Raspberry Island
The following is a description of a 19-day adventure to Isle Royale National Park. The trip includes driving more than 900 miles to Copper Harbor and back, a ferry over the rough water of Lake Superior and two weeks of hiking to one end of the 45-mile long island and back. Part one of the first day requires a 55-mile voyage across the rough water’s of Lake Superior on the Isle Royale Queen IV ferry.
Section Stats:
Date: August 29, 2011
Length: appoximately 55 miles
Difficulty: Slightly QuEasy
Six o’clock arrived quickly on the morning of the first day of my Isle Royale trip. I fumble about in the darkness to find the light, and swiftly assemble my clothing before jumping into the shower. There is no time to waste, as the ferry leaves at 8 AM, and there is no way I want to be late.
It is still dark when I exit the shower. I make a quick peek out the window, and there is nothing but clear sky as far as the eye can see. I am overjoyed as the weather is suppose to be cloudy with a good chance of rain. Could the weathermen (and women) be so wrong? The weather appears ideal for ferrying across Lake Superior, and starting a 15-day backpacking trip for that matter.
I dress warmly, and assume wet conditions just in case. The Isle Royale Queen IV ferry literature warns of colder temperatures, so I decide to take no chances during the 55-mile trek across Lake Superior.
I dress in my typical backpacking uniform as there will be little time available for changing once I set foot on the Island. My ensemble consists of white nylon liner socks under Smartwool hiking socks, slightly weathered Golite Trunk hiking pants, an EMS Superwick hiking shirt and a Golite Bark nylon wind breaker. In addition, I add my lightweight Mont Bell down jacket, my red North Face DIAD rain jacket and my new Golite Tumalo Pertex Storm pants. The chance of being over-dressed later in the day is extremely likely, but in the early, cooler morning hours, I feel quite comfortable.
In a flurry of activity, I pack all my stuff back into my car, trying to be quiet enough not to wake the other guests that returned from the island just last night. I hastily force down the few remaining granola bars and toss the remaining produce from the cooler into the garbage. It is just past 7 when I drive the short distance to the ferry parking lot, stopping briefly at the Bella Vista motel office to drop off my room key in the drop box.
At the large grassy parking lot, a friendly attendant, with an uncanny likeliness to Kiefer Sutherland, asks my name, checks his list and comments with a great deal of impressiveness about the length of my stay on the Island. After a brief chat, he takes my $20 parking fee and directs me to the proper parking place at the end of a line of cars along one end of the parking lot. The cost is typically $5 per day but there is a maximum amount of $20, luckily for me.
The car, sans me, my Pinnacle backpack
There is a crowd waiting on the dock when I arrive. Some people were dressed in street clothes, others in all types and color of outdoor gear; a kaleidoscope of colors of every conceivable size, weight and age. There is a little old lady, a young man with a very long bushy beard and braid, several younger couples, two tall elderly men and a few family groups. There is little discussion amongst the patiently waiting passengers, most likely due to the residual influence of the sandman, judging by the numerous yawns and eye rubbing.
Sunrise over Copper Harbor
I collect two boarding passes, one for today and another for my return trip. The prospect of losing the return trip pass instantly becomes a cause of concern; I carefully stash the small piece of paper into my small notebook. When I inquire about my concern, I am assured it is not completely necessary as my name should appear on the boarding list two weeks from now.
After a short wait, we are given instructions to hand our backpacks and other large items up to the line of waiting crew members for loading on the Isle Royale Queen IV ferry for the duration of the trip. The few kayaks and canoes are the first items brought on board, followed by the backpacks and assorted equipment. All of the items are being placed up on top of the ferry, and would not be accessible until our arrival at Rock Harbor on Isle Royale. Anything necessary for the trip’s duration has to be kept on one’s person or in a single carry-on bag.
I retain Lowepro camera bag
I put the two fuel bottles in a plastic milk crate, set out on the dock for just that purpose. The two bottles, a 0.5 liter Platypus Little Nipper collapsible container and a small, airline water bottle, contain my entire denatured alcohol for the duration of my two-week trip. Or at least, I hope they do. One can never be sure how much fuel would be used on such a trip, especially one this late in the summer when temperatures were more likely to fluctuate. I plan on eating my last couple of meals at one of the restaurants run by the Rock Harbor Lodge, so the fuel should be sufficient.
Isle Royale Queen IV main cabin
Soon the passengers form an orderly line and start boarding the ferry. I fall in line near the end and patiently wait my turn. After handing my boarding pass to the captain, I climb up into the main cabin of the Isle Royale Queen IV.
The ferry is quite comfortable with three rows of booths; the seating resembles something between an airplane and a diner. Each row contains numerous booths, with a table in between two facing blue vinyl covered benches (although the middle row contains individual seats close together and thus forming a bench). Two aisles separate the three rows, allowing for movement through the fore cabin or aft open area.
At the aft end there is a door, which leads out onto an open (but covered) area, where it is possible to watch Copper Harbor recede as the ferry moves across Lake Superior. Beyond the main sitting room toward the front of the boat is a smaller room of booths, a restroom and a concession stand. At the very front of the boat there is the captain’s cabin and below deck containing a rather comfortable-looking half circular couch. As far as I saw, no one enjoyed the creature comforts of the couch below deck, probably due to the excitement of watching the many waves crashing against the boat during the 3 hour trip.
Copper Harbor from Isle Royale Queen IV
The ferry, fully loaded with passengers and cargo, finally departs the dock about 5 minutes after 8 AM.
Once out into Lake Superior proper, 3 feet waves crash against the ferry; rocking it repeatedly from side to side . These waves result in more than a few people looking queasy. The rather large people sitting in front of me are especially hard hit by the motion sickness. Surprisingly, most of them made their way to the bow of the boat (the front for those of us not familiar with the less salty sailor talk), which I understand is one of the worst places to be when fighting motion sickness.
The roughness of Lake Superior strikes home when I look across the inside of the cabin and out the port side window. One moment the horizon of Lake Superior and its white caps are visible, and the next all I see are gray clouds. For a few moments, the sight hypnotizes me with its rhythmic frequency: water, sky, water, sky, water, sky. Finally, I turn away fearing the sight might make me sick.
Despite having the motion sickness pills in my pocket, I feel no real compulsion to take them. This is a good thing, since they take some time to start working and it may be too late to take them at this point.
Along with the windy conditions and the constant waves, some threatening and low lying clouds appear to the northwest. Unfortunately, northwest is the general direction of our route to Isle Royale. The clouds increase in thickness and darkness as we continue on our voyage. It looks as if those damn weathermen (and women) are going to turn out right after all.
Sky above Lake Superior
I spend the first hour and a half alternating between writing in my journal about my trip so far (the first day driving from Syracuse to Grayling, Michigan and the second arriving at Copper Harbor), looking out the window and observing the other passengers (and likely competitors for good camping spots for at least the first night).
Several different birds appear either flying by or floating in the rough waters. A ring-billed gull floats on the surface of the lake; seeming nonplussed while buoying along on the waves. Also, a merganser engaged in the same behavior; the distance made it impossible for me to identify it to species. The duck is too large to be a hooded merganser, leaving either common or red-breasted as the only two possible species.
As I feared, I could not put it off any longer; an attempt to make my way to the restroom is a necessity. After watching people doing their best to move about on the boat, I dread attempting this with a full bladder. Unfortunately, the jostling of the boat impairs my ability to control my bladder, requiring me to make a move toward the restroom toward the front of the ferry.
After standing up and attempting to move forward, I felt a little like a pinball as I bounce from the outer edge of one seat to another. The real test comes when I leave the relative safety of the seating and make the 6 or 7 feet long trek to the next cabin where the restroom is located. When the ferry lurches in the direction of the wall between the two cabins, I make my move and allow the boat’s momentum hurl me in the direction of the wall between the two cabins. Luckily, I make it without falling or slamming too hard into the wall, and thereby avoid a fatal blow to my dignity.
Lake Superior's rough waters
Taking a pee in the small restroom is an adventure in and of itself. After slamming the door shut, I stand and observe the small rest room. A small toilet and an adjoining sink are the only things present, with no convenient handholds to be found anywhere. As the ferry jerks suddenly back and forth, I immediately realize peeing from a standing position is dangerous, if not, impossible. Just pulling down my pants and sitting on the toilet seat are effort enough with all the swaying going on.
After my successful first pee on a rocking ferry, I head for the stern, where I can watch the Keweenaw Peninsula slowly recede into the horizon. A heavy wooden door separates the rear cabin from the open area beyond the large carbin. On the current rough waters, the door has the propensity to shut violently; the sound frequently disturbed my note writing during entire first half of the voyage.
Several other passengers are scattered about the stern; some are standing along the railing at its edge, while a few others remain seated along the fore wall. The stern is open on all sides but covered by a roof, which is probably quite convenient on stormy days, as the current sky threatens to become. Along the back, on both sides of the door, are two padded bench seats that could comfortably sit 2-3 people each. I make for the open railing in the far corner when the ferry is steady enough trying to purge the thought of flailing head-over-heels over the railing to a certain death in the raging waters below.
Isle Royale Queen's wake
Despite the roar of the engines, I engage in an interesting conversation with a short, elderly woman. She is more than a head shorter than me, with apparently long, gray hair piled upon her head and underneath her ball cap. She is quite loquacious, describing her many hiking experiences in her soothing southern drawl. Although it is often difficult to hear over the constant roar of the engines (not to mention the wind), she dwells on her experiences in Alaska when she did not shower for over 2 weeks, despite a prodigious use of public transportation. Currently, she travels the country in her RV, accompanied by her small dog. The dog is her reason for visiting Isle Royale for only a few hours today, as she will return on the boat several hours after arriving at the island.
After the mainland has long vanished from sight, I move to the bow of the ship so I can witness our approach of the island, which will be my home for the next 2 weeks. Upon returning to the cabin, I make my way out the starboard side through a sliding door and then walk along a very narrow deck to gain access to the open bow of the ship. Moving along the deck, with my back against the outside of the cabin and my hands tightly gripping the railing until the knuckles are bone-white, is disconcerting as the waves crash against the hull of the ship below.
The bow is deserted, giving me the privilege of savoring the view in private with only the boat’s captain elevated behind me separated by the metal and glass of the bridge. I zip up my North Face DIAD rain jacket, as occasionally the splash from the waves crashing onto the deck. The ferry appears to be lurching occasionally, as if the ship is moving in a zigzagging pattern in an attempt to maintain course to the island I suspect.
Approaching Isle Royale
The island appears as a mere gray strip of land in the distance. Although the island tapers to an end to the north, it appears to go on forever to the south. Out destination, Rock Harbor is located near the very northeastern tip of the island, behind a scattered line of thin islands that once was another of the plentiful ridges that make up Isle Royale.
After watching the island draw closer for a while, I start to feel slightly queasy. It is not anything too disturbing but when I hear over the loudspeaker that they are collecting the park fee, I am happy to return to the cabin for a momentary respite from the more intense jostling of the bow.
When a deck hand approaches with the list of all the passengers, I hand over the appropriate amount in park fees. The park charges $4 per day, and with my 15-day trip the total amount is $60. I kept the cash handy the whole time, as they do not accept checks or credit cards.
Soon after paying, I return to the bow of the ferry to view Isle Royale’s approach for the remainder of the voyage. As the ferry draws near to the island, more people join me, obviously excited at the prospect of abandoning the swaying ferry for the firm ground of the island.
For most of the approach, Isle Royale appears as a dark line along the horizon under a dark, grey sky. As we draw closer, the dark line grows larger, and details become increasingly distinct. Occasionally, the dark clouds allow a sliver of sunlight through, illuminating the island in shades of green. The excitement from the passengers is almost palpable; the eagerness can be read on the faces of nearly every individual crowding onto the deck.
Smithwick Island
Rock Harbor Lodge
Drawing closer, it becomes more obvious that Isle Royale is a series of steep ridges running southwest-to-northeast. The ferry journeys through one such shallow ridge, now partially submerged under Lake Superior, named Smithwick Channel. Raspberry and Smithwick Islands lie on either side of the channel, giving me the first close-up glimpse of the island. The shoreline is gray and rocky, with trees growing farther inland.
Through the channel, I can plainly see the five buildings making up the Rock Harbor Lodge. Two on each side are long one-story buildings, while the center one stands out due to the two-stories and the green tin roof. The lodge offers accommodations for those unwilling, or unable, to camp at the nearby campsite. Also, the lodge includes two different restaurants, one of which I hope to use for my last few meals at the end of my trip.
When the ferry moves around a peninsula just south of the lodge buildings, the dock adjacent to the visitor center appears. The ferry pulls up slowly and carefully to the dock; luckily the windy conditions are greatly diminished here, sheltered by the peninsula and the line of islands off to the east.
After the crew ties off the ferry, the passengers are free to depart. I let most of the other passengers depart before thanking the captain and stepping on the dock and for the first time ever, onto Isle Royale National Park.
The centerpiece of my island adventure now begins……
Rock Harbor dock
Isle Royale Queen IV
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