Isle Royale interlude

Outer islands of the Isle Royale archipelago

I feared finding the dock too late, arriving as the ferry unraveled its mooring ropes and fled into Lake Superior. Daylight since 5, we hustled out of Grand Marais and sped up 40 miles more miles of North Shore.

No one traveled MN-61 at this hour, so the miles clicked off effortlessly. Before the ferry dock, we passed through the grounds of Grand Portage National Monument. Scores of people partook in Grand Portage annual Rendezvous Days, a festival commemorating the local Ojibwa tribes and the voyageurs who turned this spot along Lake Superior into a fur-trading empire.

As usual, my fears were unfounded. The boat’s crew had not even begun departure preparations. A severely clear sky hung over Lake Superior – weather would not ruin our voyage.

Many hours spent on this boat.

We had a rare national park in our sights – okay, my sights, because I couldn’t come up this coast and skip Isle Royale. I reserved the ferry seats in April – early if you’re confident, but just the right time to earn us the second and third berths on the ferry. People slowly trudge to the dock, the small boat bound for the National Park Service’s least visited national park in the lower 48 states.

The boat seemed like it might be too small. Then we saw how few people arrived, and the “sold out” sign in the ferry office window. The second weekend in August was the last Sunday day trip for the Seat Hunter III. Our destination was Isle Royale, and archipelago including Lake Superior’s largest island and 400 surrounding ones.

Grand Portage cliffs

As we waited to departed, I noticed an inhabitant of the boat, an orb weaver still working a web on the rear railing. Despite the low frequency of Isle Royale visits, this spider and his descendants had crossed these waters thousands of times. Immediately I appreciated the spider more as it abandoned its web and retreated to some safe crevasse on the rear railing. The murmur of the boat engine and swarm of people warned it to flee.

The boat roared to life and soon we were off. Isle Royale draws the hardcore national parks crowd. At a minimum $75 roundtrip, the casually interested won’t take this trip. National park talk buzzed on the ferry. We talked with one man about Big Bend National Park after he saw Nancy’s Big Bend shirt. He told of us of a Big Bend backcountry camp where he slept outside and awoke with a skunk’s weight pressing his chest, making us better appreciate our ample wildlife encounters. Another man, donning an Indiana Jones fedora and a professional –grade camera, told us Isle Royale was his 59th and final national park to visit.

Little Spirit Cedar

The ferry paused at a few spots of note. First, minutes from Grand Portage, we bobbed near the home of the Witch Tree or Little Spirit Cedar, craggy and more than 500 years old. The Ojibwe believed evil spirits resided in the tree, which grows straight from a bare rocky bluff. Outbound Ojibwe canoe parties left tributes of tobacco to keep those malevolent forces from attacking their boats.

Our boat could not go any closer. Only local Ojibwe and their guests can visit the tree. After the pilot spun the boat to give everyone a clear view, we entered open water. On this dazzlingly clear morning, we watched the Minnesota coast slowly fade and the roughly squared mountains of western Ontario’s Superior shore emerge.

Among the peaks on the Canadian shore we spied the Sleeping Giant, the 1,000-foot tall formation northeast of Thunder Bay. The massive uplifts along the Canadian coast provided scenery when the lake turned into a sheet of indigo glass.

First outer island of Washington Harbor

Our passage could not have been smoother. Even the water was entrancing. This was seawater splashing at us, but freshwater. The ferry barely made a ripple in the waters of the deepest Great Lake.

Kayakers in Washington Harbor

Soon a ribbon of bluish land rose from the placid waters of Lake Superior. First a thin band appeared, the island grew rumpled and prominent, its piney ridges rising from the lake surface. Before I could comprehend its arrival, Isle Royale’s outer islands clasped us. For the entirety of our ride from Grand Portage, we encountered only Canadian scenery and a single piece of driftwood.

As we cruised into the outer islands around Isle Royale’s western flank, the ferry came to a second abrupt stop in Washington Harbor. A pair of buoys bobbed in the shallower water, one word clear on the closer marker – Wreck. Below the buoy stood the bow of the steamship America, a steel-hulled boat that sank there in 1928. Only a dog died in the sinking. As the America sits on an underwater cliff and its bow nearly breaches the clear lake waters, divers frequently explore its innards.

Deeper in the harbor, we passed a few random boats and kayakers before a series of small docks broke from the dense trees, signaling our arrival at Wendigo. Rangers were ready for daytrippers and overnighters alike, dividing us up as we debarked.

Following a brief ranger talk, we grabbed a map and began the journey along to the south shoreline’s Feldtmann Lake Trail. I prepaid the park admission to maximize actual exploration time. No one wants to stand in line when the clock starts ticking on so short a trip.

We traversed hills soft and loamy, the trees leaving space for a narrow path. In some spots, the trail crossed marshes and narrow streams.

Expected hordes of mosquitoes and black flies never materialized, a blessing for mosquito bait such as myself. A rainbow of berries sprouted from shrubs along the path, a mix of edible and inedible.

After a mile, the trail began a series of a moderately winding turns toward a ridgetop, which gave excellent views of Grace Creek cutting a thin but deep blue gash across a grassy plain. To its south sat Feldtmann Lake, and to the lake’s south a thatch of pine forest separated the valley from Lake Superior.

Feldtmann Lake

At the docks, the rangers fanned the possibility of moose sightings. A population of 1,600 moose on an island raises the odds. Yet the island runs 45 miles long and nine miles wide, with most day visitors covering a maximum of 5-6 miles before returning to the docks.

While we kept it in our back pockets, it never happened. Nor did anyone on the boat report seeing one. At this point, the wolf population has diminished to where visitors should not even consider sightings a possibility.

Smiling at the overlook.

Through the new camera, I photographed a treetop bird that only in the editing process became visible as something unusual. Nancy spotted a red squirrel, while I only caught its rapid movement across a nearby tree trunk.

You can either have all the time you want on Isle Royale or not enough. At the dock, they divided us between day visitors and multi-day hikers. We couldn’t compete. Those of us with day jobs cannot spend a week rambling across an island on Lake Superior that most people have never heard of.

The least visited park in the Lower 48 drew just 25,000 people in 2016, numbers exceeded by Yellowstone, Great Smoky Mountains and other busy parks on a single summer day. That's consolation for day visitors.

We crossed off another milestone on Isle Royale - Nancy had never visited Michigan before, and checked it off the list in the most interesting way. Thanks to a geographic quirk, Isle Royale is part of Michigan’s Keweenaw County, the state’s largest geographically and smallest by population. The county includes Isle Royale, its nearby islands and a finger of land on the Upper Peninsula jutting into Lake Superior.

Seaplane taking off from Windigo

Returning from the Feldtmann Lake overlook, we heard the unmistakable call. Loons occupied Washington Harbor. Only later did we realize the treat in hearing that magnificent call – this corner of Lake Superior is the only loon habitat on the Great Lakes. The call echoed many times across the harbor, a comforting noise in the wilderness.

Isle Royale's wilderness cannot go understated. Later at the Mangy Moose, I told the owners about our trip, and they handed me a book, The Wolves of Isle Royale, about decades of winter research on interactions between the island’s moose and wolf populations. After crossing an ice bridge in the 1940s, the wolves adapted well until a population collapse in the early 1980s.

View from the shoreline trail.

Now only two remain in the park service has not decided whether to start another re-population effort. If they wanted to restore Isle Royale to its natural look, they would have to bring in woodland caribou, coyotes and Canadian lynx that live there a century ago.

Instead of following the shore, we split on a short nature trail that crosses a fenced exclosure to illustrate what Isle Royale's vegetation would look like without moose. The amount of plant matter they giant ungulates can ingest is staggering, and without them, the entire isle would be overgrown.

Boardwalk across Isle Royale wetlands

Sadly, the day trip gives visitors less than four hours to visit what they can. We arrived around 10 a.m. and had to return to the boat by 1:45 p.m. The island runs 45 miles long and nine miles wide. If you wanted to see the largest island in the largest lake on the largest island in the largest lake in the world, it would take several days to hike there. We covered less than five miles total and any greater distance might have cost up our return trip.

Still, this island is wild, without roads far from any shore. Among national parks, only Isle Royale closes entirely, with no services from November to mid-April. We spent some time at the ranger station and camp store, then 20 minutes at a shore bench before the call to return to the boat arrived. Again we boarded before all but a few due to our early booking.

For a few minutes after the engines pulled us away, the Isle Royale park rangers waved heartily. Despite their fervor, I felt disappointed when they stopped and walked off the dock. I couldn’t deny them their enthusiasm. It made you feel missed despite spending barely four hours on the island and likelihood of your returning being slim to none.

Beaver Island campground dock

We slowed at the Raccoon Island campground, as metal fishing boats thrashed wildly in the surf and campers lounged on the dock. I envied their freedom to boat over to these small islands and set up a campsite. Our ticket on Isle Royale already expired, and a return to Grand Portage was our only option.

As we sped away from Isle Royale, the smaller islands and its soaring bulk provided a good contrast for the photos with the new camera. Our outbound course went further south and we soon saw why – the ferry stopped at an easy photo distance from the Rock of Ages Lighthouse.

The house’s light now filled the visitor center and the Lake Superior winters whipped the white tower, coating it in layers of grime. Several small rocky islands around the lighthouse swarmed with ducks and other waterfowl. As the engines charged toward the mainland, the lighthouse stayed in view long after Isle Royale’s featured blurred and vanished. The Canadian coast faded into afternoon haze.

What didn’t know was people crowded inside the passenger cabin for a reason. Midway through the return the outdoor seats felt the impact of white caps along Lake Superior. As the lighthouse faded into a matchstick on the horizon, the mist and the waves eventually grew overwhelming.

Water from the port side splashed us, confirming the chilly temperatures that Lake Superior never relinquished. Waves came hard from the port side. People in rainproof gear stayed seated, and several groups of siblings tested how long they could endure the pounding water. We crowded near the cabin grabbing what secure piece of railing we could find. As the island vanished, we chatted with Mr. 59 about favorite parks, and he offered free advice on how to plan trips to some of the more distant and obscure places

When the call of “Welcome to Grand Portage” blared from the loudspeaker, it felt unreal and far too soon. The two boat trips spanned three hours and the last hour of this trip, in which the blasting water forced the passengers to huddle together – passed faster than expected. We debarked. After attempting to befriend the shoreman’s dog set him barking, we rumbled through the staging areas for Rendezvous Days and back to Highway 61.

After all we'd seen, our thoughts stuck on moose.  Only visitors steeped in luck or planning overnight hikes deeper into the wilderness have a fair shot at spotting an Isle Royale moose.

Outbound from the Rock of Ages Lighthouse