There is nothing good about a 13-mile hike in a single day. Well, except for being in the outdoors, getting exercise and increasing the odds of having an amazing wildlife experience. Other than that though, there is very little good about a long hike in a single day.
Not the alarm going off at 6:30 AM. Not the absence of the sun at this early in the morning. Not the drowsy feeling demanding a few more hours in the sleeping bag. And certainly not the necessity of immediately starting to pack up equipment whiles all the previous conditions exist.
Unfortunately, my itinerary for the day demands an early start at North Lake Desor Campground. The 13-mile hike to Washington Creek Campground before me today demands it. And the campground is not getting any closer with me lying in my comfortable sleeping bag. It takes a Herculean effort to keep focused on the tasks at hand, instead of just rolling over for another hour of sleep.
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Thankfully, everyone at North Lake Desor is up early, packing up for the long haul to Washington Creek. This provides some incentive to get my butt going; otherwise I might be rolling into Washington Creek in the early evening. I remember hearing Tim and Shelly packing up earlier, their headlamps occasionally illuminating the surrounding forest. If I could muster such motivation, I would already be half way through my day’s hike.
Section Stats:
Date: September 3, 2011
Length: 6.3 miles (6.3 total daily miles; 42.7 total trip miles)
Difficulty: Moderate (due to length and many ups-and-downs)
Unfortunately, the necessary motivation eludes me; everyone is packed up and gone before me. The family leaves while I am still making breakfast, while Jesse and Lee depart when I am going down to the lake’s shoreline one last time, with my camera over my shoulder, for some last minute, early morning photographs.
When I return to my backpack, there is another mischievous red squirrel getting into my garbage bag. Why are they always trying to get into my stuff? It is as if they have it out for me. The again, perhaps they do, especially after the rock-throwing incident at McCargoe Cove.
The squirrel runs for cover after a few choice words on my part. Lucky for me, the garbage bag remains intact; the rodent did not have enough time to tear it to pieces. Packing away the last few odds and ends, I hoist my backpack onto my back and start my long journey toward the Windigo Ranger Station, leaving the pesky squirrel behind.
The birds, apparently inspired by the early morning hours, are active along the spur trail back to the Minong Ridge Trail. The young, dense forest that the trail winds through must provide excellent feeding for the many songbirds preparing for their winter migration flight in the coming months. Red-eyed vireo, ovenbird, white-throated sparrow, downy woodpecker, red-breasted nuthatch and black-capped chickadee are just some of the birds I observe along the trail.
It only takes a short while to get back to the intersection with the Minong Ridge Trail. From here on there is about 10.6 miles before another intersection at the East Huginnin Cove Trail. At least there is no opportunity to get lost now.
The weather is perfect for a long distance hike. Although it was foggy earlier down by the lake’s shoreline, the sky is clear now, providing an additional spring to my step. A steady breeze feels good, despite the cooler morning temperatures. Hopefully, the breeze keeps up into the afternoon, when the temperature rises.
After leaving the intersection, the trail proceeds over a series of ups and downs. Some of the ascents are rather steep, which quickly warms me up; much appreciated with the cooler morning temperatures. The ups ascend to open ridges, although nothing as impressive as the previous day’s, but the early morning glow makes for some interesting lighting. Views of Lake Superior and the Canada shoreline are again visible to the north, now a familiar sight along the Minong Ridge Trail.
During some segments there appear to be two trails, one up on the rocky ridge-crest, while another hugs the exposed rock near the forest’s edge. Since the lower trail is bordered by tall grassy vegetation and therefore probably quite wet during the morning hours, I choose the open, rocky ridge, with its possible views and drier conditions.
The trail finally descends into a beautiful paper birch forest, but then quickly ascending back onto an open ridge once again. Unable to make up its mind, the trail again descends back through the mature paper birch forest. This schizophrenic nature appears to be a hallmark of the Minong Ridge Trail, and it appears it is not going to end anytime soon.
A redbelly snake lies upside down in the middle of the trail, a bloody gash present on its midsection. It looks fresh; hopefully none of the hikers coming from North Lake Desor intentionally killed this poor snake. Redbelly snakes are quite tame; I cannot imagine anyone harming one on purpose. Especially, any hiker this far out in the backcountry, where appreciation of the outdoors is pretty much a requirement.
Soon after the poor dead snake, there is a small pile of goldfish along the trail’s edge. Not the kind with scales though; the cracker type. Most likely the family stopped here for a snack on their way toward Windigo. Seeing a dead snake on the trail will do that for your appetite, I guess.
The paper birch forest slowly transitions to one dominated by sugar maple, as the trail continues a long, gradually descending stretch. There is little herbaceous ground cover here, just a plentiful amount of sugar maple seedlings, their leaves almost completely covering the ground. Too bad, almost none of these baby trees will ever grow tall and proud like their mature ancestors, unless something happens to the existing canopy above them. This portion of the trail is quite pleasant, the surroundings reminding me of many of the central New York forests.
Along the trail, I come upon two old moose antlers lying at the base of a large sugar maple, carefully placed side-by-side. Their dirty and cracked condition, combined with the rounded prongs suggests a long exposure to the forces of nature. Apparently, it has been a long time since they sat proudly atop a bull moose’s head.
I pick up the antlers and examine them, feeling their texture and getting an idea of their weight. Then as I replace them back where I found them, I get a deviously, clever idea. I stick them side-by-side, blunt end into the ground, as far as I can, twisting them, so as to imbed them further into the ground.
When the image of me impaled on the end of one of them appears in my mind’s eye, I leave them partially imbedded into the ground. Unfortunately, they are a little top-heavy, and they fall forward a little. Now the two antlers, side-by-side, looks as if the moose is buried in the ground, up to its antlers. I leave them behind, with a silly grin on my face for at least the next few feet. Probably, no one will even get the joke.
The trail moves into a more open area, with saplings growing densely along the sides of the trail about chest high. Sometimes it is even difficult to see the whereabouts of the trail, and I just push my way through where I think the trail should be located. Luckily, my judgment proves correct, or I might still be out there.
Soon larger trees start encroaching on the trail, with the dense saplings giving way to more herbaceous vegetation. Bracken fern, bunchberry, wild sarsaparilla, wood fern, thimbleberries, largeleaf aster and many other species are present. The herbaceous plant diversity here is quite impressive; too bad my atrophied botany training allows me to identify so few species.
The trail descends down to a small stream crossing, surrounded by northern white cedars. Only a small trickle of red water flows to the north here now. Two halves of a split log are placed across the stream for crossing, although with the amount of water present it hardly seems necessary. Downstream, a northern waterthrush runs long the bare ground, obviously searching for its lunch, or perhaps a late breakfast.
After passing the red stream, there are a few more ups and downs, with some of the ridges yielding nice views of the surrounding forest to the south. Not far after the first stream, the trail descends and cuts through another swampy area with an extensive amount of corduroy for crossing. Northern white cedars are prevalent here too.
The trail climbs once again out of the wetland and through an open forest with great species diversity. This area has a park-like setting, with the trees widely spaced and of vastly different sizes. White spruce, paper birch, white ash and northern white cedars are just a few of the species. The dense herbaceous vegetation growing everywhere in between the scattered trees give this area a wild, unkempt appearance.
The trail descends to another wet crossing on corduroy, before ascending to the shoulder of a forested ridge. Sugar maples dominate the forest along this ridge, with some paper birch, yellow birch and northern white cedar mixed in.
While briskly hiking along, something shiny and silver near the ground catches my eye. A silver metal tag, one often used by foresters to mark trees, is nailed to the base of a large yellow birch right at the edge of the trail. The last time I saw such a tag was when I worked in the Adirondacks for the Wildlife Conservation Society on a project investigating the effect of the 1995 microburst storm on forest diversity in the northwestern Adirondacks. The fond memories of months spent in the woods searching for birds flood back into my mind for a while as I continue hiking along the trail.
As if on cue, the wind starts picking up, with the trees in the canopy swaying in the breeze. I push on, not wanting to further push my luck with the wind, especially where trees are concerned.
The trail continues to descend through sugar maple dominated forests. A large flock of hermit thrushes, many of which appear to be immature, fly about the forest floor as I hike through this area. Soon afterwards, the trail leaves behind the sugar maple forest as it enters a more open and mixed-species forest, ending at a wet opening with a crossing on an ancient beaver dam.
The beaver dam is a large mound snaking through the open wetland, covered in tall grass and other herbaceous vegetation. Several old spruce trees, having fallen naturally, lie across the path on the dam, making the crossing a little more daunting than otherwise necessary. Obviously not part of the beavers’ original design, the downed trees require some fancy footwork to navigate around on the dam.
A muddy pool of open water, surrounded by grassy vegetation, lies adjacent to the beaver dam crossing. Could have some wildlife stirred the otherwise calm water? A moose wallow, perhaps? I stop and scan the area with my binoculars, looking for any other sign of the large herbivores. Unfortunately, I see no such evidence. At this point, I would settle for a beaver or an otter.
The trail climbs steeply after crossing the beaver dam, quickly reentering a sugar maple and paper birch forest. I pass through another flock of hermit thrushes, with a few other bird species mixed in. Or perhaps it is the same flock passed through and they are just following me.
The trail climbs over a series of rocky ridges, not as open as before though, lower in elevation and mostly forested in sugar maple with a scattering of quaking aspen. These ridges do not last long before the trail descends through two small almost dry streams. Both streams are crossed on logs, although there is hardly any water present.
A large area of matted grasses between the streams suggests a moose bedded down recently. Or maybe it was a big person, or several smaller people with large backpacks. Now if I could only see one of these large denizens of Isle Royale, then my visit would be complete.
After the second stream the trail once again ascends steeply back into an attractive sugar maple forest. A series of open, rocky ridges, much like earlier on the trail, are quickly crossed and then it is back into a sugar maple forest. While making my way through the sugar maple forest, three women approach me at a brisk pace, going in the opposite way.
“Oh, going the hard way, huh?” I said, referring to the extra effort required starting the Minong Ridge Trail from Windigo with a full pack and more than 10 miles before a campground.
“One way isn’t harder than another, eh” shot back the surliest-looking one.
Ouch. I should know better than open my mouth other than to say hello.
The trail climbs back to another open, rocky ridge, although the views are limited due to the encroaching forest. A large flock of many bird species fly from the ground and between the few trees present along the ridge. Black-capped chickadee, black-throated green warbler, chipping sparrow, American redstart and many other warblers fly all over as they attempt to avoid me as best they can. My binoculars get an excellent work out here, as I stop and watch the birds for a while before continuing on.
From the ridge, the trail descends rapidly once again, ending at an extensive series of wooden boardwalks through a wet area. Mature northern white cedars are dense here, as are many herbaceous, wetland species. The narrowness of the planks takes some concentration; no looking aimlessly for birds with my binoculars here!
The planking continues through the cedar swamp, often turning this way or that for some unknown purpose. When I get way out in the middle of one particularly straight span of planking, a young couple slowly comes around the corner, heading right in my direction. Since the planking is too narrow to allow them to pass, I hop off onto one of the drier islands where one of the piers is embedded into the ground. They look down on me as they pass; giving me a perfunctory “thank you” as they go.
At the end of the boardwalk, the trail climbs steeply through a sugar maple forest to a short open, low ridge before returning to the maple forest once again. With another open, rocky ridge ahead, stopping for lunch while some shade from the mid-day sun persists makes sense.
Plus, I figure I am more than half way to Washington Creek Campground by now. A better time for lunch, I cannot imagine.
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ADKinLA
June 6, 2012 at 12:30 am
What is it with you and the squirrels on this island? You must have had the squirrel spice on all your food! 😉
bushwhackingfool
June 6, 2012 at 5:03 am
It’s not just me! The red squirrels are all over the place, just waiting to prey on any innocent hiker who lets down his/her guard. I’m just lucky that the red foxes did not pile on as well.
andrea
April 29, 2021 at 4:26 pm
How long did the hike take?
bushwhackingfool
April 29, 2021 at 5:25 pm
Hey Andrea,
The hike along the Minong Ridge Trail took me 4 days, while I was on Isle Royale for around 2 weeks. It was a great time. Are you planning on going?