I
left my Eagle River, Wisconsin motel in the early morning, heading north to my
late summer, 2011 adventure to solo traverse Isle Royale National Park. The
radio station that yesterday was playing rock music was this morning playing non-stop
polka. I was getting into it.
At
Houghton, Michigan, the little airport’s waiting room had a couple of fellow hikers
who were waiting for the same float plane flight I was waiting for. We took off at about 12:30 p.m., a half hour
late. It was the first time I had ever
been on a float plane.
At
first the pilot was unsure he would be able to land at Windigo, my traveling
companions’ destination, due to it being fogged in. He called out to the island and learned there
was a small window of opportunity with a break in the weather, so we all
scrambled and hurriedly boarded the plane to take off. I was lucky to get the front seat and had
good views the entire 30 minute trip over.
Windigo is my scheduled end point at the end of this week.
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| Approaching Windigo Harbor
After dropping off my two airplane partners, it was just me and the
pilot off to the east side of the island to Rock Harbor, the starting point of
my 50 mile hike. Once we landed, there were others on the dock waiting for their
rides back to the mainland.
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My
plans are to hike to Three Mile camp tonight, then the following camps,
finishing next Friday night with a Saturday float plane trip back to the
mainland: Three Mile, Moskey Basin, McCargo Cove, Todd Harbor, Little Todd,
North Lake Desor, and Washington Creek/Windigo.
At Rock Harbor, I got my permits, fishing license, and stove fuel, then was
off down the trail to Three Mile.
I
got the last tent site; all others were already taken. It was a beautiful day and a beautiful
evening sitting on the beach. There was a bright, full moon at night. It was so bright you could almost read by
it. The inside of the tent was
illuminated by a soft, white glow as I dozed off and then into a deep restful
sleep.
Soon
after the next morning’s departure, I was once again fooled into thinking that
I was in reasonable shape. The passage
of time between hiking and backpacking trips tends to let one forget how tough
backpacking can be. Hiking with 45
pounds on your back over eight plus miles of rocks, roots, ups and downs all
contribute to quite a work out.
Despite
this, I still averaged a commendable 2 mile an hour pace over the day’s 8.3
miles. This speed, coupled with the fact that I left Three Mile camp at 8:30
a.m. allowed me to get to camp at Moskey Basin by 1:00 p.m.; early enough for
me to get the last remaining shelter, yeah!
I don’t have to get in the tent tonight!
The shelters are sweet. They are
three sided with a sloped roof. The
fourth side is screened in. It would be
great if the weather was bad. But today
the weather perfect; upper 70’s, bluebird skies and a light breeze, wow!
I
had a relaxing afternoon sunning myself on the rocks, writing, and reading
while starring out into the bay. It is
at this spot that Mike and I, in 1996, put our canoes in after a 2 mile portage
from Lake Ritchie to the west. It was
pretty grueling if I recall correctly. I
remember we passed a fully intact moose skeleton with some skin and meat still
attached and hanging loosely. I’ll walk
that way tomorrow.
I
was up before sunrise, somewhat chilled and was on the trail by 8:30 a.m. The start of my hike took me down the trail
that is also the Moskey Basin to Lake Ritchie 2 mile portage, the one Mike and
I took back in 1996. Fifteen years
later, I couldn’t imagine doing that again; especially with my old 75 pound aluminum
canoe that we had on that journey. I
also remember Mike singing the entire second side of the Beatles’ Abby Road
album while we portaged. It helped pass
the time. I also looked trailside to see
if that old moose’s bleached bones were still visible. They were not. Onward I trudged, singing Abbey Road to
myself….. “Boy, you’re gonna carry that weight, carry that weight a long
time…!”
At
Ritchie, I tried my hand at some shore fishing.
I had a big 30 or so inch pike on the line. Once at shore, I looked at it, it looked at
me, and with a flick of the tail, it broke the line and went back into the inky
depths. Damn! It took my famous daredevil lure and my only
steel leader with it.
The
trail from Ritchie climbed north across the spine of the island and across the
Greenstone Ridge trail. While tiring, my
only real pain was in my middle toes due to the toenails getting jammed inside
my boot. I haven’t had a problem before
with these boots. I will definitely
loose these toenails.
After
8.7 miles, I made it to McCargo Cove camp at 1:45 p.m., just before the boat
from Windigo arrived at the dock to let off many hikers and canoeists. Most went on down the trail toward Chicken
Bone, the directions I came from. Others
fanned out amongst the site looking for empty shelters or tent sites. Luckily, I scored a shelter before this hoard
arrived.
The
following day’s 6.6 mile stretch from from McCargo Cove to Todd Harbor took a surprisingly
fast 3-1/2 hours. I was able to keep my
2 mph pace, despite the trail book’s description of rugged going. It ended up not being as bad as I was
anticipating. It was kind of rocky at
first, but for the last three quarters of the way it was mostly deep forest
with any easy tread.
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| The addition of trail-side berries makes for a delicious breakfast |
I
rolled into camp at 11:30 a.m., and at even this early hour, I got the last
tent site, and not a very nice one at that.
The tent pad itself sat in a small depression; not good if it is going
to rain which, of course, is what is forecasted for tonight. Meanwhile there were partly sunny skies with
a light breeze. It was time for a bath
and some laundry!
Unlike
the descriptions in the trail book, the next day’s trail from Todd Harbor to
Little Todd was like any path in your neighborhood park. It wasn’t tough at all despite the
description. I reached the junction to
the path down to Little Todd Lake camp at 11:15 a.m.! This was my planned stop for the night.
I
was feeling strong and my water supply was adequate. So, instead of stopping for
the night, I took off and went over the next segment to North Lake Desor. Now, this part of the trail lived up to its
description. Real tough going; along
ridge tops for most of the way, then dips down into the forest. There were no water sources along this stretch,
so I had to ration my water to make sure I had enough to last until Desor
Camp.
I
arrived at N. Lake Desor camp after 11.2 miles. The tent sites leave a lot to
be desired. I have been spoiled. All sites up until now have been on Lake
Superior. Those tent sites had picnic
tables. Those camps also had shelters if you were lucky enough to get in early
and snag one.
There
was nothing nearly as nice here in Desor.
There were just tent pads with a log or rock to sit on and not much in
the way of water access. Although a guy
from an adjacent site told me about a sandy area down the shore line that is
sheltered from the strong winds, I went over to take a swim, but now I had sand
and grit in many of my different crevasses.
Although
no shelter for tonight, I thought it would be amusing to write down some of the
more humorous graffiti written on the walls of those I have been in earlier:
“If
I ever find out who is destroying all of the cairns, I’ll kill you and use your
skulls as replacements”
“Tom
and Ken made love here, (’09)”
“9-04-02,
Doug and Laura spent their 20th anniversary here. To tired and smelly to celebrate…. And I
could have been in Paris!!!”
“8-9-07,
Doug is here alone, I guess because I didn’t insist on Paris in ’02. I miss my wife, the only true love of my
life!!”
“I
hiked 18 miles with explosive diarrhea!”
“Isle
Royale squirrels should go to squirrel hell!”
“Brad
and Kris kicked mother nature’s ass – ‘98”
Another
monster day followed, making it 2 long days in a row. I was out of camp at 8:00 a.m. I hiked through more ridges and valleys; up
and down, exposed ridges, then deep forest.
It was on and on like this for 12.7 miles. It was very tiring but at
times exhilarating in that the views to the north of the Canadian shoreline
were incredible. I only took four
breaks, 3 for five minute rests and one for a ten minute lunch. Boy did I feel it!
On
one ridge I saw a fox sniffing around looking for a meal of some sort (last
night I saw two otters swimming in the lake).
I haven’t seen a moose yet! I
covered the 12.7 miles in 6-3/4 hours, getting into Windigo at 2:45 p.m. I got the last shelter.
I
went to the store and got there just in time before they closed. I bought some snacks, a diet coke and a ham
sandwich. Dee-licious!! I took advantage of the coin operated shower and
then chatted with some of the Rangers. I asked if they knew of any openings on
the floatplane tomorrow, Friday; in advance of my otherwise scheduled 9:00 a.m.
Saturday flight reservation. They called
to the mainland and left a message making the inquiry.
Just
as I was walking back, I heard the floatplane coming in for the late 5:00 p.m.
pick-up. I asked the pilot if he had any
openings tomorrow. He didn’t have the
schedule with him but would call back and leave a message with the park rangers
if he did have something for me. So
between the ranger leaving him a message and the pilot’s promise to call back
and leave a message with the ranger… well, I’m sure to find out something one
way or another. It sure would be nice to
get home a day early!
I
was quietly sipping my coffee early the next morning when I was startled by the
voice of an unseen person walking toward my shelter.
“Hello”
“Well,
good morning.” I said, after seeing it was a Ranger that had walked up.
“Are you Mark?”
“Yes,
I am”
“The float plane called and he’ll be here in
about 30 minutes; so pack up your stuff and go!”
“You
bet!” I had never packed up a camp as
fast as I did this morning. And normally
I’m very efficient and meticulous in the way and order in which I put stuff
away into my backpack. But not this time!
I
flung the last of my coffee into the bushes, dumped out all of my carefully
collected and filtered water and proceeded to cram and stuff my gear into the
pack. I was done in about 10
minutes. I arrived at the floatplane
dock about a half a mile away to find another Ranger also waiting for the
plane.
“Good
morning!” she cheerfully spoke. “I heard
the plane turned around. Looks like a
storm is coming in and he must not have wanted to get stuck.” So, the proverbial “hurry up and wait” came
down hard.
After
killing time for three hours, another Ranger walked up telling us the pilot
just called. There was an hour or so
slot between storms. He was coming in 30
minutes.
At
the dock, the surly pilot said he could take the three others that were
waiting, but not me, since he has instructions to pick up a guy named
Santos. But there was no one else with
us, there was no Santos.
A
call on the radio back to the ranger station was made. The word was that Santos left the day before
by boat. I was in! No, wait a minute. The pilot looked at me then the three of the
others and all of our gear. He commented
that it looked like a lot of weight and he wasn’t sure that he could get the
plane airborne. But he agreed to give it
a try. If not, he said that he would
have to leave me and come and get me later today or sometime tomorrow. We loaded up.
I was in the front seat again.
He
revved the engine, down the bay into the wind.
We were fast approaching the far shoreline. We were running out of water. He gunned it harder and the far trees were
much closer. We felt the plane
lift. Slowly we rose up over the water
and were fully airborne.
“Looks
like your lucky day”, the pilot said loudly over the noise of the engine and
the wind. “You’re going home.”
A music video of my experience can be found at the following link:
https://youtu.be/1xEyF4ZClU0
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