Moskey Basin

The Lake Richie and Rock Harbor Trails’ intersection is only a short distance from Moskey Basin, the destination for my second to last night on Isle Royale. Moskey Basin was not on my original trip itinerary, I only added it after hearing it praised several times over the last thirteen days. According to DuFresne’s book about the Island, this water body at the end of Rock Harbor provides some of the most beautiful sunrises on the Island. I am determined to find out this for myself.

The spur trail crosses a stream on a narrow bridge, and after a short distance, I emerge from the forest, with the Moskey Basin dock stretching out before me. Only about two-thirds of the dock is accessible though, as a bright orange snow fence blocks off the last third, which is sagging terribly into the water. The dock projects from a short peninsula, while a longer, higher and wider rock outcropping sits adjacent to the dock’s peninsula on the east side, much like a thumb and a hand in a mitten.

Instead of further investigating the dock, I head off on a side trail in search of the shelters, as it is already one-thirty in the afternoon and I want to secure one before it becomes too late. The side trail cuts across the base of the larger peninsula to its southern shore, where the shelters are arranged in a row along the shoreline. I methodically check out each shelter, evaluating it for drying laundry and having a great view of the water.

Only a single shelter is taken; my urgency is for naught. I finally chose shelter number seven for the best balance between a great view up Moskey Basin and functionality for drying laundry. The shelter’s location is at the base of a small peninsula, oriented so it is facing to the northeast, with a view up through Rock Harbor. As far as I can tell this is the only shelter oriented toward the northeast, and one of the few with enough trees growing around it to tie a clothesline easily. Most of the other shelters are on rock outcroppings, exposed to the full sunshine.

Section Stats:
Date: September 10, 2011
Length: 0.3 miles (6.3 total daily miles; 107.3 total trip miles)
Difficulty: Easy

Although trees block some of the view from the shelter’s picnic table, it only takes a few steps in the right direction to capture the entire view up Moskey Basin toward Rock Harbor. Both sides of the basin are visible with a channel running to the northeast, with Daisy Farm just a mere three miles along the western shoreline. I have fond memories of my first night at Daisy Farm, and I will be revisiting it, albeit briefly, on my way back to Rock Harbor tomorrow.

In the middle of the view is a small island, appearing to be no more than a few rocks piled on top of each other. At different times, a gull or a duck perches on the island, either preening itself or just enjoying the sunshine. At times it even appears the bird may be walking on the water’s surface.

Spending time sitting around at the shelter and watching the water is not an option, as there are too many camp chores to perform, especially since time may be in short supply on my long, last full day on the Island tomorrow. I put my clothesline up and hang my tarp, sleeping bag, blue sleeping pad, Therm-A-Rest air mattress, etc. to dry them off in the blazing sunshine. Laundry is also on the agenda, but by the time I wash my clothes, my equipment should be dry and ready to vacate the busy clothesline.

With my equipment drying, I gather water from Moskey Basin and begin filtering it through my Sawyer inline filter. The small rocky peninsula proves to be an ideal place to gather water, as many little pools are adjacent to the larger rocks protruding from the water at the shoreline. The water is very cold, despite being rather shallow and exposed to the afternoon sun. I do my best avoid disturbing a garter snake, lying on a log and enjoying the mid-afternoon sun, as I go about collecting my water.

Moskey Basin shelter #7

After filtering enough water for the evening, I start planning my laundry, using the same procedure as when I did it last in Windigo, sans the water faucet and porcelain sink. I fill the laundry plastic Ziploc freezer bag with water using the Platypus 3L reservoir, doing my best to avoid getting the picnic table completely drenched. Planet Ultra Powdered laundry detergent, a couple squirts of Sport Wash, some dirty clothes and some light shaking makes for instant laundry in a plastic bag. All that is left is agitating the bag enough to clean the clothes thoroughly, without angering it so much as to put a hole in it.

The filth coming off these clothes is unbelievable; the water turns completely black after a single wash. I repeat the wash a second time and then use the water in my Backcountry Pantry collapsible bowl for rinsing. I continue this process one or two clothing articles at a time. The last step is rolling up the clothes within my MSR Packtowel, followed by a simple twist and, whoala, mostly dry clothing, ready for the clothesline.

Instead of dumping the dirty water onto the ground, I place most of it into the nearby toilet, while a small amount ends up all over my legs and feet. I remove the equipment from the clothesline, and replace them with my now somewhat clean hiking clothes, all ready to become filthy dirty and stinky tomorrow during my climb back to the Greenstone Ridge.

Shelters along Moskey Basin shore

Moskey Basin

Not wanting to put the clean clothes back on my filthy body, I get together my personal hygiene items, preparing for an extensive cleaning of my entire body. As extensive as I can get with my miniature pieces of soap, shampoo and sponge, that is. First, I change into my bathing suit (which doubles as my shorts) for the first time on Isle Royale, and slip on my Crocs, leaving my towel to continue drying on the clothesline. Before walking down to the shore, I rip off the bandages on my heels and toes, exposing the blisters, sores, etc. to the air, and soon the cold water of Moskey Basin.

I walk out onto the peninsula, and dip my toe in the water. Brrrrrr, it is ice cold!!

I slowly work myself into the water, just as I did at Little Todd many days ago. First, I wade in up to my knees, followed by sitting on a partially submerged rock, wiping water onto my arms in a futile attempt to acclimate my upper body to the bitterly cold water. Finally, mustering up the required courage, I submerge myself up to my neck by lying down in the water. To wet my hair, I fill up my hat and set it down on my head, instantly soaking my entire head.

Perfect place for a dip

Cedar growing over Moskey Basin

While out in the water, two other hikers are playing around in the water in front of one of the shelters back toward the dock. We exchange some waves, but little else. I am content just to enjoy the peacefulness of being in my own head for at least a little while longer today. I definitely filled my quota of human interactions during the beginning of this trip, and there is no reason to overdo it.

After completely rinsing off in the cold water, I fill my filter reservoir and collapsible bowl, and bring them back to the shelter’s picnic table to grab my soap and shampoo, before looking for an ideal place to perform a full body sponge bath. Not wanting to damage anyone’s eyesight, I look for a place where the chance of being surprised by some poor soul is slim.

The campground access trail is right behind my shelter, so I cut across it and continue moving away from the shoreline. I cut through tenting site number six, where I pick up a shiny metal tent stake that someone accidently left behind. Since I will be in Rock Harbor tomorrow evening, I can place it in the lost and found, in case someone wishes to claim it.

Eastern shore of Moskey Basin

After getting a good distance beyond the tenting site, I start my personal hygiene. I spread everything out in preparation, since once I start shampooing my hair I will not be able to open my eyes until I rinse it off. I hang the water filter reservoir on a tree limb at about head level; the left behind at the shelter is the filter, and a loose knot tied in the tubing prevents all the water from flowing out.

Using a small, natural sponge, I give myself a bath using a tiny chunk of soap I brought with me for this very occasion. This SallyeAnder Mountain View soap supposedly has some insect repellant properties, so it serves dual purposes. Although, its effectiveness is not all that reliable, maybe that is due to its age, since I bought it many, many years ago.

Unfortunately, while soaping myself with the sponge, I notice there is another trail and tenting site (a group site?) still within view right in front of me. Continuing on beyond this next trail and I will draw too close to another wet area even further from the Moskey Basin shoreline. With a shrug, I continue, since there does not seem to be a better place to get this done. Hopefully, no one suddenly come upon me until I finish. Just in case, I keep my shorts on the entire time, since I let my personal liability insurance lapse.

Moskey Basin

Upon finishing with washing all but the unreachable parts of my back, I use the small piece of a J.R. Liggett’s shampoo bar to lather up my hair. I love this shampoo bar, it is a solid, and therefore there is no chance of it leaking in my backpack. In fact, I like it so much I use it at home too. When I am ready to rinse off, I undo the knot in the tubing (not an easy task with my eyes closed) and use the water flowing through the tubing as a faucet to remove the shampoo from my hair. It works well, the 3 liters of water being more than necessary to rinse out my hair.

Upon returning to my shelter, with my wet and slippery feet shifting constantly in my Crocs, I head for the cold water for one last dip in Moskey Basin. While wadding around in the water up to my waist, a water scorpion shows an unnatural fascination with me. These aquatic insects look similar to a walking stick, its elongated body and limbs thrashing in the water and propelling it back into my direct despite my continuous attempts to evade it. Finally, I make waves with my hands until it finally relents and swims off in search of other prey. Did that soap say it was a natural insect repellent, or attractant?

Opposite shore of Moskey Basin

With my towels still wet from the laundry, I sit in the sun for a while to dry off. Two common loons perform a display out in Moskey Basin as I look on from shore. The birds flap their wings repeatedly, but instead of taking flight, they just “stand up” on the water’s surface on their hind legs, each facing the other. Such behavior appears to be a mating display, although it is quite late for such an activity, since it is almost mid-September. Perhaps this activity just strengthens their pair bonds.

Examining my feet, I notice a new blister forming on my right heel. Why start now? By now, my feet should be tough enough to prevent new blisters after thirteen days of hiking. Stupid feet, now I will have to bandage them up well as part of my morning ritual tomorrow.

When I finally dry off and can put my extra clothes on, I gather up my camera and start talking photographs of the area around the shelter. With the space on my second Compact Flash carddisk dwindling, along with the charge on the second battery, I take great care planning and executing all photographs. The flash and the digital display are off to conserve the battery life, and I take only a couple pictures of any one subject.

Moon over Moskey Basin

At some point, a group of middle-aged men enters the campground and decides to take a tenting site along the trail between my shelter and the other ones to the north. Normally, I do not mind having others camping nearby, but these guys seem to be exceptionally loud, disrupting the tranquility of this wilderness setting. Thank God, they did not take the shelter just south of mine, that would have been way too close for comfort.

As the afternoon turns into evening, I set about making my second to last dinner on the Island. While eating my dinner, I once again hear sandhill cranes trumpeting off to the west. I wonder if these are the same ones I flushed up along the Greenstone Ridge or saw flying over Feldtmann Lake.

The wind is calmer now, with the sun lower on the horizon, the surface of the water appearing as if made of glass. The stillness of the water and the reddish sunshine striking the far shore inspires me to pick up my camera once again and take some late day photographs after finishing my dinner. The rising moon grants me some outstanding images of Moskey Basin, which brings on a sense of melancholy over the impending end of my trip in two days.

Rocky bluff near dock

Rock bluff near dock

Instead of lingering on the brewing morose feelings, I decide to amble on over to the dock and take some photographs as the sun sets. By the time I arrive at the dock, it is already becoming darker and scattered clouds are beginning to accumulate over the water. But, the western sky is completely awash in bright reds and oranges from the setting sun, providing the illusion of the forest canopy engulfed in flames. This site enthralls me, causing me to linger in the area far longer than I intended.

It is already getting dark by the time I begin my return to the shelter. While walking along the trail back, I see a shadow on the trail. It takes me a while for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but it is clearly the silhouette of a snowshoe hare. It does not linger long before it nonchalantly hops off into the surrounding forest. Not to be left out, I disturb a red squirrel as I approach the back of my shelter. Looking for some scraps underneath my picnic table, no doubt.

Sunset at Moskey Basin

Sunset at Moskey Basin

The group of men that came in earlier is continuing their rather loud talking from earlier in the evening. Why did they have to set up camp near me? Even the three common loons out in Moskey Basin start calling in a frantic manner. At times I feel the dueling loons are trying to drown out all the vociferous discussions.

The moon is almost full tonight. I watch the large white orb slowly disappear beneath the creeping cloud cover that started moving into the area earlier. The vanishing moon seems an excellent metaphor for my waning time here on Isle Royale.

Climbing into my sleeping bag, while listening to the serenading of the loons calling, I reminisce about my time on the Island. Tomorrow marks my last full day on the Island, and one of the longest. I drift off to sleep hoping that my feet and groin can make one more day of hiking to Rock Harbor.

Now if only those loud mouths would stop their constant chattering.

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