Curious moose at Rainbow Cove

It is a cold and foggy morning at Feldtmann Lake.

Despite the less than ideal conditions, I am overjoyed the bone-chilling cold of the previous morning at Washington Creek campground does not make a reappearance. Hopefully, the weather gets warm enough to finally drink down that Foster’s beer stuck in my backpack since leaving Windigo yesterday morning.

Although not as cold as the previous morning, there is no reason to break out the summer attire and plan a barbeque. In fact, it is not even warm enough to lure me out of my sleeping bag, until my morning urge to pee borders on bladder bursting urgency. Even the promise of seeing moose fails to rouse me from the relative warmth of my sleeping bag, despite my well-intentioned plans to watch the sunrise at Rainbow Cove.

Section Stats:
Date: September 6, 2011
Length: 2.8 miles (2.8 total daily miles; 64.0 total trip miles)
Difficulty: Easy

By the time I finally emerge from my tarp, dash off to the toilet and pack up my stuff, it is nearly 7:30 AM. Early morning start? Yeah, right.

The sun remains low on the horizon, with only a few rays filtering through the surrounding open coniferous forest. The dim light requires care while hiking to Rainbow Cove, especially since I prefer not to stumble around a corner and into a moose. As I hike along the one-mile trail, my eyes do double duty, checking along both sides of the trail, hoping to observe some interesting wildlife.

Then in a clearing, between two rows of white spruce, north of the trail, a moose stands glaring at me. After waiting nine days on Isle Royale, it has finally happened, my first moose encounter on the island. Excitement combines with pure relief, now there is no chance of returning to New York without seeing at least one of the famous mammals symbolizing this island National Park.

I stand motionless for a while, barely breathing, as the moose alternates between staring right at me, with its ears erect, and looking behind it, as if there is something else hidden within the trees. Cautiously, I move forward down the trail in the hopes of getting a better view, until finding a natural blind between some spruce boughs.

Then from my natural shelter, I see it, a young cow tagging along behind the moose cow. No wonder she is cautiously giving me the evil eye all this time.

Although the calf largely ignores me, his mother continues her seeming obsession. When she starts following me, my excitement turns quickly to apprehension. No matter where I seem to move, the cow follows in my direction, the calf in tow, as if we are playing some bizarre form hide-and-seek. After luring them away from the trail, I swiftly sneak by them and finally reach Rainbow Cove.

Upon exiting the shrubbery and stepping out on the open shoreline, my heart gets another sudden shock, as I am not the first person to reach Rainbow Cove this morning. Standing on the shoreline, appearing just as startled is the guy from campsite #2 at Feldtmann Lake Campground.

Apparently, he had the same idea of eating breakfast here at sunrise, given the mess kit in his hand. Obviously, his ambition matched his wherewithal, unlike a certain someone. Although he is from Madison, Wisconsin, we share some similarities, as we are both solo explorers and the cow moose along the trail found us both equally attractive as a stepfather to her calf, judging by her pursuit along the trail.

After chatting, we part company, as he departs along the shoreline toward Rainbow Point to the south, and I desperately need to chow down on some breakfast. I promise to watch his dishes, which he leaves on the pebbled shoreline, just beyond the influence of the waves. As he slowly moves along the curving shoreline, the pebbles make a constant whooshing noise with each step. Finally, I lose sight of him, although I continue to hear his steps for a while until that fades away as well, only the sound of the waves crashing along the shore remains.

Rainbow Cove

Rainbow Cove

While shoveling a well-overdue breakfast down my gaping maw, I observe a vast diversity of bird life on Rainbow Cove. A merlin chases off an osprey, engaging in some impressive aerial acrobatics in the process. A common loon flies over, probably on its way from Feldtmann Lake. Several large mergansers float upon Lake Superior, the limited sunlight and distance making it difficult to identify them to species, even with my excellent compact binoculars. Many ring-billed gulls linger about on the shoreline to the north, white dots on a background of reddish pebbles. A ruby-throated hummingbird buzzes over my head repeatedly, apparently attracted to my red North Face rain jacket, or the orange flagging tied to my binocular strap.

Upon his return from Rainbow Point, the other Feldtmann camper is full of praise for the trip out to the small bluff on Rainbow Point, complete with a convenient log to park one’s caboose while admiring the impressive view. He then picks up his mess kit and vanishes into the shrubbery on his way back to Feldtmann Lake. His destination is Windigo for the day, so there is no chance of us meeting again.

Rainbow Cove

Although the delay may threaten my leisurely 10-mile hike today, I take his advice to check out Rainbow Point, at least as far as the log. I discard my backpack just beyond the wave action of Lake Superior, assuming the exposure acts as a natural barrier against any red squirrel raiding parties. Such an assumption is a calculated risk, given the vendetta red squirrels appear to hold against me, especially since the incident at McCargoe Cove.

The whoosh, whoosh from the pebbles shifting under my hiking boots drowns out all other sounds, as I walk along the shoreline toward Rainbow Point. The going is extremely slow, my feet continuously slipping under the loose rock, much like bare feet on a sandy beach.

As I proceed down the shoreline, a deep trench appears in the pebbles about twenty feet back from the waterline. Curious, I climb toward the trench’s edge, when suddenly, a moose rockets out of the pit and onto the shoreline.

Crap! Between us is just pebbled shoreline, with nothing behind me but the entirety of Lake Superior. My options are few, there is nowhere for me to run, and nowhere to hide, with my ass hanging out there for the moose to stomp on, as it sees fit. First, the lovesick cow and her calf pursue me, and now this! I know I wanted to see moose, but this is ridiculous!

A curious moose

A retreating moose

Fortunately, the moose appears more enamored with my backpack than with me. It stares in the direction of my backpack, only occasionally glancing toward me. It sticks its nose in the air, and takes deep breaths, leaving me to wonder, only for a moment, whether I soiled my pants during its sudden appearance. Does is mistake my backpack for a wolf, since they are similarly colored?

As the moose remains transfixed on my backpack, I slowly walk as stealthfully as possible, with the pebbles continuously crunching under my boots. Once I get on the opposite side of the trench (which just happens to be a stream feeding into Lake Superior, its mouth blocked off with pebbles from the wave action of the lake), I start to breathe easier and relax enough to enjoy the experience.

Trench along Rainbow Cove

When I finally put a good deal of distance between the moose and myself, it dawns on me to get out my camera and capture this exciting moment. At least if the moose charges me, the photographs might survive, perhaps showing a rampaging moose drawing closer with each shot.

I slowly open my camera case from where it hangs over my shoulder, doing my best not to draw attention to myself. The moose continues to ignore me, and I get several nice photographs off as it continues to stare at my backpack. Finally, as if it senses my enjoyment of the experience, the moose turns around, munches a little on the low-growing vegetation and then slowly ambles off into the vegetation bordering the shoreline.

After a few still moments, when I am sure the moose is not about to return, I continue with my trek to the log on the short bluff at Rainbow Point. The shoreline undulates as I grow closer to my destination, until most of it disappears, becoming a jumble of rocks at the bottom of an eroding conglomerate forming a low cliff, with conifer trees growing along its top. An interlocking network of exposed roots appear to be the only thing holding these short cliffs together against the force of Lake Superior’s wave action.

Cave along shore

Cave entrance

Along the shoreline, the wave action dug a low cave within the conglomerate making up the low cliffs. Although the cave is only several feet deep, there is a plethora of green moss and loose algae growing within. One such cave has two adjoining entrances, one with a wide opening, and the other much smaller, with a pillar of rock separating the two.

I continuously turn around and look toward my backpack using my compact binoculars. For some bizarre reason, I keep imagining my backpack being humped by a bull moose, or a half-blind and desperate wolf. Luckily, every time the backpack remains unmolested on the shore. Not that rescuing it is an option; the distance between us is so vast that it is difficult spotting it along the shoreline with the naked eye, let alone reaching it in a timely manner.

Shoreline near Rainbow Point

Log at Rainbow Point

Upon reaching Rainbow Point, or as far as I am willing to go, I sit upon the log and take in the view surrounding me. The view on the far side of the point is not at all impressive, mostly due to the broadness of the point; it requires continuing on for a ways more before seeing the shoreline south. Back in the direction I came is an expansive view of Cumberland Point, with a small rocky island just beyond the point, and farther out, a small lighthouse.

Using my binoculars and the map, I realize my view of Cumberland Point is an illusion. In reality, what I am seeing is an amalgam of Cumberland Point, and the more distant Washington Island and its surrounding small rocky islets. The Rock of Ages Lighthouse, sitting on a small far-off island, is located far beyond either of these.

Rock of Ages Lighthouse

Cumberland Point

As I make my return trip back to my backpack, I stop occasionally to appreciate some strange examples of artistic expression along the shoreline. Someone, or something, used natural materials to make some particularly odd structures. One appears as if it is a chair made out of the surrounding rocks, while another is a primitive arrangement of detritus and rock, bordered by pieces of driftwood. For some strange reason, both of them creep me out, like something out of the Blair Witch Project.

By the time I leave behind the beauty of Rainbow Cove it is almost 11 in the morning. With over 10 miles to cover, including climbing up a ridge to the Feldtmann fire tower, it is going to be a very long day. Nevertheless, seeing those three moose made it all worthwhile.

And who knows, it might just be time for a nice, cool Foster’s Lager when I arrive at Siskiwit Bay. Cheers, mate!

Strange rock art

Weird detritus art

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