Little Todd trail marker with moose antler

My trip to Isle Royale National Park last summer was unusual in many aspects compared to my typical backcountry jaunts.

Most of my trips take me into the Adirondack backcountry; not only due to my love and lifetime relationship with the area but because of its close proximity; after two hours of driving I can be immersed in the vast forests, wetlands and beaver meadows of northern New York.

Isle Royale was entirely virgin territory for me; I had never journeyed there before. Although I did almost visit the island back in the summer of 1996, at the end of a summer of doing ornithological field work in north-central Minnesota. That plan never reached fruition unfortunately, as a couple day training trip lead to feet riddled with festering blisters, which were totally inappropriate for the long distances required for Isle Royale.

The travel time to get to Isle Royale was exorbitantly greater than my typical sojourns into the Adirondacks. It not only required driving more than over 900 miles, but an approximately 55-mile ferry ride across Lake Superior. Although the scenery along first portion of the drive was not particularly spectacular, the portion along Michigan’s Upper Peninsula was very pretty and reminiscent of parts of the Adirondacks.

This trip was primarily a trail hike, with very no planned bushwhacking. There would be no fighting through blow down, slogging through soggy wetlands or struggling with dense coniferous forests. Or at least no plans for doing so.

I decided to forego any large-scale bushwhacking from the get-go, since the area was new to me. Sticking to the trail would allow me to survey as much of the island as possible over the least amount of time. Seeing a good representation of the island was important, since it was uncertain whether another opportunity to return would ever present itself.

This Isle Royale trip was planned as one of my longer trips, both in the number of days and total distance. The length and remoteness required many additional preparations, including a resupply package sent through the USPS. The resupply was crucial to avoid the stress of two weeks’ worth of food carried on my middle-aged back.

There are an excessive number of rules for backpacking in Isle Royale National Park. The evidence of the high use witnessed there really hammered home the importance of all these rules and regulations.

View up Rock Harbor from Daisy Farm Dock

Although bushwhacking is allowed, camping off-trail is even more highly regulated than trail hiking; requiring a detailed itinerary that must be adhered to without change. Even though trail backpacking requires a permit, with an itinerary, the staff is not quite so militant about sticking to it, especially during the off-season when the number of people on the island is much reduced.

Along the trail, camping is only allowed at the designated campsites. These campsites are often 8-10 miles apart, thus requiring a good deal of planning. Part of my planning for the trip was coming up with an itinerary prior to landing on the island. I tried to keep the amount of hiking to a relatively reasonable amount per day, but was largely dictated by the distance between the campsites and the necessity of reaching the other end of the island at a certain date so as to recover my resupply box at Windigo, one of the more “civilized” places on the island.

The following table shows the original itinerary for my 15-day Isle Royale adventure. I actually stuck to this plan pretty well up to day 12, when I altered it based on the suggestions of fellow hikers met along the trail. Day 13 and 14 turned out significantly different from my original plan, and I think the trip was much better for it.

As I continue to write about my Isle Royale trip, feel free to return to the above itinerary to see where it diverged. Also, it can be used to plan your own adventures to Isle Royale National Park. I would strongly advise you read my future posts to learn more details of the trail conditions along the way though.

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.

Lake Michigan Beach

The following is a description of a 19-day adventure to Isle Royale National Park. The trip includes driving more than 900 miles to Copper Harbor and back, a ferry over the rough water of Lake Superior and two weeks of hiking to one end of the 45-mile long island and back. Part two of the drive there took me from Grayling, MI, across the Upper Peninsula, and finally arriving at Copper Harbor, nearly at the end of the Keweenaw Peninsula.

Section Stats:
Date: August 28, 2011
Length: appoximately 400 miles
Difficulty: Very Easy

The next morning dawns with clear skies, much like the day before. Hopefully such blue skies will hold out for the entire duration of my trip upon Isle Royale.

I gobble down a few granola bars for breakfast, pack up my car, check out of the Ramada Inn and get some gas before getting back on the road for another long day of driving. The on ramp for I-75 is nowhere to be seen. After following many signs seemingly taking me on a cruise of Grayling and the entire surrounding area to the north (including the white-knuckling encounter with a white-tailed deer crossing the road), I finally get back on the interstate and start making some forward progress.

While hustling along I-75 (where the speed limit for cars is 70 mph), I notice a plethora of billboard sings advertising a place with the enigmatic name of Mystery Spot. Each of these signs sports a giant, white question mark on a red circular background bordered in white; providing not a single clue to the attraction‘s nature. The signs do throw around adjectives such as amazing, weird, baffling and incredible though. I wonder whether the adjectives are referring to the attraction or effectiveness of this unique marketing scheme. P.T. Barnum’s famous quote echoes through my mind every time I see another billboard flashing the giant, yellow question mark.

Only a couple hours after leaving Grayling, I arrive at the Mackinac Bridge. This suspension bridge, the world‘s third longest, spans the Straits of Mackinac, the channel connecting Lakes Michigan and Huron. The bridge is massive; it was within sight well before ever reaching the toll booth at the bridge’s base. As paid my toll, the bridge appeared as a ribbon of concrete and steel arching over the open water with no end in sight.

Of all the bridges I crossed this is the one I regret most driving across; I would have greatly preferred to be in the passenger’s seat to enjoy the expansive view of Lake Michigan on one side and Lake Huron on the other. The distance above the water is so great, the boats below appear as little toys way below. Enjoying the view is difficult since the road is narrow, made more so by the extensive amount of construction. Driving over the metal mesh not only made the steering challenging but created a weird hypnotic hum.

Immediately upon descending the rather lengthy suspension bridge, I stop at an Upper Peninsula tourist office to hit the restroom and decide upon which of the two routes I would follow from this point onward. The two routes from the Internet diverged at this point; one heading directly into the middle of the peninsula before heading west while the other continued west along the northern coast of Lake Michigan before later converging with the other route farther west.

Begging Ring-billed Gull

While bent over a map on a picnic table, a friendly ring-billed gull saunters up to me. The gull shows absolutely no fear; it just stares at me with those dark, unblinking eyes. I ponder the thought process of a bird expecting a handout from an unsuspecting tourist. When I finish a plum, I toss the pit onto the side walk and the gull flies down onto it like a hawk swooping down to feast on a rodent. After picking it up several times in its beak, the gull loses interest in both the pit and me, wandering away aimlessly along the sidewalk; perhaps searching for a tourist more susceptible to intimidation.

I do not tarry long at the tourist office, picking up just a few brochures before getting back on the road. I decide to head directly west along Route 2, instead of continuing through St. Ignace; abandoning all hope of ever finding out exactly what the Mystery Spot is all about.

U.S. Route 2 is a very scenic road, with its frequent views of Lake Michigan as it hugs the shoreline, sometimes just dozens of feet from the water’s edge. Initially, the road precedes though a very kitschy area, with an abundant amount of unique places whose whole purpose appears to be removing wealth from the unsuspecting rubes touring the area. It reminds me of the Old Forge area, or the one I recall from my youth before the Enchanted Forest became a water park. I resist the temptation to stop and investigate some of the more appealing attractions, but a seed of a fantastical idea of traveling the country exploring such spots has been firmly planted. Perhaps when I retire and can no longer perform long distance hikes.

I stop along the road at one point where Lake Michigan is a mere stone’s throw from the highway, separated by a line of grassy vegetation and a beach. Numerous paths through grassy vegetation lead to a boardwalk along the beach, occasionally providing a path down to the beach. Although several beach houses stand along the opposite side of the road, there is no indication these paths are not open to the public. The boardwalk continues through the grassy vegetation, frequently nearly buried in the fine, tan sand. At a sandy path, I exit the boardwalk and struggle through the dry sand to walk along the shore.

Northern Lake Michigan Beach

It is nice to get out and walk a little after being sequestered within my car for a large majority of the last two days. Several high clouds whip through the bright blue sky over the waters of Lake Michigan. The setting is so attractive it is easy to forget the highway is just over a shallow sandy ridge behind me. After walking down the beach for a ways I return to my car and resume my journey westward.

The construction along the Lake Michigan Scenic Highway is seemingly endless. At one point, the entire road is detoured off the original road bed; just a single lane in each direction, over temporary blacktop, slanted off toward the ditch. The going is very slow, especially given the steady traffic, mostly coming from the west. Obviously, many people are returning from their summer weekend in the Upper Peninsula, just as they exodus from the Adirondacks on a sunny, summer Sunday afternoon.

I am thankful for the turn north on M-77, hoping to leave the excess amount of construction well behind me. The surrounding landscape changes drastically along this road, from beach front along Lake Michigan to rolling, farm land as I drive northward toward M-28, where I will renew my westward journey. The farm land gives way to wetlands as I pass by the Seney National Wildlife Refuge. I yearn to stop for some exploring, but I fight off the temptation once again as my time is limited and I want to get to arrive in Copper Harbor before darkness falls.

After turning west along M-28, the landscape turns decidedly more Adirondack-like, with roads through coniferous forests, interspersed with extensive bogs and small, dilapidated communities. The areas begging exploration are legion here, but I struggle through the temptation and continue on as the afternoon drags on.

Just past Munising, I pass through a village with the name of Christmas, MI. This tiny community misses no opportunity capitalizing on its namesake, with a giant Santa Claus shaped sign, an actual North Pole (i.e. a large pole with a sign reading North Pole) and numerous other establishments based on the holiday theme. Being immersed in all this holiday spirit fills me with the dread of struggling over lists, while fighting through crowds of other desperate people at the mall; I excessively speed through the town, leaving behind the feelings for at least several more months (or at least until my return trip).

M-28 follows along the southern shore of Lake Superior past Munising, giving frequent impressive sites of this large freshwater lake. I avoid stopping as much as possible, as it is getting later and there is much distance yet to be traveled before the end of the day’s journey. There will be plenty of time (or at least more) for picture taking on my journey back in mid-September, or so the wishful thinking goes.

Most of my stops are for practical purposes such as getting something to drink or answering nature’s call. On one such stop at a mostly-closed tourist office along Lake Superior, I encounter a group of bicyclists. When a young bicyclist samples the water fountain, he looks as if he is about to puke. Upon complaining about the awful taste (and it is true, it is awful as I sampled it before him), his elderly companion told him it would build muscles. Other than those involved in reverse-peristalsis, I do not see how.

Just before reaching the city of Marquette, M-28 merges with US-41. After Marquette, the road heads inland for a while before US-41 turns north and M-28 continues west. I stay on US-41 as my journey takes me north onto the Keweenaw Peninsula. Soon I am reacquainted with Lake Superior at L’Anse.

Around 5 PM, I find myself driving into Houghton, MI. US-41 continues right through the center of the city, bisecting Michigan Technological University, and at one point becoming a cobblestone road. As I continue through downtown, I spot the sign for the Isle Royale National Park headquarters. Although a boat can be taken from this location (M.V. Ranger III), it requires a six-hour boat ride, due to its greater distance from the island and the amount of time it takes to move through the channel out into Lake Superior.

After a brief stop for gas and a beverage, I drive the remaining distance toward Copper Harbor, a mere 50 minutes or so north. Although the scenery begins with old mines and their communities, the last ten miles are completely forested with straggly paper birches and other stunted trees. The narrow road whines through the forest, aggressive curves keeping me from ever reaching a reasonable speed. When the road exits the forest and reaches an intersection, I am overjoyed to realize I am in Copper Harbor. And at just a little after 6 PM Eastern time too.

Copper Harbor is a quaint, little village, obviously catering to tourists given the number of motels, restaurants and assorted gift shops. Unfortunately much of it is closed on a late summer Sunday evening. This means my dinner consists of the remaining peppers and fruit that I lugged all the way from Syracuse two days ago. After two days in a cooler, the peppers are less than appealing; a lot less.

After checking in at the Bella Vista Motel, I locate the building with my room, eager to unpack my car and get a few hours of relaxation in before having to head to bed for an early morning tomorrow. The parking for the ferry starts at about 7 AM, so I have to get an early start tomorrow.

Bella Vista Motel

Bella Vista Motel

The Bella Vista Motel consists of numerous buildings; all painted a faded red color with white trim, each with its own type of accommodations. A number of cottages lie scattered about on one side of a central grassy courtyard, while a traditional row of motel rooms lies along the opposite harbor shoreline, with a nice view of the lake. At the far end the courtyard is a two story building, appropriately called Isle Royale House. There is where my room resides.

Recognizing it from the pictures on their website, I head for the Isle Royale House. Creaky, outside stairs climb to a carpeted second story porch providing access to the second story rooms. I head to room 3 with little delay, checking the mattress for bed bugs before unloading all my stuff for the night. Before beginning the unloading process, I admire the pretty view of the harbor from the porch; the Royale Queen ferry’s dock clearly in view behind some power lines.

As I am unpacking, I witness the ferry approaching the dock, obviously returning from Isle Royale. The once quiet area suddenly bursts with activity, as an exodus of people and their cars ensues. One group containing a mixture of middle-aged women and youths sets siege on Isle Royale House; the post- hiking stench permeates my room, even with the door closed. In two short weeks, the stench will be all mine.

Docked Isle Royale Queen ferry

Isle Royale House second story porch

After watching the news about Hurricane Irene’s progress on TV, I take a walk around Copper Harbor. The hours of driving the past two days, combined with the excitement of tomorrow’s adventure, makes it exceedingly difficult to sit still for long. Much of town remains shuttered late on a Sunday evening, but I discover three different pay phones, so I decide to make a call home to report of my trip’s progress thus far.

The first phone has no dial tone but repeatedly beeps at me when I put money in it; unfortunately it does little else. The second one turns out to be just the remains of a phone booth, with no actual phone to be found anywhere. The third one, located down by the dock, actually has a dial tone but nothing happens regardless of how much money I feed to it. I should have called last night, or maybe I should invest in a cellphone. Although, I am not sure there is even any reception here.

Returning to my room, I perform as much last minute packing as is possible for tomorrow. The remaining time I spend watching the limited selection of TV channels before settling in to bed fairly early. Tomorrow starts the main attraction of the trip, and I want to be fully rested before setting out for an eight mile backpack after a three hour boat ride.

I wonder if I will dream of the island adventures to come. I just hope they include both wolves and moose.

Isle Royale House Room 3

Isle Royale House Room 3

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.

View from the Minong Trail

The following is a description of a 19-day adventure to Isle Royale National Park. The trip includes driving more than 900 miles to Copper Harbor and back, a ferry over the rough water of Lake Superior and two weeks of hiking to one end of the 45-mile long island and back. Part one of the drive there took me from Syracuse, NY area, through Canada and to Grayling, Michigan.

Section Stats:
Date: August 27, 2011
Length: appoximately 553 miles
Difficulty: Very Easy

Finally! It is August 27th and time to begin my two-week vacation.

After the glacial pace of August, it is finally time to put all my trip preparations to good use. Now only 900+ miles, and a portion of Lake Superior stand between me and Isle Royale National Park. Luckily, I have two days to travel there before my ferry leaves for the island on Monday morning.

The number of chores necessary to close down my apartment for the duration of my trip seems endless. Although some things are left undone, I manage to pack up my stuff into my Honda Fit for the two-day drive to Copper Harbor, Michigan. In addition to my backpacking equipment, I pack up a large cooler with all the perishable food left in the refrigerator and several peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to provide the bulk of my meals for the long drive.

Around mid- morning, with my fully-packed Pinnacle backpack, lightweight hiking poles, day bag with a couple changes of clothing, the cooler and a bag of assorted food stuffs, I set off in my car, looking forward to some island living for two solid weeks of backpacking and exploring the smallest of the National Parks.

I printed out my route using both MapQuest and Google Maps may days ago; both giving similar routes except for a small difference after crossing the Mackinac Bridge from the Lower to Upper Peninsula of Michigan. The first day takes me along the New York State Thruway, across the Canadian border through Ontario to Michigan. Once in Michigan, I make my way to Interstate 75, which I follow all the way to the Upper Peninsula. The last stretch of my route covers most of the Upper Peninsula along State Route 41 all the way to Copper Harbor at the end of the Keweenaw Peninsula.

My hope is to make it as far as Gaylord or Grayling, Michigan by the first day’s end. Unfortunately, with the late mid-morning start, those plans may be overly aggressive; especially given my typical moderate rate of speed (i.e. granny speed).

The miles pass swiftly along the New York State Thruway (I-90) to Buffalo. This comes as no surprise given my familiarity with the route, especially the portion between Syracuse and Rochester, which I have traveled many times before.

I make a mental note while driving by Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge to visit in the future. Also, I imagine what it will feel like when I pass here on my return trip. I quickly dismiss the idea and substitute thoughts about the island instead; there will be plenty of time to think about the trip back AFTER my island adventure.

Just outside Buffalo, I stop at the Clarence Travel Plaza to get something to drink. While there it dawns on me that I might as well eat my lunch too, as it is half past noon already. The brilliant blue sky and sunshine insist that my lunch of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some fruit be savored on one of the nearby picnic tables scattered about within a cluster of large trees.

The nice weather makes it hard to imagine that Hurricane Irene is at this very moment heading up the east coast. Lucky for me, I am slowly leaving the hurricane behind as I head west and out of its predicted path.

Not being able to sit still very long (since I am pretty much sitting the entire two days), I pace about the grassing area surrounding the picnic tables. Unfortunately, the area under the trees has been used as a dog park, with numerous little (and not so little) land mines just waiting to be stepped on, and subsequently stinking up a car. I manage to keep my wits about me and avoid every one of them. Thank God.

After following I-90 through Buffalo, I head for the border crossing with Canada near Niagara Falls. There are a couple of grand bridge crossing as the highway travels over Grand Island before reaching the Queenston-Lewiston Bridge. The Queenston-Lewiston Bridge is a marvelous sight, but unfortunately since I am driving I am able to only catch quick, little glimpses of the view.

The Canadian border crossing is long, tedious and frustrating. Cars and trucks are backed up as far as the eyes can see, requiring a very long wait. I spend a great deal of the time watching my car’s 48.4 miles per gallon gas mileage plummet before finally shutting off the engine between the infrequent moments when the cars start inching forward.

After crossing the border, my route takes a series of different Canadian parkways, made confusing by my lack of a map of Ontario. Unfortunately, when I pulled maps for the trip, I mistook an old map of Quebec for Ontario. It is all Canada, right? And they say American people are geographically challenged. Pish-pah!

While driving through Canada I keep my eyes peeled for a rest stop where I can purchase something to drink, and, more importantly go to the restroom. The only one I ever encounter, materializes just when I need it most to the east of London.

After taking my overdue restroom break and getting something to drink (and thus laying the groundwork for another possible emergency restroom break in the near future), I walk around the rest stop munching on some homemade cookies my neighbor was nice enough to give me for the trip. I notice a family piling into a single car in the parking lot with New York State plates, and I wonder where they might be from and where they are going.

The rest of the trip through Canada is quite uneventful. The topography is relatively flat with frequent farm fields surrounding the highway. When the signs start indicating the Blue Water Bridge crossing into Michigan, I am overjoyed by the prospect of returning to the U.S. The crossing into Michigan at the border goes much more quickly than the one into Canada, with a lot less waiting.

It is almost 6 PM by the time I cross the border back into the United States. I head east for Interstate-75, which I remain on for the rest of the day’s journey. Interstate 75 cuts the Lower Michigan in half as it heads from Detroit to the Mackinac Bridge.

When I stop at a gas station for some gas and something to drink in Capac, MI, I see the same family from my stop in Canada. They leave before me, while I am still quaffing down my beverage and munching on a dinner of green and red peppers, some remaining fruit and what are left of the homemade cookies. I keep wondering whether I will see the family when I stop again (I do not) or perhaps they are heading all the way to Isle Royale (as far as I know they are not).

Before total darkness obscures my visions, I take note of the numerous billboard road signs along I-75. Unlike New York, where the signs are infrequent at best, here they are common here. One such sign is for the “Cops & Doughnut Bakery.” Another advertises “Frankenmuth, Michigan’s Little Bavaria.” A smaller and less amusing one reads “Prison Area. Do Not Pick Up Hitch Hikers.” Yikes! I speed on past this section.

By 8 PM, I am driving through Saginaw just as the sun is setting and darkness begins to encroach on my day’s trip. I play around with the idea of stopping here, but I continue on since I would rather have a shorter second day. I will probably be less fresh tomorrow, so it might be a good idea to get as far as I can today.

As darkness takes hold, I find myself becoming increasingly drowsy and need of some rest. I keep watching the sides of the road for deer the entire time as the amount of traffic has trickled down to be almost nonresistant. Typically, I can only see a single vehicle’s lights behind me, and they are far behind me.

At one point, I spot a large canine waiting at the opposite edge of the road. Whether wolf or large coyote, I cannot be certain. I am thankful it did not make a mad dash across just as I passed.

By the time I hit Gaylord I am tired and in dire need of some rest but I decide to go another hour or so to Grayling. Even though I researched motels at both cities, staying in Grayling makes tomorrow a much shorter day.

When I pull off the interstate and into Grayling, I am overjoyed to find the Ramada Inn and Conference Center practically the first building on the left. I waste no time obtaining a room and moving my stuff out of the car and inside.

Before bringing my stuff up to the room, I check for any evidence of bedbugs on the mattress. Bedbugs have returned to the United States recently, and are an increasing nuisance. I am taking no chances of picking up unwanted companions on this trip. Armed with a lighted magnifying class, I check the mattress for the presence of the insect pest like an entomological modern version of Sherlock Holmes.

Upon finishing my bedbug check, I head for the door so as to start unpacking my car. Suddenly the door opens and I am face-to-face with a portly middle-aged man tugging at a wheeled suitcase. After a few moments of surprise, he apologizes, mutters something about a mistake and quickly backs out of the doorway and down the hall.

While still shocked, I receive a phone call notifying me that two people were assigned the same room and I must return to the lobby to get my card rescanned. Just what I need after a twelve hour trip behind the wheel. At the lobby the attendant apologizes profusely. Too bad I did not think to ask for a discount on the room.

I stay up nearly until 11:30 PM reviewing Hurricane Irene’s progress and channel surfing. I love how there are so many TV channels in motel rooms!

Finally, I settle on watching a rerun of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.” It was the episode where the gang is trying to figure out who got Sweet Dee pregnant during a drunken Halloween party that none of them can clearly remember. At one point, Dee’s brother Dennis is implicated. Eeeewww. I went to bed before the episode concluded, so I never did find out the identity of the father.

Tomorrow concludes my trip to Copper Harbor, ending the initial phase of my vacation to Isle Royale National Park. By Monday morning, I will be exploring the trails of this rugged and remote island for the first time. Despite the excitement of my upcoming adventure, the days long journey takes its toll as I fall to sleep quickly thus ending my first of two driving days.

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.

Siskiwit Bay

I always wanted to explore Isle Royal National Park. That is, ever since I discovered its existence in 1996.

The discovery of this gem of the National Park system occurred while I was working as a field assistant (searching for bird nests and doing point counts) within the Chippewa National Forest of Minnesota. If being in the woods for five and half days a week was not enough, I journeyed often to the Boundary Waters Canoe Wilderness in the Superior National Forest on my time off. While visiting the International Wolf Center in Ely, MN I picked up a brochure on Isle Royale and almost immediately started planning a trip before returning to New York at the end of the summer.

When the job finished in late August, my plan to take the Voyageur II ferry from Grand Portage to Windigo was scheduled. Not wanting to miss even a shred of the Isle Royale experience, my plan was to hike around the entire perimeter of the island (or as much as I could by trail).

My availability and the ferry schedule allotted me several days of downtime, which I chose not to sit idle. Instead, as a training trip, I hiked the Pow Wow Trail in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. My thinking at the time was the nearly 30-mile long trail provided a good opportunity to experience the average 10-mile per day hiking pace necessary on the island.

Unfortunately, the aggressive pace of my training trip, performed in only two days, did a serious number on my poor feet (this was prior to any effort to lighten the load of my backpack). By the time I reached the end of the Pow Wow Trail it was impossible for me to tolerate wearing comfortable running shoes let alone hiking boots.

The ferry reservations were canceled, and I drove back to New York shoeless and disappointed, cursing my butchered and battered feet the entire way.

Upon reaching home, the Isle Royale brochure became another piece of memorabilia, filed away in a box, rarely seeing the light of day. That is, until last winter when I discovered it while furiously searching for some other article.

Studying the map while sitting in my apartment, the snow falling slowly and steadily outside, the idea of returning Isle Royale got me thinking; perhaps the time had come revisit the idea of exploring Isle Royale.
Other priorities shoved the Isle Royale idea onto the backburner of my mind, where it stayed until about mid-year. After my eight-day trip through the Five Ponds Wilderness in the Adirondacks, where I visited the remote Oven Lake, I decided the time was right for an exotic trip outside my typical comfort zone. My last such trip took place during the summer of 2009, when I journeyed out to California and Nevada to explore the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and Yosemite and Death Valley National Parks.

An Isle Royale trip requires some serious planning, more so than the one to California, since I would be going solo and there is an extensive amount of decisions making to be done. Should I drive out or take an airplane? Should I take the ferry over to the island or go via seaplane? If by ferry, then which one? Should I pack all my food for the entire trip or figure out a resupply?

What I needed was information, and lots of it. I jumped on the Internet and made a fast search of books about Isle Royale on Amazon.com. In a few days, I ordered Isle Royale National Park: Foot Trails & Water Routes and Isle Royale National Park, MI – Trails Illustrated Map #240 (National Geographic Maps: Trails Illustrated). Both were invaluable for planning and implementing my trip to Isle Royale, but unfortunately neither provided answers to my most vexing planning issues.

Scheduling the trip had its own complications. Since the trip requires two weeks or more (depending on the mode of transportation out there), it was more difficult to schedule this trip than any other I have taken in a very long time, if ever.

A family wedding on my schedule during mid-August necessitated the trip being before or afterwards. With the U.S. Congress bickering about the debt ceiling, threatening the potential closure of the federal government, and thus the National Park system, I decided late August or early September would be the ideal time for my trip.

At the early planning stages, the most important decision revolved around the methods of transportation to the staging area (Keweenaw Peninsula of Michigan or Grand Portage, Minnesota) and to the island itself. My strong frugality streak quickly ruled out taking a seaplane to Isle Royale, as it was the more costly option of reaching the island.

Airplane, car, train, and even bus were considered for the journey to the staging area. It became apparent quickly that airplane and car were the only viable options. Each had its own unique array of pros and cons in addition to some specific preparations.

An airplane flight required less precious vacation time, potentially cost more, required committing to a specific date and the cost increased the longer the commitment was put off. In addition, since fuel (and most flammables) was not allowed onboard the airplanes, I would have to stop and pick up my denatured alcohol at a local hardware store once arriving (and the disposal of any excess). And there was the issue of local travel from the airport to the motel, hardware store and ferry.

Driving my own vehicle allowed for a more flexible scheduling since I could wait until just a couple weeks before the trip to schedule the ferry ride and the motel accommodations (at least theoretically). Since I was going during the off-season for Isle Royale (the peak season ranges from late-July to mid-August), I did not anticipate any difficultly making reservations with a couple weeks’ notice. Although driving requires more vacation time (twice as much travel time), it potentially could be less costly too, especially with the small gas-sipping vehicle I purchased two years before.

Minong Trail

Details of transportation to and from the airports, and the necessity of purchasing fuel after arrival favored driving out to Michigan. As I dragged my heels on the decision and watched the airfare tickets increasing in cost day after day, the decision was largely taken out of my hands.

Driving to the upper peninsula of Michigan required selecting the best (i.e. shortest) route possible to save on both time and fuel. Mapquest and Google Maps were helpful in this regard with similar (but not identical) routes. Unfortunately, both required crossing the Canadian border and thus either a passport or an enhanced New York State drivers license.

With not enough time to obtain a passport, I decided to apply for an enhanced drivers license, which took a significantly less amount of time. Since I was traveling through Canada, I made the necessary request from my car insurance carrier for a Canada non-resident intra-province motor vehicle liability insurance card. This card is required to prove adequate liability coverage within Canada, as the typical proof of insurance in New York is not acceptable.

With driving being my primary method of transportation, I decided to take the Isle Royale Queen IV ferry from Copper Harbor instead of the Ranger III from Houghton, MI. The Ranger III requires a 6-hour boat ride to the island, while the Queen’s trip is about half that time. The difference is due to the location of Copper Harbor (at the tip of the Keweenaw Peninsula) relative to Houghton (at the base of the peninsula).

Copper Harbor, with its location near the very end of the Keweenaw Peninsula, was over an hour north of Houghton, and thus a total of about 950 miles from Syracuse. Despite the extra hour of driving, the much shorter ride over the potentially rough waters of Lake Superior was enough to convince me that the Queen IV was the boat for me.

Little Todd

Just in case the rough waters proved too much for my sensitive stomach, I purchased some meclizine hydrochloride tablets (that’s the generic form of Dramamine for my fellow cheapskates). Since I was planning on hiking up to eight miles after arriving at Isle Royale, I chose the less drowsy formula of the motion sickness pills. Hopefully, they would not even be necessary.

During early August, I called and made my reservation for the Queen IV. The reservation called for taking the boat out on Monday, August 30th and return from Isle Royale on Monday, September 12th. I followed this up with a reservation at the Bella Vista Motel, in Copper Harbor for the night before and night after the main trip to the island.

With the reservations complete, the only logistics remaining was packing for the trip. Packing my backpack was largely trivial given few decisions were required as I packed most of the same equipment used on every trip taken into the Adirondacks.

When it came to packing two weeks’ worth of food I was filled with trepidation. Could my poor GoLite Pinnacle backpack support such a heavy load? Luckily, the Isle Royale book described the possibly of having a resupply package sent to one of the two different rangers’ stations on the island (or many of the costal campsites for an extra fee).

Since my plan was to arrive at the Rock Harbor Ranger Station and hike to Windigo via the Minong Trail the first week, it would be possible to send a resupply package via USPS on the Voyageur II ferry. I could carry one week of food and pick up the second when I arrived at Windigo, approximately half way through the trip. In addition to the less weight, a resupply would allow me to be less careful in putting my menu together since I would not have to be as concerned with weight issues.

I decided to send a resupply package the day before leaving and set the delivery date for approximately September 4th. I packed a week’s worth of food (almost identical to the first week with the exception of a few dinners), some consumables I might need (bug repellent, sunscreen, etc.), and a few treats in an old cardboard box and headed off to the post office a day before starting on my road trip to Copper Harbor.

A lengthy explanation ensued at the post office, when I attempted to obtain return postage for the box. The box would be significantly lighter on the return trip (it would likely contain no food, some souvenirs too weighty to carry and perhaps some equipment I no longer needed). Describing all these circumstances to the postal employee unfortunate enough to wait on me was daunting.

After figuring out the return postage, I stuffed the stamps in the box and handed it over to the post office. My trepidation increased dramatically afterwards. My very survival (or at least my comfort) for the second half of the trip was now in the hands of the trusty United States Postal Service. May God have mercy on my soul.

Moose antlers

On the morning of August 27, 2011, I packed up my car for the drive to Copper Harbor, Michigan. Included were lunches for the next two days (peanut butter and jelly with some fruit), along with a cooler containing any food from my refrigerator that would not make through my two and half week absence. In addition, I included an overnight bag with changes of clothes for the trip out and back, as well as the necessary toiletries and other accessories.

When the car was packed, I started my sojourn to Isle Royale National Park. A trip never to be forgotten followed. Keep checking back here for a description of the drive to Copper Harbor to follow shortly.

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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.

Rock Lake

The following is a description of an eight-day bushwhacking adventure into some of the most remote areas within the Five Ponds Wilderness in the northwestern Adirondacks. The trip includes traversing areas of intense blowdown along the oddly-shaped Oven Lake, exploring a cluster of wilderness ponds and following the wild Robinson River. Part two of the final day is a hike along unmarked trails from Sand Lake back to my vehicle at Bear Pond Road.

Section Stats:
Date: July 5, 2011
Length: 4.1 miles (6.8 miles for the day)
Difficulty: Easy

Now with the hiking from Wolf Pond to Sand Lake complete, I decide to take a short break before heading over to Rock Lake on my way back to my car at Bear Pond Road. The eight-day bushwhacking/backpacking trip is drawing to a close and spending a little time at Sand Lake allows me to postpone the inevitable just a little longer.

I walk the short distance from the lean-to to the sandy shoreline to take in what will probably be my last view of Sand Lake for this year. Scattered wisps of clouds move quickly overhead as slight waves roll onto the sandy shoreline. The wind interrupts the hungry wave of mosquitos present just feet off the shore back in the forest; ever ready to attack any warm-blooded creature reckless enough to step off the beach.

A female mallard (or it could have been an American black duck) suddenly flies out of the surrounding vegetation and bee-lines for the opposite shore. After the shock wears off, I perform a cursory search for a nest within the knee-high grasses and sedges. Unfortunately, the search proves fruitless since I cannot even find any evidence of any crushed vegetation from the duck’s presence.

Not wishing to crush any possible eggs, I abandon the nest search and start walking along the water’s edge, contemplating my imminent return to civilization. The sudden movement of a large catfish distracts me from my reverie as it swims into the shallow water. The fish spins around quickly and heads back into deeper water, apparently after detecting my presence.

Further down the shoreline, near a large, downed white pine log, I spot a small white object bobbing in the water. With a long branch, I coax the round object toward shore where I can reach it. As I suspected, it turns out to be a snapping turtle egg.

Was the egg dug up by a predator and left behind because it smelled bad? Or did the female prematurely bury her eggs before forcing a last one out as she headed back into the water?

Although likely to make little difference, I dig a hole in the damp sand back from the water’s edge and bury the egg. Numerous holes are scattered about in the sand, apparently many of the turtle’s eggs were lost to predation. I wonder who the culprit is.

While peering into the lake for more wayward eggs, I spot a spiny fin breaking the surface of the water within a loose cluster of aquatic sedges/grasses located ten feet or so off shore. The fish writhes within the vegetation repeatedly before the fin disappears into the water’s depth never to reemerge.

Sand Lake esker

Turning around, I retrace my steps back toward the lean-to only to see a large pollywog swimming towards shore. Like the catfish before it, the tadpole takes a sudden turn back out into the deeper water. Am I that terrifying looking to these aquatic animals? Based on the size of the tadpole it most likely is a bullfrog.

Before heading off the beach, I observe a vast mob of tadpoles out in the water several feet. These must be of a different species than the larger one, based on their smaller size and near black color. The mob moves together at the sandy bottom just like a school of fish. Apparently, they find me less of a threat, or perhaps their eyesight is not as good, as they show no signs of dismay at my presence on shore.

Returning to the lean-to, I retrieve my Golite Pinnacle backpack for the hike over to Rock Lake and beyond. The trek begins rather unceremoniously by searching behind the shelter for the beginning of the herd path along the esker between Sand and Rock Lakes. The many indistinct and interweaving paths are plentiful evidence that I am not the first backpacker to have such difficulty.

Old oil drum stove

While searching for the beginning of the trail, I spot the remains of a stove made of out of an old oil drum. These archaic relicts orient me in such a way as to make the location of the herd path obvious enough so I can proceed along the herd path toward Rock Lake.

The first portion of the herd path follows along Sand Lake’s northwestern shore; up slope a short distance on the esker from the water’s edge. When the path reaches a small clearing where both lakes are visible, the path favors the edge of Rock Lake instead.

As the esker narrows there are ample views of the Sand Lake outlet through the conifer trees. The ridge is steep here providing some outstanding views of the wide outlet stream. I stop numerous times to take in the views with my Leica compact binoculars as this is probably my last, best chance of seeing a moose. Despite the effort, no moose is materializes.

When the path finally comes to the wet area where I lost my way on the way in, I discover the path actually proceeds over an old beaver dam. Will I remember this the next time I come into the backcountry this way?

Sand Lake outlet

Soon I am at the end of the herd path, where it merges with the trail from the Middle Branch Oswegatchie River. The home-made paddle remains where I left it at Rock Lake’s shore, but the paddling glove has now vanished. Perhaps the people that junked the lean-to took it with them.

The mosquitoes are bad here, so I avoid tarrying too long. After a brief snack, I head off along the trail back toward Grassy Pond. Soon after leaving Rock Lake, I encounter some orange flagging tied on a branch at what appears to be a side trail (point #97). I follow the orange-flagged trail for a short distance until it crests a hill with no end in sight. My sore feet protest at this point so I return to the main trail and proceed back toward my vehicle at a brisk pace.

After hiking along the unmarked trail toward Grassy Pond for a while, I encounter some black bear tracks in a muddy area near one of the places were the trail disappears into a wetland. The tracks are large, with the front track being much wider than, and almost as long as, my comparable tiny foot. The tracks stick to the trail for quite some time; they even remain visible by their indentations within the swampy vegetation where the trail crosses a boggy wetland.

Black bear print

After crossing a series of open areas, the trail merges with the side path toward Alderbed Flow to the north and reenters the forest. Soon after passing the side trail, a female ruffed grouse and her many young take off in a flurry of feather and sound. The female quickly returns to my location, with feathers ruffled and squeaking repeatedly in an attempt to distract me from her young. After several failed attempts to get a photograph of her with my Olympus E-420 digital SLR camera, I return to my hike toward Grassy Pond.

When I reach the unmarked side trail to Grassy Pond, I decide to make the short trip down to take a look. The short trail descends through a mostly hardwood forest before ascending slightly to a campsite under some large white pines. Based on the amount of vegetation obscuring the fire ring, this site has not seen any visitors in many months. I descend the short distance down a side trail to the water’s edge for a few pictures before returning to the main trail and continue my trek back to my vehicle at Bear Pond Road.

Grassy Pond

My sore feet create an image of bloody stumps within my Asolo boots, so I pass on the opportunity to head to Brindle Pond. My recollection is the side trail to the pond is long and the view is minimal. I continue hiking down the main trail for the short remaining distance to the river.

The sound of the rushing water is clearly audible when I reach a “Y” in the trail that I fail to remember from my hike in eight days before. I take the wider path on the right which descends and then ascends before ending at a cliff overlooking the Middle Branch Oswegatchie River.

From this location I can see a corresponding clearing well above the river on the opposite bank. Clearly, a bridge, now long gone, once existed here. At one time I read about a plan to build a bridge near here to avoid fording the river. Unfortunately, it seems the forces that be decided to build the bridge upstream a ways at the beginning of the trail to Upper South Pond. I am thinking about a bushwhacking trip starting at that trail for next year.

I double back to the other choice at the “Y”, which leads directly to the fording site I used on my way hike in eight days before. After removing my Asolo boots, I cross the river and reach the opposite bank. Since I am planning on washing up at my car, I remove my backpack, empty out my pockets and jump into the river with all my clothes on, including my hat.

Middle Branch Oswegatchie River

Oswegatchie River crossing

After getting myself completely refreshed by the cool, dark water, I collect some water in both my filter system’s Big Zip Reservoir and my collapsible packbowl for my wash-up at my car just uphill along Bear Pond Road. When I return to my car at a clearing off of the road, I break out my toiletries and give myself a complete cleaning including sponge bath and shower using my filter reservoir as a shower following my typical backcountry hygiene protocol.

While drying myself off after the shower, I hear an unusual, but familiar bird call. It sounds somewhat like a woodpecker but sharper in tone. With no shirt on and deer flies hovering about, I follow the sound around along the dirt road but fail to catch a glimpse of the bird. When I finally catch a glimpse of the bird, it flies down Bear Pond Road out of sight. I grab my Leica compact binocular and head off after it in shorts, Crocs and my entourage of deer flies.

Bear Pond Road

When I finally locate the elusive bird on a dead spruce, it turns out to be a male black-backed woodpecker. The black-backed woodpecker is an uncommon bird in the northern Adirondacks, typically found in boreal forests due to its affinity for spruce trees. The irony of seeing the most exciting bird species of the entire eight-day bushwhacking trip through the remotest parts of the Fiver Ponds Wilderness at my car is not lost on me.

When I finish my clean-up, I pack up all my equipment and place it in my car for the ride back. Miraculously, the car starts and appears to be no worse for wear after driving the ten miles along the dirt and often rocky Bear Pond Road and sitting in a clearing in the middle of the forest for eight days unattended.

On the hour-long ride out along Bear Pond Road, I pull over to let a truck pass me. The truck appears to be the exact same pick-up that passed me at my parking spot when I came in eight days earlier. The rest of the ride out remains uneventful except for a white-tailed deer staring me down in the middle of the road and hitting a rock hidden in the vegetation just off the road.

And I never did get to see a moose, despite all the vast amounts of droppings encountered. Well, there is always next year.

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.

Sand Lake

The following is a description of an eight-day bushwhacking adventure into some of the most remote areas within the Five Ponds Wilderness in the northwestern Adirondacks. The trip includes traversing areas of intense blowdown along the oddly-shaped Oven Lake, exploring a cluster of wilderness ponds and following the wild Robinson River. Part one of the final day is a hike southwest along a marked trail from Wolf Pond to Sand Lake.

Section Stats:
Date: July 5, 2011
Length: 2.7 miles (2.7 miles for the day)
Difficulty: Easy

A hermit thrush greets me with its flute-like song at the beginning of my last day in the wilderness. The sun is still not above the horizon but the darkness’s hold on the surrounding forest is quickly weakening. In the dim light, the hermit thrust appears in front of the lean-to, apparently in search of an early breakfast of invertebrates.

Hear the hermit thrush’s etheral song at Wolf Pond.

Soon a single pine warbler and several least flycatchers join their songs to the scant morning chorus. The song of these two species nearly drowns out all other bird songs, due to their loudness and proximity to the lean-to. Down on the pond, a common loon calls occasionally, not wanting to be left out.

Hear the pine warbler and least flycatchers singing at Wolf Pond.

While lying in my Western Mountaineering Highlite sleeping bag, I hear the sound of something scrambling on the roof of the lean-to. My imagination runs wild: perhaps the fisher is back, or deer mice are amassing in an effort to reoccupy the lean-to.

Although curious about the identity of my visitor on the roof, I remain in my comfortable and warm sleeping bag. I know I should be getting up and preparing for my exodus from the Five Ponds Wilderness, but instead I continue to observe the awaking forest in front of the lean-to.

While lying there procrastinating on my return to civilization, a couple of American robins arrive. The male stays on a low branch of a young red maple, preening himself, only stopping briefly to occasionally belt out a song. By contrast, the female hops along on the ground collecting pieces of dead grass and other debris, most likely for a nest currently under construction.

When the female discovers a nice clump of grass situated at the base of the lean-to, her elation is palpable. She pulls at the clump repeatedly, favoring the dead grass to that of the living. She signals her approval with an occasional squeak despite her beak being completely filled with the grassy nesting material.

When she can no longer fit anymore grass in her beak, she suddenly flies off into the white pines. The male, with his beak empty, follows in hot pursuit. Apparently the roles taken on by the two sexes are not all that dissimilar between different species in the animal kingdom after all.

After leaving the lean-to and preparing my breakfast, I head down to the water’s edge with my Leica compact binoculars and Olympus DSLR camera in hand. I take numerous photographs from the end of the trail before bushwhacking a short distance to the east for more pictures at the edge of the swampy inlet.

The inlet is broad, mostly open, wetland. Filled with numerous shrubs and small snags, it is typically active with birds. Numerous male red-winged blackbirds are scattered about, singing to mark their nesting territories. Several rusty blackbirds fly about, occasionally giving their song, a decent impersonation of a creaky metal gate. There is no evidence of the American bittern that used to call repeatedly here or along the opposite shore back in the late nineties.

Wolf Pond

Wolf Pond Inlet

Blowdown evidence at Wolf Pond

Blowdown evidence at Wolf Pond

Upon returning to the lean-to, I pack up my Golite Pinnacle backpack for the 6+ mile hike back to my car on Bear Pond Road. While in the lean-to, I am startled by a sudden, loud staccato tapping on the roof. After walking around the outside of the lean-to, I flush off a single female hairy woodpecker. Based on the struggle she has clinging to a nearby tree, she might be an immature fledgling from this year, despite the adult appearance.

By a little past eight in the morning, I begin my hike out of the wilderness after a short but pleasing visit to the outhouse located behind the lean-to.

Thrush Nest

On my way back to the intersection with the Five Ponds and Sand Lake Trails, I flush up a thrush from right next to the trail. It moves in such a flash there is no way to identify it to species. A quick search in the vegetation yields a finely constructed nest. The nest is well-camouflaged in a clump of herbaceous vegetation just off the trail. How did I miss it on the way in yesterday? I do my best to take a few pictures without disturbing the vegetation and then quickly resume my trek on the trail.

Upon reaching the intersection, I take a right and head southwest toward Sand Lake.

After hiking through mostly hardwood forest, the trail goes through a wet area before arriving at the rocky crossing of the Wolf Pond inlet stream. The stream is thin and swift as it weaves its way through many boulders and rock outcroppings before cascading down an aggressive slope creating an unimpressive waterfall.

The crossing is much easier than the last time I was here. At that time, I tried crossing after a heavy rain over night and the slippery rocks forced me to detour way upstream. Instead of detouring upstream now, I jump over the flowing water and down to a slanted rock on the far side of the stream, causing an eastern phoebe to fly downstream from a nearby tree branch.

Wolf Pond Inlet Crossing

The trail climbs a short but very steep section right after the stream crossing before returning to a mature mixed forest. Wolf Pond lies down slope and to the west, often visible through the trees. The trail continues along the slope often meandering around several wet areas caused by the 1995 Microburst. A new trail section detours around some of the worst wet areas, probably to avoid the slick rocks exposed by the tip-up mounds after the storm.

I pass the point where I left the trail to head to Streeter Fishpond on the second day of this trip. After this point the trail goes through a series of ups and downs as it edges closer to Wolf Pond’s southeastern shore. After crossing a small stream, the trail leaves behind the pond as it continues to the southwest toward Sand Lake.

The trail continues through mature mixed forest the rest of the way to Sand Lake. The trail remains dry except for a few flooded low places where I take care not to get wet feet on my last day in the backcountry. The trail cuts across an occasional swath of new growth, more evidence of the intense 16-year old windstorm. A large black bear scat lies next to the trail; its decaying condition indicates it is not recent.

Sand Lake Lean-to

When an open boggy wetland to the south becomes visible, I know Sand Lake is nearing. Only a few minutes later along the trail, the towering white pines surrounding the lean-to area become visible up ahead.

The lean-to site is not in as good condition as when I left it on day two of this trip. Obviously, some occupants failed to practice proper lean-to etiquette. Numerous pieces of junk (i.e. pieces of rope, aluminum foil, etc.) lay strewn around on the floor of the lean-to, while garbage was flung into the fireplace. After cleaning up the entire site, I noted the untidy condition in the register.

I discard my backpack in the lean-to as I plan on taking a break at Sand Lake before continuing on via the herd path in back of the lean-to. My break at Sand Lake and the rest of my hike to my car continues in the final part of my trip report appearing here soon.

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.

Wolf Pond Lean-to

The following is a description of an eight-day bushwhacking adventure into some of the most remote areas within the Five Ponds Wilderness in the northwestern Adirondacks. The trip includes traversing areas of intense blowdown along the oddly-shaped Oven Lake, exploring a cluster of wilderness ponds and following the wild Robinson River. The fourth part of day seven is a hike southwest along the Five Ponds Trail to Wolf Pond for the final night of the trip.

Section Stats:
Date: July 4, 2011
Length: 1.4 miles (5.0 miles for the day)
Difficulty: Easy

Standing in the Five Ponds Trail between Little Shallow Pond and the intersection with the Sand Lake and Cage Lake trails gives me some perspective on my newly completed bushwhacking trek through some of the most remote areas of the Adirondacks.

I start reminiscing about the different stages of my adventure: the long, anxiety-filled bushwhack from Streeter Fishpond to Oven Lake, the struggle through the blow downs along the Oven Lake’s western shore, doing backcountry laundry and hygiene at Cracker Pond, spending hours on the rocks on the northern shore of West Pond and even the slog along the northern portion of the Robinson River earlier this very morning. A truly epic backcountry adventure, indeed!

Now the last leg of my trip was beginning. The remainder would just follow trails, although such diverse ones as marked trails, unmarked trails and even herd paths. Much of the trails to be covered the next two days I already used on the first two days of the trip to gain access to the vast interior; there would be little new terrain covered. Perhaps on this more civilized portion of the trip I would finally catch a glimpse of the elusive Adirondack moose. But I am not holding my breath.

Rousing myself from my woolgathering, my mind returns to the immediate present where I need to focus on hiking to the Wolf Pond lean-to for the evening. There would be plenty of time for my mind to wonder while comfortably relaxing in the lean-to after finishing the longest single day trek of the entire trip.

When I arrived at the trail after bushwhacking from the Robinson River, I intersected the trail right near the top of a drainage, giving me a fine view down-slope through the forest. The trail winds its way like a snake right through the center of the drainage under a mostly hardwood forest.

Being at the top of the drainage I can see little of the trail lying before me to the southwest. My many trips to this area, combined with my approximate location on my Garmin eTrex Legend HCx, indicate there is just a short jaunt southwest over rolling terrain before reaching the intersection with the Cage Lake Trail. From the intersection there is an even shorter hike to Wolf Pond, and then my long day of hiking all the way from West Pond will be over.

My brief rest over, I climb the drainage and begin the last leg of my day’s trek.

The hike southwest takes me through mostly mixed forest, although occasionally a stretch of trail enters a completely hardwood or softwood grove. The terrain remains mostly rolling, with no serious climbs or descents. In a few places the trail intersects a swath of downed trees from the 1995 Microburst, but the evidence of this violent event is now covered by thick new growth.

After about 30 minutes of hiking, I take a sharp turn and descend slightly to the intersection with the Cage Lake and Sand Lake trails. The Sand Lake Trail continues straight ahead for three miles before arriving at its namesake. This trail provides my exit from the area tomorrow. The Cage Lake trail precedes a half mile southwest before arriving at the Wolf Pond lean-to, where it then turns northwest towards Cage Lake.

I stop at the intersection for a short rest before moving on with the final trail segment for the day. The mosquitoes are very affectionate here; they do their best to keep the rest brief. Typically, Wolf Pond is one of the less buggy lean-to locations in the area but at this point it might not even be a refuge for these ravenous little buggers.

Sand/Cage Lake Trail Intersection

The trail to Wolf Pond from the intersection is quite diverse. It winds its way north of the swampy Wolf Pond inlet stream and passes through both hardwood and softwood forests, and everything in-between. The final climb onto the knoll where the lean-to is located is short but somewhat steep, at least for this area. At the end of a long day it proves exhausting.

Several minutes after reaching the top, I arrive at the swath of downed white pines. Just beyond the swath, I can see the back of the lean-to and its accompanying outhouse waiting for my arrival.

The lean-to is completely empty as it has been on all the other times I have visited. For a beautiful place, this area appears to get few visitors. The great distance from the nearest trailhead is probably one reason; the lack of a view of the pond is most likely another.

Upon inspecting the interior of the lean-to, I found the floor completely covered in pine pollen. This is not particularly odd given the location of the lean-to at the edge of an ancient eastern white pine grove. Animal tracks were scattered throughout the lean-to; some appeared to be snowshoe hare, while others appear to be fisher.

Take a look at a picture of the tracks. If anyone thinks they are something other than fisher, please let me know.

I notice a new register inside the lean-to. In the register, the lean-to steward indicates the old register was replaced because of its age, with entries going back as far as the mid 1990’s. The few entries in the old register are more evidence of the infrequency of visitors to this lean-to. I bet it is one of the loneliest lean-tos in the Adirondacks.

Suspected fisher tracks in Wolf Pond lean-to

The lean-to is attractively placed at the edge between a towering white pine grove and a swath of blow down from the 1995 Microburst. When I visited this lean-to in 1995 prior to the blowdown, it was located within a dense grove of large white pine trees. There was almost no understory back then.

The setting today is vastly different. The understory is now very dense with red maple, American beech and some black cherry. This is especially true for the area behind the lean-to where the swath of blowdown occurred. Many large, cut white pines still lay side-by-side on the ground where they fell during the storm.

This lean-to has a special place in my heart, as I spent my first night after that legendary storm here 16 years ago. I survived the storm down at Sand Lake and hiked to Wolf Pond through an occasionally decimated trail. I remember it being eerily quiet that night.

Despite the obvious devastation (or perhaps because of it), the bird community is quite active. Pine warblers still inhabit the area; many are singing upon my arrival and they continue to do for the remainder of the afternoon. Least flycatchers still exist in abundance under the pines in front of the lean-to. Apparently they nest in the hardwood trees present in the understory. Occasionally a common loon calls from down on the pond.

The late afternoon is full of the usual campsite chores sans putting up the tarp. This includes unpacking my Golite Pinnacle backpack which results in everything getting covered with pine pollen. With all the equipment scattered about the lean-to floor it appears as if my backpack exploded.

Microburst evidence near Wolf Pond lean-to

Microburst evidence near Wolf Pond lean-to

After sorting through my gear, I lay out my Highlite sleeping bag, Thermo-rest Prolite and lightweight blue closed-foam pad in the lean-to in preparation for a much needed sleep later in the evening. After finishing with my bedding, I follow up with hanging my food and filtering some water.

Filtering water is an especially arduous task at Wolf Pond. A trail leads down a steep hill from the lean-to to the water’s edge. The whole trail is under the towering white pines; their large roots cross the trail in several places making the trek back up the hill a little hazardous. Fortunately walking along the narrow trail under the white pines is an awe inspiring experience; this feeling nearly compensates for the steep climb back to the lean-to while carrying four or more liters of water.

Wolf Pond

The pond’s high water level makes obtaining water difficult. The water level is much higher than anytime I have seen in all the last 16 years visited here. Several boards placed in strategic placed would allow for water access if they were not afloat on the pond’s surface. Luckily, some of the boards are still in place enough that when I step on them they sink into the water only several inches. This makes getting to the water’s edge easier without getting completely wet feet.

After filtering water and making some dinner, I spend most of the early evening listening to the birds sing. My radio ceased functioning (hopefully due to low batteries) and the mosquitoes refuse to allow me even a moment’s respite, so sitting and reading is out of the question. When I can pace no longer, I call it an early night.

Upon waking in the middle of the night, I decide to head down to the water’s edge to take in the starry sky. Over this entire trip I had yet to watch the stars since I called it an early night at the end of every day. Although the arduous days were the cause of some of my early nights, the swarms of hungry mosquitoes were an incentive too.

White pines at edge of Wolf Pond

From my sheltered mosquito netting portion of my tarp system, I could hear the hum of the hungry swarm surrounding the lean-to. I wrapped myself in my full rain gear: The North Face Venture jacket, the Golite Tumulo pants, my Integral Design Shortie Gaiters and even my OR gloves. Only my face had any exposed skin. Just in case, I slipped my OR mosquito head net into my pocket and headed down the trail toward the pond.

I stumble my way down the trail to the water’s edge in my still half-asleep state relaying on my Petzl e+LITE headlamp to illuminate the way. The sky is completely clear and the stars are as brilliant as I have ever seen them. I watch the stars for as long as I can handle the constant onslaught of the mosquitoes; most of the time is spent protecting the single portion of my body left exposed: my face.

Finally I decide to head back to bed as soon as I see a single shooting star. This is the usual game I play in this situation. It does not take long before I spot one streaking across the sky out above the middle of the pond. Shortly, I turn and head back up the steep hill to the lean-to.

After removing the suit of armor that is my rain gear, I settle in for a deep night’s sleep. In only a few hours I prepare for my exodus from the Five Ponds Wilderness and the return to civilization.

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.

The Black Friday/Cyber Monday deals have come and gone. Hopefully everyone took advantage of the great deals to get some of their holiday shopping done. I hope the deals found here last month were helpful and saved some stacks of cash (yeah, I watch Breaking Bad too).

For those who are more the-wait-and-see types (or just procrastinators, of which I am one), fear not as there are still many stunning deals still available. I will continue to update this post as new deals come to my attention. Or perhaps I will publish a post of deals weekly until New Year’s.

Some of these deals require coupons, although many do not. I thought I would pass along the better ones that have accumulated in my inbox from the past week. I hope they help!

Backwoods.com appears to be the leader in great sales as they are offering so many great deals it is hard to list them all here.

Their best deal is short and sweet, and going on right now. From December 3 to 5, get 25% off a single item with coupon code oneitem25. Hurry if you want to take advantage of this super deal as it ends tomorrow.

Backwoods has many other great coupon deals too. If you are in the market for a backpack, they are offering 10% off with coupon code BPACK10. Need to a winter camping stove? If so, get 10% off camping stoves with coupon code cstove10. It is getting cold out there and those ears need covering. Get 10% off caps and hats with coupon code hats10. Planning on doing some winter camping? Get 10% off sleeping bags with coupon code SLEEPBAG10. All of these offers are good from December 5 to 15, so move fast. Free shipping is included.

For those last minute shoppers (and, yes, I am one of them), Backwoods is offering free second day shipping from December 16 thru 21, 2011. Try to avoid the last minute rush and order now instead (do not be like me!).

In addition, Backwoods is providing some amazing deals for those seeking after Christmas deals. They are offering 20% off entire order with code order20. Offer is valid from Dec. 26 to 29 only.

Mountain Plus is offering different deals every day from December 1 to 22. These 22 Days of Gear-Mas deals feature HUGE discounts, including free shipping and free products with purchase. They are not publishing the nature of these deals b eforehand, so visit their site daily to see what is being offered.

MasseyOutfitters is offering a super deal on footwear with savings from 20 to 50% off hiking shoes, running shoes, casual shoes, water shoes and more. This promotion ends on December 5, 2011, so please hurry if in the market for some new shoes. Spend over $75 and get free shipping too.

Altrec.com Outdoors is offering 12 days of Christmas deals starting December 8th. They are offering doorbuster deals of up to 50% off throughout, including shipping deals. Also, sign up to receive their emails for a chance to win a $500 shopping spree and other prizes. Free shipping is available until December 7th.

In the market for a new mountain bike? Giantnerd.com is offering 30 to 70% off their complete selection of mountain bikes using coupon code 15B until December 9th. This is the time of the year to receive great deals before the biking season starts in the spring. They are offering many other deals too, so check them out!

Moosejaw.com is offering free e-Gift cards with a minimum order of any item over $99 using code FREEGC. Hurry on this deal as it ends today!

EMS.com is offering some great daily deals. Their short time duration requires an itchy trigger finger though. If these deals sound good then act quickly before it is over.

EMS’s daily deals for this week include 30% off EMS Summit Fleece Jackets & Vests on 12/4, 30% off EMS Heater Fleece Sweaters on 12/5 and ground shipping for only 99 cents on 12/6 (some exclusions apply).

In addition, they are offering week-long Trailblazer deals with 20% off snowshoes until 12/6. A second Trailblazer deal starts 12/7 so be sure to check back here later. Plus free shipping regardless of amount of the order until 12/5.

Plus, EMS is offering a free gift with the purchase of select The North Face products.

REI is offering 20% off a single item using coupon code OUTQ411until December 8 at the REI-Outlet. These are outlet products only but they are offering free U.S. shipping sitewide.

If the above deals fail to excite then check out the Special Deal Coupons section on the sidebar for some outstanding non-holiday specific coupons for some great deals from Moosejaw, Sierra Trading Post, Bigskycountry, Backwoods, and more.

Happy Holidays everyone!

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.

Reaching the 5 Ponds Trail

The following is a description of an eight-day bushwhacking adventure into some of the most remote areas within the Five Ponds Wilderness in the northwestern Adirondacks. The trip includes traversing areas of intense blowdown along the oddly-shaped Oven Lake, exploring a cluster of wilderness ponds and following the wild Robinson River. The third part of day seven is a bushwhack from the northern portion of the Robinson River to the Five Ponds Trail.

Section Stats:
Date: July 4, 2011
Length: 1.5 miles (3.6 miles for the day)
Difficulty: Moderate

With the early morning treks from West Pond to the Robinson River and along the river to where it sharply turns south behind me, it is now time to turn my attention to the last bushwhacking segment of my entire eight-day trip. From where the Robinson River turns abruptly south, I need to head southwest until reaching the Five Ponds Trail. After hitting the trail, the way to the Wolf Pond lean-to should be cinch since I have used this trail many times in the past.

While finishing my lunch, I take out my Five Ponds quadrangle topographical map and compass to determine an actual bearing to the trail. I decide on 253 degrees, which should take me through a mile and a half of unbroken forest along the edge of a large and unnamed mountain of over 2160 feet between Robinson River and the Wolf Pond outlet stream.

The map indicates no streams or wetlands to mark my progress toward the trail. The topography alone will suffice as my guide. Oh, and modern technology in the form of my trusty Garmin eTrex Legend HCx handheld GPS. I am going to try to avoid using the GPS as a navigation tool though, using it merely to mark waypoints along the route. Instead, I want to develop my ability to use the lay of the land to navigate my way westward.

It is just before one in the afternoon when I leave the river behind and begin my sojourn through the untrammeled forest of the Five Ponds Wilderness. Initially the forest is mixed conifers and hardwoods, but quickly transitions to mostly hardwoods as the river becomes more distant. There is little noticeable impact from the 1995 Microburst.

As I emerge out of the shadow of the western edge of Partlow Mountain, the forest becomes noticeably different. The tree canopy becomes sparser, as if many branches are missing. Unfortunately, these branches remain scattered about the forest floor, casualties of the either the 1995 Microburst, the 1998 ice storm or some other disturbance.

Stepping over the many downed branches is not the only obstacle to my progress; a multitude of hardwood saplings are growing in response to the thinning forest canopy. In addition, the forest floor is very soggy in many places, apparently the result of many seeps in this area. The downed branches, saplings and seeps form a triumvirate of detour, resulting in an erratic route toward my ultimate destination.

During one such detour (point #88), I hear a faint cry. After stopping and listening quietly, the sounds become the familiar wail of ravenous woodpecker nestlings in a nearby cavity. I take a few brief minutes to look around for the nest but give up rather easily. The increasing afternoon heat combined with my increasing tiredness as the day drags on, leaves me little extra energy to hunt for a probable yellow-bellied sapsucker or hairy woodpecker nest.

As I climb over a low rise between a low hill and the much larger one to the south (point #89), the tree canopy thickens and the scattered branches and frequent regenerating saplings decrease. The small increase in elevation produces drier conditions too, resulting in much easier bushwhacking.

The forest is more mature here, made up of large red maple, American beech and yellow birch, with a scattering of eastern hemlock and red spruce. A hermit thrush sings nearby despite the early afternoon hour. And I flush up a dark-eyed junco from the forest floor, its white-edged tail flashing dismay as the bird flutters into the lower canopy.

After 90 minutes has passed since leaving behind the Robinson River, I check my progress using my GPS (point #90). With a significant knoll coming up ahead, I decide on a new bearing of 235 degrees to avoid any unnecessary climbing. With the new bearing, I should be able to cross in the cull between the large mountain to the south and the much lower knoll to the north.

While fooling with the GPS, an ovenbird becomes increasingly agitated by my presence. Fearing a nest is nearby, I step carefully through the forest trying to avoid any clumps of leaves that could be a camouflage nest.

After cresting the height of land in the cull (point #91), the amount of blow down increases as I lose elevation while descending into a series of drainages. These drainages feed the inlet stream of Little Shallow Pond off to the north.

The forest within the drainages has more spruce in the upper canopy, with many young beeches within the understory. The blow down and thick understory of the drainages diverts me off my main course and I drift north toward Little Shallow Pond. I do not want to get caught on the wrong side of the wetlands south of the pond, so I change my heading to directly west toward the nearby trail (point #92).

Balloon Near 5 Ponds Trail

The west bearing takes me through the entire series of drainages with increasing amounts of blowdown and thick vegetation. The GPS already indicates the trail is to the east of my location but I am certain I did not inadvertently cross it along the way. I ignore the GPS and climb out of what I hope will be the last drainage.

As I climb out of the drainage (point #93), a bright metallic blue catches my eye on the forest floor along the hillside. I immediately recognize it as a Mylar balloon and I head directly for it. Anyone who reads this blog knows how much I hate these damn balloons. I retrieve the balloon and stick it in my pocket; the second balloon of this trip.

Near the crest of the last drainage, a flurry of fur scampers from right underneath my feet and along the forest floor. I nearly cry out as the abrupt movement startles me out of my intensive concentration on locating the trail. The snowshoe hare stops briefly before vanishing into some thick young conifers back down into the drainage.

A small blue disk on a tree catches my eye as I cross the very top of the last drainage. The disk signals my arrival at the Five Ponds Trail, well to the west of where my GPS claimed it to be. For all those relying on technology to navigate through the backcountry take heed; these gadgets are only as accurate as the information they rely on. Never surrender good judgment to the so-called superior technology.

Only a short hike along the Five Ponds Trail to the intersection with the Cage Lake Trail, followed by an even shorter trip to Wolf Pond is all that is remains of the day’s trek. There I would spend the night at the lean-to situated at the edge of towering white pine grove and a regenerating blow down from the 1995 Microburst.

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.

Robinson River

The following is a description of an eight-day bushwhacking adventure into some of the most remote areas within the Five Ponds Wilderness in the northwestern Adirondacks. The trip includes traversing areas of intense blowdown along the oddly-shaped Oven Lake, exploring a cluster of wilderness ponds and following the wild Robinson River. The second part of day seven is a bushwhack along an extensive northern portion of the Robinson River.

Section Stats:
Date: July 4, 2011
Length: 1.6 miles (2.1 miles for the day)
Difficulty: Moderate

With the crossing of the northern section of the Robinson River behind me, I can now relax and concentrate on heading west along the northern stretch of the river. The river acts as my guide for at least another mile of bushwhacking before departing for the marked trail system to Wolf Pond.

This part of the day’s hike takes me through some of the most remote areas of the Five Ponds Wilderness in the northwestern Adirondacks. I plan on savoring this wilderness experience since before the day is out I will be hiking along the marked trail system for the majority of the remainder of my backpacking trip.

The mosquitoes keep my rest break brief after crossing the beaver dam and reaching the river’s northern shore. Without lingering about, I immediately bushwhack to the west, moving back into the surrounding forest while keeping within sight of the open floodplain.

When an opening overlooking the floodplain appears within the trees (map point #76), I cannot allow the opportunity to pass by without taking a few photographs with my camera. The floodplain is choked with grasses and sedges, as well as a scattering of alder shrubs, many with very few leaves. Could these shrubs be succumbing to increasing water levels too?

For this vantage point, I can still see some open water amongst the alders and herbaceous vegetation clumps, completely scuttling my hope for a dry river plain. A dry river plain would offer an easy hiking experience for the next mile or so. Unfortunately, this was not to be, at least not this year. Instead, I will have to continue my hike back into the forest, avoiding the thicker spruce and/or fir near the floodplain’s edge.

A subtle bird call catches my attention from within the alders out on the floodplain. A soft, buzzy “reeeet” is repeated occasionally. I respond with my best (yet very poor) imitation, hoping to lure the bird in for a closer look. Unfortunately, it never takes the bait and I am left to scratching my head with regards to the bird’s identity.

My best guess to the bird’s identity is an alder flycatcher. I respond with the alder flycatcher’s typical “fee-BEE-oh” but the bird falls totally silent; perhaps insulted by my feeble attempt. I heard few Empidonax flycatchers singing on this trip, which I attribute to being later in the breeding season for these small, nondescript birds.

I resume heading to the southwest, staying into the forest but remaining close enough to see the open area surrounding the river. Thankfully, the conifer forest is not so dense that I have to retreat farther back from the floodplain and into the hardwood forest further north.

Finally, I reach what appears to be a peninsula overlooking the floodplain and I am unable to proceed further southwest (point #77). A gap in the trees provides an opportunity for some nice photographs of the river’s floodplain to the southwest, including part of the Robinson River itself. The water is dark and slow moving making it impossible to tell whether I am observing the main river or just an oxbow though.

Since the floodplain is too wet to proceed further, I head north staying into the forest rather than attempt to remain on my original southwestern course. It does not take me too long before I can return to my original direction though.

Forest surrounding Robinson River

As I continue southwest, another detour around a widening floodplain appears inevitable. Rather than return to the river here (point #78), I remain at the interface between the conifers lining the open floodplain and the mature hardwood forest to its north. The bushwhacking here is much easier as there are fewer sharp twigs near eye level constantly attempting to assault my face. I applaud my tendency to wear safety glasses while bushwhacking every time a wooden dagger-like twig glances off the thick plastic protecting my eyes.

As I continue through the forest, many hoof prints lie embedded in the forest floor. Although some appear indistinct, others are definitely moose tracks. I fail to find any scat but the prints verify I am still in an area where moose frequent. This continues the trend of moose scat and tracks I have observed since leaving Streeter Fishpond back on my third day of this backpacking wilderness adventure.

Finally, I reach a point where the river’s floodplain opens up and becomes much wider (point #79). A nice view of the river’s surrounding area to the west is available due to some conifer blowdown. Crawling over the tangle of downed spruce trees, a tip-up mound provides me with a better view of the surrounding area.

Robinson River floodplain

Although the river continues to the southwest, a wet, shrubby area extends to the north. Unless I am willing to get wet feet, I need to head north around this wet floodplain extension. Not even my Asolo hiking boots and Integral Designs Shortie Gaiters are enough to insure feet dry if I chose to risk trying to cut across the floodplain.

While surveying the surrounding landscape from my vantage point on the tip-up mound, I notice an area where the grass is matted down. Curious, I climb off the tip-up mound and scramble a short distance down onto the grassy floodplain. A short jaunt through the knee-height grass brings me to the edge of disturbance.

Obviously something bedded down here recently. The matted down area is quite extensive too. Either multiple deer bedded down together (i.e. a female and fawn) or it was something larger than just a deer (e.g. moose). A search amongst the grass for some scat might shed some light on the mystery; unfortunately I find none. With the moose tracks observed close by, I imagine it was a moose that bedded down here.

Moose bed?

Returning to the relatively dry confines of the surrounding forest, I head north, trying to bushwhack around the perimeter of the wet area. Before I get very far I hear a low moan repeated at irregular intervals. I cannot recall ever hearing anything quite like this before, and I am unable to determine whether the sound originates from a bird, mammal, frog or insect. Every time I in the direction of the sound, it appears to just move farther away. Then it abruptly stops. Despite my attempts to imitate the sound, I get no response.

Finally, I return to bushwhacking through the forest to the north again. The coniferous forest gets denser and younger along the eastern side of the wet area. The thickness forces me further away from the wet area’s perimeter as I struggle to continue north.

After crossing a small, swampy stream the forest opens up and I return to the perimeter of the wet area (point #80). As I clear the wet area to the north (point #81), I am forced up a steep slope to avoid sloshing through a conifer swamp to the south. The conifer swamp is like nothing I have ever seen before. It is located in a basin, perhaps 20 feet below my position at the top rise.

Conifer Basin along Robinson River

From my position I look almost directly into the canopy of some very tall and incredibly straight spruces. The trees are widely spaced with an almost park like atmosphere, if it were not for the carpet of Sphagnum moss and a scattering of ferns. An occasional, scattered pool of stagnant water or a log lies on top of the moss carpet.

The forest contrast is startling to the north. Large yellow birches and red maples dominate a hardwood forest present as far as the eye can see to the north. There is very little evidence of any blow down here.

Just when I think the mosquitoes cannot get any worse, they prove otherwise. As I continue along the edge of the basin (point #82), the mosquitoes seem to come out in droves. I continuously swat them off my face and neck, so often my hands get covered in my own blood. Despite the warm weather I am thankful for being almost completely covered from head to foot with the exception of my head and hands.

Floodplain narrows

Almost immediately after finally returning to the edge of the floodplain (point #83), I am forced to scramble back into the forest to avoid another wet basin of conifers. This one is not as deep as the previous one or as extensive but unfortunately it makes up for in wetness what it lacks in size. Despite the smaller size the mosquito intensity is just as great. It contains more blowdowns along its edge though and this makes the going much more difficult than its neighbor to the east.

After bushwhacking around the northern edge of the shallow basin (point #84), I make my way back to the edge of the floodplain (point #85). The mosquitoes are indescribable here; my progress must be slow enough that they have accumulated since the first basin I skirted around. The blood-sucking assault keeps me from loitering long despite the occassional scenic views.

In a futile attempt to get a little relief from the mosquitoes and avoid a steeper slope, I set a compass bearing through the forest to cut off a little mileage as the river turns to the northwest. The river’s turn to the northwest indicates I am nearing the point where the river turns south and I leave it behind to head toward the marked trail system.

Shabby Beaver Dam

I return to the river’s edge near where the floodplain narrows and the surrounding coniferous forest closes in on it. There is much beaver activity here, as I step over numerous recently chewed hardwood stumps. A beaver lodge lies out in the river. Despite the beaver activity, there is no evidence of an extensive beaver dam, although there is more open water and less emergent grasses/sedges as was the case further east.

Finally, I arrive at a shabby beaver dam just before the river changes course and heads south toward an extensive swamp, and eventually Toad Pond. Since this marks the end of my relationship with the Robinson River (at least on this trip), I decide to sit down and eat my lunch before heading on. It is just before noon and for once I eat my lunch at a reasonable time.

After finishing lunch and filtering water, I will set off on the third phase of my day’s backcountry adventure back to the marked trail system. The river and I will part company as I bushwhack through an impenetrable forest further west toward the Five Ponds Trail. A leisurely hike follows all the way to the Wolf Pond lean-to for the night.

Robinson River turns south

View to south along Robinson River

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 amazing content at the Bushwhacking Fool.