Siskiwit Bay Beach

A headache greets me at the start of my tenth day on the island, ushering in the end of the two-thirds mark of my Isle Royale National Park adventure. Is it possible for a single Foster’s Lager beer to give someone a hangover the next day? How can that be?

It is before seven in the morning and I wake to a much warmer morning than the previous three. Although the night was quite chilly, it appears the temperatures might be on the cusp of rising. Apparently, the temperature plummeted lower than the dew point, judging from the amount of water drops hanging onto the outside (and inside) of my tarp, not to mention all the surrounding vegetation.

Packing up most of my equipment, I head down to the dock where I plan to eat my breakfast, leaving the tarp up in a futile attempt to dry it out before sticking it in my backpack. My intention is to watch what is left of the sunrise on Siskiwit Bay, which is highly preferable to watching the surrounding forest at group campsite #2. Plus, it is less likely that a red squirrel will terrorize me down there in the open, especially if the other campers join me, as I am sure they will.

Section Stats:
Date: September 7, 2011
Length: 2.0 miles (2.0 total daily miles; 76.3 total trip miles)
Difficulty: Easy

As I walk out on the dock, I spot a few common mergansers out at the very tip of the rock wave break. They quickly enter the water when they see me approaching, swimming out into the relative safety of the open water. Ring-billed gulls stand scattered about almost everywhere, on the dock, the shoreline, and the rock barrier. Their crap is all over the dock, and unfortunately, the picnic tables. I try my best to tip toe through their minefield, although sitting at the picnic table proves a challenge. Nothing an extra plastic bag cannot fix though.

As I eat my cereal concoction, I wander around the area of the dock, thus avoiding sitting for too long on any of the gull crap or the heavy dew at the picnic table. On the beach west of the dock, a number of large canine tracks weave their way down the beach; wolf tracks without a doubt, since dogs are illegal on the island. I follow the tracks down the beach a short ways; there appear to be at least two sets. After a while, I rush back to the dock before the gulls start to rip apart my backpack I left on the picnic table.

Slowly, some of the other campers begin to emerge from their campsites, eventually wandering down to the dock. I start up a conversation with some of the middle-aged men from the picnic table last night, inquiring whether they are from NY, since I heard them mention the Adirondacks. They are not, (they are from Minnesota) the Adirondacks is the term they use to refer to the shelters on the island, perhaps because of the similarity the shelters bear to Adirondack lean-tos.

He and his companions work for the Department of Defense, and are frequent visitors to Isle Royale. They are all pilots, and after one sickening journey to the island via the ferry, they now always fly over via floatplane. Some of his companions join the conversation, and I proceed to pick their brains about their experiences on the island.

While milling about, I notice a man in an orange shirt running back and forth along the beach, between the intersection of the main trails and the Big Siskiwit River. Back and forth he goes, keeping a good but not particularly fast pace. I point the runner out to one of the younger anglers from Feldtmann Lake, and he says the runner came in around 10 pm last night (explaining the headlamp I saw when heading to bed last night), and spent the night at their shelter. The angler explains that the runner has some ambitious plan to hike from Windigo to Rock Harbor in 4 days, carrying a 34-pound backpack. Hmm, quite intense.

Wave break at sunrise at Siskiwit Bay

Sunrise from dock at Siskwit Bay

With breakfast finished, I retreat up to group campsite #2 to brush my teeth, take down my tarp, change into lighter clothing and use the toilet before departing. The tarp remains soaking wet, the sun is way too low on the horizon to provide any help burning off such a heavy dew. I place the tarp at the top of my backpack, outside the Sea-to-Summit pack liner; I can always pull it out and dry it during a break along the way to South Lake Desor Campground.

It is nearly ten in the morning already when I finally reach the intersection with the Feldtmann Ridge and Island Mine Trails, leaving behind what appears to be a vacant campground. Rather than following the trail, I suddenly remember the DuFresne book advising walking along the beach instead, so I bushwhack out onto the red beach and start hiking north.

Siskiwit Bay dock at sunrise

Beach at Siskiwit Bay

Along the beach are numerous tracks, many of which are not human. The smaller canine tracks must be red fox, while gull and red squirrel tracks are plentiful. At least one set appears to be wolf, given their canine form and large size. And, there are even a few moose tracks too.

Just ahead of me is the middle-aged couple from Feldtmann Lake that saw the three moose at Rainbow Cove the evening before me. The man is tall, and lanky, reminding me of Bill Nye the Science Guy. The couple disappears into the forest at some point when I am scanning the ground for tracks, but I continue along the beach until I reach the mouth of the Big Siskiwit River, deciding not to follow them.

Although the crossing is not wide here, due mostly to a curving sand bar, it looks deep, and therefore, intimidating. Spotting a large wooden bridge down river, I decide to take the safer route and reenter the grassy, open forest along the shoreline to find the trail leading to the bridge.

Wolf tracks along Siskiwit Bay beach

Discovering the trail after a short bushwhack through the forest, I hike along the trail a short distance as it travels west away from the beach, until it finally crosses the river on a large, sturdy bridge. After crossing the bridge, I stay on the trail as it travels close to the shoreline, even crossing another tributary of the Big Siskiwit River on a small bridge. Shortly, the trail crosses Senter Point, the site of the remains of a stone powder house where explosives were once stored back in the mining days. The ruins are not readily visible from the main trail, and I decide to skip looking for them.

On the other side of Senter Point, I take a short trail through tall grass to the southern edge of Carnelian Beach. The last beach section was such a joy to walk, my plan is to continue north a short distance along this beach before reentering the forest for the climb up to the Greenstone Ridge Trail. Now is the time to enjoy the beautiful view of Siskwit Bay; very soon the surrounding forest is going to encroach upon the trail and any chance of encountering varied views has to wait until reaching the Greenstone Ridge.

A large rock located right at the water line appears too inviting to pass up, so I take a seat, pausing to enjoy my beautiful surroundings, even though I only covered a couple miles at most since leaving the campground. I postpone my first attempt at a recording of the light waves hitting shore with my SONY PCM recorder here, when the chitchat of the middle-aged couple, walking by along the trail, intrudes upon the natural sounds. Apparently, they are oblivious to my presence. Hey, when did I get past them, anyways?

Bridge across Big Siskiwit River

View of Big Siskiwit River from bridge

When I no longer hear the couple speaking, I attempt another recording of the waves. The waves frequently sound like merely a trickle, as the wind is very light. Crickets chirping along shore and sandhill cranes trumpeting off to the west add to the subtle waves to create a tranquil and pleasant audio souvenir of my experience at Carnelian Beach.

As I continue northwards along the beach again, I notice many large bird tracks. Are these the tracks of those same sandhill cranes, currently calling somewhere in the vast wetlands to the west? Or, are they tracks of great blue herons instead? Too bad I did not bring my field guide to animal tracks book, now I may never know.

Rock at water's edge on Carnelian Beach

There are almost no human tracks along the beach here, obviously most of the hikers stayed on the trail along this stretch. That is a shame, as they missed the incredible beauty of this beach and its associated last views of Siskiwit Bay before reentering the thick forest. I imagine more people would walk along the beach if they saw the faint trail leading out here right after Senter Point.

Suddenly, the smell of wood smoke permeates my nostrils. Is the smell on my clothing from the night before? The sudden aroma would indicate otherwise. Did someone stay behind at Siskiwit Bay Campground and just start a fire? Or, is the smell coming from somewhere else? Just another one of the many backcountry mysteries that must remain unexplained. All I know is if I hear the sounds associated with the black smoke from a certain fictional island, I am a goner for sure.

The site of an eastern phoebe perching on a low tree limb distracts me from my musings of the smoky stench. Although the flycatcher fails to sing its recognizable song, its enthusiastic tail bobbing betrays its identity immediately. I wonder how the sounds differ on Isle Royale in the springtime, with the enthusiastic early morning bird chorus greeting every morning.

Carnelian Beach on Siskiwit Bay

When I reach the farthest point to the north along the beach, I find a faint path leading back to the trail. Unfortunately, my time along Siskiwit Bay is over, and I am sad to see it go. Although I am positive there are equally beautiful views in my future on the island, I take a few moments to pause and look back upon the bay for one last time.

Despite the great beauty of my surroundings, the confounded headache persists. Clearly, the Foster’s beer had it in for me; maybe it is in league with all the red squirrels.

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