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

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

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

The Ranger III docked in Rock Harbor.

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

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

4:30 p.m. Site 17

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

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

Ranger III docked in Rock Harbor.

5 p.m. Site 17, Rock Harbor

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

6:15 p.m. Camp

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

Hike report: Real miles 21, mental miles, 23

Small islands in the lake.

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

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

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

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

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

Islands in the lake.

Trip Tally September 1-9, 20212

Presented without commentary, or explanation.

Nights                   8

Greenstones       34

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

Wolves                 x 2 = 300

Miles (Mental) + 23 = 323

Shelter for storm + 50 = 373

Romance             + 100 = 473

Food budget       + 10 = 486

Gifts received     + 20 = 503

Paunch reduction            = 10 = 513

Packout points   + 23 = 566

Notes unrelated to anything

Types of Bonk on Isle Royale

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

Glad I had that

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

Wish I had that

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

Potential next time hikes:

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

Windigo -> McCargoe -> Ferry

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

Windigo  -> Feldtmann, two nights

Island Gifts

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

Replacement trekking pole basket

Two nights shelter 4, Moskey Basin

Fresh apples, 9/2023

Found 34 greenstones

Became skilled greenstone hunters

Daisy Farm shelter 9 for rainy day

The view of Moksey Basin.

Ambient Sounds of Isle Royale

The lapping of the waves

The fwoosh of the Jetboil

The absence of sound

The haunting cry of a loon

The chirps and flutters of the grasshoppers

The call of the ovenbirds

The resonant roll of the big lake

The thunder passing over or past

The pattering rain on the undergrowth

The plopping drips of rain from the shelter roof

The deep horn on a distant ship

The view from Moskey Basin on a misty morning.

Isle Royale, September ’23 – Pt 3 Lazy days at Daisy Farm

9/5 8 a.m., Shelter 4 still

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.

Sunrise over Moskey Basin.

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.

A greenstone inclusion in a small, grey rock.

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.

Two bowls full of sliced cheese, jerky, apples, and cheese, and two cups of tea, on a picnic table.

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.

A heron fluffing its feathers on a grey day.

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.

Red and black camp fox.

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.

The lake with rougher waters and misty trees.

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.

A knit sock and a ladybug on a picnic table.

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.

Photo from inside the shelter. A fox is outside on the picnic table. There is laundry hung to dry.

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.

A beaver, sitting in the water and gnawing on a stick.

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.

A beaver sitting in the water and gnawing on a stick.

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.

A heron standing atop a broken tree.

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

Houghton, Rock Harbor and Moskey Basin

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

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

Weather Prediction

Date       H            L             Sunrise                 Sunset

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*=Not NOAA

9/1 – 8 a.m. Ranger III – Houghton

9/9 – Ranger III – Rock Harbor

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

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

Rock Harbor 9/8 – Stay

9/9 Depart 9 a.m.

The Ranger III docked inside Rock Harbor.

Weather Report

9/1         Accurate

9/2         Accurate, HOT

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

9/4         Accurate, partly sunny

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

9/6         Windy RAINY, Cool, Accurate

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

9/8         Sunny, cool, accurate, no breeze

9/9         No entry, probably accurate.

Moskey Basin on a misty morning.

What Litter We Packed Out:

•             Camp soap on a rope

•             Broken glass bottle (old)

•             Trekking pole basket (Replacement for mine!)

•             Baby Hulk sticker

•             Knot of embroidery floss

•             Fishing lure, snap swivel

•             Piece of plastic bag

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

•             Someone else’s hair tie (ew.)

•             Piece of clear, hard plastic

Oops don’t do that again

Things to do to improve your next visit

•             Factor in how seasickness affects your hike.

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

•             Toothpaste tabs storage options

•             Do not let lotion bar melt in the sun

•             Hot pepper/hot sauce

•             Get another Osprey bladder

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

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

•             Separate corn and beans

•             Ghee tub in Ziploc

•             More tomato sauce leather, a lot

•             Buff for Dave, neck and hair

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

•             Better rain jacket for Lindsay

•             More fuel always

Animals seen 2023:

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

Friday, September 1, 20212

9 a.m. Ranger III Lounge

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

Ranger III Chat on Boat

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

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

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

7:45 p.m.

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

9:40 p.m.

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

A merganser duck in the water.

Chicago, Dells, Duluth & Back: My Far Northern Transit Hike – Part 1

By Lindsay Welbers

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 and pine trees by a lake
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.

Grapes by a train station
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.

Two overstuffed backpacks
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.

Unleafed trees
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.

A taxicab at a campsite
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.

A hammock campsite
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.

A gallon jug of water
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.

Instant coffee in the rain
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
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?)

Inside the hammock
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.

Mirror Lake, Wi
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.

Mirror Lake
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.

Mallard
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!

Geese over Mirror Lake
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.

Ducks on the water
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.

Squirrel in tree

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.

Cabin with Adirondack chairs
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.

Laundry hanging off deck railing
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.)

Bald eagle
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.

Pile of gemstones
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.

Witch's Gulch in Wisconsin Dells
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.

Boat and creek on a misty day
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.

Sunken dock by water
The Wisconsin River is so dang pretty.

Click here for Part two

Click here for Part Two of my Far Northern Transit Hike.

Chicago, Dells, Duluth & Back: My Far Northern Transit Hike – Part 2

Sunday, May 1

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.

Carved bigfoot
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 beach
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.

Giant clawfoot bathtub
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.

Feet in bathtub
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.

Aereal Lift Bridge in Duluth
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.

Lake superior
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.

A glass of wine

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.

Ship on Lake Superior

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.

Lake Superior

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 in Duluth
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.

Inside Canal Park Brewing
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.

Heavy flowing creek and rocks
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.

Sign for the Superior Hiking Trail
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.

Large can of beer
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.

House with Lake Superior in back
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.

Deer in front yards
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.

Delayed train notification screenshot
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.

Tuxedo cat
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.

Happy dog
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.

Pine trees on either side of narrow river
Thanks for coming on this long northern journey with me, everyone.

Click here for Part One of my Far Northern Transit Hike.

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

Story by Lindsay Welbers, photos by Aubrey and Lindsay Welbers

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

Jefferson Park Blue Line platform

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

The view from the Clinton Blue Line station.

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

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

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

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

Hey Aubs.

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

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

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

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

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

The view from The Deck at the Gas House.

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

The Old Fort, and our pal John.

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

That’s me, on the bicycle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fort Wayne Outfitters at Promenade Park. Hi John.

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

Bike racks everywhere.

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

Johnny Appleseed’s Gravesite at Johnny Appleseed Park.

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

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

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

The headstone reads “He lived for others.”

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

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

Junk Ditch Brewing (good gose.)

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

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

Even Death likes pizza.

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

Good art.

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

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

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

Manzanas luchadores

Check out Part 2 here.

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

Story by Lindsay Welbers, photos by Aubrey and Lindsay Welbers

Check out Part 1 here, if you missed it.

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

The beautiful, sprawling pump station. Hey Aubs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good art though.

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

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

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

A hub-and-spoke trail system.

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

The Pond in the Lindenwood Nature Preserve.

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

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

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

The Maple Spur at the Lindenwood Nature Preserve.

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

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

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

GO!

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

REALITY

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

Home is where my dog is.

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

Dear reader,

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

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

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

Weather predicted for IR and what happened:

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

               H            L What happened

6/7         77           61           ☼                     Sounds right

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mon 14             73        57        ⛅                   GLORIOUS

Tues 15             66        60        ⛅                   Cooler on the lake

6:30 a.m. Hat Point departure ✓

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

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

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

Trash bag too                                   Pen?

On-the-go Dave Food ✓                                  Bug spray

Camp towel? ✓                         Dry bag? ✓

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

June 6 Feldtmann Lake Site 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Handsome little butterfly.

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

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

Siskiwit Bay, looking out towards the lake.

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

Dave skipping rocks at Rainbow Cove.

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

A different swamp donkey at Feldtmann Lake.

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

The beach at Siskiwit Bay.

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

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

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

June 8 Group Camp 1 10 a.m.

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

Merganser ducks, mergansing at Siskiwit Bay in June 2021.

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

The jetty on Siskiwit Bay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

8:40 p.m. – tent away from bugs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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Dave skipping rocks on Feldtmann Lake.
Splish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clouds rolling in from the west over Lake Desor.

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

An actual bee, picking up pollen from thimbleberry flowers.

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

A handsome daytime moth.

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

The tiniest baby little grasshopper hopping happily on the undergrowth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3:10 p.m. Malone Bay #1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Site 1 plus: Excellent sunset view.

Minus: All afternoon sunbake.

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

We both feel fitter and stronger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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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.

On privilege and creating space for BIPOC in the outdoors

Hey trail friends,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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