reception came back, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It almost seems rude to check your email while Isle Royale is still within sight. I regret not letting those other folks take our spot on the ferry.
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The Rock of Ages lighthouse greets visitors as they come and go from the western end of the island. I am confident this won’t be the last time I see it.
