Isle Royale National Park Finally on the island

After a quick disembark – the obligatory LNT talk and registration – we are on the trail by 6:45. It feels like a steeple chase leaving Rock Harbor, but I let myself get caught up in in just to be on the trail.



Rock Harbor is no misnomer. Ankle breaker is more appropriate. Beautiful is also. Lichen and moss bearded pines and aspen dominate. Ferns abound as well as our new favorite on trail snack the Thimbleberry. We've never heard of them before, they are like a small flat red raspberry with a tart strawberry-esque flavor.




The trail is covered with root and rock, at times the only place to step is to balance on top of them. I never quite figure out the best rhythm between looking where I'm walking and the scenery around me. The rocks are the trail in the picture above.



We easily make Three mile campsite with a short stop at Suzie's Cave. Suzie's Cave is named for a girl who used to play there long ago. It is also an arch that, though now a couple hundred feet from the coast, used to be partially submerged. We make camp at Three Mile campsite and eat our dinner sitting on a stone slab watching the sun set over Lake Superior. It is one of the best dinning rooms I've ever eaten at.



We had a thunderstorm during the night that caused me to get up and put on the rainflys. The campsites are close together, but situated in such a way that you have a bit of privacy. There wasn't much wildlife moving about other than the red squirrels who are psycho. Similar to the black squirrels in Kent, but a "little" less aggressive. One confronted me, looked directly at me and clicked madly claiming our tent site as his domain.



Wednesday began as another game of leapfrog, we hoped back and forth with a young couple on their first trip, a group of 20 somethings, and a large group of women whom we later learned take backpacking trips all over the country once a year. Although somewhat better the beginning of the trail is still and ankle breaker. Along Rock Harbor/Snug/Superior up until the Daisy Farm Campground. It then we climb up and hiked on, or just under the ridge-lines from Daisy until we descended to Moskey Basin Camp.



We covered the 4 miles to Daisy Farm by lunch but hike another 1/2 to 3/4 of a mile to a nice lookout to have it. Before lunch we spot a couple Mersengers sleeping on the rocky shore, a bald eagle and take a break at an old mine (the Siskwit Mine) that is mostly unexciting.



Our second 4 miles on the ridges are surrounded by aspen and birch stands. Large rock slabs covered in lichen, scrub and small juniper break these wood. We catch glimpses of Moskey Basin below us and a grassy swamp to our right.

Ian is forever the trooper. Isaac is finicky and a little more touch-n-go. He stops a lot which can be trying, perpetually adjusting a pack or shoes, but he always finishes.



We spot a cow and calf moose track on the trail just outside of camp and scout near dusk, but a sighting isn't in the cards. Our camp, shelter 8, is a nice spot as long as your upwind of the privy, which we were, mostly. It is at the end of the basin overlooking a grassy cove. We wade, catch snails, threatening to eat them. Watch a mother and 6 young Mersengers dive all night, and try to identify a heron-ish while sitting, and duck looking while flying mostly black bird (turns out it is a Cormorant.) An unidentified bird of prey passes overhead, and a sandpiper feeds at our feet. It is an evening of relaxing and playing after a long beautiful hike.


We take a short walk to the point looking back up the basin at dusk. I split off hoping for a moose but do spot 2 Snowshoe Hare. Loon awaken us through the night and we hear the distant howl of a wolf.

Isle Royale National Park almost

We made it to Copper Harbor around 6pm on Saturday, after a long, long drive. Actually it was interesting watching the forest change as we drove north. Copper Harbor is a quaint old town about 10 streets long and 3 wide. We check into the Bella Villa a nice 50's cabinish style motel. We wandered town, ate fresh, local fish at the Mariner North: Walleye, Whitefish and Trout. Drove up Brockway Mountain (we learned later it wasn't the top) to get cell service (there's none in town) and let everyone back home know that we made it. We made it an early evening in anticipation of the next segment of our adventure.


A little background. Isle Royale became a national park in the 1940's. It is approximately 5o miles long and 10 at its widest. Native Americans, French, and Americans have used Isle Royale for mining, logging, fishing, trapping and tourism. Currently only the park service and the remaining life-leases on a dwindling number of cabins remain. The only approximation of civilization are the visitors center in Windigo on the west end. Cabins, motel and visitors center in Rock Harbor on the east. The park headquarters on Mott Island, remains of the Edison Fishery, a few scattered lighthouses, two firetowers, and the campsites. It is located in Lake Superior some 59 miles north of the northern most point of the upper peninsula. Along with numerous species of bird, and small mammals (squirrel, fox, beaver, otter) there are only 2 large mammals, wolf and moose. This makes Isle Royale a key place to study the dynamics of predator and prey inter-relations. We were going to hike a few of its over 160+ miles of trail.


I was up every hour through the night excited to get to Isle Royale. I've dreaming of this trip since I read about the island in the late 1990s. We took breakfast at the Tamarack Inn, and headed over to the dock to begin our voyage. A gorgeous double rainbow greeted us. We were told that the Queen wouldn't get out on Monday due to forecasted gale warnings, and that today's ride would be a rough one. As soon as we were out of the harbor the trip started to get interesting. 6'-8' waves that quickly started to escalate to 9'-10'ers. The waves were tightly spaced and in the complete the wrong direction for our crossing. After a half an hour we are barely 7 miles off of the shore in mostly the wrong direction. A couple 12' waves list the boat over. With 50 miles to go our captain decided to head back to the dock. By the time we return almost everyone was queezy, dramamine or not, and many were ill. The rest of our day was filled with naps induced by our non-drowzy Dramamine and a hike in Estivant Pines.

Estivant Pines is a virgin white pine forest. 500 year old eastern white pine with 2.5-3 foot diameter trunks are the highlight of the hike. It was beautiful, thick set of wood. The boys insisted we head down an unmaintained (it was signed as such) section of trail that ended, or more exactly we decided to turn around at, a swamp. Besides the pine: aspen, eastern white cedar, maple, and birch dominate the forest. The boys insist on taking a picture of bear scat for Papa Rob. It is an awe inspiring set of wood.

Monday arrives with a bluster. The winds howl all night and I know we aren't making it to the island. I let everyone sleep in and head to the dock to check in. Bad news return at 2, and even then the winds are hitting 45-50 mph. Maybe Tuesday.


We make the best of the day. On another cell phone trip we actually summit Brockway mountain. 1330 feet above sea level, about 800 above Lake Superior. Beautiful view, and a slight peak at Isle Royal some fifty-nine miles away (no camera with us of course.) We again have breakfast at the Tamarack Inn, hike a couple rocky and very windy miles of the Superior coast. The winds are easily hitting 50 mph and it is difficult to stand at times. The coast is filled with interesting wave battered stones and makes for excellent agate hunting. The boys fill their time playing and looking at stones, and watching the waves. We have to keep reminding ourselves that this is a lake and not an ocean, the only real clue is the lack of a salt smell.


We also hike out hunters point, the creek at Maganese falls down to lake Fanny Hooe and up Pauls Plunge. Which, if Paul did plunge, while steep, would still be more of a tumble.

I had marinated trout grilled over wood at the Harbor Haus. Which like this trip is a strange dichotomy. Fine dining in a small town with a lederhosen style theme. Weird, but the food and service were good. From there we walked across town pitched our tents and roasted marshmallows for desert. The motels were filled with 2 days of delayed voyagers plus the normal vacationers. With fingers crossed and trees rustling above my head I hoped tomorrow meant island.


Tuesday wakes to more wind. It has blown steady since Sunday evening, and will continue for 70 hours straight. We check on the boat and are told to return at 1:00. Back to our campsite for a quick breakfast and a hike down the edge of lake Fannie Hooe. The boat will actually depart. Sunday people are guaranteed, and a lottery is conducted for the left over spaces. The man ahead of me at check-in cancels. Now don't get me wrong, we were finished and going to bail if the boat didn't leave on Tuesday. But cancel within a half an hour of departure after waiting 2 days? I don't think so. Upon boarding the wind and waves appear worse than Sunday, but we don't care we are desperate and down Dramamine. The trip is long, 3 hours, mostly 6-8 foot waves with a few 11's for good measure. No where near as bad as Sunday. The worst part of the trip is how stuffy the boat is.

Mammoth Cave National Park Day 4

We wake to another gorgeous morning. Have breakfast and clean up camp. The routine has been set, and we make quick work of it. Ian plays on the tree for a little while longer and we take our leaving camp photo sitting on it.


We hike up the opposite side of the hollow hoping that water is flowing closer to the source of the dry creek we crossed yesterday. After an hour we thankfully filter our water while sitting on a bridge. Another half mile and we pass the cut off trail for the elusive Bluffs campsite we couldn't find. A second half mile and we are back on the Good Spring loop trail.


We break on a high ridge overlooking a large valley, and an expansive view beyond the trees. We have a small lunch of trail mix and cliff bars. Enjoying our last restful moments in the wood. Nolan breaks out in front, the call of electronics beckoning him on. Isaac and I are bringing up the rear. Just after a short pack readjustment for Isaac, I notice a moth has landed on the inside of my left leg. He rides there for almost a half mile.


Another hour and a half and we are descending across the ravine that begins the hike. One final climb and our hiking adventures are over. I'm proud of everyone. I had a blast, and I hope they did as well. This adventure only makes me more excited for future possible hikes. We rest briefly at the church take a last look around the graveyard and away we go.

On the way down, when we passed through Louisville we noticed a sign that touted the "Whizzburger." So of course we had to try one. Angie hoped cheese whizz was involved, but there was none to be found. They were still good burgers, and thankfully for the other patrons it was a drive in. And on we drove. Great day, great vacation. I hope to someday see more of the great caves.

Mammoth Cave National Park Day 3

After the rough hiking the night before, I wasn't sure what to expect in the morning. I half expected to have to march to the car and end the trip right there. But a little morning beverage, and grits with bacon, and everyone was rather chipper. We took our time breaking camp. Turkeys were cackling all around us. Isaac and I attempted to mimic them and call them in, no luck.


Back on the trail we were keeping a good pace. The majority of the morning was spent on the Buffalo Trail, which is actually an dirt road that is used to access an old cemetery. We spotted our first deer of the trip. They didn't hang around long as our party was a little spread out. We were each hiking our own hikes today, except Isaac. He didn't like grits, so didn't eat much for breakfast, and didn't really eat many noodles from the night before due to exhaustion. As a result he was running low on energy, and was complaining and trudging along. A short stop for a first lunch, beef sticks and powerbars put a little spring back into his step. After two miles we made our turn onto the turnhole bend trail, or as my kids like to call it the turdhole bend, my sister would be proud.


We hiked down the turnhole trail, a double wide trail running along a ridge, with a few small changes in elevation. We spot a few more deer. Ian was a monster and a ways out in front most of the day. We stopped for lunch under a cedar at the junction between the Sals Hollow trail and Turnhole. Pulled out a couple airmats and sat for a relaxing lunch. Bananas with nutella on a tortilla, and then our random smorgasbord of snack filled our bellies and we rested. A mountain biker passed through while we ate. We saw a total of 9 people on the trail during our trip, so in essence we had the woods to ourselves.


A sign at the trail junction proclaimed we had 2.2 miles until our stop for the night at the Sal Hollow campsite. I was saddened because I thought we had 3.5 miles remaining for the day. I put together this weird loop together because the Bluffs campsite and Sal Hollow campsite are only a mile apart, but I was trying to get at least a 7-8 mile day in to see how everyone could handle miles. Turns out I was correct and the sign was wrong.

Angie and I both noticed that the trails, at least those we were on, are remarkably engineered. They weave back and forth and gradually switch back with little to no real excruciating climbs. They make the hiking almost too easy.

I made everyone wear whistles to assist in finding someone if lost, or in trouble, but we've also discovered that they can be a useful tool in notifying the group ahead of a needed break, or give everyone behind hope when someone has reached a milestone. Isaac and I are bringing up the rear when we hear a whistle from ahead. After rounding the corner back into a ravine we see Angie and the boys playing in a small waterfall that has a reasonable sized cave as its source. The boys proceed up into the cave to explore, and I allow them a few feet (within site) in with their headlamps to peak around a corner.


I wash my dirty shirt, and we sit and play in the cool water. A refreshing, needed, break but we still have around a mile and a half to go. We walk through green hillsides with contrasting stark white limestone protruding up out of the ground all around us. The group breaks up, and I begin to notice the wear on everyone's energy levels as we leapfrog past each other. Little individual breaks are becoming more frequent. Especially as we descend, cross a dry creek and begin our final climb to the campsite. Angie is feeling the hurt of what will eventually become bruised toes. The monster Ian is out in front, for no other reason than he wants to be the one to give the 2 tweet signal that we've reached the campsite cutoff.


Our home for the night is a large flat area, 100 feet down from the ridge overlooking a switchback in the trail we just ascended and further below the green river. We waste no time in making camp, and decide to head down to the river to filter water and play for a while. It's probably around 3:30, 7.5 miles in about 5-6 hours, not bad for us slow pokes.



We wander down overgrown trails to the Green River. The name is perfectly suitable. I've never seen a river so green. During our cave tour Ranger Jerry talked about how a deep banked river, with a limestone base is what makes the emerald green color. The bank is overly steep and there is no nice way to get the 8 feet down to the river. We slide down the hill deciding we'd figure out how to get back up later. The kids are quickly in up to there waists, Angie soaks her sore toes, and I'm in up to my knees. The steepness of the bank continues into the water and we can't get more than a few feet away from shore. Nolan, accidentally, on purpose, quickly slides in up to his neck. The water is fridged and I thought for a moment I was going to have to dive in after him as the cold water shocks him and takes his breath. We casually fill all of our water containers. We don't really want to have to repeat this water gathering expedition. We make our way back to camp after an hour or so.



We play guess who I am around the campfire, eat a meal of mac-n-cheese followed by marshmallows and a fabulous strawberry apple crisp. Ian falls in love with a large fallen birch on the backside of our campsite and sings to it for the majority of the night. He might have slept there. I think everyone is finally adjusting to life on the trail, and we are on our last night. Going home after these trips is always bitter sweet. I'll enjoy regaining all the creature comforts, but the simplicity of being in the woods taking/having the time to look and listen is blissful.