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 Four

Moskey Basin to West Chickenbone Lake

Chickenbone Lake

Moskey Basin is known for its sunrises, and although the morning started off a bit cloudy, we were not disappointed. We went about our morning routine at a leisurely pace, and once oatmeal and coffee were consumed we discussed our day's route. We had two possible destinations: Lake Richie or West Chickenbone Lake. Both are inland lakes known for good fishing and moose spotting potential, and each offers only a small number of tent sites. We decided to roll the dice and just see what happened.

Sunrise at Moskey Basin

We backtracked to the trail intersection and headed west on Lake Richie Trail which brought us to the campground in just under 2.5 miles. Lake Richie is a favorite spot for canoeing and fishing, but the drawback is that the campsites are located away from the lake and up a ridge. While the lake is picturesque and dotted with small islands, all of the campsites appeared to be in direct sunlight, and on this warm sunny day there would be no chance of shade until evening. We stopped in one of the campsites to eat a snack and make a decision. While Craig munched on trail mix, I visited the outhouse. It was terrifying.

Lake Richie

A side note on going to the bathroom in the woods: I feel a bit prissy complaining about the outhouse, so let me explain. When we first began planning this trip, we figured that the Isle Royale backcountry bathroom experience would consist of digging holes and bringing our own TP.  We are not unfamiliar with this form of dehumanization; however, later on in the planning stage, we were happy to learn that there were pit toilets located at all campsites. Once on the island, the clean state of the facilities at our first three locations made us very happy. We became spoiled.

Outhouse at West Chickenbone Lake
A charming path lures hikers to the horrors within

After detouring to a private spot in the woods, I returned to the campsite and reported my grim bathroom findings. It was only 10:30 am, and we decided that we didn't want to spend an entire day in the open sun. If we had a canoe for exploring the lake we might have felt differently, but we decided to keep going and try our luck at West Chickenbone.

Lake Richie Trail ends at Indian Portage Trail which follows the north side of the lake for a little over ½ mile. Indian Portage Trail runs the the width of Isle Royale from north to south and connects the opposite shores of the island via four inland lakes and a handful of canoe portages. A hearty person could paddle a canoe up Chippewa Harbor to the south, then paddle his/her way north through Lakes Richie, LeSage, Livermore, and Chickenbone before re-entering Lake Superior through McCargoe Cove to the north.

Portaging a canoe is nuts. Once heading north on Indian Portage Trail, we crossed paths with a park ranger whose head was hidden inside the upside-down canoe balanced on top of his shoulders. He asked us for our names as we passed him. “I like to make a mental note of who I encounter out here in case of an emergency,” his voice echoed down to us. I have no idea how he could see where he was going. A bit further north, the trail hooks around Lake LeSage, then begins to climb some ridges. Here, another canoe portage follows the trail and creates a connection with Lake Livermore. This stretch included a descent so steep it took me several minutes (only with slight exaggeration) to navigate it relying heavily on my trek poles for balance. I had recently sent the poles back to Leki for repairs; if one of them had collapsed, I would be dictating this from a full body cast. Portagers would have to scramble up or down that segment while hoisting a canoe. To us it seemed impossible, but one person we met along the way assured us that the canoeing experience on Isle Royale is worth the work involved.

Fishermen on Chickenbone Lake

The trail hugs the marshy west end of Lake Livermore before ascending the Greenstone Ridge. Rounding the narrow end of the lake, something caught our attention through a window-like opening in the trees. An unidentifiable big brown object stood in the water on the opposite shore. We stood there for several minutes when the thought occurred to each of us simultaneously that we might be a couple of idiots staring at a large overturned tree. As soon as Craig gave up and started to move on, the tree moved its huge head. MOOSE! I was so excited I nearly fell off the narrow footbridge we were standing on. It was far enough away that we couldn't tell whether it was male or female, and it wasn't until we returned home and could view the enlarged photo that we were able to see antlers.

A bull moose cooling off in Lake Livermore

We left our moose window and began to climb the Greenstone, which was not nearly as steep a climb here as in other places. Once at the top, beautiful glimpses of Chickenbone Lake could be seen through the white birch trees. Here, the trail descends steeply and passes a group campsite on the way to the individual sites at the lake's edge. We saw the 2 young hikers we had met leaving Lane Cove on our second morning. They had ended up taking 2 days to get to Chippewa Harbor, and were currently hiking the 10.6-mile length of Indian Portage Trail to McCargoe Cove. West Chickenbone was a convenient place for a break along the way.

A glimpse of Chickenbone Lake while descending the Greenstone Ridge

Chickenbone Lake is shaped like a chicken wing and the west campground offers six tent sites. After some debate over location, we settled in and took a swim. The pit toilet here was a horror show which Craig advised I not attempt to use if I could help it. A sign hung in the outhouse explaining that the facilities further inland can't receive as much attention as the others, which makes perfect sense. A very bold and chatty squirrel took up residence in our site and proceeded to pester us for the duration of our stay. Known for chewing through both tent and backpack in search of food, we had read about these tiny menaces which are closer to chipmunks in size and unique to Isle Royale. After it engaged Craig in a game of chicken around our Nalgene bottle, we decided to hang our food as a precaution.

Our campsite at West Chickenbone Lake

The only tree with an adequate branch for hanging food was located at the water's edge. Our minds got carried away with an elaborate fantasy of a moose wandering through our site in the middle of the night, heading toward the water, hooking an antler on the hanging bag, and dragging our food supply out into the lake. The squirrel watched the entire food hanging process with disturbing intensity, chattering loudly the whole time. We kept our fingers crossed that it would retire for the night and leave our packs undisturbed under the tent's vestibules. In the end, all was safe and the squirrel entertained itself by chasing a snowshoe hare back and forth through our campsite until dark when we all went to bed.

Left: PCT food hanging method thwarts demonic squirrels.

Right: Showshoe hare flees tiny squirrel, is unfazed by giant human.

To be continued in: Isle Royale Day Five: West Chickenbone to McCargoe Cove

More photos from this trip can be seen here.

Backpacking Grand Island National Recreation Area:

Day Four: Trout Bay to Williams Landing

On day four we found ourselves ahead of schedule. We had planned to spend 2 nights in the North Point area so that we could have a day of relaxation and enjoy the beach. However, since the campsites weren't overlooking the water, we had decided to move on. Now that we had a perfect beach campsite, we needed to decide whether to stay on Trout Bay another night or to finish up on the fourth day. Williams Landing and the ferry dock were only around 5 miles away, and we didn't really see the point in packing up and staying at another campsite along that route for our final night since the Little Dune sites were so good. I voted to stay put and spend the day reading on the beach with periodic breaks to go swimming or nap in the tent. Craig is more stir crazy and wasn't sure if he could relax all day without getting bored. In the end, we compromised and planned to spend an unhurried morning eating breakfast, drinking coffee, relaxing, and eventually leave for Williams Landing around noon.

Just as we started to break camp, I spotted a couple of backpackers making their way down the boardwalk with the look of hoping against hope that our site was available. We occupied the last one, and we knew everything else was full. Upon spotting me, the woman's shoulders sagged and she turned to her male companion who pulled out a map and looked depressed. Remembering how Craig and I felt the day before, after trudging all the way to this very place, I ran over to let them know that we were clearing out and the site was theirs. They nearly cried and immediately dropped their packs and set off for the shore. A half-hour later we waved goodbye to the couple on the beach and began the last leg of our trip.

Unfortunately, we had to walk back down that stretch of road which was unprotected from the sun, now high in the sky and beating on our heads. While making our way down the road with our heads down, a shadow suddenly floated across the trail in front of us. We both looked up in time to see a magnificent bald eagle soar directly over us just above the tree line. I missed this perfect photographic opportunity because for once I did not have my camera in hand. The eagle was a beautiful sight, gliding silently against the clear blue sky, and it's presence brightened the slightly boring stretch of trail.
The trail curves sharply south and runs past Duck Lake - a small inland lake with a viewing platform – before reaching Murray Bay Beach which features picnic areas for day use and campsites for overnight stays. Various historic sites grabbed our attention along the shore of Murray Bay. The Stone Quarry Cabin, built in 1845, is one of the oldest standing structures on Lake Superior and was home to various workers such as stone cutters in Michigan's early history.

It is near this spot that we encountered the largest pile of bear scat we have ever seen. The size of a small mountain, it held evidence of a diet of berries and seemed fresh. Would we be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the undoubtedly huge fellow who released this impressive bomb? Did we really want to? Was he, right at that moment, hiding behind a tree and watching the ridiculous humans gawk at his excrement, wondering how we made it to the top of the food chain? We looked around nervously but saw no sign of a large omnivore lingering to receive praise for his accomplishment.

Further south we passed the decrepit remains of tennis courts which used to be part of a resort operated by an iron mining company in the early 1900s. The main hotel is gone, but some of the cottages still remain and are privately owned.

Once back at Williams Landing, we again encountered the forest service volunteers from the day before and chatted about our trip while waiting for the ferry that would return us to Munising. When the boat reached the dock, it unloaded a new group of visitors including a couple of backpackers with their dog who was suited up with her own pack.

We nearly broke down on the water when a huge tree branch that had been floating in the bay lodged itself in the pontoon boat's motor causing us to stall halfway to shore. Thinking fondly of showers and whitefish sandwiches, we returned to town and spent a few days relaxing before beginning the long drive home.

Backpacking Grand Island National Recreation Area:

Day 3: Northeast Point to Trout BayThe morning of Day 3 began a bit testily as we realized neither of us had managed to collect as much extra drinking water as we had planned at North Point Beach the evening before. We debated walking back to the beach, adding an extra 1.5 miles to our day, or just pushing through to Trout Bay. We felt we had enough drinking water between us and for lunch we would just eat something dry instead of cooking anything requiring the boiling of water. Something told us we shouldn't delay in getting to the Trout Bay campsites, so we decided to go for it and set out around 9am.

The night before, we had been so exhausted and focused on finding a campsite, going swimming, and going to bed early (I still wasn't sleeping and had stayed up most of the night reading The Summer He Didn't Die by Jim Harrison) that we failed to notice that a lookout point displaying North Point was practically right across the trail from our campsite. We began the day's hike with a wonderfully gorgeous view of the beach we had visited, rock formations, North Light just barely visible through the trees on North Point, and the point itself. It would have been a great spot to sit and watch the sun set the night before and I was really disappointed that I missed that opportunity.

Unfortunately, the breeze we had enjoyed for 2 days was gone and upon leaving the overlook, the trail immediately veered away from the cliffs and headed inland. Soon mosquitoes were attacking me with relentless ferocity and I decided it was time to get intimate with the insect repellent. The trail continued its uphill trend and the lack of air movement made it a sweaty trudge for a while.

Due to the difference in temperature, we underestimated the amount of water we would drink but we were saved by the lucky fact that Michigan had a really wet spring and early summer this year. We heard trickling water all around us and encountered a handful of streams flowing out of the woods to run down the cliffs and empty into Lake Superior. I'm certain that if we hadn't had an abundance of rain earlier in the season, these streams would have been dry. We stopped about an hour into the day's hike to filter water from a small clear stream which meandered toward us over the mossy ground but disappeared under the trail. Once finished, we followed the sound of the water on the cliff side of the trail picking our way through the trees. Down the slope a short distance from the path we found a hidden rock ledge where the little stream abruptly dropped 5 or 6 feet creating a secret mini waterfall. I named it Craig Falls.

The next few hours were a bit tedious without the cliff views and with the constant buzzing of mosquitoes. However, around 1:30 pm we found ourselves at Trout Bay Overlook, which showed a big stretch of sandy beach to the southeast and the Pictured Rocks formation Indian Head away to the distant northeast. A huge sailboat resembling a pirate ship with white sails was making its way toward Munising, and I learned later that it was called Madeline and it had made its way here from Traverse City on Lake Michigan.

After a few more hours of hiking, we made it to the Tombolo: a section of land formed from a sand bar that served to connect Grand Island to its thumb. The thumb used to be a small separate island until the sand bar grew between them and began to develop its own vegetation. Back in the day, what is now Trout Bay was a narrow channel between the two. There were a few campsites along the tombolo that we knew were full, but a few forest service volunteers had informed us that the last two sites located right on Trout Bay's beach were available. These sites were still a few miles away at the end of a wide dirt road without the advantage of a tree canopy. Cursing the clear sunny weather, we marched on. Hot, sweaty, exhausted, and very mosquito-bitten (just me), we sincerely hoped that these campsites would be worth the effort to get there, and we were not disappointed.

We chose Little Dune 2 – the very last campsite along this stretch of trail, some of which is covered with boardwalk to protect the delicate vegetation growing on top of the sand. Little Dunes 1 & 2 are wonderful campsites on the bay with a nice private stretch of sandy beach and since this area was not located in dense forest, there were no bugs to speak of. We pitched our tent at the back of the site in a shady area under a couple of pine trees, went swimming, and relaxed inside the tent with a steady breeze wafting in through the screen. We decided to leave the rainfly off no matter how cold it got later in order to see the stars above us and maybe even the Northern Lights if we got lucky.

A bit later after wolfing down a couple of huge portions of beef stew, we relaxed on the beach and watched the sun set over the expanse of land to the west that we had hiked through earlier that day. This was easily our favorite campsite of the trip, and we decided that we would definitely need to come back someday just to stay here again. The island's thumb at the eastern end of the beach is supposed to be a wonderful place for kayaking, with sea caves to explore and a couple of campsites that are accessed by water. It is possible to hike to them, but there are no designated trails so traveling around the thumb would require bushwhacking and compass skills.

We weren't lucky enough to see the Northern Lights later that night, but the number of stars was incredible. I was happy enough to see the Little Dipper over the bay right in front of our tent, which is something I never see in Metro Detroit. A loon called out once while we watched the moon rise through the trees to the south and just one more time as we drifted off to sleep.
To be continued in Grand Island: Day 4

Backpacking Grand Island National Recreation Area:

Day Two: Mather Beach to Northeast PointWe prepared for an early start on the second day because there were only 3 campsites at our destination on the north side of the island. We wanted to get there early in case we encountered other hikers and we now knew it wouldn't be easy to set up camp randomly if none of the designated sites were available. Beyond the last of the north sites, there wouldn't be another one for 6.5 miles, so we were counting on getting a good site on the north side. Plus, no good access to water reportedly existed along the East Rim Trail which would be our route on day 3, so we planned to stock up at North Point Beach before setting out the next morning.After oatmeal and a couple of cups of strong coffee, we headed back to Mather Beach to filter some water and refill our camelbaks and extra bottles. Not only did this provide drinking water for the day, but the ice cold water also jolted us awake. A conveniently placed boulder about 20 feet from shore served as a perfect spot to sit and dangle the filter hose into the crystal clear water.

Once packed, we decided to explore Echo Lake, an inland lake that was a half-mile east according to the trail sign. As we headed away from the main trail and into the woods, the mosquitoes gathered alarmingly fast (around me only – they weren't interested in Craig at all) and we began to question whether this side trip would be worth the suffering. One half mile later, another sign announced that Echo Lake was a half-mile ahead. We began to sense a trap and decided to retreat to the main trail asap for fear of ending up in bug cocoons like those loggers in that episode of The X-files in which Mulder and Scully end up in bug-induced intensive care.

For the most part the hike from Mather Beach to North Point followed the cliff edges and both the weather and the view were spectacular. Several overlooks along the way revealed great expanses of Lake Superior, small islands in the distance, and rock formations along the cliffs themselves. Superior's brilliant blue/green/turquoise water sparkled under the clear sky and close to shore the rocky bottom of the lake was clearly visible from 200 feet above.Much of the day's hike was a gradual uphill climb. While not over-taxing, it was just enough to wonder when it was going to stop, which it only did in brief intervals. Walking uphill for any duration of time is one thing; biking a steady incline is entirely different and we both felt much respect for the occasional mountain biker we encountered that day. I couldn't even find it in me to feel annoyed at the gentleman who decided to take a break at the exact same time and place where I was crouched behind a tree attempting to stealthily urinate. He looked nearly unconscious and Craig managed to distract him away from the woods by talking about the view from the lookout point on the other side of the trail. Once he pedaled away and I emerged from the trees we resumed the gentle uphill climb until we reached North Point.

Again, we ended up choosing the last of the 3 sites after a few miles of apprehension over the wisdom of passing up the first 2 and several moments of worry over the high cliffs and the accuracy of my notes regarding water access. At this point though, the trail began to descend and we passed North Point Beach which startled us with its unexpected expanse of sand. After setting up camp at Northeast Point, about ¾ of a mile beyond the beach, we backtracked for a much needed swim and to filter water for that evening's dinner and washing up, plus extra for the next day's drinking supply.

On the way to the beach I got distracted by the sight of a distant rock arch at the tip of North Point and stopped to take a few pictures. I told Craig to go on ahead and that I'd catch up. Naturally, the one and only bear that would present itself during the entire trip wandered out onto the trail in front of Craig during the brief moment we were separated and I wasn't there to see or photograph it. In his excitement, Craig called out to me and the bear tore off into the woods and disappeared. The only animals I managed to see that day were a mink and a garter snake.

North Point Beach was paradise. There wasn't a single other person along the entire stretch of lakeshore and although the water was shockingly cold at first, it took surprisingly little time to get accustomed to it. Altogether we ended up walking around 10 miles that day – 3 miles further than we had intended due to various detours, and certainly a workout for first time backpackers carrying relatively heavy packs. Swimming in the cold lake somehow felt invigorating and soothing at the same time and I didn't want to get out. Later, we enthusiastically enjoyed a dinner of dehydrated chicken and mashed potatoes that tasted so magnificent we declared it one of the best thing we'd ever eaten.To be continued in Grand Island: Day 3

Get Acquainted with Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore

Despite the stunning views offered by boat of Michigan’s Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, one of the very best ways to experience this geological haven is on foot. Make time for the Pictured Rocks Boat Cruise before leaving, though; it delivers splendid views of the fascinating cliffs and their brilliant colors caused by groundwater seeping out through the sandstone cliff faces and leaving mineral-stained streaks behind. In fact, the only way to see the most colorful of these formations is from the water, so the 3-hour roundtrip voyage is worth the ticket price and somewhat hokey historical commentary. In some spots, the colors are so vivid they seem manmade, as if someone hovered above the lake with a paintbrush and hundreds of cans of blue, green, red, purple, and orange paint.

For those who want a closer look at this stretch of Lake Superior and its captivating cliffs, hiking trails run along the entire stretch of the National Lakeshore with several loops leading to waterfalls, rock formations, inland lakes, campgrounds, and beaches. Some trails are short and will satisfy an urge for a quick fix of the area’s natural beauty; others will range from a few hours worth of walking to all-day excursions.At just under 10 miles, the Chapel Loop Hiking Trail offers relatively easy terrain and spectacular views that can be appreciated by even the most seasoned hiker. Noteworthy rock formations, such as the arches Lovers Leap and Grand Portal, are seen from the trail and others can be explored up close as this hike leads directly onto the tops of some impressive cliffs. For those who aren’t afraid of a hearty day hike, an additional 3-mile (roundtrip) offshoot leads to Spray Falls: a 70-foot waterfall that tumbles off a cliff directly into Lake Superior.

Starting from the trailhead at the end of Chapel Rd. and heading west past Mosquito Falls – a series of 3 small waterfalls flowing along a short stretch of Mosquito River – the path eventually connects with the North Country Trail at Mosquito Beach. This rocky stretch of Lake Superior shore offers up-close views of colorful layers of attractively formed sandstone. Despite the dubious name, there tend to be very few mosquitoes along this trail segment due to the close proximity of Lake Superior and the cool air almost continually blowing inland.

Now it’s time to head northeast along Lake Superior. Here, Chapel Loop follows the North Country Trail: a National Scenic Trail that cuts a continuous path through North Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York. Along this section of lakeshore the trail weaves in and out of a forest thick with white birch, maple, beech, and hemlock trees, and out onto the tops of cliffs 100-200 feet above the very blue and very cold Lake Superior.One of the many hiking highlights is the cliff formation called “Indian Head”, so named due to its unmistakable resemblance to a Native American male’s profile. One of the most impressive cliff formations along the entire stretch of lakeshore, glimpses of Indian Head are spotted from the trail for a mile or so leading up to the massive rocky protrusion. Abruptly, the trail leaves the woods and leads out to the top of the cliff where various shapes have been carved into the sandstone surface due to ancient glacial activity and continuous erosion from waves and ice. It is easy to lose track of time here marveling at the geology and taking in the spectacular view of the largest and deepest of the Great Lakes. Grand Island can be seen in the distance near the town of Munising, and huge boulders at the bottom of the lake are plainly visible through the crystal clear turquoise water below.Chapel Creek flows out of the forest and cascades over sand and stone to empty with quiet subtlety into Lake Superior at Chapel Beach. A wooden footbridge crosses the stream just before it exits the forest and is an excellent spot to take a break and eat lunch, or simply rest and enjoy the serenity of a perfect natural setting.Here, another of the more captivating rock formations marks the spot where Chapel Loop parts from the North Country Trail and turns inland to return to the trailhead. From this point, one can choose to continue along the lakeshore and the North Country Trail to Spray Falls or start the journey back. Before this, however, it is necessary to check out Chapel Rock.

Located at the eastern end of Chapel Beach, Chapel Rock is a tall, layered sandstone formation worn through with holes and sporting a single tree standing straight up from its flat top. It doesn’t seem possible that a tree could grow out of this rock, and on closer inspection, its long roots can be seen extending from the base of the trunk, through the air and into the adjacent woods where they burrow into the ground. In the past a rock archway supported these roots and connected the formation to the mainland, but it eventually eroded away and now they are left suspended in midair tethering the tree to the nearby earth.

The rock itself is fascinating with its many layers and intriguing shape. As fantastic as it is to think that it was created by erosion, it is also sad to think that the same erosion continues today and will eventually destroy this incredible landmark altogether.

Instead of embarking on the return journey just yet, continue on the North Country Trail a bit further to Spray Falls. It is necessary to hike just past the waterfall and onto an exposed cliff, which is perfectly placed to take in the view of the 70-foot plunge. Invisible from the surface, the remains of Superior, a shipwreck dating back to 1856, lie in the depths below.

The return route past Chapel Rock and back along the final section of Chapel Loop offers views from a couple of different vantage points of Chapel Falls: a beautiful 60-foot waterfall that cascades down the face of a cliff in an upside-down V shape into a wooded gorge below.

This hike is an ideal way to spend a day in Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. Be prepared for it to take 6-8 hours depending on how much exploring and picture-taking you might want to do. Bring plenty of water, as well as a jacket or fleece. Even in summer it can get chilly out on the exposed cliffs above Lake Superior, so you’ll want to have an extra layer just in case. At the end of this perfect day, drive to Munising for a pasty at Muldoon’s, or just collapse onto your sleeping bag. The rest has been well-earned!

30-Second Outhouse Pitch

Last August at Shenandoah National Park, I made the acquaintance of a fellow nature lover in the ideal social setting that is a campground bathroom. She happily told me that a bear had been skulking around the door just a few seconds before I walked in. Although bears are a common sight in this particular park, this news made me jumpy. This was the first time I had taken my dog, Zoe, on a camping trip and due to a heart-stopping incident earlier in the day, I feared my idealistic vision of gleefully frolicking about the park with my canine companion was a foolish pipe dream. While slowly meandering up Loft Mountain on Skyline Drive, she managed to disengage the latch on her doggie seatbelt and jump out of the open car window to chase a deer. I was finally coming down from the horrible exhilaration of nearly losing my dog forever on the side of a mountain in thousands of acres of forest, hundreds of miles from home. I wasn't looking forward to a bear encounter just yet.

Debbie, my fellow camper, was from Texas and loved camping in the National Parks. She was having a great time at Shenandoah but wished that there was a notable body of water nearby. I suggested she try visiting Michigan sometime. She gave me a dubious look and asked if there were any national parks there. I launched into what I now refer to as my "30-Second Outhouse Pitch", briefly promoting the two National Lakeshores along with a few State Parks as worthy of a long trip from the Lone Star State.

Debbie raised a skeptical eyebrow at me and her response was chilly: "Yeah, but I like to go to places that are warm.”

She proceeded to advise me to lock my dog in the car overnight, believing she would attract the park's many inquisitive bears to my tent. Considering I was relying on Zoe's presence to do exactly the opposite of attracting bears to my tent (and Michigan is plenty warm 3 months out of the year, thank you very much), her company had lost its charm.

I retired to my sleeping bag to spend an uneasy night languishing in the sweltering Virginia heat and keeping watch at the tent door, Zoe’s leash in one hand, flashlight in the other, swiss army knife vigilantly set at "weird hook thing". No bears came to visit.