Isle Royale National Park July 2016 | Day Two

Rock Harbor Trail, Geological Reverie, and the Impossible Question

Continued from: Day One

Backpackers on Rock Harbor 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 6:30 am after sleeping well despite the small, weird bed in the cottage I was "researching."  I opened the curtains to let in the view of Tobin Harbor, went back to bed, and dozed on and off for another half-hour. After coffee and oatmeal for breakfast, I filled my day pack with provisions for the day and headed to Rock Harbor Lodge to catch the Sandy at 9:00. I would be riding standby—hitching a ride with lodge guests who were going on a tour of Edison Fishery and Rock Harbor Lighthouse. After dropping everyone off at the fishery, the Sandy would shoot across the harbor and drop me at the dock at Daisy Farm. I planned a leisurely hike back on Rock Harbor Trail, taking as much time as I wanted to cover the 7.1 mile stretch. I could pause as often as I felt like to photograph the landscape and plant life, take breaks and relax at scenic spots along the water (which is basically everywhere on this trail), and enjoy the hike without the weight of a full backpack, or the concern of getting to camp as soon as possible to secure a site.

Rock Harbor Trail follows a rock ledge at the water's edge

I boarded the Sandy at 9:00 am, taking a seat toward the back. A little boy of maybe 5 years old climbed on board with his dad, and they took seats behind me.  While we waited to shove off, the dad asked the boy the most outrageous question I’ve ever heard: “What do you like better, legos or dinosaurs?” It was an impossible question, and I involuntarily laughed when I heard it. The boy thought for a few seconds, then gave the best possible answer—the only answer there could possibly be: “Hmmm. I like both. Maybe a lego dinosaur.” A few minutes later, I heard the boy talking about a “unicorn boat” across the water. I turned around—real casual so as not to look like I was interested—to look across the harbor and saw the Ranger III with its crane extended.  Whoa. (Keanu Reeves voice)

Edison Fishery and Rock Harbor Lighthouse

We docked at Edison Fishery and everyone but me and the boat crew disembarked. The lodge excursion consists of a guided tour of the restored, historic fishery, and a walk to the Rock Harbor Lighthouse which sits nearby—a literal and figurative bright white beacon that is one of the most iconic images of this island park.

Left: The Sandy leaves me at the dock at Daisy Farm.  Right: Moose prints at Daisy Farm 

I was shuttled across the harbor and a short distance further west and dropped off at the Daisy Farm dock. The Sandy headed back across the harbor, and I shouldered my pack and walked the long cement dock toward the campground and trail. It was 10:00 am; the weather was beautiful, the sky was clear and blue, and it was pleasantly cool near the water with a nice breeze.

I’ve looked forward to hiking this stretch of trail again ever since my first trip here. It is rugged and scenic, and follows the shoreline on the side of a ridge that slopes down to Lake Superior, showcasing the island’s most unique geologic characteristic.

(Information sources listed at the end.)

As anyone who has trudged around on Isle Royale knows, the island is made up of a series of ridges. Essentially, each ridge is part of an ancient volcanic flow, formed before Lake Superior existed, and originally laid down in a series of horizontal layers. A billion or so years ago, a massive rift opened up in what is now the American Midwest. Known cleverly as the Midcontinent Rift, the continent began separating in two, opening a chasm in the Earth that stretched from present-day Kansas, up through the middle of what is now Lake Superior, curving east and then south through most of Michigan’s lower peninsula. Near the center of present-day Lake Superior, volcanic eruptions occurred from fissures in the rift, the lava extruding and spreading laterally toward the outer edges of the rift valley. The eruptions happened periodically, with intermittent lulls in volcanic activity, during which time sedimentary deposits accumulated on top of the igneous layers. Volcanic activity would eventually resume, and the process would start over. Over time the basin gradually sunk under its own weight, forming a syncline. 

"Flood Basalts and Sediments showing the process of interbedding." USGS Bulletin 1309 (Fig. 43).

For reasons that are still being researched, the rift failed, and the continent stopped its attempted separation. Upward movements of two faults—the Keweenaw and Isle Royale Faults—caused dramatic steepening of the syncline near the margins of the basin, approximately 50 miles apart. Opposite ends of the same layered volcanic land mass, they are now known as the Keweenaw Peninsula and Isle Royale. Exposed bookends that mirror each other, the Keweenaw and Isle Royale reveal millions of years of geologic process thanks to their jaunty upward tilts.

USGS Bulletin 1309

Views east and west along Rock Harbor Trail

The exposed ends of the tilted volcanic and sedimentary layers are what make up the ridge and valley structure of Isle Royale. Over time the sedimentary layers were eroded by the elements and glaciers, while the more resistant igneous rock better withstood the forces. Striations in the exposed rock of Isle Royale reveal the directions of glacier movement. The ridge that forms the rugged spine of Isle Royale, the Greenstone Ridge, is the exposed end of the largest of the ancient volcanic flows—the Greenstone Flow.

USGS Bulletin 1309

Walking along Rock Harbor Trail, evidence of the tilted layers is obvious. Rock Harbor itself is space between ridges that has filled with water—the small islands and islets to the south that follow a neat line are what’s visible above water of the next volcanic layer below the surface of the lake.

The USGS document goes into many more fascinating details about the variety of rocks found on Isle Royale and their origins, and I’ve spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to match photos I’ve taken of rocks on the island to the USGS descriptions and grainy black and white images in efforts to determine if what I thought was conglomerate at Siskiwit Bay is really conglomerate, or just really spectacular pyroclastic rock. I really like geology.

Eating a snack and looking across the harbor to some outer islands--aka the top of the next ridge

Looking north, up the ridge on Rock Harbor Trail

The campground was deserted at Daisy Farm, which is unusual. Given that it was mid-morning, everyone had likely already hit the trails to wherever adventure awaited them on this day, and newcomers had yet to arrive. I thought I would see at least a few people, however, and I wondered if a few hikers were tucked away in the sites further up the ridge in the trees, sleeping one off. I lingered at shelter #13 for a few minutes, reminiscing about the time we stayed there unexpectedly after realizing our limits on this island’s terrain during our first trip. We had planned to hike from Lane Cove to Moskey Basin, but after climbing up Lane Cove Trail to the Greenstone Ridge, hiking west across the ridge in the hot sun, then heading south on Mt. Ojibway Trail—a “descent” that is a never-ending series of down-then-back-up-again-why-won’t-it-stop-I-should-have-looked-more-closely-at-the-topographic-lines-on-the-map climbs over smaller ridges, we understood the island was trying to kill us and we should respect its supremacy, avoid looking it in the eye, and stop walking around on it at the soonest opportunity.  Once we reached the end of Mt. Ojibway Trail, we zombie-shuffled into Daisy Farm Campground and decided to hole up there for the night.

Thimbleberries aren't ripe yet in July. Another reason to go later in the season.

Thimbleberries were abundant during that early September trip, and we collected a good stash from the plants around the shelter to add to our oatmeal and for general snacking while we recuperated from being so near death, allowing what nutrients the berries possessed to invigorate our weary bloodstreams. On this July trip, however, none of the berries were remotely ripe yet, and the plants were still in their flowering phase.

The terrain of Rock Harbor Trail varies from a standard dirt path (i.e., mud), to the occasional boardwalk protecting marshy ground vegetation, to obstacle courses of jumbled boulders and tangled tree roots, to stretches of smooth exposed bedrock. I had a great time; going slow and not carrying a 35-pound backpack certainly allowed me to have a different experience. I’m not sure I can legitimately call what I did hiking, as I took over 6 hours to go 7.1 miles, but I definitely enjoyed myself. As I walked, it was fun to see things again that I remembered from my previous hike of this trail. I was mesmerized by this trail my first time here; it blew me away, especially the particularly rugged and scenic section between Three Mile CG and Rock Harbor CG. (And the section further west from Daisy Farm to Moskey basin is rugged and awesome, but I did not revisit it on this trip.)

Various trail conditions--mud, foot/ankle punishing rock & root bonanza, smooth bedrock

I looked for a landmark that was no longer there—on our first trip we took a short break on a sandy section of shore with a view of Rock Harbor Lighthouse in the distance. I looked forward to sitting here for a while, but I couldn’t find it, and I eventually determined that the sandy shore we happened upon in 2009 was probably not a normal occurrence and was instead due to Lake Superior having a lower water level at the time. Back in 2006-2009-ish, the Great Lakes were experiencing lower lake levels, and it was causing issues across the region. It may not seem very significant, but a decrease of mere inches can cause far-reaching problems, from recreational boaters being unable to dock their pleasure boats in Great Lakes’ parks for fear of running aground, to billions of dollars lost in the Great Lakes shipping industry--the lower the water level, the lighter a cargo ship’s load must be.

Left: A sandy stretch of beach existed here in 2009 when the lake level was lower.   Right: About the same spot in 2016.

The trail was nearly as deserted as Daisy Farm Campground, which was—again—surprising. At the height of summer vacation season, it’s possible to experience solitude at Isle Royale National Park even on the most popular hiking routes. I crossed paths with a couple of small groups of hikers, who were interested in what I noticed of site availability at Daisy Farm, and one large group of young hikers, who looked to be part of a girl scout or other outdoor-type group. Common loons played games of cat-and-mouse with me throughout the day ("human-and-aquatic bird" doesn't have the same ring to it), taunting me with their magical calls and allowing only fleeting glimpses of them before they dove beneath the surface of the water and out of my life.

I returned to Rock Harbor around 4:00. It had gotten very hot in the midday sun, and I felt only a little guilty enjoying the luxury of a shower, followed by a walk to the Greenstone Grille for a pint of Keweenaw Brewing Company Pick-Axe Blond Ale. Another change from the last time I was in Rock Harbor, the Greenstone Grille now has a nice variety of real pizzas on its menu. When we were here in 2009, it had frozen pizza only, which we gratefully shoved in our faces after the previous 7 days’ physical punishment. I remember it was amazing, and I felt a touch of sadness at the inevitable progress of the world.

I wandered around the harbor for a while before returning to my cottage to read and relax for the evening. I had an early day planned for tomorrow, taking an 8:00 am water taxi to Hidden Lake, where I would climb up the Greenstone Ridge for the notoriously awesome views of the sexy volcanic ridges to the north from the vantage point of Lookout Louise. But a storm was coming...

To be continued in Day 3: Lookout Louise and the Greenstone Ridge

Geological information sources

USGS Bulletin 1309: The Geologic Story of Isle Royale National Park:
https://pubs.usgs.gov/bul/1309/report.pdf
Nature.com:

http://www.nature.com/news/geology-north-america-s-broken-heart-1.14281)

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.

Isle Royale National Park | Day Three

Daisy Farm to Moskey Basin
“I did nothing, and it was everything I ever thought it could be.” -Office Space
Although we only had to hike about 4 miles to get to our destination, we decided to get an early start in the hope of securing a good spot at Moskey Basin. There was no hint of sunlight when we awoke around 6:30 am and attempted to quietly deflate and roll up our sleeping pads.

Islets along Rock Harbor

Throughout the trip, we tended to wake before anyone else and set out on our day's hike just as others were emerging from their sleeping bags. I love getting up early when camping to enjoy the sunrise if I'm in a position to do so. Plus, I think there is a better chance of spotting wildlife in the early morning, a philosophy that Craig eventually embraced and would pay off big time later in the trip.

After getting dressed and eating breakfast by headlamp, I wandered down to the water to witness a magnificent sunrise. A handful of others were now awake, standing at the water's edge and staring in awe at the purple and pink horizon.

Sunrise at Daisy Farm

When I returned to the shelter, Craig was visiting the two women camping next door. We had filtered much more water than we needed the night before, and we didn't want to carry the excess since we had plenty to drink and would be able to get more at our next site. After debating whether he would seem like some kind of weird forest creep by offering to give away our extra water, he had apparently decided to go for it. Since they weren't chasing him out of their campsite with torches, it appeared to have gone well.

Scraggly trees along Rock Harbor Trail

We finished packing and headed west on the Rock Harbor Trail just after sunrise. This section of trail proved very interesting and would be my favorite hike of the trip. Admittedly, I felt relieved that we only had this 4-mile stretch to accomplish that day. If we had pushed all the way the day before and been made to endure this stretch of trail at the end of the planned 10.8-mile trek from Lane Cove to Moskey Basin, I might have set fire to the trail, then salted the earth.

Here's how Jim DuFresne describes this route in his essential guidebook, Isle Royale National Park: Foot Trails & Water Routes: “...the trail begins its up-and-down course over one rocky crest after another. A few times it dips down into wooded terrain, only to break out and ascend another bare, rocky crest. Keep sharp eyes out for rock cairns because the trail is easy to lose. There are a few steep climbs and descents but none of them are long.” This is basically right on point, although I don't remember losing the trail more than once or twice, and only for a few seconds each time.

Contemplating the Awesomeness

The constant up/down that DuFresne describes was exactly that – constant. But the landscape was so fascinating I couldn't help but love the entire journey. I took breaks here and there to catch my breath and, in between the gasping and panting, exclaimed about the utter awesomeness of our surroundings. The trees here were very scraggly and covered in old man's beard, giving everything a very old and weathered look. The rocky terrain revealed Isle Royale for what it actually is – a huge, ancient rock that has somehow managed to grow a forest on it.

The terrain of Rock Harbor Trail

As we ascended a ridge topped with a clearing, we heard something that stopped us dead in our tracks. A low moan somewhere in the distance rose in pitch and then became quiet. We stopped and waited, staring at each other with wide eyes. Again we heard it - a low-pitched, mournful moaning which was soon joined by a few more, all at different tones. It wasn't really how I imagined the sound, but it could be nothing else: We were listening to wolves howl for the very first time. Soon, a chorus of howling washed over us, and we stood there rooted to the spot, smiling at each other crazily. It was the most exciting sound I've ever heard.

At the top of yet another ridge

Abruptly, the howling stopped. We shook ourselves out of the stupor the sound had caused and descended the slope, paying extra attention to everything around us. Not long after listening to the wolf pack at the top of the ridge, we began to notice wolf scat along the trail. It looks similar to that of a big dog, but with hair in it from whatever animal had been a recent meal. While moose are the gray wolf's main food source on Isle Royale, they turn to beaver during the summer. The park brochure gives insight into the cycle of life on the island, describing the interdependency between the moose, wolf, beaver, red fox and snowshoe hare, and how each of them is needed to maintain symbiosis in this unique ecosystem.

"To simply hear a wolf is an honor; to see one is a wilderness favor granted to few."

About an hour before reaching Moskey Basin, we crossed paths with the couple from Wisconsin whom we had met the day before. Unlike us, they had made it all the way to Moskey Basin and were now making their way back toward Rock Harbor before heading home. When I mentioned how amazing the trail was, the husband looked at me like I was sprouting velvety antlers and said, “You like this trail? I hate it!” We asked them if they heard the wolves, and he got very excited. “We saw one,” he blurted. They explained that about ½ hour back, they had seen one standing in the trees at the edge of the trail near a stream crossing. They suggested we keep our eyes peeled when we get to this area because it might still be there.

Now on tenterhooks and more aware than ever of our surroundings, we made our way quietly along the trail. Every sound had us stopping, listening, and squinting into the trees. Eventually we decided that if the wolf didn't want us to see it, we wouldn't. And we didn't.

We arrived at Moskey Basin around 10:30 am, late enough that everyone had cleared out except for one tent camper who was still sleeping, and early enough that no one else had arrived yet. Not only were we able to claim a shelter, but we also scored the best site possible. Smooth, solid rock rises out of this inlet of Lake Superior and slopes gently upward, eventually flattening out. The shelters are placed right at the tops of these wonderful rocky slopes and are very close to the water. Our shelter appeared to have the best rock surface in front which eased gradually into the lake – perfect for swimming and collecting as much water as we would need for cooking, drinking, and doing some pseudo laundry.

Our front yard at Moskey Basin

This was instantly our favorite spot so far and we knew it would be impossible to top. I can say confidently that it is the best spot in which I've ever camped. The scenery was so beautiful that I won't even bother to describe it because I don't think it's possible. We were very glad that we had wimped out the day before and changed our plans. This was going to be an excellent spot to spend a whole day doing absolutely nothing. A park ranger passed through briefly to check on things and asked how we were doing. Loons called to one another, and two very young ones practiced diving for fish, popping back up here and there in front of our site. Other unidentified birds sunned themselves on rocks, and after getting in the water ourselves, we did the same.

Feeling refreshed, we strung a line in front of our shelter and hung our clothes to dry. As we prepared lunch at our picnic table, a lone hiker showed up at the next shelter and told us his story. He was from Traverse City and had made arrangements to meet up with a friend on the island the day before. After hiking as fast as possible to get from Rock Harbor to Mt. Ojibway (their meeting place) by a predetermined time, his friend had already come and gone. Since there is nowhere to camp at Mt. Ojibway, this meant that our new acquaintance had to turn around and hike back to the first place he could find – Daisy Farm. A group of hikers found him, slightly hallucinating and dehydrated, and invited him into their shelter. After receiving water and food, the poor guy passed out and awoke the next morning, embarrassed to find a ranger checking on him. Now he was at Moskey Basin because he thought his hiking partner might show up there. If not, he was going to hitch a ride with some boaters who were heading to Three Mile and had offered to take him along.

Lichen covered trees frame the view next door at Moskey Basin

After lazily resting in our shelter for an undetermined length of time, we made dinner and watched 3 otters splash around in the water in front of our site. By now, Mr. Traverse City's friend had shown up and they had gone, and a big group of hikers from a Minnesota backpacking club had taken up residence next door.

Moskey Basin, the view east from our site

We looked forward to lying on our sleeping pads that night out on the rock, hopefully watching more bats, and stargazing. If some wolves decided to join us and howl at the moon, which was going to rise directly in front of us, that would also be acceptable. Unfortunately, cloud cover obscured the moon, and mosquitoes became a bit bothersome at dusk which ruined the atmosphere somewhat. A few toads hopped around the rock, and one of them stood at the water's edge repeatedly nabbing insects with its tongue. We lingered outside as long as possible, not wanting to give up this amazing place to go to sleep. Eventually we had to turn in, but I tried to stay awake as long as possible like a little kid, hoping to hear the wolves again. Owls hooted and loons called, and eventually I drifted off. This was the best day so far, but our trip would get even better.

At the end of Moskey Basin, looking back toward our site

To be continued in:
Isle Royale Day Four: Moskey Basin to West Chickenbone LakeMore photos from this trip can be seen here.