Isle Royale National Park | Day Seven

Huginnin Cove to Windigo / Washington Creek
(Map at bottom of post)

The sky over Huginnin Cove looked stormy when we got up at 7:30 am. We decided to skip breakfast since the hike back to Windigo was only about 4.5 miles along West Huginnin Cove Trail. We packed up quickly under the threatening sky and left at 8:30. We were sad to have to leave this wonderful place and would have loved to stay another day, but the weather continued to be consistent in its unpredictability, and we felt that heading back toward Windigo to be prepared in the event of more flight issues was the smarter thing to do. Anyone visiting the west end of Isle Royale should definitely visit Huginnin Cove; it's worth the short trip.

Stormy morning sky above Huginnin Cove

We departed the cove via West Huginnin Cove Trail, which heads south into the woods and is not nearly as interesting as its east counterpart. There are a few climbs and descents along this trail, as it traverses three different ridges. Like the east trail, WHCT eventually meets up with the Minong Ridge Trail, which leads back to Washington Creek Campground and Windigo. We were climbing a ridge near the intersection with the Minong, when Craig suddenly stopped in front of me and motioned for me to be quiet. A female moose and her two calves were slowly making their way through the brush a short distance in front of us, heading west along the side of the ridge we were climbing. We watched them through the thick brush, until they were mostly hidden in the woods off the trail to our right. Once we continued climbing the ridge, the cow moose heard us and then it was her turn to people-watch. We could barely make them out; the two small calves were hidden behind trees near their mother, who stood watching us intently. We continued on, happy to have finally seen our first moose of the trip.

Cow moose with 2 calves

We reached Windigo at 10:40 am and checked in with Ranger Valerie to see what the weather forecast had to say, and to see what the chances were of flying out today rather than tomorrow as planned. Neither of us really wanted to cut the trip short, but we also didn't want to push our luck given the weather and flying conditions of the last few days. It turned out that the plane was not flying, because no flights had been booked on this particular date. The decision was now out of our hands; we would stay another night at Washington Creek and attempt to leave tomorrow as originally planned. Whatever was going to happen would happen.

Someone at Windigo said that wolves were heard the night before by people camping at Washington Creek, which was exciting news. A fox trotted by us as we headed back down the path to the campground.

Inside Shelter #9 at Washington Creek

We settled in at Shelter #9, which had a good view of Washington Creek. It was cold and breezy; the sun tried to penetrate the clouds but was unsuccessful, and the heavy cloud cover remained all day. After making lunch, we watched ducks swim back and forth in the creek and then took a nap. Except for the occasional gust of wind or bird call, it was completely silent.

Around 6:00 pm, we took a walk to Washington Harbor. Earlier in the day at Windigo, we had seen a few park rangers looking like they were responding to something urgent. We now learned that a sailboat that was out in the harbor had started to sink – the Coast Guard at Rock Harbor was alerted, and the rangers we had seen at Windigo were heading out to help pump water from the boat and begin rescuing those on board. We would learn more details the following day from one of the stranded boaters. Peril on the high seas (lake)!

What is this fox doing?

On the way back to our shelter, we passed a small clearing just offshore, where a fox was having dinner. It had caught a bird and was sitting in the clearing eating it. It did not seem too concerned with our presence, and we watched it for a minute or so from around 10 feet away as it worked on its meal.

Oh, I have an audience.

Yes, I caught this bird. Now, if you'll excuse me...

Nom nom nom

It had been chilly all day, but the temperature dropped significantly as the sun went down. We went to bed at 8pm because it was too cold to do anything outside of a sleeping bag. Unfortunately, the weather forecast we had looked at earlier did not predict the temperature dropping to the mid-30s in the middle of the night. If we had known about this, we would have put our tent up inside the shelter to benefit from the retention of body heat. Instead, we hunkered down into our sleeping bags on the shelter floor, anticipating a chilly night in the 40s.

As we laid in our sleeping bags after dusk, the ever-elusive night-swimming moose returned to Washington Creek, splashing around in the dark just beyond our shelter. We wanted to see it, but neither of us wanted to get out of our sleeping bags and venture back into the cold to spy on it, so we attempted to get some sleep on our last night on Isle Royale. Maybe in the morning...

East and West Huginnin Cove Trail Marker

To be continued in Day 8: What will the weather bring?

Isle Royale National Park 2013 | Day Six

Washington Creek to Huginnin Cove – 
The most magical place on Earth (Sorry, Disneyland)
(Map at bottom of post)

Huginnin Cove

We woke up at 7:30 am, again to grey sky and still more fog – not a welcome sight. Regardless of the weather, we were heading to Huginnin Cove today, but we hoped that things would improve.

East Huginnin Cove Trail

Huginnin Cove is on Isle Royale's north side, approximately 5 miles from Windigo. It is tent-only (no group sites), and the campsites are close to the Lake Superior shore, with views of Canada to the north. Despite this, Huginnin Cove is apparently more of a day-hiking location than an overnight destination. I had read about the rugged trail and rocky shore and was looking forward to spending a night here.

East Huginnin Cove Trail near Lake Superior

I felt very lethargic this morning, and after eating breakfast, I packed up sluggishly. Because Huginnin Cove is so close, we were not in a hurry to leave early. The sun actually came out around 10 am, and it was clear and sunny for a whole 20 minutes. Just as our spirits were lifting, it became overcast and cloudy again.

Butterfly at Huginnin Cove

Huginnin Cove can be reached by two different trails that form a loop beginning and ending just east of Windigo. Our plan was to hike there via the East Huginnin Cove trail, taking West Huginnin Cove Trail on the way back. To reach the HC trails, we headed east past Washington Creek campground to the Minong Ridge Trail. It is necessary to hike about a mile of the Minong Ridge Trail to reach the junction with East HCT. Heading east on the Minong Ridge, the trail crosses a bridge over Washington Creek, which has a shed built next to it containing equipment to monitor the flow of the creek (I did not think to ask the reason for this, unfortunately). The junction with West HCT is located a short distance from the creek, followed by the East HCT junction a quarter-mile or so further.

Heading north on East HCT, the trail passes the remains of Wendigo mine, which operated briefly in the early 1890s. The mine closed after just two years after failing to yield a worthwhile amount of copper. The trail winds through marshes and swampy areas, which are usually good for moose-spotting, but we didn't see any on our way there.

East Huginnin Cove Trail gets interesting

The first few miles of hiking are mostly in nondescript woods and not very exciting. However, once the trail gets closer to Lake Superior, things get much more interesting. This is what I'd been looking forward to, and I was not disappointed. For about a mile, the trail runs along a short bluff above the lake. Below us, waves emerged from the fog to crash against the rocky shoreline. Huge boulders are strewn everywhere along this stretch of trail, with thick moss growing on everything, and gnarled tree roots snaking all along the trail and over some of the boulders. This was more like it.

Waves come ashore along East Huginnin Cove Trail

Unfortunately everything was extremely slippery due to the recent rain and the endless wet fog. We had to be very careful; the rocks were slimy with mud and wet moss, and the tree roots were like well-oiled death traps. Despite taking deliberate care with every step I made, my left foot slipped on a rock, going right out from under me and causing me to crash hard on my left side. Fortunately, I didn't fall straight forward onto my face and onto more rocks. I managed to fall on relatively soft, mossy ground to the side of the trail and was not hurt. I was very lucky. 

Rocks at the beach at Huginnin Cove

This is a wonderful, short hike – by far our favorite of the trip – and we were both happy to be hiking on this rugged, scenic terrain. The trail continued following close to shore, and soon we came upon the first of two coves. The first cove is filled with enormous pieces of driftwood – entire tree trunks that have washed into the cove and onto shore. It looked mystical in the fog. Just past this cove, the trail heads away from the water, winding through the woods and around to the second cove and the campsites.

The first of two coves on East Huginnin Cove Trail

Hiking into camp, the trail runs close to Huginnin Creek before emerging onto the beach, directly at the center of the cove. Huginnin Cove has five sites; standing at the center of the cove, we looked to the right to see Site #1 located just offshore on the spit of land that creates the cove's east border. Sites 2-5 are to the left and in the woods off the beach. Lucky for us, no one else was here at this time, so after a quick walk-through of the sites, we set up camp at Site #1, which is far and away the best. This site has one half of the cove to itself, including the large boulders at its eastern tip, where it is possible to sit and watch the lake for hours.

Campsite #1 at Huginnin Cove

It had been persistently foggy and overcast during our hike, and we were still unsure which way the weather was going to turn. We set up our tent and changed into warmer clothes quickly in case things took a turn for the worse. Our luck continued, however, and the sky cleared suddenly around 3:00 pm. The sun shone warmly, and fluffy white clouds floated overhead in a gorgeous blue sky. We had almost forgotten what that looked like.

The view north from Campsite #1 at Huginnin Cove

The scenario could not have been more perfect. We had nabbed a kick-ass campsite, and the weather had become beautiful. Our tent was just a few steps from the water, surrounded by trees and rocks. We spent a lot of time out on the boulders, either climbing around and exploring, or sitting in the sun and watching the green-blue lake. Directly ahead is Canada, with Pie Island around 20 miles away and looking like a misplaced butte – its rectangular shape and flat top standing out against the horizon. 

Looking north to Canada from Site #1 at Huginnin Cove

We waded in the cove for a while, and Craig eventually returned to the tent to take a nap. There was no way I was going to spend any time inside if I didn't have to, and I sat on the beach sifting through rocks and just enjoying the view and weather for a couple of hours. At some point, two more hikers had shown up and set up camp at other sites. Sites 2-5 are not visible from the water, but are relatively close to shore. Site #2 is probably the next best site after #1. It is close to the beach, though not directly on it.

Campsite #1 at Huginnin Cove

Being on the northwest end of the island, Huginnin Cove would allow for good sunset viewing later in the evening if the sky remained clear. We decided this was the perfect time and place to eat our favorites from the food bag – chilimac from Mary Jane's Farm, followed by banana pudding from Pack-it Gourmet for dessert. While we cooked dinner, a couple of snowshoe hares hopped through our camp. They are really fast and surprisingly big, with huge rear feet.

The view east from campsite #1 at Huginnin Cove. The Canadian shore can be seen in the distance.

After eating, we returned to the boulders to watch the lake and explore a bit more. Craig climbed over the rocks and over to the adjacent cove, while I took photographs of the area in the pre-sunset waning light. Unfortunately, a wall of clouds appeared just as the sun was about to set. The sun sank behind it, preventing the spectacular sunset I was hoping for. I was too happy to be disappointed by this, however. Today had been a wonderful day.

Moon above Huginnin Cove

The moon rose above the cove, and we sat outside of our tent watching it illuminate the trees and reflect on the water. As dumb as it might sound, Huginnin Cove was magical. The gloomy weather and rain of the days before were worth it just to spend a day here. Neither of us wanted to leave. We would have loved to stay here a second night, but the weather was still questionable. The number of people we had seen stranded at Windigo due to bad flying conditions was worrisome, and we didn't know if this good weather would hold. We decided the best plan would be to hike back to Windigo the following morning in order to give ourselves a better chance of getting home on time. If the weather looked like it would take another bad turn, maybe we would be able to leave early.

Moon above Huginnin Cove

We stayed up as long as we could, turning in only when we couldn't stay awake anymore. I didn't even try to read; I laid in my sleeping bag listening to waves washing on shore in the moonlit cove and trying to make the moments last as long as possible. I drifted in and out of a light sleep, eventually hearing a light rain gently falling on our tent later in the night. 

To be continued in Day Seven: Huginnin Cove to Windigo

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.