I’d say I travel pretty frequently and most of the time my adventures take me somewhere with a theme park. But if the itinerary of my trip doesn’t include a theme park, then there’s a good chance I’ll be at a park of a different kind . . . one of the National Parks. This September my family took a road trip where we flew into Minneapolis, took a pitstop checking out local roller coasters, and continued north until we nearly reached the Canadian border. At that point, we began a two-week journey west along The Border with four stops along the way, beginning at Isle Royale National Park.
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early
(Gordon Lightfoot)
The sky was clear on Labor Day as the sun pierced the Lake Superior horizon near Grand Portage, Minnesota. A portage is where a canoe is carried overland between two bodies of water, and this was the largest used by the Voyageurs, French Canadian fur trappers that met traders in this area to swap pelts for supplies. They are more prominently featured on stop number two of our journey, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s stay on track and focus on stop number one: the Isle Royale (ISRO). It is the least visited national park in the lower 48 states, but there is still a lot to see. Although it is technically located in Michigan and can be reached from Minnesota (that’s how we got there), it’s actually closer to Ontario, Canada than either of the two states. With proper ID, you can hop over the border to Thunder Bay or Kakabeka Falls.
Reaching an island in what is essentially a freshwater sea is much more complicated than driving through the Yosemite entrance station, so with land travel out of the picture, the other options are water or air travel. We chose the former and were soon boarding the Voyageur II, our safe haven in the nation’s largest lake for the next few hours.
Two hours across open water brought us to Isle Royale, pronounced royal (I know, I know, just roll with it), a long strip of land that is actually a mountain ridge, running roughly west to east. After glaciers sculpted the landscape, they retreated, melted, and became Lake Superior. Other “peaks” dot the waters around Isle Royale, and the first peak we saw was being reached by a cow moose swimming across a 70-foot deep channel of water. Seeing that she reached her destination unscathed, we docked at Windigo, the only facilities on the west side.
Assembling on the dock, all passengers received a brief orientation to what is an isolated ecosystem, even more cut off due to the fact that winter ice is now insufficient to allow wildlife to reach the island from the mainland in the winter. We were told the park’s heavily inbred wolf population is down to a single pair, so it is a place not suited for hordes of tourists (shortly after our visit, the Park Service began a wolf reintroduction program). Windigo primarily caters to campers, with 2 cabins available. The red fox below was apparently on the way to check in there, but we were continuing to Rock Harbor on the east side, 5 additional hours of sailing away. Along the way, we passed the wreck of the America, a reminder not to take these waters lightly.
We were able to see many of the coves and islets that ring the main landmass. The land is truly a mountain range that thrusts up from the water; rocky and foreboding, with no beaches in sight. There is an awareness that land here is limited; beyond that ridge is not more land, but just a vast expanse of water. And if that isn’t isolating enough, phone signals are practically nonexistent; so no relying on updating your InstaTwitBook, you’ll have to remember it.
As the afternoon passed, the Voyageur II rounded the east end of ISRO and directly passed our accommodation for the night, the Rock Harbor Lodge, tying off soon afterward.
From then it was a race against the clock that intruded on our every moment. Our room included a 4 hour canoe rental despite not having a full 4 hours to paddle, not to mention that our one dining option would close a half hour earlier. Checking in as quickly as possible, we stashed our bags and beat it to the boat dock. Soon we were wrapped in the Mae West flotation vests and paddling through a quiet channel. No vessels were docked at the Lookout Louise trailhead, so we secured ours and set out on foot. The trail soon passed a beaver lodge that momentarily held our interest until we looked to the far side of the pond and saw an animal even more interesting.
The route was mostly forested with the exposed rocks among the oldest to be found on the Earth’s surfaces. Lower elevations were moist, but plants were different in the higher, dryer parts of the trail approaching the ridge-line. Taking in the view was necessarily hurried as we had to allow time for our return.
Reentering Rock Harbor, a group was gathered by a side trail, and the moose lying just inside the trees was indeed impressive, and a worthy specimen of the deer family’s largest member. While eating your humble narrator heard that the great bull was on the move, but felt there would be enough people around him without me contributing to the crowd. Many observed that he did not seem well, so giving him space, always a good idea with wild animals no matter how habituated, felt like my best move. After a day of engine noise, it was a quiet night with a relaxing dinner and a lakefront bedroom.
The Voyageur II sailed at 8, so we were on the Scoville Point trail before first light, allowing us to see the progression from dark, to can see the trail but not surface details, to, well you get the picture. Directly the gray of predawn gave way to color, and mini mags were pocketed. The sun ascending over the water had the feel of first light from the ocean at the edge of a continental even though it was a lake in the middle of one. The desire to linger unfortunately limited by a published schedule.
Five hours later we had skirted the south side of ISRO, landing once more at Windigo for a briefer stop on the return. Months earlier I’d booked one of the two cabins for a night with the intention or returning to Grand Portage on the Sea Hunter III, sister ship to the Voyageur II that makes daily trips to and from Windigo. Except. Almost immediately after booking, the boat’s schedule was published. The problem? It would cease for the season 5 days before we needed it. After determining that none of us had ever been in a float plane, it was decided to give it a go.
Except. Turns out the float plane doesn’t fly on Wednesdays. We had never heard of a float plane that wouldn’t fly on Wednesdays, and were stranded as certainly as Gilligan on an island. My email asking for an exception to the no refund policy was ignored, although someone did helpfully meet the boat in Windigo to assure me that I would never see that $55 again. Frankly we should have just booked a second night, and not doing so was the biggest regret if the trip. But, hey, the biggest regret was out of the way, and we were just beginning. There’s a new way of living for us at the second stop, and you’ll see it all on our next Day by The Border.
Oh yeah, just in case you think maybe you can pilot your own boat to ISRO, this was the sole photo I took on the return journey.
