Isle Royale National Park | Day Eight

At Windigo on our Last Morning  

Flying away

I definitely need a new sleeping bag. My +15 down bag did not keep me warm during our final night, which saw temperatures drop to the mid-30s. This has happened on the last few trips; it's time to stop stubbornly holding onto my old sleeping bag and admit that it's not working for me anymore. On the bright side, it's an excuse to shop for new gear. 

We spent the majority of the night awake, cursing ourselves for not putting our tent up inside the shelter, but not wanting to get up and do anything about the situation. My feet had become blocks of ice, which were very effective at keeping the inside of my sleeping bag cold. At some point very early in the morning, Craig attempted to heat up water so that we could fill my Nalgene bottle with it and use it to heat up my sleeping bag. Our fuel was, of course, too cold to ignite, so he brought the freezing metal cannister into his sleeping bag for a while to warm it up enough to start the stove.

Moose-watching outside our shelter at Washington Creek

The hot water bottle placed in my sleeping bag's footbox did the trick, and while I slowly warmed up, the moose returned to slosh around in the creek outside our shelter. We got up around 7:00 and watched it wade in the tall grass on the other side of the creek, eating plants. It looked up at us every once in a while, and we tried to figure out if it was a female or a young male. We thought we could make out small nubs on its head – possibly the beginnings of antlers – but we couldn't get a close enough look.

I see you

We packed up and headed to the Windigo visitor's center, hearing the welcome sound of the sea plane fly in and take off again as we left our shelter. It was sunny but cold, and the thermometer at Windigo read 38º when we arrived at 8:30 a.m. After checking in with Ranger Valerie and reporting our revised hiking itinerary, we learned that we were set to fly out on the sea plane's next pick-up, two hours later. 

Coming in for pick-up in Washington Harbor

The damaged sailboat that had almost sunk the day before was docked, and it looked bad. Water-damaged items and equipment had been removed from it and were lying on the dock in the sun, while one of the boat's occupants was inside pumping water out. It looked as though a tarp and some extra wood had been nailed in place to cover a hole. We met another guy who had been on the boat and he told us their story. They had sailed from the Apostle Islands in Wisconsin to Ontonagon, MI, then headed north to Isle Royale. Their journey had been fine until they entered Washington Harbor, hit a rock, and started sinking. He was from So-Cal but spoke in a vaguely German accent as he described the incident and how the Park Service came to their rescue. He had also been to Isle Royale before and was fond of the place, but it looked like he and his friends were going to be stranded there for a while under very non-ideal circumstances. We gave him the rest of our food and batteries that we no longer needed and wished him good-luck. 

Beaver Island in Washington Harbor

We met a couple from Cleveland who were also waiting for the plane and would be flying out with us. They were in their 50s and were big fans of Michigan breweries, and we discussed Michigan beers and other hiking trips with them at length while hanging out in the sun on the dock. Although it was still cold, it was a beautiful sunny morning, and we enjoyed the views of Washington Harbor.

River otters swimming toward the dock at Windigo

River otters diving

Two river otters swam toward the dock from the direction of Beaver Island, diving underwater just before reaching it and resurfacing on the other side. Loud splashing suddenly erupted, and a female moose and two calves appeared in the water at the end of the harbor. They were too far away for me to get a decent picture of them with my small camera, but we all watched them wading in the water while continuing to share stories.  

Cow moose and 2 calves in Washington Harbor

The plane arrived at 11:15, and the four of us and our gear were on board in seconds. The pilot was all business, likely wanting to get in and out quickly and onto his next pick-up. The flight back was beautiful. Unlike the overcast flight at the beginning of our trip, the sunlight shone on the blue surface of the lake, and the view was gorgeous. From my seat in the tail of the plane, I turned and watched Isle Royale slowly disappear from view, wanting the sight of its green forested landscape to last as long as possible.

Isle Royale National Park 2013 | Day Two

Feldtmann Lake to Siskiwit Bay
(Map at bottom of post)

Siskiwit Bay

Thunder and heavy rain woke us up at 5:30 a.m. By 7:00, the rain had stopped, and loons were calling across Feldtmann Lake. Not wanting to get up, we laid in the tent listening to our surroundings for about an hour. We made oatmeal and coffee for breakfast before packing up and hitting the trail at 9:30. We were disappointed to leave Feldtmann Lake without having seen a moose, but we still had 7 days ahead of us and a lot to look forward to.

Hiking on the Feldtmann Ridge

The Feldtmann Ridge Trail parallels the south side of Feldtmann Lake for about 1 ½ miles before arriving at the base of the Feldtmann Ridge. A steep climb that ascends about 240 feet leads to the top of the ridge and views of Feldtmann Lake from above. After the sweaty climb, breaking out on top of the ridge was welcome. It was overcast and windy, and the cool air felt wonderful. Hiking on top of the ridge is very pleasant, with knee-high yellow grass surrounding the exposed red conglomerate rock that the trail – and the ridge itself – is made of. It is interesting that this part of the island's rock is red, while the Greenstone Ridge and other areas to the north and east are grey. The openness of the ridge is a nice change from the woods and the thick, high vegetation encountered on much of this stretch.

The Feldtmann Ridge Trail enters a white birch forest

The trail does not remain out in the open along the entire ridge. It weaves in and out of the woods, at one point crossing a stream, as it slowly ascends to a fire lookout tower. The tower stands on top of the ridge approximately halfway between Feldtmann Lake and Siskiwit Bay, and it's where we stopped for lunch around 12:30.

Approaching the fire tower on the Feldtmann Ridge

I climbed up the tower steps as far as I could go before the structure is closed off near the top. From here, Feldtmann Lake can be viewed to the west, Lake Halloran and Siskiwit Bay to the east, and the Greenstone Ridge to the north.

Looking west from the fire tower on the Feldtmann Ridge

After resting and eating peanut butter and jelly tortillas, we resumed hiking. The trail leaves the open ridge just east of the fire tower and re-enters the woods. For much of the way from here to Siskiwit Bay, the trail passes through thick, high brush. Some of this section of trail had been a logging road in the 1930s and is now grown over. I love Isle Royale, but in the interest of truthful trip reporting, I do not want to overly romanticize the experience: this part of the trail kind of sucks. The vegetation is so thick that I could not see Craig hiking in front of me for much of the way, nor could I see the actual path below my feet at times. Although there is no easy way to get turned around, from time to time I wondered if we were on the right path. Branches scraped at our arms, and colorful, furry caterpillars hitched rides wherever they could latch onto us (actually, I liked that part). This stretch is tiring, not because the terrain is rough (it is actually pretty flat), but because it is long and tedious, with virtually no scenery to enjoy. 

Moose and wolf scat on the Feldtmann Ridge Trail

We reached Siskiwit Bay at 3:30 p.m. The campground here offers 2 shelters, 4 individual tent sites, and 3 group tent sites. The shelter at site #5 was open, and we collapsed into it gratefully. I changed out of my hiking boots and into Crocs and didn't move for about a half-hour. Shelter #5 has a view of the bay and the standard picnic table out front. The day had become sunny and beautiful, and we were happy to be spending the next 2 nights here. Suddenly, trekking through all of that brush felt worth it.

Siskiwit Bay

Since our tent had been packed away wet after the morning's thunderstorm, I laid it out to dry in the sun, and we walked down the path to the bay to check things out and collect water. The path from the shelter curves through tall yellow grass before descending to the shore, where a community fire ring and a couple of picnic tables make a nice gathering area next to the dock. The beach here consists of smooth red stones and pebbles, and a breakwater made of boulders shields the dock from rough water. It is very quiet here, and I looked forward to waking up early the next morning to watch the sun rise over the east-facing bay. 

From the dock at Siskiwit Bay. The fire ring and picnic tables are on the shore between the dock and breakwater. Shelter #5 is at the top of the grassy hill at the edge of the woods.

The water was cold, but not so cold that we couldn't get in, and we both spent some time cooling off in the bay before returning to the shelter to make dinner. We used the twig-burning stove, which was challenging since most of the twigs we found were wet from the morning rain. After a few false starts and a bit of smoke, we had a small cooking fire burning in the little contained stove. Because twigs burn away so quickly, this type of stove needs constant feeding and supervision in order to prevent the fire from burning out and having to start over. Before long we were happily eating cheesy noodle casserole at the picnic table. A fox trotted by while we were cleaning up, looking around briefly for anything interesting to steal before moving on and disappearing in the tall grass.

Dinner prep

After dinner, Craig walked down to the group fire ring to dispose of the stove's ashes. By now, people had started to gather there to talk and absorb the sun. While Craig talked to fellow hikers down by the water, I read a book at the picnic table and had my camera on-hand in case the fox came back through camp. 

And then this happened: 

Left: Hanging out at the shelter picnic table.   Right: An unexpected visitor.

I saw movement and looked up to see an animal walk across the path and disappear into the grass. I stared dumbly for a few seconds, not believing what I was seeing, before picking up my camera. It wasn't the fox returning for a visit; it was a wolf. It turned around and emerged onto the path leading up to our shelter, around 30 feet away. I looked beyond the path to where Craig was talking with other hikers at the fire ring. No one but me could see what was happening because of the tall grass. The wolf looked from side to side, then started walking up the path toward me. 

I stood up, thinking that it might not realize I was there. It seemed focused on the grass in its immediate vicinity, and it kept walking toward me. This was really exciting, but how close should I let it get? I knew it was wrong, but part of me wanted to just stay quiet and see what happened. The more sane part of me knew that would be inappropriate for a number of reasons. It took a few more steps closer, then I clapped my hands and yelled at it like I was scolding my dog for being on the couch. It sounded stupid to me, and the wolf was not very impressed either. It stopped walking and looked at me for a second or two, but it seemed unconcerned. Then it turned around and slowly walked away, turning left where the path forks off and leads back toward the main hiking trails. 

Not wanting it to leave altogether before Craig had a chance to see it, I walked down the path and waved my arms to get his attention, while trying to keep track of the wolf's whereabouts. After a few frustrating minutes of Craig not understanding why I was waving frantically and not saying anything, he realized that there must be something to see and everyone walked up to meet me. The wolf was standing on the path a short distance away, it's coloring allowing it to blend into the grass nearly perfectly. We watched it as it looked around, observed us watching it, then turned and walked away for good. I took a video of it during this time, but the quality is very bad.

Wolf track on the beach at Siskiwit Bay

At dusk, Craig and I walked to the trail junction where the Island Mine Trail begins. We followed the trail to where it leads out onto the beach at the end of the bay. This is known to be a good place to spot animal tracks, especially in the early morning. We thought this may have been the direction in which the wolf had traveled, and we were right. Its tracks were clearly visible down the length of the beach. We walked along the beach for a while and returned to camp as it was getting dark. 

Back at the dock, we watched river otters swimming near shore. The couple we had flown with were camping here also, and they joined us at a picnic table where we traded hiking stories. Suddenly the fox appeared, and we watched its silhouette in the dark as it trotted around us for a few seconds before disappearing once again. Billions of stars shone in the black, moonless sky. It was going to be a cold night.

Day 2 route

 To be continued in: Day 3 - Siskiwit Bay Part Two (no hiking day)

Isle Royale National Park | Day Five

West Chickenbone Lake to McCargoe Cove:
The Best Day Ever!

McCargoe Cove reflection

I awoke with the confusing feeling that I had somehow fallen asleep in my tent in a strip mall parking lot under a bright streetlight. An owl hooted and I checked my watch. It was 4:00 am, and I remembered that I was in the woods, not preparing to buy a Nintendo Wii at Best Buy the morning after Thanksgiving. Where was that bright light coming from?

Minong Ridge Trail

I twisted my head around to look out the window and found the moon beaming down on our tent like a spotlight shining out of an otherwise pitch black sky. Wide awake, I spent the early morning in my sleeping bag listening to owls and loons conversing with the forest around Chickenbone Lake. At 5:30 am, a wolf started howling. This time, it sounded much closer than the distant chorus we had heard a few days before while hiking on the Rock Harbor Trail. My hand hovered above Craig's arm, ready to alert him should it happen again. Suddenly, multiple canine voices were everywhere. I shook Craig awake and we both held our breath and listened to this nearby pack of wolves howl under the bright moon. It was a moment to remember.

As suddenly as it started, the howling stopped and the woods went quiet. Neither of us could fall back to sleep after that, and as soon as we detected the slightest lightening of the sky, we left the tent to start our morning routine. Chickenbone Lake was shrouded in fog which went from gray to pink as the sky lightened. I imagined a canoe floating from shore toward the small island in the distance and disappearing from view as the fog swallowed it up. It would have been a wonderful, spooky time to paddle out into the quiet water.

Foggy sunrise on Chickenbone Lake

Dew clung heavily to everything, so it was necessary to pack up our tent while it was wet. Heading out of the West Chickenbone Lake campground, Indian Portage Trail swings west and crosses a stream before curving back north and hugging the edge of the lake for almost two miles. Our destination was McCargoe Cove on the north shore – a distance of just under three miles. We anticipated a short day of hiking followed by what we hoped would be another relaxing campsite similar to what we had at Moskey Basin a few nights before.

Since the brush along the narrow trail was dripping with dew and leaning inward, it wasn't long before we were both soaking wet from hip to ankle. Ten minutes after leaving our campsite, the ground became marshy and we found ourselves walking a long stretch of protective plank bridge. Just before reaching the stream crossing, the trail curved to the right and Craig suddenly stopped in front of me, turned around and said very calmly, “Uh...a whole pack of wolves...”

Boot prints mingle with paw prints

His voice trailed off as he turned back around to face forward again. I thought he was trying to be funny since I couldn't yet see what was around the corner. After inching forward another foot or so, he turned to me again and the look on his face was priceless. “I'm not kidding,” he said. “There are at least five wolves on the trail ahead of us.” The next few moments were the most surreal and exciting I've ever experienced.

Afraid I would scare them away, I crept forward as quietly as I could. We could not stand side by side due to the narrow footbridge, but I could see them once I stopped directly behind Craig. Before I had caught up, he witnessed two wolves dart into the woods from the trail. Three were still there, and of these, a big gray one was clearly in charge. He looked directly at us and stepped forward on the bridge. It looked like he was ensuring that his pack could cross the bridge behind him into the safety of the woods while he kept an eye on us. Another gray wolf ran behind him into the trees, then a tall brown one moved forward to stand behind the first one. The two of them simply stood there and watched us.

No one had any idea what to do – including the wolves, it appeared. Everything we had heard and read said that wolves avoid humans and will run when they get wind of people. Fleeting glimpses are all anyone is usually lucky enough to see. There are specific things hikers know to do when encountering bears in the backcountry, but what about a wolf pack? What is the etiquette in this type of situation? There was no passing lane; who had the right of way? Do we offer intel, like the coordinates of where we saw that lone moose the day before, as a kind of bridge toll? Should we get out our wallets and show them pictures of our dogs? It was unreal, and we just stood there dumbfounded.

Indian Portage Trail

I wondered if we should give them space and retreat the way we came, but Craig felt that was a bad idea, so we just continued to stand there trying to look casual. Then, looking right at us, the leader slowly took four steps closer then stopped again. At this point we were holding our breath and really not believing what was happening. It felt like a dream; it was, literally, the wildest thing I've ever seen. There was clearly no question about who needed to respect whom in this scenario, but I did not feel scared. I think I was too shocked and amazed at our luck. It was the most exciting moment I'd ever experienced.

Apparently satisfied that we were not a threat, the two of them stepped off the bridge and spent a few seconds debriefing next to the trail before nonchalantly strolling into the woods. We waited for several seconds before continuing on the bridge. When we walked past the spot where they had disappeared, we were convinced we were being watched by many well-camouflaged eyes. We had seen five of them, but wolf study information at the time stated that the current packs ranged in size from 2 to 9 members, so there could have been more.

Two wolves on Indian Portage Trail

Although it had seemed like we were locked in a stand-off for several minutes, in reality the whole thing was probably over in under one minute. The wolves were tall and similar in size to our 80-lb German Shepard/Lab mix, but with longer legs. As soon as I saw them, I quietly took out my camera and snapped three photos in succession without giving it time to focus. It was then or never. The shots I ended up with consist of one gray blur in the trees, one photo of Craig - eyes like saucers - with the barely discernible form of a wolf ahead of him looking in the opposite direction, and one blurry shot of the (assumed) alpha and the brown wolf backing him up (see above). It's better than nothing, and I was actually just happy that I didn't accidentally step off the bridge and make a fun, prey-like spectacle of myself in the muck below.

Indian Portage Trail crosses a stream

The rest of that morning's hike is mostly a blur due to the excitement we both felt. We stopped every fifteen seconds or so to re-tell the story to each other and confirm that it actually did happen. I do remember that the trail was very pleasant, with Chickenbone Lake to our immediate right most of the way, and we passed a beaver dam at some point. The happy mood we were in prevented us from getting the slightest bit bothered by how wet we continued to get from the dewy vegetation, and before we knew it, we arrived at McCargoe Cove.

Shelter #4 at McCargoe Cove

It was only 9:30 am, and once again we had the place practically to ourselves. We met a lone backpacker who had been hiking the length of Isle Royale via the Minong Ridge Trail, which is known to be difficult. He had started out hiking from Windigo with his brother, who quit after the first day. Although the shelters here were not right on the water, ours had a nice view of the cove, and a large dock provided a good space to lie in the sun after braving the frigid water. (I was not actually brave at all and made quite an ass of myself trying to get in without actually getting in.) Later in the afternoon we would end up spending a couple of hours just sitting on the dock watching loons swim on the smooth glassy surface, and staring mesmerized at the perfect reflection of trees on the opposite shore.

The dock at McCargoe Cove - a difficult place to leave

The remains of an old copper mine provided a fun, 2-mile roundtrip day hike just west on the Minong Ridge. We brought our headlamps (totally unnecessary) and ventured down into the old mine shaft, which still has a section of train track previously used to cart the mineral deposits out. Being a card-carrying rock nerd, I could have easily spent a couple of hours investigating the dark wet cave, but we returned to our shelter to make lunch and re-live our wolf encounter ten thousand more times.

Minong Mine

To be continued in: Day Six - McCargoe Cove to Daisy Farm

More photos from this trip can be seen here.