Day 1- Traveling Along the North Shore of Lake Superior
While traveling up to Grand Portage along the North Shore of Lake Superior, we stopped at both Tettegouche and Grand Portage State Park for some waterfall viewing action. That night, we stayed at the RV park next to the Casino in Grand Portage, but decided to sleep in the truck since thunderstorms were brewing. We figured it would be a bummer packing a wet tent the first day on the island.
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| Upper Falls at Tettegouche State Park |
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| Grand Portage State Park |
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| Highest waterfall in MN |
Day 2- Setting up Camp at Feldtmann Lake
While preparing to board the Sea Hunter the next morning, the captain warned everyone that it was going to be an extremely rough ride to the island with rain and strong winds, offering refunds to those who wanted to back-out of the trip. To our surprise, over half of the line walked back to their cars following the gloom and doom announcement. Fortunately, this helped ensure that the remaining passengers could all fit into the cabin, staying dry for the duration of the trip. At first, the giant swells made for a roller coaster ride as families smiled and laughed at the loop-dee-doo feeling as the ship crested, and then smashed down into the waves. However, no more than 10 minutes passed when faces started turning green with looks of concern as upset stomachs started reconsidering their choice to ride this one out. About an hour later, I decided to venture outside the cabin to use the restroom as water sloshed back and forth across the stern deck in unison with the sway of the tide. Wrestling with the door to the restroom, I clumsily stumbled into the tiny broom closet, noticing water flooding in and back out again through a hole in the wall. A seat belt for the toilet would have been nice, but no such thing. After setting foot on the island near the Windigo Visitor Center, Sherri & I were greeted by a Park Ranger who gave us a short backpacking orientation, cautioning about Mamma Moose and their calves, as well as thieving foxes who have a reputation for running off with campers’ stinky shoes in the middle of the night. Since it was still pouring down buckets of rain, we didn’t waste any time throwing on rain gear to hit the trail. After a grueling 8.2 mile hike through the brush, literally bushwhacking our way through head-high brambles, we stumbled into a beautiful campsite along the shore of Feldtmann Lake. The wind clipping off the lake helped keep the mosquitoes at bay, as well as dry out some of our gear.
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| The Sea Hunter awaiting passengers for a rough ride out to the island |
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| Serious bushwacking along a lesser traveled trail |
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| Placid Feldtmann Lake |
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| Fixing a hot dinner after a wet and rainy day of hiking |
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| Massive campsite at the edge of the lake shore |
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| Don't forget the toilet paper |
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| Wildflowers showing off spectacular colors |
Day 3- Soaking in the Scenery at Siskiwit Bay
The next morning, we woke to a deathly still lake without a single ripple, noticing two swans floating upon the glassy surface. We also couldn’t figure out the constant buzzing noise until spotting hundreds of bees swarming the treetops. Upon reaching an overlook, we continued along an exposed, rocky ridge looking out upon the vastness of water, surrounding us as far as the eye could see. Sherri flushed up two Sandhill Cranes quacking up a storm, frustrated that we had invaded their territory. Their calls echoed across the hilltops as we stood still in amazement. Soon after, the trail dropped into a vast birch forest, where white bark shone against the darkly lit backdrop of surrounding evergreen trees and dense undergrowth. Upon reaching the swampy valley below, we commenced bushwhacking again through several miles of barely noticeable trial. It felt like a prehistoric rhubarb patch on a steady diet of Miracle Grow. It was becoming more and more obvious that trail maintenance was not this park’s forte. For lunch, we climbed an observation tower at Ishpeming Point, swapping stories with a group of high school students who arrived the same time we did. Reaching Siskiwit Bay, we unfolded our collapsible chairs to bask in the sun while resting our feet and backs for a spell. Since our lunch spot happened to be located near a river crossing, we soon found ourselves giving directions to several lost hikers having trouble finding the trail due to all the beaver dam activity. As we continued our route along the shoreline, the trail eventually veered inland up a steep climb to the backbone of the island. Along the way, we spotted a female moose grazing along the trail ahead of us, who eventually mozeyed into the woods after lazily turning her head to inspect us. That night, we snagged a campsite right next to the trail at Island Mine campground, and headed straight to bed.
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| Vista view from the bluffs along the Feldtmann Ridge |
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| Rock of Ages Lighthouse |
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| Stopping at Siskiwit Bay for some lunch and relaxation |
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| Sherri plotting out our course on the map |
Day 4- Loon Calls on Hatchet Lake
We hit the trail again bright and early the next morning with hopes of putting in a few miles before breakfast so we could bath in Lake Desor. When we arrived, the campground was completely empty, leaving us with the lakeshore completely to ourselves. After a dip in the lake, we changed into some fresh clothes and hung out in the sun for awhile. Afterwards, we strapped on our packs and continued our trek toward Hatchet Lake, which could have easily been named, Loon Lake, since they serenaded us with continuous Loon calls throughout the night. I seized the opportunity to take a dip in the lake that afternoon, during which time Sherri spotted leeches at water’s edge. Climbing out of the water onto an exposed boulder made me think I was safe from the little blood suckers, but a couple still managed to latch onto the side of my foot. So creepy and gross! Before heading to bed that night, Sherri and I played a round of cribbage on a boulder while sipping a hot protein drink.
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| Trails are much more manageable along the Greenstone Ridge |
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| No pain- no gain |
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| Time for a game of Cribbage as loons serenade us at Hatchet Lake |
Day 5- Mega Hike to Daisy Farm
The next day, we set out on the longest leg of our trip, hiking 18 miles to Daisy Farm. At this point, we officially flipped over the map as we began navigating the Northernmost territory of the island. I couldn’t believe the number of Blueberry bushes that we came across, tucked-in amongst the Juniper bushes. Even though the berries were quite small, they were packed with sweetness. Upon reaching the fire tower at Mount Ojibway, the clouds had us pretty well socked in. It had been raining off and on all day as we hiked with rain gear at the ready. Even still, the birdseye view from the observation deck revealed a spectacularly layered landscape with the silhouette of distant treetops barely visible in the surrounding fog. After devouring some dehydrated Sweet & Sour Chicken, we dropped down into the valley where we came upon a massive beaver dam. Water had completely flooded the trail, requiring travelers to cross a narrow, single plank bridge extending 50 yards or so across to the other side. With evening quickly approaching, the inky black water lat still and depthless. I swear there were dead hikers staring up at us from the murky depths. While carefully placing one foot in front of the other, we soon noticed a stealthy beaver swim under the bridge, quickly disappearing into a tangled web of fallen trees. The rain had really picked-up as we approached Daisy Farm campground, where we snatched up the only remaining tent site. Dreading the toilsome task of setting up camp in the rain, we covered our packs and spent some time exploring the shoreline of the cove. At one of the docks, we stopped to read an information board announcing an evening nature program hosted by two wildlife experts on Wednesdays and Saturdays at 8pm. Sherri checked her watch and said, “That’s in 5 minutes!” So we hightailed it over to the pavilion in shock that we had not only arrived just in time, but also on the right day, nestling in amongst a packed house of wet campers. The two naturalists had been living on the island for 40 years studying the predator/prey relationship between wolves and moose on Isle Royale. We learned that wolves on the island primarily eat beaver (delicacy) and snowshoe hare, but since there are only two remaining wolves on the island, the beaver are having a hayday chopping down trees, and backing up streams. In fact, earlier that day, we noticed a trail leading up from a pond toward a cluster of massive trees that were close to falling down from beaver chopping. If we had stuck around longer, I’m convinced that we would have seen Chuck & Marve waddling up from the pond carrying their lunchboxes, ready to pull another afternoon shift of wood chipping. Another interesting fact we learned is that wolves only gamble hunting a moose if they sense sickness, weakness, or injury. In fact, healthy moose rarely even back away when approached by wolves, but rather show their strength and size by kicking, and oddly enough, roaring like a lion. The program ended with everyone singing a camp song together in a round- really cool! As we headed back to our campsite in the pouring down rain, Sherri happened to notice that one of the screened in shelters was now vacant. We couldn’t believe our eyes as Sherri started jumping up and down, clapping her hands together like a kid in a candy shop. After relocating our packs, we hung a camp light, strung-up all of our wet gear, and took a much needed shower in the rain. Then, we climbed into our warm sleeping bags, and high-fived each other while listening to the rain tapping on the glorious roof over our heads.
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| Hiking with friends on the way to Chickenbone Lake |
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| Grateful for good rain gear |
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| Busy beavers hard at work since only two wolves remain on the island |
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| Socked in by an eerie fog |
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| View from Mount Ojibway |
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| Walking the plank across an extensive beaver dam |
Day 6- Sunrise in the Cove
Sherri woke up early the next morning, convincing me to catch the sunrise with her in the cove. After setting-up our chairs on the beach down the path from our shelter, we sipped on our coffee while watching the amber globe slowly bring to life the rocky islands and pristine evergreen forests lining the shore. The mellow chime of a distant buoy rung sporadically with the gentle sway of the tide. We observed a flock of loons congregate just off shore, cooing and singing together in a chorus unlike any Loon call that I have ever heard before. At one point, the treeline along the eastern shore appeared to be set ablaze as the sun glowed deep orange behind the rolling fog. It was wild nature on steroids. After packing-up, we swept-out the floor of our shelter and saluted a grateful sign of appreciation for keeping us dry through the storm. The hike along the shore toward 3-mile campground had us hopping from rock to rock and balance beam walking on logs through mud from the heavy rains. We hoped to secure another shelter if we could beat the crowd of backpackers from Rock Harbor. Sure enough, only one other family had claimed a shelter, leaving us with options. We finally landed in a spot nestled above a dock overlooking the bay. Shortly after setting-up camp, a thunderstorm blew in, shaking the ground just seconds after intense bursts of lightning. Fortunately, the storm only lasted for an hour or so, and we were back soaking our feet off the end of the dock, peering down into the crystal clear water of Lake Superior. That evening, we set-out on our first hike without packs, giving us the feeling as if we were floating above the trail. It was a short hike leading us along one of the inlet lakes, following Lake Superior as it reached deep into the center of the island. Thunder followed us close behind as storm clouds billowed up in the north. It was a sure sign that a spectacular sunset lay ahead of us. As we crossed over a rocky ridge back toward the main shoreline, we noticed a plump Snowshoe Hare appear out of a cave. Before heading to bed that night, we sat out on the end of the dock as the distant thunderheads faded from deep purple into the dark of night.
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| First experience staying in a shelter- not too shabby |
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| The shelter gave us a chance to dry out some of our gear |
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| An empty dock awaited us at 3-Mile campground |
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| A great place to knock a few books off our Goodreads list |
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| Looking down at the dock from our shelter |
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| An abundance of Snowshoe Hare that were plump and unafraid of tourists |
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| Suzys Cave |
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| Keeping up on my nature journaling |
Day 7- Bull Moose Sighting at Rock Harbor
We clamoured around on the rocky shoreline hiking up to Rock Harbor the next morning. The air felt cooler as we approached the northern tip of the island. Smaller islands and rock formations jutted out along the horizon, harboring Seagulls and scattered evergreen forests upon the water. Approaching the campground, we were fortunate enough to find one of the few available shelters, right next door to where our friend, Paul, had set up camp. Paul is from South Africa, whom we had crossed paths with several times throughout our travels, and we really enjoyed our time with him. After setting up camp, we embarked on our final leg of our journey out to Scoville Point. Leaving our packs in the shelter, we enjoyed a leisurely stroll along the windy shoreline, where Seagulls hung like kites in the air, and Loons shook their beaks after surfacing from a dive. It was insanely fortunate that we opted to follow the western loop trail back to Rock Harbor since a gigantic Bull Moose happened to be grazing along the path. Noticing that it was traveling directly toward us, we gingerly tiptoed into the woods beside the trail, sitting down together on a fallen log. With camera in hand, we listened for the heavy footfalls of the moose as it finally came into view directly in front of us. The dinosaur-like beast lumbered along, pounding heavy hoof prints into the ground, occasionally waving his enormous rack to the side, grasping leaves of thimbleweed bushes without losing stride. It was as if the moose had completely filled our entire field of view- our very own front-row wildlife 4-D cinematic experience. The only remaining thing to cap-off our Isle Royale adventure was to celebrate with a beer & burger back at the restaurant in Rock Harbor.
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| Rock Cairns leading the way along the rocky shoreline |
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| Victory meal in the lodge at Rock Harbor |
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| Old Man's Beard (Lichen) |
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| View from a path leading to the lake from our shelter at Rock Harbor |
Day 8- Voyageur Takes us Back to the Mainland
Our sea vessel, Voyageur, was waiting at the dock for us bright and early. Departing from the northern part of the island meant that we would have a much longer return trip to Grand Portage due to various stops at harbors along the way to pick up passengers. It was a beautiful, sunshiny day that made for pleasant sightseeing as the wake of the boat gradually spread to shore. The steady hum of the engines lulled us into several naps during our 6 hour voyage back to the mainland. While driving home later that afternoon, we made a pitstop in Duluth for lunch where I ordered a massive Cuban sandwich, which was a little bit of a shock to the digestive system after a week of dehydrated camp meals.
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| Voyageur- our homeward bound vessel |
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| Our friend Paul whom we had the privilege of getting to know on the trail |
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| Isle Royale Lighthouse on Menagerie Island |
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| A massive Cuban sandwich (2nd victory meal) at a restaurant in Duluth |
