Ancient Isle Royale shoreline

The expansive coniferous forest in Isle Royale‘s southwestern corner, uninterrupted except for a wetland surrounding Grace Creek, is my destination for the remainder of the day as I journey to Feldtmann Lake. Grace Creek Outlook’s view reminds me of just how far I need to travel before the day is finally done. And, as impressive as this is, I muster the necessary discipline to pull myself away and return to the main trail, as Feldtmann Lake is not getting any closer with me standing there woolgathering with my mouth agape.

Within only moments upon my return to the main trail, a father and son pass by on their way toward Feldtmann Lake. When I notify them that the side trail is definitely worth a look, but there are moose to be found, the father responds without hesitation “no moose?” and then continues on down the main trail. I can see another group of several people up the trail along the ridge. It looks as if it is going to be busy at Feldtmann Lake tonight.

The trail continues over a couple open ridges before reentering a dense forest. The trees soon become more scattered, with another open ridgeline appearing off to the south. Within a short distance, the trail descends via a long switchback, thus avoiding any steep slopes. The surrounding forest becomes decidedly more open and park-like, with spruce and balsam fir dominating.

Section Stats:
Date: September 5, 2011
Length: 6.4 miles (8.7 total daily miles; 59.5 total trip miles)
Difficulty: Easy

At the bottom of the descent, small, rounded rocks cover the trail, instead of the usual compacted dirt and/or mud. The trail weaves through the scattered coniferous trees, bordered by crimson herbaceous cover, and fully exposed to the sun. According to DuFresne’s book, these rounded pebbles are the ancient shoreline of a once larger Lake Superior (Lake Superior Superior?), and consequentially, a smaller Isle Royale. Walking on the rocks makes going more difficult, akin to walking on a sandy beach. They completely abolish all pretense of stealth, too.

The forest remains open here, with areas of mature spruce and/or fir interspersed with areas dominated by tall grasses, shrubs or other herbaceous vegetation. Within the open areas, small spruces and/or firs occasionally poke their conical tops above the grasses, indicating the open areas, and all its associates denizens, are living on borrowed time. At some point in the distant future, the coniferous forest shall return to dominance here, showing absolutely no mercy to the current residents.

Surprisingly, I pass by the father and son from earlier, as they rest along the side of the trail. After a brief hello, I leave them behind, knowing it should not be long before they pass me when I stop for my overdue lunch. There is nothing better than a little trail leapfrogging on the way to a Isle Royale campground.

The trail leaves the ancient shoreline, and its surrounding open areas, and reenters a denser coniferous forest of spruce and fir. Right in the transition area, a pair of moose antlers lies under a spruce tree on the side of the trail. I wonder who places these antlers along the trail. Someone must be collecting them and displaying them thusly, since it is highly unlikely they fall off the moose in pairs, right next to the trail. Or, maybe the moose are cognizant of the tourist trade and all its benefits, so they seek out trails when it is time to shed them.

Moose antlers

A stream appears off to the right, a portion of the undulating Grace Creek. No wide-open wetlands surround the creek here, just a lot of alder shrubs. Finding some shade and a convenient downed log on the opposite side of trail from the creek, I decide to stop for lunch. The sound of the stream flowing a short distance away adds to the idyllic setting.

The trail proves quite busy during my lunch break. The father and son pass me just a short time after I sit down and start going through my backpack. The father comments about us playing leapfrog along the trail, but I assure him they will get way ahead of me now that I have my lunch on. Soon after, a group of 4 to 5 younger guys march through, almost oblivious to me sitting just a short distance off the trail. Later, a solo guy rushes by, this time going in the direction towards Windigo instead.

The weather remains comfortable, although a bit cool when sitting still. The sky is perfectly clear, and a steady breeze blows through the trees, occasionally gusting. Biting flies are all but absent, allowing me to linger, totally unassaulted. I amuse myself thinking about the stark contrast between insect conditions here and that at Oven Lake in the Adirondacks earlier this summer.

Clearing along Feldtmann Lake Trail

It is half-past one in the afternoon before I regain the trail and start toward Feldtmann Lake again. A quick look at the map indicates I am only about a third of the way toward the campground, so I pledge to myself to pick up the pace a little. The remaining trail does little climbing, traversing only through lowland forest or swamp.

As the trail heads through an area thick with alders, the sound of flowing water becoming louder as I approach the Grace Creek crossing. Soon the trail arrives at a plank bridge over Grace Creek. The shrubbery is so dense surrounding portions of the bridge, it is necessary to push my way through as I proceed over the creek to the opposite stream bank.

A downed spruce tree blocks the trail almost immediately upon exiting the bridge. Although a faint path detours around the downed tree, I crawl right under it, thus preventing any unnecessary trail creep. Being able to get up from the ground is one of the few benefits of being small, and not carrying a ton of stuff in my backpack.

Bridge over Grace Creek

As the trail begins a gradual ascent, the forest transitions from just spruce/fir to a one with yellow birch mixed in. Just a short distance further, yellow birch now dominates, with only an occasional spruce scattered about. A small accipiter appears on a branch, but flies off before my binoculars escape from their case secured on my hip belt.

The trail follows up along a narrow, steep ravine with a small stream running down through it. When the trail reaches the top of the incline, it crosses the small stream, which is barely a trickle. Along the muddy stream bank are large moose tracks, with some much smaller yet identically shaped ones. This moose cow had a little calf with her. Too bad they left before I caught a glimpse of the moose pair, but maybe I will get another chance later.

The trail levels off, with a steady drop-off to the right. The forest is almost completely yellow birch now, something I typically do not get to see often. Usually, yellow birch is just one of many species central NY hardwood forests; it never dominates a forest like this.

Yellow birch forest

Some small yellow birch saplings lie along the trail with much of their bark stripped away. Obviously, the action of moose, but were they the result of a feast or some territorial markings of an overly horny and protective male? I hope the former. The scrapes on the heftier young trees indicate otherwise.

Shortly after entering a mixed forest containing many paper birches, I almost step in a pile of wolf scat. While standing over the pile, I spot a large bird flying through the forest, but it disappears between the trees so quickly I am unable to identify it; it might be anything from an eagle to a raven.

When the trail starts to descend, I stop to check my poor hurting feet. Unfortunately, the blisters and open sores have not spontaneously healed, despite all the hiking I am doing. While examining my feet, a middle-aged couple passes by me on their way toward Feldtmann Lake. I hope there is going to be room for me at the campground when I finally get there.

Moose evidence?

The trail then travels through a series of northern white cedar and black spruce swamps on a natural land bridge. From the plethora of small, round rocks on the trail, the land bridge is another example of an ancient shoreline of the island when Lake Superior was much larger. The poor footing while walking over pebbles does not make my sore feet hurt any less, unfortunately.

Finally departing from the cedar/spruce swamp, the trail reenters an open, conifer forest, with many patches of tall grass containing either old snags or small young conifers. Northern flickers appear common here, probably due to the open areas containing their favorite food: ants.

The forest remains somewhat open, with mostly spruce and yellow birch. There is much thimbleberry along the trail here; the plentiful berries delay my progress as they scream out in a chorus of “pick me, pick me” sounding surprisingly like the ladies at Castle Anthrax in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I spot a flowering bunchberry at the side of the trail, filling me with great appreciation for late bloomers. There may be hope for me afterall.

Coniferous forest along Feldtmann Lake Trail

After what seems like an eternity of hiking along the same stretch of trail repeatedly for almost an hour, the Feldtmann Lake Campground map, on its wooden post, appears at the edge of the trail.

Finally, Feldtmann Lake is here, and with plenty of time for a quick visit to Rainbow Cove later in the evening. I might just get to see a moose too. Nah, that is probably just too much to ask.

Feldtmann Lake Campground map

Affiliate Disclaimer: Some links within this blog post may send you to a retailer website. If you chose to purchase any product at that site at that time the author will receive a small commission. These commissions provide compensation for the author’s time and effort necessary to provide the content at the Bushwhacking Fool.