Backpacking the Minong Trail on Isle Royale

Rocky ridges on the Minong

During the week following Labor Day, Ali and I were off to check another item off of our things-we-must-do-while-in-Wisconsin list.  (For those of you keeping track, this has also included (1) paddling the Boundary Waters, (2) visiting Pictured Rocks, (3) seeing the Apostle Island Lakeshore - and it's ice caves, (4) hiking in the Porkies, (5) skiing the Birkie, (6) canoeing on the Wisconsin, and (7) hiking parts of the IAT, NCT, and SHT.  We've failed to hike on the SHT and to sea kayak the Apostles.)  This year, the goal was to hike Isle Royale (pronounced "royal" by those in the know).  Isle Royale is the least visited and most re-visited National Park in the US, and there are good reasons for both of those facts.  The island is tough to reach (you have to take one of three ferries or a sea plane in), the logistics are pretty nightmare-ish (where else do you have to choose between hiking like mad or carrying three extra days of provisions in order to leave the park), the park is more crowded than you expect (nearly everyone visits during the month between bugs and cold), and while the established campsites are pretty nice, they don't exactly foster a sense of solitude (visitors are actively discouraged from camping in one spot for more than one/two nights, and the ferry schedule forces people into moving as a group from one site to the next). 

The Voyageur II - Our ride to the island

Ok, so gripes aside, Isle Royale's still pretty cool.  We happened to go during peak eating season; there were ripe blueberries, raspberries, tons of thimble berries (so good), huge beds of wild thyme at McCargoe Cove, and even some peas at Little Todd Harbor.  The island is the home of one of the longest-running predator-prey studies in the US, and it currently houses ~9 wolves and ~500 moose (since the study began in the 50s the island has maxed out at 50 wolves and 2500 moose).

Heading toward the shelters at Windigo

We began our trip at the casino campground in Grand Portage, MN (close enough to Canada that my phone thought we had crossed the border).  We made it into Grand Portage after dark (and also after a disappointing fish fry at the Angry Trout in Grand Marais) and were up the next morning before dawn.  We packed up and were at the ferry before anyone else, including the staff.  Only then did we realize that while MN is in central time, the part of Canada that was talking to my phone (and Isle Royale, which belongs to Michigan) are on eastern.  We had woken up at 4am, not 5 as planned.

With a dry run out to the dock under our belts, we headed back to the reservation's gas station to get (free!) coffee and some thin cord (just in case our non-freestanding tent had to get setup on bedrock).  When we finally made it back to the ferry, there were tons of people on the dock.

McCargoe Cove

Our 8-hour ferry ride (2hrs to the island, and 6hrs to the far side) was chilly, but largely uneventful.  It did convince me that any future trips to the island should be with sea kayaks in the Belle Isle nook, though.  We got our permits and ranger talk at Windigo (the first stop) and were able to start hiking as soon as the ferry made it to Rock Harbor (on the eastern side of the island).  We had roughly 4 hours until sundown with 7 miles to hike - doable, but there would be no lazing about.  We bounced from the shore trail to the inland trail around Suzy's cave, came back to the coast at Three Mile, and were setting up in a shelter at Daisy Farm just after sundown. 

The first day's hike wasn't bad, considering the facts that we were fully-laden and hiking mostly on exposed rock.  The scenery wasn't great.  While the half mile on the inland bay was pretty and the berries were abundant, our hike on the exterior of the island largely had us looking out at the park headquarters.  Daisy Farm was packed with 20-somethings.  Thankfully, someone was able to direct us to the one unclaimed shelter at Daisy Farm shortly after we started looking.  (Most people stay at established campsites on Isle Royale.  Any other camping requires a free backcountry permit, and the terrain is not hospitable.  Many of the frequently-visited sites have screened and rodent-free Adirondack shelters, and a popular place like Daisy Farm will have 20+ shelters and 10 tent sites.  Each shelter hosts one group, whether that group has 8 people or just 1.)

The view from our lunch spot (Day 2)

The next morning, we gobbled handfuls of thimble berries - the shelters were swamped in them - and headed on to the Greenstone Trail (one of the two trails that travels the length of the island).  We started in on our snacks at a beautiful overlook of Sargent Lake and continued hoofing it over to our turn near East Chickenbone.  After passing something like 39 lakes that we were sure would be Chickenbone, we finally made the turn.  Our plans for a break and/or lunch were quickly set aside when we realized how swampy everything was.  We were hiking along boardwalks (with gorgeous Spotted Touch-Me-Not) for quite a while, and our plans for a swim in Chickenbone were foiled both by the general lack of clear shoreline and by the discovery that it's the most leech-ridden lake in the park. 

Touch-me-not

Needless to say, our exhaustion and low blood sugar soon led to poor communication and bad judgement.  We continued hiking for (I'm guessing) two miles when we should have stopped to eat.  I eventually collapsed by a fallen log.  A few minutes later, Ali rounded the bend and grumpily plopped down beside me.  We finally managed to get some food in our bellies, and with the ridge-climbing and descending over for the day, things improved vastly.  Though the hike wasn't insanely long on our second day, our feet were tired by the time we made it into McCargoe Cove.  We soaked them in Superior, declined the chance for a dip (Lake Superior is frigid), but found some thyme to mix into our chicken stew w/ dumplings that evening.  (Fyi, Ali makes some mean chicken stew with fresh herbs.  I would eat that - and love it - in the frontcountry!)  The wind was picking up as evening drew near, but thankfully, we were safely in our shelter when it began to pour.

It rained through the night, and though our camping gear remained dry, we did start the next morning's hike in a steady drizzle.  We were setting out on the Minong Trail (our intended trans-island hike and supposedly the toughest trail in Michigan.)  Between the rain and the damp leaves, Ali & I were soaked through within an hour - at least on our lower halves.  Our goal was for Little Todd Harbor (13.5 miles away), even though 8.2 miles had exhausted us the day before.  The terrain was much more gentle on our third day, and the rain kept us cool as we walked. 

Really fluffy (and extra delicate) lichens

We made Todd Harbor, the halfway point before noon, and easily decided to plow onwards after a lunch break.  The one shelter was occupied by sea kayakers who had paddled a ridiculous amount over the past two days.  They had tried to fit three people under a tiny tarp the night before, and all their belongings were thoroughly drenched.  They commiserated with our soaked socks/boots, and we soon discovered they also came up from the Madison area.  We had a lovely chat about the best cross-country skiing in the area as Ali and I polished off our lunch.  With wrung-out socks and duct-taped feet, the two of us headed away from Todd Harbor to swampier and hillier trails.  We stopped after another mile and a half to care for Ali's impeding blisters (which were far better than usual, but still unpleasant).  After that, our pace began a steady decline.  Through young birch forests and flower-strewn swamps we plodded, hoping to have ticked off a few more miles until we at last came to the Little Todd turn off.  Though the morning rain had cleared off, there were occasional showers that kept us damp or at least humid.  The trail to Little Todd was barely a trail.  We were balancing on rotten logs through marshes and heading steeply downhill when the ground wasn't sodden (and sometimes when it was). 

Sunset at Little Todd

Little Todd was worth all the trouble.  We found ourselves in a beautiful bay; there was a spectacular view out to Thunder Bay, and the skies had cleared, leaving us with crystalline dancing blues, teals, and purples on the lake and a stunning sunset.  The beach was full of the best rock-collection pebbles ever - each one a different color with a different pattern, most of them polished and smooth.  Bone white driftwood accented the beach, and some of the larger logs provided pleasant benches.  Though Superior is cold, we finally gave in and took sponge baths in addition to our evening foot-soak.  The campsite was chock full of women hiking solo and in pairs.  I think a few people had to double up on sites that evening, though we just had to deal with everyone's drying gear.  (Apparently, our site got the most sun.)  The days hike was long, but our dinner/dessert/hot jello drink on the beautiful lake was perfect.  We even got fresh peas and watery raspberries with dinner.  Oh, and the campsite was full of thimble berries again!

Crossing a beaver dam

The next day was a short march over to Lake Desor North.  A fair amount of the walk was on exposed rock, so we got great views of Thunder Bay, even if our feet didn't get the rest they were hoping for.  I started off a little tired and was grateful for the soft birch woods we passed.  Ali became more and more weary as we went along.  (To be fair, this was probably the toughest 6 miles I've seen in the Midwest - we would scramble up one boulder-y escarpment, hike along a rocky spine, avoid the delicate lichens, slip and stumble off of the rock, head into a short patch of woods, and repeat.) 

Lake Desor

We managed to get into Desor North right before the pack made it in, thanks to our morning efficiency.  We got one of the last sites right beside the lake, and we finally got the swim we had been hoping for.  The water was brisk, and the wind didn't help, but my, was it refreshing!  Like the young, energetic people we are, we tucked in for an afternoon nap while all of the older women tromped about exploring, swimming, and reading.  I got up and prepared dinner, which we ate in a tangle of tree branches by the lake.  (Our earlier dock-rock was steadily being soaked by the chop on the lake, but there was half a view and two-butts worth of dry space right against some trees.)  Everyone was planning a good sleep and an early start for the long day into Windigo.

Washington Harbor at Windigo

Our last hiking day started well enough.  We were heading out for a 12.5ish mile hike with the lightest packs of the trip.  As soon as we cleared the woods surrounding Lake Desor, we were back to skipping from one rocky hump to another.  After a couple of foot-bruising miles, we turned to the interior of the island, and began crossing ridges to approach Windigo (an Ojibwe word that translates roughly to cannibalistic boogey-man).  We crossed through an old burn, which was full of spooky trees and a gazillion wildflowers - and man, did the bees like the wildflowers.  We also crossed a handful of beaver dams, delicately balancing on crumbling mud and slippery logs in the middle of very large ponds.  We also got a lovely set of puzzles where boardwalk had collapsed into hip-deep swamps and where log-lined trail had either sunk into knee-deep mud or just disappeared.  There was one particularly memorable swamp where I leaped for all my worth across an 8-foot gap, sent Ali to climb through a thicket of fallen trees and brambles (she was not particularly happy about that), ended up climbing through/over a giant toppled rootball, and still got a boot wet when the log walk I was on gave way. 

There were flavorful raspberries and tiny blueberries, but not nearly enough thimble berries along the way.  The terrain eased up the closer we got to Windigo, with good quality boardwalks and soft dirt.  Ali was 100% wiped after the rocky terrain.  We took as many breaks as we could, but our pace had slowed a ton, and I started worrying that we would be a ways out when it got dark.  Thankfully, we ran into one of our major/only waypoints between 4 and 5.  There was just over a mile to go, but the last half mile (of soft ground) had taken nearly an hour.  Our Windigo swamp shelter was dusky by the time we strolled in, but we did manage to get a shelter, and we even caught a spectacular sunset along Washington Harbor after a quick dinner.

Moose!

Our last day began with some splashing noises coming from the marsh just outside of our screen door.  There were two cow moose!  I had really been hoping to see my first moose, and with 2.5 moose/sq mi on the island, a few finally decided to saunter up on our very last day.  Ali was the one to spot them, and she made sure I got to see them.  The tracks (both moose and wolf) and discarded antlers on the trail were the most that 90% of our ferry got to see.  We took some soap-included sponge baths that didn't do much aside from make us feel better that morning, had a bit of a morning stroll, and caught an excellent ranger talk before we had to load the ferry home.  The departure, as always, was bittersweet.  However, I suspect Ali would have socked me if we had one more day of hiking.

Ok, so take-aways:  (1) Isle Royale was a fun hike.  I'm not sure that the scenery I encountered was completely worth the 10 hours of ferry ride.  A little more solitude would have tipped the scale.  Little Todd, Huginnin Cove, Malone Bay, and Belle Isle seem to be the best spots you can go.  (2) If I was going to do the Minong Trail again, I would just take the ferry to McCargoe Cove.  We went to Rock Harbor because I at least wanted to see a bit of the Greenstone Ridge Trail.  The Greenstone would probably be a cool hike, and if I ever live in Duluth, I'll go hike both it and the Feldtmann Loop.  However, I would have preferred to have a zero day to just enjoy Little Todd or an extra day to make it to Huginnin Cove, which is supposed to be gorgeous.  (3) I think another great option would have been to sea kayak all over the eastern half of the island.  If I'm ever in the region again, I might have to get on a Hoofers trip in mid-August.

Little Todd Harbor