Isle Royale National Park July 2016 | Day One

Houghton, Flight to Isle Royale, and the Stoll Trail Incident
Continued from: Introduction
(Arial map of the Rock Harbor area at the end of this post.)

Stoll Trail

(This report is regarding day hiking out of Rock Harbor. For backpacking trip reports, go here for the eastern, Rock Harbor side and here for the western, Windigo side.)

I woke up at 8:00 after a pretty good night’s sleep. It had been warm all night, with a steady wind from the lake that seemed to keep the mosquitoes at bay both last night and this morning. My agenda before leaving the campground was just to pack my backpack for the trip. When I quickly planned this trip at home, I collected everything I would need in a large storage box and put it in the back of my car. This morning I made coffee, re-packed the tent, and laid all of my gear out on the picnic table, making sure I had everything I needed one more time before packing my old REI Venus backpack. I was also bringing a day pack for shorter jaunts.

That done, I left McLain State Park around 9:30 and headed back toward Houghton. The drive along the Portage Canal is scenic, with a steep hillside rising up on the north side of the road, a steep slope to the water to the south, with houses tucked in the hillside between the road and water, and a tree canopy shading the road. At one point I pulled off to the side to photograph a particularly picturesque view of the canal through a window in the trees. I raised my camera and focused on the waterway and was immediately photo-bombed by the Ranger III, suddenly cruising into the window I was attempting to shoot through. The huge boat was making its way west through the canal and out to Lake Superior on its six-hour trip to Isle Royale, loaded with park visitors.

Portage Lake Lift Bridge

I crossed the bridge and returned to downtown Houghton, where I stopped at 5^th and Elm Coffee House and enjoyed a bagel sandwich and coffee on the patio. After that I visited Downwind Sports to see if they carried inflatable pillows similar to the one that had just self-destructed. They did not, but I bought some wool socks because I had decided earlier in the morning that I didn’t like the selection I brought with me. I bummed around town for a while, eventually stopping at Keweenaw Brewing Company for a Pick Axe Blonde and some last-minute gear arranging.

I drove north to the Houghton County Memorial Airport, arriving around 1:15 pm and heading to the Isle Royale Seaplanes “gate” area to “check in” for my 2:00 pm flight. The “” are because this experience is very casual. I set my backpack down next to a chair in the deserted seating area and the woman working at the desk said hello. She asked if I was on the 2:00 flight and I said yes and gave her my name. She looked at a piece of paper and said, “ok.” I was all set.

Eventually another passenger showed up—a lone 35-40-ish year-old man carrying a backpack and two small duffel bags, one of which was very worn, barely holding itself together by its frayed nylon threads. He was being met at Tobin Harbor by family members who had a boat, which sounded like a pretty fancy situation to me.  He told a funny story about how he had the same ancient duffel bag with him the first time he went to Isle Royale, which was via the Ranger III, and everyone was treating him like he was surely going to die within his first 12 hours in the park. “I’m just carrying this stuff onto a boat. I’m definitely not going to be roughing it,” he admitted.

Neither was I for part of this trip, and I felt weird about it. Isle Royale is such a sacred place for backcountry enthusiasts that is seems like sacrilege to deviate from a strictly backcountry agenda. Staying in a cottage is not something I ever pictured myself doing there, and I struggled with strange guilt about it until I reminded myself that I was on vacation and it was not a crime to check out something different.

The plane was running a bit behind schedule, and we didn’t leave until 2:30. There were just two passengers on this flight, and I sat up front with the pilot. The three of us chatted about various adventury things for a while, then eventually fell silent and just stared out the windows. The flight was perfect—clear blue sky above, calm blue water below, and we spotted the Isle Royale Queen on its way back to Copper Harbor, looking very small on the immense lake. Eventually the island came into view, with smaller islands dotting the outer reaches of the archipelago appearing emerald green against the deep blue water. It looked beautiful and exotic. The pilot maneuvered the plane around in order to fly over the length of Tobin Harbor, where we landed softly and cruised around a few islands on the way to the dock. The flight took about 35 minutes.

Flying into Tobin Harbor

For 2 short videos of landing in Tobin Harbor, go here and here. 

Unlike when we flew into Windigo a few years ago, there was no park ranger at the dock to greet us. We exited the plane, grabbed our gear and thanked the pilot before going our separate ways. My fellow passenger’s ride was docked about 20 feet away, a large fishing/cruiser type boat. (I don’t know anything about boats, but it looked posh.) Four people were waiting to catch the plane off the island, and they had clearly had a great time. We wished each other well as we passed on the dock, then I was basically alone. The Tobin Harbor entrance was like the Wild West—there was no one here to shepherd me to backcountry registration or talk about Leave-No-Trace principles. I looked around at the harbor, small islands, and beached canoes before heading up the path toward the visitor center, it suddenly hitting me where I was. I couldn’t stop smiling.

I walked up the dirt path from the dock, passing a few cottages along the way. This was my first up-close view of them; they are of simple mid-century design—brown rectangles with angled roofs and large panels of windows facing Tobin Harbor—and look as though they probably haven’t changed since they were built. Eventually the trail joined the main network of paths that snake into the woods from the visitor center. Dirt turned to pavement as I closed in on the hub of activity that is the visitor center/camp store/marina/ferry dock area. The sun was blazing down from the cloudless sky, and it was hot. The Ranger III was resting at the dock after having ferried a batch of visitors earlier in the day, and a variety of people were hanging around—exhausted-looking backpackers at the end of their trips, new arrivals who were currently clean and shiny but would soon enough find themselves back here looking equally exhausted, and other visitors who were there to explore the island by canoe or kayak, go fishing, or stay at the Rock Harbor Lodge and take its boat tours. I walked to the lodge to pick up my cottage key, then returned the way I had come, walking back toward the Tobin Harbor sea plane dock, but branching off north and past a spot that I recognized from my first trip. It was from this path that I watched a female moose and her two calves as they crossed a clearing and entered the woods. I remembered the mother stopping to look back at me for a moment to make sure I wasn’t following them before continuing into the trees.

I arrived at my cottage after a few minutes and was happy to discover that it had a nice view of Tobin Harbor. The cottages are duplex units; there are 10 buildings laid out in two rows—the first with front row seats to the harbor, and the second row behind them, but staggered in such a way that they probably also have at least a glimpse of water. The cottage has a kitchenette with stove, oven, mini fridge, and cabinets stocked with cookware. There is a table with four chairs for eating/card playing/activity strategizing, and two Adirondack type chairs in front of the harbor-facing windows, which take up most of that wall. Some cottages have a set of bunk beds in addition to a full-size bed; however, this one just had the one “full-size,” which was a bit small and would not be very comfortable for two adults.  (I got the impression that this cottage was used for single-occupancy reservations.)  It had a large but no-frills bathroom, with tub/shower combo, and changing area. All in all I was very happy with the accommodations. My only gripe was that it appeared I was in the only cottage that did not have a screen door, so I wasn’t able to leave my door open for extra air flow. However, I didn’t plan on spending a lot of time inside, so it wasn’t a big deal.

Time flew by as I settled in to the cottage, took a stroll around the immediate area, and visited the lodge office to verify my water taxi reservations. A retro-style poster in the office warns of moose aggression and reminds people to give them space. I wondered how quickly things will change in this park with the moose numbers rising due to the disappearance of the island’s wolves.  At last count, there were just two remaining, and the National Park Service has been weighing its options regarding the loss of this park's crucial predator.

Soon it was getting near dusk. It was a beautiful evening, warm and clear-skied, and I decided tonight was as good as any time to tackle my first goal of this trip—hike Stoll Trail out to Scoville Point. I threw a few items into my day pack—water, a variety of insect repellant (I hate mosquitoes, but I don’t like to use bug spray unless absolutely necessary, and I try to use those with natural ingredients before going for deet, but I keep both on-hand), camera, headlamp, head net, and my rain jacket and first aid kit just in case.

Snowshoe hare at the start of Stoll Trail

Stoll Trail is 4.2 miles round-trip and can be hiked in a loop, with one half hugging the Lake Superior shore/cliff edge, then looping around to take an inland path near Tobin Harbor on the way back. I planned to hike out and back along the lakeshore instead of doing the loop so I could enjoy the rugged shoreline in both directions and have a bit more light on the way back since I would be returning after sunset. It was 8:40 pm when I set out on the trail, thinking I would arrive at the point in about an hour, right as the sun was going down. I should have known that I would get distracted and take longer than that.

Rugged and rocky, the trail travels at first through thick spruce forest, with lichen hanging from branches, and the forest floor thick with thimbleberry and other plants. Mosquitoes were an immediate problem, and it wasn’t long before I abandoned the lemon eucalyptus spray and went for the hard stuff. However, the mosquitoes were not impressed with any of it, not even 100% deet. They weren’t swarming to the point where I needed my head net, and I knew that once the trail emerged into more open territory it wouldn’t be so bad, so I just tried to hurry through the dense forest.

For a video of a scene from Stoll Trail, go here.

The forest eventually thins, and the trail begins breaking out onto a series of rocky crests, with views of Lake Superior and the small islands to the south. Interesting interpretive signs placed here and there provide history and tell geological stories. I lingered for a long time at these spots; aside from the mosquitoes, it was a perfect night, and the scene was just as I had imagined it would be out on this rocky trail: the setting sun was casting the rugged, sloping rock in soft light and bringing out intense shades of orange on the little rocky islands. Amazingly, I hadn’t seen a single other person out on this trail despite the beautiful night. I was certain other hikers or lodge guests would be out here taking in the gorgeous views, but it appeared I was completely alone.

After spending a bit too much time gazing at the scenery from a makeshift log bench on the edge of an especially picturesque section of cliff, I returned to the trail, which curved behind some trees before once again rising over a crest and providing another open view of the lake. I came over this crest and found myself staring at a gigantic bull moose—way too close. I stopped dead in my tracks.

The moose also appeared to have stopped abruptly; it had been walking along the edge of the ridge in my direction, and when I popped out as the trail crested a hill, I startled it. My immediate thought was that I was looking at a cardboard cut-out or one of those black silhouettes that people put in their yard—like the cowboy lounging against a tree. This obviously made no sense, but the scene looked entirely fake, like an idyllic advertisement for the National Park Service. (In fact, almost exactly like this new poster that I saw for sale at the visitor center. Also, I have a birthday coming up.) The moose stood still and alert, staring at me. My heart was beating against the back of my throat. I backed off the trail and waited. After a few tense seconds, it turned its huge head away from me and back forward and continued walking. I took a couple of quick photos, and then waited some more. The problem was that he was walking a parallel path to me, going in the opposite direction, and we were still in clear view of one another. If I turned around and headed back, it would be behind me heading in the same direction, and I didn’t really want to hike back with a gigantic moose behind me. I waited until it walked a bit further, then I slowly stepped back onto the trail. It stopped again and so did I. I was sweating. Unlike the times I encountered wolves in this park, I was scared.

I didn’t know what the moose was going to do. I assessed my situation and did not like it. There were no substantial trees nearby to get behind if it decided I was unacceptable and charged. I tried to think of what I could do, and came up with nothing that didn’t involve me getting my face sliced open with a hoof.

It faced forward again and continued walking slowly. I took that opportunity to quickly put some distance between us, speed-walking down the trail in the opposite direction and then stopping again to watch it from afar. It was now cutting a path away from the water and toward the trail where I had been walking. It lingered behind a couple of dead spruce trees for a few minutes, then turned in a circle, and abruptly settled down with an audible “thump” right next to the trail. So...I wasn’t going back that way then.

Goodnight moose

I continued toward the point, but my mind started to wander to bad places. I had lingered longer than planned in a few spots and it was now getting dark fast. The mosquitoes were becoming relentless. Since I couldn’t return the way I had come due to moose interference, I would have to do the loop after all, hiking in the dense woods further inland on the way back. This was fine—I had brought my headlamp—but what if there was another moose on the trail and I was cut off going that way too? I really, really didn’t want to startle another one in the dark. At this point, they were all going to be hunkering down for the night—were more of them laying down in the grass up ahead? Would I be trapped and forced to hunker down out here myself? Was this scenario far-fetched? Maybe, but alone in the near-dark and getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, the self-doubt was maddening. 

I thought: This is how people end up in news articles, being judged by others for their stupidity in the comments section. The situation had all the classic elements: I was alone. (Why weren’t any other hikers out here? It was a beautiful night!) I hadn’t told anyone where I was going, and no one would notice if I didn’t come back, probably for a few days. (I was just going on a short, scenic hike! What could go wrong?) I was prepared with a first aid kit and rain jacket, but I hadn’t thought to prepare for an emergency overnight due to potential moose stand-off. (ABC: Always Be Considering...potential moose stand-off.) I was fewer than two miles from Rock Harbor, but I suddenly felt completely isolated. I decided that I needed to abort this mission and get back asap before it was completely dark. I could come out here again on another day and finish where I had left off.

At about a half-mile from the point, I turned around and hightailed it back, hiking most of the trail by headlamp in the dark, while being relentlessly plagued by mosquitoes.  (My notes state: "Have never sweated so much. Mosquitoes bad.")  I was extremely relieved to find myself back at the harbor, where the blue hour was underway. Now out of the woods, the mosquitoes were no longer a nuisance, and I walked to the edge of the water at the marina, took my shoes off, dangled my feet into the water, and just sat there for 30 minutes or so, enjoying the scene. The water and sky glowed dark blue, and the only sound was the gentle lapping of the lake against the docks. The Ranger III was docked for an overnight stay, and everything was shut down for the night. There was just one other person that I noticed sitting on a nearby dock and enjoying a similar experience.

10:20 pm in Snug Harbor

I walked back to my cottage by headlamp and sat at the window for a while reading a book before turning in for the night. I heard common loons calling out on Tobin Harbor as I drifted off to sleep.

Trip Goal #1: Scoville Point--Fail.

To be continued in Day Two: Return to Rock Harbor Trail

Isle Royale National Park | Day Eight

Rock Harbor to Copper Harbor

A female moose with 2 young notices me

Visitors on Isle Royale can't simply wander into the Rock Harbor Dining Room willy nilly with unscheduled hunger. This is how civilized society breaks down. Meals are served during specific time intervals; therefore, it was necessary on day 8 to wake up early to meet the 7am-9am breakfast schedule. We are big fans of breakfast, and being early risers, this was not too difficult to accomplish. Still, I felt bad for those who woke at a more reasonable hour with dreams of eggs and hash browns still fresh in their minds, only to find they had missed this narrow opportunity.

Rock Harbor Lodge and Guest House viewed from the water

Still dark outside, we arrived promptly at 6:55 am and loitered outside the restaurant entrance like a couple of 15-year-olds waiting for Twilight tickets. It was very quiet and we appeared to be the only people awake in Rock Harbor, aside from those we could hear inside preparing to open.

While enjoying a breakfast of coffee and pancakes (no real maple syrup despite the fact that Isle Royale is technically in the U.P. and almost in Canada), we discussed how to spend our last day on the island. The 2:45 pm ferry was several hours away, giving us plenty of time to explore trails, coves, and small islands in the Rock Harbor area. We felt good, but pathetic as this sounds, we still felt like Annie Wilkes had taken a sledge hammer to our ankles. There were a handful of day hikes I would have loved to have taken, and paddling around all of the inlets sounded great, but we were both content just relaxing for a while. We put the ½ day canoe voucher on hold and decided to spend the morning hanging around the visitor center and dock.

Leaving Isle Royale

Rock Harbor could prove an enjoyable place to spend 2 or 3 days if backpacking isn't appealing. A handful of very interesting day hikes start there and range anywhere from a few miles to 10 miles roundtrip. Rock Harbor Lodge also operates a boat service that allows visitors to see a few other parts of the island without having to hike long distances. Smaller islands can be explored up close via canoe or kayak. I could easily see myself going back and spending more time there.

By 10:30 I was feeling a bit restless and decided to go for a walk. There were murmurings of a cow moose in the area, so I decided to take a walk along Tobin Harbor Trail to see if I could find one. Craig was still in energy saver mode, so he elected to stay behind and keep an eye on the supply of dill pickle potato chips in the camp store. I struck out on the trail and headed toward the sea plane dock. A few hikers were waiting there for a flight off the island, including the woman we had met solo hiking the Greenstone. Within a few minutes, the sound of a small plane could be heard. It appeared over the trees and I watched it land in Tobin Harbor. While the group got ready to board, I got back on the trail and resumed my search.

I joined up with a few other hikers who were also killing time before the afternoon ferry. Within just a few minutes, we spotted a big female moose in the trees just off the trail. She seemed ok with our presence, provided we didn't get too close. After about 5 minutes of hushed excitement and jockeying for position to take photos, everyone else left. I decided to stay and keep watch from a distance. There was a clearing ahead on the other side of the trail, and I had a feeling she was heading that way. If I stayed far enough away and didn't bother her, maybe I would be able to get a good clear view for a photo.

My plan paid off as she emerged from the trees with two previously hidden calves the size of ponies. The three of them slowly lumbered across the trail and into the clearing. Eventually, I followed and stood on the trail watching them as they walked toward the woods on the far side of the clearing to browse the foliage. At that moment, Craig appeared with a couple of hikers he had met at the dock. We all watched the moose family for a few minutes, before they disappeared into the woods. Later we would hear a theory that this particular female is staying close to the Rock Harbor area, the idea being that it is easier to protect her calves in an area where wolves are hesitant to enter due to human activity. She has her work cut out for her for the upcoming winter.

Something grabs the attention of this moose family

We returned to the dock and learned that the hikers Craig had met belonged to a Northeast Ohio Backpacking Club. One of them had taken a couple of outstanding photos of a huge bull moose a few days before. He was ahead of his group and came around a corner to find the enormous animal staring at him. Although I was green with envy, I probably would have had a seizure from excitement at the sight of those antlers.

We spent the last few hours browsing the books in the visitor center and talking with our new acquaintances while waiting for the ferry. About an hour before boarding, I made the decision to take some motion sickness pills. I didn't think I'd have trouble with sea sickness, but this proved untrue on the initial ferry ride to the island the week before. Despite calm waters, about halfway there I started to feel queasy from the constant gentle rocking of the ship. I frequently had to step outside onto the deck in the cold fresh air to avoid getting sick.

A park ranger waits to greet a new batch of visitors

The Isle Royale Queen is awesome, and I highly recommend taking it to the island.  However, amongst un-seaworthy hikers, it is known as “The Barf Barge.” It is a relatively small vessel, and  when the water is anything but glassy smooth, chain-reaction vomiting has been known to occur. We had read grim accounts of passengers lining the deck shoulder to shoulder, gripping the handrails and leaning over the side for the entire journey. The problem with taking medicine for motion sickness it that it causes me to fall into a zombie-like state – too out-of-it to read, think clearly, or have a coherent conversation, but not out of it enough to fall asleep. This makes for a miserable time. But, I really didn't want to take the risk of being the one to start the dominoes falling.

The boat was full, and for the first hour, I was very high from the motion sickness pills. This was a good thing as a very chatty woman sat with us once she and her husband discovered they couldn't find seats together. The husband stood there dumbly for a moment, before his wife harshly shooed him away to go sit outside off the back of the boat. Without any exaggeration, this woman talked non-stop for two solid hours. I don't think she breathed. We learned lots of interesting “facts” which she had absorbed during her time staying at the lodge and taking boat tours. She explained to us that both male and female moose have antlers (I tried to object to this, but she wouldn't have it), and that she had met a family of hikers, which included a grandfather in his 70's and a 12-year-old child, who had just hiked the entire 42+ miles across the island - in a single day. I looked down at her foot and saw a bloody wad of toilet paper stuck under the strap of her sandal. “Alright,” I interrupted suddenly. “What's the deal with your foot?” Emboldened by the power of the motion sickness pills, I felt that if I was to be held prisoner by this woman's never ceasing aural assault, I should be able to ask whatever the hell I wanted. 

Copper Harbor at sunset

It turns out a leach had affixed itself to her foot while canoeing earlier that day, and upon showing it to her husband, he simply reached over and ripped it off. I explained to her that I had taken some medication to prevent becoming violently ill and to please forgive me if I wasn't very lively company. She really was very friendly, but one can only take so much.

A view of the Isle Royale Queen from the dock behind King Copper Motel

It took almost 4 hours to reach Copper Harbor and I was barely conscious for the last two of them. We retrieved our car from the ferry parking lot, and I was impressed by the distance people had traveled to visit Isle Royale. States all over the country were represented by the license plates I observed: New York, Washington, Iowa, Texas, Colorado, Wisconsin, and Indiana to name a few. Since there is no reliable cell phone service in Copper Harbor, we checked in with our families by way of the pay phone outside the King Copper Motel. After eating whitefish chowder and warm panini sandwiches at The Mariner, and drinking a couple of Keweenaw Amber Ales at Zik's, we headed back to the motel and went to sleep in preparation for our 12-hour drive home.

A small but perfectly excellent selection of draft beers at Zik's

This hiking trip to Isle Royale National Park is the best vacation I have ever taken. It was at once beautiful and subtle, physically exhausting and mentally rewarding. A feeling of contentment settled over us while on Isle Royale and it lasted for several weeks after returning home. Despite how much I may have enjoyed other vacations, no other trip has managed to have that effect. Once home, I spent countless hours sorting through our photos, reading trip reports from other hikers and viewing their pictures as well. Isle Royale left an impression on us that will not fade any time soon. We want to go back someday, and hope that the delicate balance of life in this remote wilderness will find a way to thrive into the uncertain future.

More photos from my trip can be seen here, or by clicking on the Isle Royale link to the upper right under photos.

Informative Links:

Isle Royale Wolf-Moose Study

Isle Royale - NPS Page

Photos (amazing photos taken by honest-to-goodness photographers):

Sweetwater Visions - Isle Royale Page

Terra Galleria - Isle Royale Page

Brimmages

Isle Royale National Park | Day Seven

Daisy Farm to Rock Harbor

Rock Harbor Lighthouse in the distance across Rock Harbor

After the usual coffee, oatmeal, and spellbinding sunrise, we left Daisy Farm at 7:45 am. Although it hadn't stormed during the night, the overcast sky and wind told us that the weather hadn't officially decided what to do yet.

Ho, hum. Another mediocre sunrise.

Today, the 7^th day of our trip, we would follow Rock Harbor Trail for a little over 7 miles with Rock Harbor as our final destination. From the reading we had done beforehand, we learned that Rock Harbor Trail consists of very rocky terrain and tends to become slippery in wet conditions. The path runs along the water's edge, and for the first few miles is relatively easy hiking. The sky slowly cleared over the course of the morning and it looked like our good weather luck would continue.

Don't fall in

We passed the site of Siskowit Mine – a copper mine that had been in use during a brief period in the mid-1800s. Signs urge caution when venturing off-trail to explore the area. We stayed on the trail but were still able to see the remains of a few stone foundations where old buildings had once been. Across the harbor, we could see Mott Island which is the home of Isle Royale's National Park Service HQ. The island was named after Angelique and Charlie Mott – a couple who had been hired to come to Isle Royale one summer in the mid 1800s in order to guard a mining claim. The remoteness and the fact that there were very few provisions made Mrs. Mott nervous, but their employer promised a boat of supplies would soon arrive, followed by another boat in the Fall, which would bring them home before winter. Neither boat showed up, and once their meagre food rations were gone, the Motts resorted to eating tree bark to survive.

Eventually, Charlie Mott went crazy from starvation and fever and, legend has it, attempted to kill and eat his wife. Luckily for Angelique, he was so weak by that point that she was able to thwart his cannibalistic plot and survive. Unluckily for Charlie, he died soon after, leaving his widow alone on the frozen island. She managed to survive by trapping the occasional rabbit using snares she made from her own hair until a ship arrived after the spring thaw. Here a section of shoreline that juts out from the main island across the harbor from Mott Island is aptly named Starvation Point.

About ½ mile west of Three Mile Campground, Rock Harbor Trail really starts to get interesting. We suddenly understood why this could be a difficult hike in wet conditions. Here the south slope of Isle Royale tumbles into Lake Superior, and a steady up and down pattern of climbing over rocky terrain makes for quite a spectacular hike. I was very happy we had saved this section of trail for our last full day of hiking as it gave us a fun (and tiring) end to the trip. Although we still had one day left and planned to do some day hiking around the Rock Harbor area, this was the last true hiking day.

Rock Harbor Trail

Expecting to see mountain goats peeking at us from the tops of rocky crests, we made our way along the shore, frequently using cairns to guide us over the ambiguous landscape. We spoke with a hiker coming from the other direction who had recently seen a female moose visiting the water for a drink. We had yet to see a moose up close, so we kept our eyes and ears peeled but had no luck. I really hoped I would get to see another one before leaving the following afternoon. It isn't uncommon to spot moose in the Rock Harbor area, so I still held out hope.

Rock Harbor Trail

We eventually came full circle and arrived back at the Rock Harbor Visitor Center at 11:30 am. Our first order of business was to visit the camp store for snacks. I highly recommend the dill pickle potato chips; they are popular for good reason! That done, we needed to decide where to stay. The Rock Harbor campground offers shelters and tent sites, but we decided to be spontaneous and see if there was a room available at the lodge. We justified splurging at the end of the trip in the spirit of seeing what the whole Rock Harbor experience was all about.

Sign at Rock Harbor Visitor Center

Being that it was near the end of the Isle Royale season, both the lodge and camp store were scheduled to close down the following day, so we were just in time. A room was available and after confirming that the restaurants were still serving a full menu (they stop stocking supplies after a certain point), we decided to go for it. Luckily we had read about the Rock Harbor Lodge prior to our trip; therefore, we knew not to expect anything extravagant (despite the price tag). Anyone planning to stay there must accept that he/she is paying for the miracle of the existence of a lodging establishment in the middle of nowhere, not for luxury of any kind. The beds are clearly left over from a time in history where the human being was a much smaller creature. I'm 5'5" tall and my feet were in danger of hanging off the end. Still, a hot shower and real pillows after seven days was a treat. We visited the cheaper of the two restaurants, the Greenstone Grille, for lunch (I have never eaten so fast in my entire life), and returned to our room where we instantly fell asleep for an hour or two.

Ate this in approximately 9 seconds

Once we woke from our involuntary naps, we ventured out to the visitor center to turn in our itinerary and fill out a form describing our wolf sighting. There is a very thick guest book that visitors can sign, and we saw an entry from a couple who had been coming to Isle Royale every year for 47 years. We received a complimentary ½ day canoe rental with our room at the lodge, but we were both too tired to use it right then. We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the immediate area before deciding what to do for dinner. The Rock Harbor Dining Room was a bit too expensive for our mood, so we opted for the Greenstone Grille again. While waiting for our frozen pizza and enjoying one of our favorite Michigan beers, Bell's Two Hearted Ale, we entertained ourselves by watching all the hikers coming and going through the restaurant/giftshop. Every single one of them was limping in the exact same way (including ourselves), and we knew exactly how each of them felt.

One of the buildings at Rock Harbor Lodge

We returned to our room overlooking Lake Superior and were treated to the first real view of the amazing quantity of stars overhead that we'd had all during the trip. I fell asleep listening to waves washing up on the rocky shore below our window. Although I was sad that the trip was coming to an end, I looked forward to a relaxing day of exploring our surroundings without the need to push on to another destination.

To be continued in:
Day 8: Rock Harbor - New Acquaintances, More Animal Sightings, & Dramamine

More photos from this trip can be seen here.