05.18.07
Isle Royale – September 2006
Scott and I ventured a reunion trip to Isle Royale in mid-September of 2006. We were returning after 25 years, where we hiked the whole island as 16 year-old kids with Jim Manolis. Scott and I invited Jim but the idea must not have become him, or perhaps his wife, too well. For Scott and I, we were compelled to go back, perhaps by unseen forces.
9-12-2006 We cruised from Minneapolis in the afternoon all the way up to Grand Portage. There’s a hotel there now and casino and we debated on getting a room or just roughing it in the van. We figured we had to drive on over to the dock anyway to make sure we knew where we were going in the morning, so we scuttled the hotel idea.
9-13-2006 After what seemed like a short night in the van, we awoke to a crisp September morning and to my surprise other trekkers were milling about. We picked hiking dates specifically after Labor Day since we assumed the island would have little traffic. But, there were quite a few backpackers and kayakers heading over with us. There was a group of what appeared to be professional photographers on board, as they argued a bit with the deckhand about stowing the bags that held their cameras. Plus, they didn’t look like backpackers. They may have been in for quite a shock if they were going to do any major hiking.
It was pretty chilly out and we wondered if the weather would turn even colder, but the sun soon appeared and it became as the best of fall days. We climbed on the same 55′ craft we did in 1981, and it had hardly changed. It was surreal. The ride out was smooth and uneventful.
When we got off the Voyageur II, the ranger who met the group was tasked with giving a brief speech relaying general rules and “leave no trace” principles. She also informed us of an island-wide fire ban. Too bad, I thought. A nice fire is a good way to top off an evening. Then the ranger asked for hands of those who were returning and I raised mine, but reluctantly. I mean, when one visits the grocery store and the clerk says, “hey thanks, and come back” they don’t generally mean wait for a quarter century, and then come back. There should be some statute of limitations on what a return actually means. But, in the literal sense, it was a return nonetheless.
The island curiously is the least visited National Park in the US. However, it is the most re-visited. Also, the length of stay for most averages 3 days, where the average stay in all other major National Parks is 3 hours. So, Isle Royale is well suited to the serious backpacker. There’s no “run back to the car and get the ___” once on island.
In 25 years, the place really had not changed much. The Windigo end has a new ranger station/visitor center, the construction of which was long overdue. There were some new showers and a new restroom building. And, the old store was still there and exactly the same. The showers and store were both closed for the season. Therefore, we’d have to bathe in Lake Superior and couldn’t stock up on Oreos. For campers in dire need, the rangers (or ranger, at this point in the season) would sell white gas. Being that Scott and I are both meticulous planners to the nth degree, we would have no need for such assistance. So, we got the permit, stated our route and intended camps, kissed the ranger lady on the forehead and headed out. Our first hike that day was .2 miles – all the way to the campground.
We were not in the campground more than an hour, I’d say, when a cow moose wandered up the narrow trail. We must have been downwind from her – that or the smell of men does not threaten as much as it should. I was down trail and Scott was near the campsite, and soon she realized that a threat was before her and also to her flank. She started a trot towards me away from her flanking threat. She may have gotten off the trail, but I didn’t wait to see. I made a beeline for the shelter and promptly fell on the way. She was long gone by the time I got up. Scott got a photo just as she stopped and assessed her situation.
We had tons of time, so we day hiked to Feldtman Ridge and back, which was about 4 miles round trip. Up on the ridge, Scott snapped some pictures and we used his spotting scope to search for moose. We didn’t see any animal activity, but the views were way cool.
Our first night was spent at Washington Creek, and as I said it was about .2 from the dock. We were only staying four nights, so we decided that 18 mile days were RIGHT OUT! Instead, we opted for minimal hiking and maximal lounging and fishing (Scott is the quintessential fisherman, I am not. If I ever needed fish to survive, I’d probably go after them with a stick of dynamite.)
Our plan was to stay at Washington one night, hike up to Hugginin Cove the next day, stay two nights up there, and then have one final night back at Washington.
Our first supper consisted of steak, pan fried, on a camp stove. Steak flavored by the North Woods is unique in flavor, and very satiating. Plus, one must eat the entire thing, fat, gristle, all.
9-14-2006 The trail from Washington Creek campground to Hugginin splits after about one mile. The choice is more or less East or West. I say more or less, since at the junction the direction faced is pretty much North. Really NNW, and the cove is virtually a straight shot NNW from that trail head. But, the two trails lackadaisically wander around to create a large loop; the union thereof places the hiker at the cove. The West trail is shorter, but traverses a ravine a few times and therefore presents a couple of short, steep climbs. It is an enjoyable trail, but mostly because the hiker has the knowledge that the other trail is longer, and the poor saps that take that trail will arrive later. In 1981, we took the West trail to the cove and planned on taking the East trail back. However, we (John and Scott) were getting sick of hiking and decided to retrace the way back, since it was faster. Jim, did not agree with our reasoning, and took the East trail. We beat him back by to Washington creek by about 8 minutes. In another post I recorded the entire 1981 trip journal which has an account of this little drama.
Hugginin Cove I imagine is not often visited. Many other hikers we spoke to did not even know there were designated campgrounds at Hugginin. They assumed it was a day hike loop, which is a pretty good day at 10.6 miles (from Washington Creek). Scott and I arrived at the cove and noticed a group towards the East so we headed more towards the West and found a sweet campground off a small inlet.
The trail in had us a bit sweaty, so we took a quick dip in Lake Superior. It was cold but refreshing. I took a risk and waded in with bare feet. This was stupid. I didn’t trash my feet, but I could have. I didn’t want to get my camp sandals wet, since they are the only other footwear I had. So, I could bring yet another pair of shoes, but this seemed like overkill.
But there is a solution. Behold the Crocs above. These things are light and waterproof. I just bought a pair and I can’t wait to try them out on our next trip. I weighed my Teva sandal at 10.3 oz and a single Croc which came in at 6.2 oz. I was thrilled. Plus, these things are surprisingly comfortable, despite the dorky look, and they have sufficient tread to ensure good footing. Another camp wonder is the “swim towel” which sucks water like a sponge. I’d say it’s like a cross between a chamois cloth and a towel. It’s small and synthetic, so it won’t hold organics very well and subsequently not smell. Mine is made by Nike and worth every penny.
After our swim we made camp and relaxed with the requisite cigar. Some exploring was in order and Scott made a good survey of the entire area. That night after a hearty supper, we noticed the campers to our East had made a small, but oh so illegal, fire. The air was crisp at night and we were tempted to do the same, but resisted. After a few more cigars and laughter, we hit the rack. It was still early, and this struck us a funny. Without a home full of distractions, like TV, computers, chores and what have you, there is no point in denying sleep. It’s much needed anyhow, both when trekking and in day-to-day life.
9-15-2006 The next day was a layover, so Scott fished and I decided to hang the camp hammock. I figured I’d watch the lake and look for boats and maybe do a little reading. But, the camp hammock was trying to kill me. I found the perfect two trees and hung it and climbed into it. I had the foresight to clear the debris from underneath, since those cheap nylon ropes do not tend to hold a good knot. After about 5 minutes, I began to relax with a book when suddenly I’m on the ground, flat on my back. The weld on the metal ring that held the hammock weave to the main rope failed and the ring opened wide. The result was a quick dump of the entire foot-end of the hammock onto the ground. So, I took a couple of big rocks and banged that ring back together – a makeshift repair. It worked this time for about 10 minutes, but again I found myself laying face up on the forest floor. That little ring refused to support my egregious load. I am an engineer, and with that attitude I decided to attempt another fix. I again banged the ring back together but also reoriented it so that the hammock weave and the rope were both on the same arc of the ring. I hung it with this little mod and jammed a part of the weave into the open portion of the ring so that it would not slide around. This fix worked, so I triumphantly relaxed and read a bit. However, the temperature had come up enough to stir the black flies and soon I was being annoyed to the point of abandoning my claim. I told all this to Scott, who decided it best not to try the hammock at all. We didn’t use it much after that. Next time, the hammock stays home.
Scott had landed a fish at that point, a Steelhead, so I followed him back and watched him cast, hoping to see another good fight. We both toked on fine cigars and enjoyed the sun and walked around the cove. The one fish would have been supper, but we did not have a sufficient blade to prepare the thing and it had already died. So, Scott left it out on a rock as Seagull fodder. It was completely gone within hours. We explored a bit towards the West of our camp, where the rocks rose up from Superior dramatically. I found a narrow trail that wound around some huge rocks and through wicked brush. I took a branch in the back which left me with a minor scratch. After venturing deeper into these rocks, I noticed some moose pellets in the center of the path. It was strange to think such a huge animal could navigate that pass. It’s a testament to their agility despite incredible size. I was just hoping not to run into one up in those rocks since there was no escape.
The final night on Hugginin was eerie quiet. After the cool settled in, all the critters left. It was like a mass exodus. A new moon hung, and there was very little wind coming in off the lake. It was so quiet and still that Scott and I had to keep talking to make certain we were still corporeal beings. After a while, we did notice that a lone cricket was tentatively chirping. All his friends had left, and there he was, saying, “Guys, guys….guys…hey, guys…guys.” That gave us a modicum of comfort.
Sheer silence is so antithetical to our daily lives. Case and point: my work life is a constant barrage of communication with huge computers with dual-monitors and diagramming on white boards and long meetings. Everyone is talking, and when they are not talking, I’m listening to talk radio or to some piece of music. The cove then was like sensory deprivation. It was therapeutic in a way.
9-16-2006 The next morning was nice, but some clouds from the South were approaching. Scott and I both decided to take the longer trail back, as a form of concession to Jim. And, the map showed that the initial portion of this trail followed the shore which looked very appealing. It turned out to be an awesome trail. The initial views were unmatched, and the inland path was relatively easy.
At one point the path decended into a swampy bog, and we were sure we’d spot some moose feeding, but no such luck. We climbed back out and upped our pace all the way to Washington. On the last few legs we donned our rain gear, as the skys opened slightly.
Back at Washington Creek, we snagged the same shelter that we had two nights prior. We thought we’d need to get in early to beat other campers, but there was virtually nobody around until later in the day. Scott waded way out into the bay, probably over 100 yards. The bay is comprised of a massive sand bar on the East end and the water is only waist deep.
After getting cleaned up a bit, we headed over to the main dock and had a cigar and watched a nice aft-cabin yacht navigate in and tie off. The skipper of this craft wandered over to where we were sitting and started to fish off the end of the dock. After a bit, we struck up a conversation with him and his wife and friends. They were from Michigan, and had up until recently run a diving expedition service. They had dived all over the Lake, and at one point had two large vessels. Now they were nearing retirement and had just bought the aft-cabin we were admiring.
They were very proud of that baby and gave us a quick tour. It was a bigger craft than it first appeared. It slept around 6-8 adults and had an ample galley and dual cockpits. It was a stark contrast to how we live when we are camping, and it was out of place docked on our remote island.
We spent so much time chatting with these folks that we lost track of time and soon darkness was full blown under a new moon. We were out of matches and had no lighter and left all headlamps and flashlights back at camp. The trail was pitch black but we sucessfully navigated back to the beginning of the wooded area that ensconced the campsites.
About this time, however, Scott was commenting on a noise that was coming from that general area. He said, “It sounds like someones doing their dishes or something.” Soon, though, after it had processed a bit in his head, and the source of which had moved considerably, Scott said, “Holy crap, that’s a bull moose in rut and it’s right over there!” As he spoke, he was most likely gesturing to the woods that we were about to enter. It was too dark to see where he was pointing, but I was already in total agreement and nearing panic. It’s hard to assess a threat by ears alone. We double-timed back to the dock and to the yacht. Fortunately, those folks had a flashlight which we borrowed so we could get back safely. By then the moose had moved to the other side of Washington Creek and was headed North into the dense woods.
A little excitement never hurt anybody, but what was next? Bigfoot? I was ready for some one-eyed sleep. Eventually I calmed down and slept hard, tranquilzed by the rain.
9-17-2007 It was communicated by a posting that the seas were rough and that the Voyager II was not able to make the trip out the day before. Yeah, I said “seas”. And, yeah, I know Lake Superior is in fact a lake, but hey – those waves have hit 30ft. Remember the Edmund Fitzgerald? That thing was huge, and that “lake” plum rolled her over. It was a tradegy, followed by Gordon Lightfoot’s ballad, another nearly equal tradegy.
So, the Voyager II would simply do the entire route in one excrutiating long day. It meant we had no rush to break camp. We lollygagged around and looked at the moose enclosure (a small fenced in area protected from moose so that deforestation rates could be studied) and wandered around Windigo and munched on trail mix. It was dull.
By the time the boat arrived it was after 4pm. We loaded up and once out of the bay, we understood why this craft stayed home the day before. The seas were pretty rough and the winds were hitting us virtually perpendicular to the starboard side. It was quite a ride with lots of spray and excitement, but nobody seemed phased by it. The crew handled it well, and brought us in without incident. After unloading, we paid our parking fee and hit the road.
We were leaving Grand Portage later than planned, so I phoned home to let everybody know I was OK. There was no way I could drive to Minneapolis that night, however, so Scott and I grabbed a good meal and a hotel in Duluth.
9-18-06 The weather was beginning to turn with an overcast morning and falling temperatures. We knew we had just experienced some of the absolute mildest fall days that the North sees. It’s rare to catch that many back-to-back. What a blessing! We certainly would be hunkered down in our tents if we had to stay another night on the island. It was aiming for the upper 20’s the night prior just as we had left.
In Duluth on the main drag there’s a Caribou Coffee that’s built with logs. It’s very Northwoods-ish, so we hung out there for a while, being that we looked the Northwoods part so very well. We sat on the porch and enjoyed the brisk morning with some joe and doughnuts, prolonging our time in this part of the world that we love so much.
Pontifications on Backpacking
First, I think that backpacking in the most remote regions of this country is one of the best things a man can do for his health. I know quite a few folks who are real serious about diet and exercise and supplements and Yoga and even holistic exotic oils. There’s a solution for every imaginable problem. But, I would suggest not wasting a ton of money on all that crap. Use some common sense. I would totally recommend, however, living out of doors for at least 2 weeks a year. And, some of those days must be contiguous. This will prolong a life better than the best vitamins or funky oils in the world, in my opinion. There are many reasons for this.
One is that dirt will get into everything you own. This is a good thing. Dirt has bacteria and the body’s immune system will be shocked into action by the presence of new and interesting bugs. Now, don’t go out and eat dirt – that’s not what I’m saying. But, be dirty for a while. It’s good for you.
Other, more obvious reasons include clean air and open space. Expose yourself to sunshine and moonshine, I mean, moonlight, (Well, maybe I do mean moonshine…) and clouds and stars and silence. If I need to expound on why the human body needs these things, well, I think then I’ve already wasted enough of the reader’s time. Greater benefits may be found, too, without too much thought.
Dissertations on Lightweight Gear
I admit I am somewhat obsessed with getting stuff that weighs next to nothing. This is no doubt alluded to in the trip report above. I suppose it’s a little extreme for me, but I think everyone should consider this simple rule: take the things you need to make your trip enjoyable. I just can’t see stumbling around for extended miles with 50+ pounds on my back. That may be what some sadist backpackers want, with their Nietzsche-esque “what doesn’t kill us…” bullcrap, but I think it would lessen the fun factor after a short time.
One of my heavier items was my rain gear. There has to be a better way. I read how one guy brings nothing for the rain, save a lightweight umbrella (from Go Lite). He uses it for both rain and sun. He wears only synthetics so that when he does get wet, and with this method getting wet seems inevitable, his clothing dries quickly. But, I have not figured out how to make camp in a downpour while holding an umbrella. I suppose part of this approach is waiting out the weather, even at night. It’s not perfect, but I think this is an idea worth exploring.
For this trip, I was tempted to bring an iPod, but I resisted. I was also going to bring the digital camera, but chucked that idea too. I left these things behind to preserve the experience of the pristine wilderness that we so take for granted. Not really – that’s a big crock of crap. I didn’t bring them since I didn’t want the weight and the hassle of batteries. Again this is being a bit obsessive about weight, but cmon’! Those batteries are sick heavy! Plus, once the batteries run out, the dependent device is useless.
I did find a great LED key chain light at Radio Shack. Like many things at “the Shack” it was grossly over priced. But, I bit the bullet. The only problem is that it took a couple of coin cells that could not be replaced without a screwdriver. So, I took the tiny screwdriver, reluctantly. The great thing about those coin cells is that they produce quite a bit of power for their size and weight. These little buggers are not environmentally friendly, so remember to pack them out and recycle them properly.
Meal planning can benefit from lightweight techniques as well, but it takes more experimentation. Ready-to-eat items are necessary, and their consumption rate can be adjusted easily if there’s too much or too little. For cooked meals, use the leftover principle. If too much is prepared, store the leftovers for trail snacking or lunch. Some meals make better leftovers than others. Again, a lot can be gained from a little experimentation.
My packing goal is to get a 2 or 2-3 season load to about 10-12 lbs. This is more possible these days since more manufacturers are making ultra-light equipment. Even the clothing is going high tech and ultra-light. There are some sleeping bags good down to 30 F that are 1.5 lbs. Also, there some real whiz-bang tents out there at 2lbs. or less. My Kelty Crestone is about 3.5 lbs, but it’s not a real expensive model. The only downside is the inverse relationship of weight to price. The lighter things get, the more expensive they become. See the post on backpacking tips for more info.
So, going light is important, at least to me. Yet, it is just a means to an end. That end is having the most unencumbered experience possible. For me, it’s analogous to getting out of the city and unteathering oneself from job hassles, traffic and the endless stream of menial tasks.
With a reasonable pack load, and good shoes, and good planning and preparation, backpacking is a fantastic experience. I highly recommend it to everyone. The converse, however, is not so great. If the load is too heavy and if the preparation is not what it should be, the backpacker will quickly become a whining sack of monkey grunt. Add some adverse weather to that, and abject misery is not far off.Plus, there are some things that preparation, no matter how good, cannot overcome. A misstep on a slippery root and a seriously twisted ankle can happen in a split second to anybody.
Managing those types of events is more in the mind and body, and that’s part of the mystique and appeal of the experience.
Finally, I’d like to recommend a trip to Isle Royale, but I really don’t want any “new people” visiting the place. I obviously can’t say for certain, but you may be undeserving. So, go to Yellowstone or Glacier National or the Grand Freaking Canyon along with the rest of the country and those few tourists from Western Europe. Please leave the Island alone.