About the Park:
Isle Royale is the only national park in the state of Michigan, although many mistake it as belonging to Minnesota. It is located in the middle of Lake Superior, the biggest and coldest of the Great Lakes. This is what makes this park particularly remote and perhaps is why it is one of the least visited national parks in the country. This is also what makes this park so unique. You can only get to the Island via ferry or water plane, there are no vehicles on the island, minimal infrastructure, and the only way to travel is by foot or by boat.
The other thing Isle Royale is known for is its wildlife. Due to its secluded location, there are very few species that live on the island, as there is no obvious way for species to get on or off the island. This has made it one of the most useful resources when it comes to animal research. The island is famous for its moose and wolf populations but there are also foxes, beavers otters, and more.
There are two main ports marking each end of the island. Windigo sits on the far South end and Rock Harbor is to the North. There are two main trails that will take you across the island. The Greenstone Ridge Trail goes through the middle of the park and takes you to the highest elevation. The Minong Ridge Trail follows the North shoreline and is considered the hardest of the two trails due to its fluctuating elevation. There are also a number of side trails that move you from one ridge to the other or take you to side excursions if you are not hiking end-to-end.
Getting To The Island:
The only way to get to Isle Royale is by boat or by plane, as it is an island after all. There are four different ferries that will take you to the island; two from Michigan and two from Minnesota. The Ranger III runs from Houghton MI to Rock Harbor. The Queen IV goes from Copper Harbor to Rock Harbor. The Voyager II runs from Grand Portage MN to Windigo and Rock Harbor. Lastly, the Sea Hunter III runs from Grand Portage MN to Windigo.
As you can see there is no ferry from Michigan that goes to Windigo. As a result, when you hike end to end you will have to take the Voyager II at some point to get from Windigo back to Rock Harbor in order to catch a ride back to the mainland.
If you are coming from Michigan and planning to thru-hike the island, I recommend starting your trek in Windigo and hiking back to Rock Harbor to ensure you catch the ferry back. Coming from Michigan we took the Queen IV to the island. We spent our first night in Rock Harbor then caught the Voyager II to Windigo the next morning.
My Itinerary:
Our game plan was to hike from Windigo to Rock Harbor in just 4 days time, a very ambitious itinerary. This meant we would need to hike 10-plus miles a day. There are numerous campsites going across Isle Royale and they all function on a first come first serve basis. You are required to get a permit to visit the park that indicates how long you will be there but you do not need to make any reservations beyond this.
We would take the morning ferry from Rock Harbor to Windigo on our first full day. This would get us to Windigo around 2 pm where we would start our journey. On day one we hiked from Windigo to Island Mines, a 6-mile push. Day two we would hike 13 miles from Island Mines all the way to Hatchet Lake. From Hatchet Lake, we did a 15-mile push to McCargoe Cove. The fourth day would be our longest hike, 16 miles to Three Mile Campground. This left us with just a 3-mile hike back to Rock Harbor on our last day, giving us plenty of time to catch our 3 pm ferry back to Copper Harbor.
Campsites have little shelters available for those who arrive early. After that, they have regular campsites with picnic tables and room to fit up to 5 hikers. There are also group campsites available but for those you need a large group and must book and indicate ahead of time. Not one of the campsites we visited was overcrowded. All of them were well kept with outhouses, fire pits, and water sources.
Of all the campsites we stayed and the ones we passed through, McCagoe Cove was by far my favorite. Tucked away deep in a small cove the water there is slightly warmer than it is at the campsites along the coast, although it is still absolutely frigid. It is a quiet little nook of the island that doesn’t see as many visitors. Beavers swim in and out of the cove all day long, and there are plenty of sunny rocks to dry your clothes, or even yourself, out on.
Although no campsite is a bad one on Isle Royale, it is unanimous amongst visitors that Chicken Bone is the least favorite. It is not along a Lake Superior shore so the view is not as spectacular as most sites on the island and the water source is a bit of a hike to get to. That being said the accommodations are the same and the facilities are up to par with the rest of the sites.
Packing:
I had packed to be entirely self-sufficient on the trip.
For supplies I brought a 65 ltr pack stuffed with a two-person backcountry tent, the Late Start Two. I always hike with a two-person tent because I like to sleep with my pack in the tent with me and I believe the extra wiggle room is worth the weight. I had a 50-degree sleeping bag, a foldable sleeping pad, a small first aid kid, a shovel, a roll of toilet paper, two headlamps, backup batteries, a sawyer mini water filter, a bug net, lighter, a pocket knife, a bowl, a fork, two Nalgene water bottles, a small pot, a propane stove and tank, and a garbage bag.
For clothing I decided to test out the new Shefly pants for this trip; a clever invention of women’s pants with a zipper that goes all the way up and around so you can “pee in your pants”. I also packed a long-sleeved lightweight shirt to protect myself from bugs and sunburns. I had a backup pair of leggings, a fleece-lined long-sleeve shirt, a heavy Patagonia fleece, waterproof fleece pants, a winter hat, a raincoat, and three pairs of socks. When backpacking in Isle Royale, even in mid-summer, it is important to pack for all weather. On the ridge it is very hot and there is little shade, but at night the campsites are down by the water, and icy Lake Superior can drop air temperatures to well below 50 degrees. Weather on the island changes quickly so always have your raincoat at the top of your pack, and your pack cover accessible.
For food, I packed a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, six tuna packs, a jar of Mayo, a package of salami, one brick of cheese, three freeze-dried meals (2 chili mac, one dumplings), 16 cliff bars, a full large zip lock of trail mix, and a row of crackers. This was too much food for a four-day trip but I like to have variety and as a backpacker, you get to decide what is and isn’t worth the weight. You are the one carrying it after all.
The Whole Story:
For those unfamiliar with the place, Isle Royale is the only National Park in the State of Michigan (even though it’s definitely way closer to Minnesota). The Island is located in the middle of Lake Superior, appropriately named as it is far superior to all other lakes. This lake is comparable to an ocean, minus the salt, and has the power to sink ships. If you haven’t heard the legend of the Edmond Fitzgerald, go read about it now. At a minimum listen to the song or have an Edmand Fitzgerald beer from the Great Lakes Brewing Co. However, it is not the depth or force of Lake Superior that will kill you, it’s the temperature. Even in the heart of summer the lake sits at a whopping 40 degrees, giving you approximately 20 minutes to get out before you will freeze to death, an hour if you have a flotation device.
There are four different ships that will take you to Isle Royale, The Ranger III; from Houghton MI to Rock Harbor, The Queen IV; from Copper Harbor MI to Rock Harbor, the Voyager II; from Grand Portage MN to Rock Harbor, and the Sea Hunter II; Grand Portage MN to Windigo. We arrived via the Queen IV from Copper Harbor.
Copper Harbor is the furthest north point of Michigan sitting at the top of the Keweenaw Peninsula. Driving through the UP is like taking a step back in time. There is nothing but trees, no cell service, and every couple of hours you pass through a one-street town with a gas station and a pub. We got to the Keweenaw Peninsula a little before 2 and did some hiking until dinner time. We stayed at a quiet campsite just outside town, Fort Wilkins. I had stayed here once before with my mom and sister just a year earlier. Luckily Ben had thought to purchase a map and we sat around a picnic table discussing our itinerary.
This is one of my favorite parts of an adventure. The right before, when you are checking your bag and reviewing your plan. The place still just exists as ideas you have dreamed up and its realities are yet to be discovered. We were all geeked about the trip, blurting out things we wanted to see and do. Talking over one another in excitement. When we all felt good and ready we headed into town to have dinner at a local spot. From there we ventured over to the local pub for a nightcap. Which naturally for our group, turned into us closing down the bar.
This is absolutely the worst thing you can do before a major hiking trip. Do not fall into the charm of this small town’s pub, and if the bar owner offers to buy a round, run. Go back to your campsite, get a good night’s rest. Do not show up hungover to your early morning three-hour boat ride that is taking you into a remote backcountry.
Thank goodness we had a day to kill in Rock Harbor before starting our hike. This gave us some time to recover. Also Lake Superior was uncharacteristically calm that morning which made for a relaxing ride over. Brad, Ben, and I sat at a table with an older couple who told stories of the many adventures they have had in their lifetime and talked about their adult children who they guessed were about our age. I took down notes of their favorite places to add to my own bucket list. One of the best parts of a trip like this is the people you meet along the way.
We came in on a heavy heavy fog. When you looked out over the back of the boat you could see nothing, not even our own wake. This just made the arrival all the more mystical. Out of nowhere large beautiful rock formations began to appear. The fog lifted all at once and there it was, Isle Royale. A deep green island surrounded by sea. A little haven lost in the frigid waters of Lake Supierior.
As we deboarded the ship the first thing that really caught my attention was how quiet it was. Besides the boats and occasional sea plane there are no motorized vehicles on the island. In fact, there is nothing on the island except for its hikers, its rangers, and its wildlife. Civilization and all its noises live miles and miles away from this place. I don’t think I realize how much noise exists in my everyday life. Even sitting in a quiet room there is the humming of the air conditioning or a fridge nearby. The sounds of a street are never far. There is a constant buzzing and dining of devices. Our world is loud. So loud that it makes silence feel jolting. It was like having someone lift a weight off your shoulders you didn’t even realize was there. Even with all the amazing sights and great days we had, it is the quiet that I remember most about Isle Royale.
When we got to the island the first thing we did was hydrate. We chugged water like it was going out of style, even though we were on a freshwater island. You never want to start an adventure dehydrated. We hiked out to Scurveys Peak and back, about six miles round trip. This hike takes you up the coast of the east end of the island, and it is beautiful. Lake Superior was calm that evening but I could imagine the waves crashing against the large rock cliffs on less serene nights. The large rock formations and cliffs make the trail look like it belongs somewhere in Iceland. When we got to the end of the peak we sat at the ledge, feet dangling high above the water.
“Should we jump?” I suggested to the group.
“Didn’t the rangers say the water is only 38 degrees today, couldn’t that like stop your heart?” Ben questioned.
“Lexi, weren’t you in the hospital like less than a month ago because of heart issues? Definitely do not jump” added Brad.
I hadn’t thought about that. If I were alone, I probably would have jumped. I forget sometimes my mortality. The risks of the outdoors suddenly seemed tenfold knowing we were on a secluded island and it would take hours for a helicopter to get to us.
My doctor had advised against the trip altogtehr just a month or so prior. My health was not at serious risk. I had an iron deficiency. My heart was overworking to compensate for the lack of red blood cells in my body. I had been on a supplement for almost a month and my RBC was back to normal, as was my heart rate. It didn’t seem serious to me back at home, if my red blood cell count dropped I’d get weak, tired, and cold. I’d have to wrap up in a blanket take some iron and wait till I felt better. Out here though, there was no way to get warm, the nights were already below 50 degrees. If I were too dizzy to walk we were stranded with minimal food and water. I am not someone who ever feels nervous or unsafe while hiking. I find great comfort in the outdoors. But in this moment all the “be careful”s all the “I could never”s made sense to me.
We made our way back to camp as the sun was going down, prime mosquito hour. Brad and Ben slapped at their legs stumbling around trying to fight off the swarms. I went unbitten, I had purchased a heavy duty repellant you spray on your clothes the day before your trip. It was incredibly effective. When we got back to camp we did our last gear checks and inventories. The guys laughed at the outrageous amount of food I had brought. I assured them I would eat it all. We never thought to communicate on who was bringing what. Between the three of us, we had three stoves, three propane tanks, enough tent/sleeping space for 5, and three water filters. Talk about extra weight.
I pulled out meats, cheeses, and anything else I thought wouldn’t last long and we had ourselves a little charcuterie, or shit-cutierie as we coined it due to the low quality of three-day-old backpack meat. I turned in early that night. We had gotten one of the little shelters at the campground and it was cozy.
The next morning was our official first day. We caught the Voyager II bright and early to head for Windigo. As we waited for the boat to arrive, we took turns weighing our packs on a small hook by the docks. Brad’s was the lightest at just under forty, Ben’s came in second at 45, and I was lugging a whopping 55-pound pack.
“That’s a third of your body weight” Ben laughed.
“No that is more than a third of her body weight” Brad corrected.
“Bet I still complain less than both of you combined this trip” I asserted, lifting my pack off the hook and throwing it back on my shoulders trying to act like it didn’t take all of my strength to do so.
We boarded the ship. The crewman paused and whispered a “holy shit” when he went to lift my bag. This started up our laughter again. The boat ride was three hours, we drifted in and out of sleep. I focused on not getting sick.
Rock Harbor had a little hotel, restaurant, and visitor center. It was definitely the spot for the day trippers. Windigo was for the hikers. A small ranger station at the top of the hill where you can pick up some last-minute necessities before hitting the trails was all that was there. We didn’t spend much time in Windigo. Just a quick lunch and water fill up. It was already almost 3 by the time we got off the boat and we had a good six and a half miles to our campsite at Island Mines.
The walk was a gradual incline the entire way, a total climb of about 700 feet, but our legs were fresh. We chatted as we walked, Brad and I co-signing “The Climb” by Miley Cyrus. Ben was stuck in the middle. Everyone was in good spirits. After months of planning and talking about the trip, it was so nice to finally be there. The time went fast, the distance even faster. We strolled into Island Mines well before sunset. We plopped our packs down in the dirt and set up our hammocks before doing anything else. After a half day of hiking, it felt so good to put our feet up. The campsite was perfect, not very busy, and plenty of room to spread out. Island Mines is not a very popular spot to camp as it is not on any of the lakes, but it is tucked away quietly in the woods in a way that makes you feel far far away. I ate three packs of tuna and put a dent in my mayo jar making myself a few tuna sandwiches before setting up camp. In retrospect, I probably didn’t need to bring a whole jar of Mayo into the woods. A whole jar of mayo in four days would be an insane amount of mayo to consume. Now when I hike I like to stop at a McDonalds along the way and grab a few handfuls of mayo packs. It’s a bit more trash to carry out but it’s lighter and it’s free!
We set up camp as we felt the sun going down. Each of us had our own sleeping accommodations so it was nice that the campsites were so spacious. The water source was a small stream that was just barely trickling. You could see where it used to be a roaring river, but it had been a dry summer. The rangers warned us repeatedly about the scarcity of water. Lake Desor was already reported as undrinkable because the warm temperatures caused a fungus to grow on the surface and Hatchet Lake was under investigation. This was our last water source before reaching Hatchet Lake the next day, 13 miles out. If the water was no good, we would have another 6 miles to the next source. We made sure to over hydrate that night and leave camp with every possible container full to the brim.
We met a nice father-daughter duo as we were filling up. They had a similar route mapped out so we were destined to cross paths a few more times that trip. We had spent all of yesterday gradually making our way up the ridge so today was pretty level ground. We were on the Greenstone ridge, and it was a rocky trail. We hiked mostly in silence that morning, much more spread out than the day before. I always enjoy hiking this way, everyone at their own pace walking in their own head space. We occasionally hit clearings where we could see out to Lake Superior. That was the first time I really noticed the elevation we had gained. That and how much hotter it was up on the ridge. Walking on high rock with the sun beating down we cooked all day. I wore a lightweight long sleeve and hiking pants to protect myself from the bugs. I ended up spending all day alternating between taking my long sleeve off and letting the bugs attack my body and hiking with it on and sweating my butt off. There was no winning.
We took a long lunch break at Lake Desor. Many people will tell you not to swim in the lakes on Isle Royale because they are leach-infested. It is true that there are an unnatural amount of leeches in these lakes, but I did not understand why that mean you can’t swim in them. We dove in immediately. The trick is to just get out deep fast, the leaches hang out near the shores for the most part. We swam for a long time, washing the sweat of the day off our bodies. The lake was massive, I’ve never seen a lake so big without it being full of boats and surrounded by homes and docks. It was bizarre to look around and see nothing but nature.
I made myself a peanut butter sandwich for lunch. It is my favorite hiking meal. Tasty, easy, and leaves you feeling fueled. I sat on a log partially in the sun to dry out. Brad was already sunburnt. We still had a good 7.5 miles in our day.
By lunch I was starting to feel the weight of my pack. My legs were sore, but it was still a comfortable sore. I stretched a little and then it was back to the trail. We moved at a steady walk for 45 minutes rest for 15 schedule, as everyone was starting to lag from the heat and the distance of the day. I questioned if I had underestimated the difficulties of this terrain and if we were going to make it 30 more miles in just 2.5 days. Brad seemed unfazed but I could tell Ben was having the same thoughts.
We were running on fumes when we came across our trail marker, a wooden post in the ground with the words Hatchet Lake and a little arrow pointing left carved into it. Moose antlers sat at the base of each trail sign on the island. We revived instantly, excited to set up our tents and soak our feet in the water. What we did not realize is from the trail, Hatchet Lake is another .5 miles, all at a steep decline. We had to hike from the top of the ridge down to the water level. It was torturous. Every time we thought we were almost there the trial spun in another direction.
When we finally made it we set up camp immediately. We made our way back down to the lake to fill our waters for the evening. They were completely emptied after a long hot day on the ridge. Mine had been empty for miles, but Brad was kind enough to share his with me. Within 2 seconds of filling his water, Ben had a leach on his foot. I looked away as he pulled it off. I stood on a large rock as I filled mine. That’s when Brad came running down the hill in his undies, shot straight between the two of us and was out in the middle of the lake in a blink.
“Are you coming?” he shouted from practically the middle of the lake.
“Ben literally just got a leach. I can see three more of them right here” I shouted back. Ben already had his shirt off running toward Brad as if they were in a Rom Com. I stood on my rock unsure.
“Lexi, they don’t want your ironless blood anyways” Brad shouted.
“Yeah your practically a corpse, you’ll be fine” Ben added. I burst into laughter then made a run for the deep.
I made a hot meal that night for dinner; chili mac, my favorite. Right as I went to dig in we heard thunder rip in the distance. Within 2 minutes it was an absolute downpour. I sat in my tent eating my chili mac, grateful for the quiet and privacy after a long day. Well, the quiet that was every so often interrupted by Ben yelling, “You guys still out there?”. He is a kid who hates to be alone.
It poured all through the night. I got up once to pee, which if you’re not a hiker, I don’t know if I can explain how terrible it feels to get out of your warm sleeping bag in the dead of night to go pee in the freezing rain and pitch black. United boot strings stuck in the mud, your dry socks turning mushy as your boots fill with what you hope is water and not just you peeing on yourself. You squat there in the pitch black afraid that if you turn on your head lamp you’ll be face to face with a wolf. That is my biggest fear. Not being attacked by a wild animal but being attacked by a wild animal mid-pee. Mauled while standing there in that semi-squat stance, my pants at my ankles, absolutely defenseless.
It was still raining when we woke the next morning, there was no point in trying to wait it out as we had no idea if or when it would end. We packed up in the rain and accepted the fact that we would be wet until further notice. As we were making our way out of camp, we came across a man hiking alone. He was in his rain gear so we couldn’t see much of him other than his face. He had a large mustache and was very serious in expression. He looked like a cartoon character. He held walking sticks in both hands.
“You kids be careful out there” he shouted coming down from a campsite on our right.
We stopped letting him catch up.
“We will” we assured him with a smile.
“Rain isn’t supposed to let up. Could be lightning this afternoon. If you’re up on the ridge when it’s lightning you’re toast. You hear thunder you get down. You hear me” He was very serious in his demeanor. We nicknamed him Sargent.
“Yes sir” we all said in synchrony.
“Those rocks get real slippery. Last year I fell flat on my face - busted my nose. It’s not supposed to stop raining for a few days. You keep an eye on one another. I just radioed the wife to stand by, if it starts storming again imma have her get me a ferry home from McCargoe Cove.”
We thanked him and carried on taking his advice seriously. He appeared to know his stuff. We passed another trail marker, one arrow pointing back up the way we came the night before, the other straight on the flat trail along the lake. I was so grateful that we were taking the Minong trail today and not trying to fight our way back up to the Greenstone. Ben’s rain gear consisted of a bright yellow poncho and an excessively large trash bag that he threw over his pack. I hysterically laughed the entire first stretch of the hike, watching him stumble his way through the woods draped in plastic bags as it poured.
We stopped to have lunch at Tod Harbor, a campsite right on Lake Superior. I imagined it would look gorgeous under different conditions, but as we looked out we could only see a few feet out through the pouring rain. It was cold, miserably cold today. Very different from our previous day on the ridge. That’s the tricky part of Isle Royale, up on the ridge the sun can scorch you, but down by the water, the lake cools the air to near 50 degrees most days. We shivered as we tried to eat our lunch. No one spoke as we stood over a picnic table. It wasn’t a long break. We knew we had another 6 miles to McCargoe Cove and they would be up and down. Also, it's always warmer when you’re moving.
We climbed all afternoon. Our friend back at Hatchet Lake was right, those rocks are slippery. The guys didn’t seem to have trouble with it but I fell repeatedly. I began to fall further and further behind, which normally I prefer, but I was growing frustrated from the wipeouts. I am normally a very balanced person. I’m not used to falling on my ass so much. Getting back up with a 50lb pack was not easy and got more challenging with each plummet. It had rained a little the day prior but nothing like this.
The downpour eventually let up after we finished descending from the ridge and we were walking in deep wet mud for the rest of the trek. When we finally rolled into camp it was beautiful out. We put down our packs and went down to the dock. The campsite was like something out of a summer camp movie. It was breathtaking. The cove stretched for miles, somewhere out there we knew it turned into Lake Superior. Otters swam around the very back of the cove right before it turned to a marsh. I sat with my feet in the water taking in the vast view as Brad splashed around in the freezing cold lake trying to convince us he was having a good time.
We made conversation with the men sitting on the end of the dock. The oldest of them had been to the island over 20 times. He was like our own personal Isle Royale thesaurus. We asked him hundreds of questions, partially because Ben is a bad listener and kept repeating things that had already been asked. We told him about the route we mapped out for ourselves. He said it was not a typical route but a good one. He told us Chickenbone was the worst site in the park and we should be happy we skipped it. He said we should cut down to Daisy Farm whether we were pushing through to Three Mile or not because that trail along the coast was the best in the park. He got us as excited as we were on day one about all the things that lay ahead.
As conversation slowed Ben and I decided to head up to set up camp and make some dinner. Brad hung back to soak up the last bit of sun. I’m not sure why because he was already completely fried. As we got up our movements were comically slow. We could hear Brad rolling with laughter behind us.
“I didn’t realize I was hiking with 90 year olds” he hollerd.
“Hey, it just takes us a minute to get going is all” Ben yelled back. He put his arm over my shoulder, “Come on Lexi we got this.”
My stomach hurt I was laughing so hard but I legitimately could not get my body to move any faster. I was stiff. My bigger issue was that my feet were killing me, they had been pruned for over a day and a half straight, and the pain was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.
We did eventually make it to camp and got our sleeping arrangements set up. When Brad finally made his way up he was still laughing. “What are you guys doing? I can hear you all the way from the docks” he was almost embarrassed.
“Look we figured out how to make toast!” I said with pride. Ben and I had balanced a piece of bread on both our knives and were dangling it over my propane stove.
“What do you need toast for?” Brad was not impressed.
“To put in our chili mac” I explained sincerely. He chuckled and carried on with getting himself set up for the night. It was a peaceful night, overcast didn’t allow us to see any stars but I knew they were out there. As I crawled into my tent I felt the rain start up again.
As I went to get out of my tent the next morning, excruciating pain shot through my foot. I winced in pain. I thought I had stepped in glass, but as I looked around there was nothing. I checked my foot. I wasn’t bleeding either. I gently pressed my pointer finger to the bottom of my foot and there it was again, sharp pain. “What is happening” I thought to myself. I put my socks and boots on from a seated position. Expecting the pain and knowing there was no real reason for it, I was able to push through it.
I would later learn I was suffering from Trench Foot, a WWII disease caused by having your feet be wet and cold for too many days in a row. But for now, all I knew was that my feet were really really sore and we had 19 miles to go. Being the only female in the group I was determined to not be the weakest link. I said nothing and pressed on. I walked slower that day and the miles felt harder but I kept up. It rained on and off in the morning but by the afternoon it was clear. We ate lunch at Chickenbone and our friend from the night before was right, I would have hated to stay there. The water source was half a mile from the camp and the sites were weirdly dispersed amongst this tall grass. Something about the place gave me an eerie feeling.
After that the hike was amazing. At one point we were walking on top of a beaver damn. We crossed rivers, as we weaved our way through the woods. Once again I was just so happy to be out in nature. At one point we reached a lookout spot and could see what felt like forever. We pointed out all the lakes we had stayed at and the vast distance we had traveled from Windigo. I focused on staying present during that hike. I didn’t let my mind drift too far and worked hard to not look down at my feet the entire walk.
We moved at a good pace. Spirits were high again. We got to Daisy farm early in the afternoon. We went down to the docks and took a quick ice bath in the lake. It felt great on my legs but it only heightened the pain in my feet. During our very quick dip, it started to downpour again. That’s the thing about small islands, the weather changes fast. We all scrambled. Our stuff was dispersed everywhere. I tried to run but my feet couldn’t take it, barefoot on little rocks with trench foot was a new level of pain for me. I had to put my boots on before I could run for cover. I stood over my pack stuffing things into it tears pouring down my face. The guys stood halfway up the trial soaking wet with hands full of stuff looking back at me like are you coming?
They couldn’t see my tears through the downpour. I waved them to go ahead, they shouted to meet them at the pavilion.
I took my time getting there. I was already wet. My stuff was already wet. My feet hurt. When I arrived, they were nowhere to be found. I decided I’d stay put. I couldn’t take one more step. There’s no cell service whatsoever on the island. If you get separated there is a very small chance of finding one another again. I wasn’t too worried as I knew we were just six miles to Rock Harbor. Worst case scenario we all meet at the boat the next day and I spend one night alone.
The rain just dumped around me. I couldn’t even see out of the pavilion it was coming down so hard. I started to cry. The tole of walking on what felt like glass all day had finally caught up to me. It was unbearable. I should have stopped earlier. I should have made us slow down. I should have told the group about what was going on. I have a bad habit of this. When I am hurting I like to keep all the pain to myself. I don’t want to unload the burden of it onto the others of the group. It is especially bad when I am hiking with an all-male group. There is an extra pressure added. I can’t be the weakest link. I can’t be what holds the group back. It is my biggest fear that we will walk out of a trip and the group will think to themselves well we could have gone further or faster if we just didn’t bring any girls along. I take it to the extreme. I feel as if I am hiking for the reputation of women everywhere. If I must slow down or stop, or if I am the one who dieters the group then I am letting down women everywhere. It’s absurd. Not only is it absurd, it’s dangerous.
It is so important when you are hiking to hold a group mentality and not an individual. We all did a very bad job of this. We did not share any equipment. Every person packed for themselves and to be self-sustained. We did not wait up for one another or check in on one another. We didn’t communicate our fears, concerns, discomforts, or pains to one another. That can take a big toll on you mentally too. You don’t feel part of a group. You feel alone, and feeling alone in the woods is scary.
After a few minutes, I could hear my name in the distance. “LEXI! LEXI! LEX!”
“Hello!” I shouted back.
“Lexi is that you!” It was Brad.
“Yeah” I responded.
“Where are you?”
“Under the pavilion. Remember, where we all agreed we’d meet!” I shouted back sarcastically. I was whipping away my tears and quickly pulling it together. This is something I am very good at.
Brad emerged from the downpour into my little sanctuary. He looked distraught. I felt bad for my sarcasm. He was drenched. “Oh thank god” he let out a sigh of relief. “I thought we lost ya.”
I was surprised by his concern, not a lot of things rattle Brad. Just the day before I thought for sure that if I fell the group wouldn’t have noticed. That they would have left me for dead up on the ridge. Today they ran through the pouring rain in search of me. I tried not to show the joy it brought me. I confessed that I was equally as stressed. I told Brad about my feet. He inspected them and reassured me they would get me off the island with both my feet still attached.
Brad brought me back to a shelter they had claimed, and we rode out the rest of the storm there as we made our game plan. If it stopped raining in the next hour we would hike on to three mile. If it continued we’d stay put.
The rain let up so we pushed on. Slower this time. Stopping to check in with one another every so often. The last few miles were gorgeous. We walked right along the shoreline and could see the surrounding islands and rock formations. We stopped occasionally to skip rocks. It was already dark when we rolled into Three Mile. Somehow we were able to secure ourselves one of the shelters. There was a stray pair of boots in there that looked like they were 100 years old. They were probably what scared off anyone else from claiming the shelter. I had dreams that night of an old zombie like man coming to our shelter in in search of his boots.
I woke the next morning to the boots still there. No ghost of hikers past had come to take them back. It felt good to wake up that morning knowing we were just three miles to the finish. I was getting my stuff together was Brad sat up in his sleeping bag, let out a big yawn and proceeded to say, “You missed out on some really great stars last night.” I was instantly furious.
I had talked about wanting to see stars for months leading up to this trip. Every night of overcast I’d say, “It’s okay guys we got three more chances… two more chances…” I stormed out of the shelter and headed to the docks without saying a word.
Perhaps it was an overreaction, okay it was definitely an overreaction, but it was too late I was in it. I filled up my water and took off down the trail leaving those two to talk about their stars. I walked in rage mode, making great time. I was not being a good team member. But then again neither were they and I no longer cared about any of our safety. Gradually I cooled down and eventually, I was just very much enjoying my solo hike. The trail was composed of beautiful boulders and rock formations. The sun was rising over the coast and orange spread out over the horizon. It was amazing. I stopped when I reached Suzie’s Cave and let the guys catch up. They were only maybe 20 minutes behind me. Brad apologized. I did as well, and just like that we were back again. We explored the cave together, and even climbed on top of it like idiots. We did the last mile together. Coming into the same campground we stayed on night one. We let out a few victory shouts as we made our way through camp. We went to the little restaurant on the far end of camp for our celebratory beer. It felt great to be done. It had been on my bucket list for so many years. Hike Isle Royale end-to-end, check.
Looking back, I wish I had given us more days and shorter hikes. The trails are difficult, and it took us all day and sometimes into the evenings to get to our campsites. By the end of the trip, my body was unbelievably sore. The campsites on the island are absolutely incredible and you should leave time to swim and enjoy them. Of all the campsites we stayed at or passed through, East Chicken Bone looked like the worst to stay at and McCargoe Cove was my favorite.
The island is packed full of wildlife but you are unlikely to encounter any moose up on the ridges, your best bet is to get up early and scan the shorelines of your camps if you want to see a moose. We only saw one moose during our time on the island and it was well off in the distance. Even though they are massive, they are very quiet animals and they are very easy to spook. If your goal is to see a moose, travel in smaller groups and stay quiet. Co-singing Miley Cyrus songs across the trail will for sure scare them off.
There are wolves on the island, but not very many, and they only come out at night. Sightings are very rare. The foxes on the other hand will follow you around and steal your stuff so sleep with your food in your tent and make sure you have no loose items at camp.
The lakes are leach-infested. This doesn’t mean that you have to avoid them, don’t linger in the shallows though if you do want to take a dip. Run straight for the deep end. This doesn’t apply to Lake Superior; nothing can survive those frigid waters.
The island is amazing. I have no complaints. If you are considering a visit, do it, book it now. I don’t do the beauty and peacefulness of this place justice in my writing. It is the ultimate oasis. If you are nervous about going alone or planning it yourself, we made a good friend while we were there who we called Sargent, and he’d be happy to be your guide. I believe he is better known as The Old Man of Isle Royale. We were already planning our next visit to the island before we even boarded our ferry home.
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