• On wildlife Mergansers and nuthatches, pileated woodpeckers and red squirrels. Always the red squirrels. A couple of late croaky white-throated sparrows.
  
  No moose! Not a single one this visit. Not the first time.
  
  The black-morphed red fox visited my shelter nearly every day, always hoping for food and not shy about approaching me, even after numerous attempts to shoo it away. If it wasn’t the end of the season, I might have reported it. As it was, it was about to lose any easy food sources.
• On equipment A couple days in, I pulled out an unopened box of stormproof matches and discovered that they would not light when struck. They did light when lit with a lighter, which rather defeats the point. Weird.
• On weather In late September, one expects cooler weather. Not once during the week did the temperature fall far enough for frost, at least in the vicinity of Rock Harbor.
• On sea kayaking I have a lot to learn before 2026, which replaces the 2025 plan, as I need the time for gaining skills and experience. This year I’m aiming for solo self-rescue and as much paddling as possible. Maybe a different kayak.
• On trip notes I took them and then may have tossed them by mistake. So there are fewer details than one might wish, but still likely enough. I did take photos of the weather forecast every day, so those are real rather than misremembered numbers.
• On wheels A kayak cart would have been totally acceptable for use in moving Kayak between Rock Harbor and Tobin Harbor, as long as I didn’t take Kayak into the campground.

Later in the morning Bryan and I moved Kayak over to the usual dock.

Five minutes after everyone boarded, rain began to fall, the only precipitation I’d seen all week. It was the final trip of the season for Isle Royale Queen IV.

Back to Copper Harbor, Kayak back on top of my car, Bryan to Houghton, and me to a municipal campground somewhere in the UP to sleep for a few hours before heading back home.

By the time I woke up, both boats had left.

On this, the last full day before departure, I decided that we would paddle the south end of Tobin Harbor. We went as far as Kayak could up Tobin Creek:

Getting Kayak back to Rock Harbor was now something to consider, as the next day was departure day.

I left a note at shelter down the way, offering the use of Kayak in Tobin Harbor the following morning in exchange for helping to haul it back over the hill to Rock Harbor.

Soon, Bryan B. was at my shelter with a response. But first, would I like to see the bull moose that had just strolled through the campground?

Of course!

Alas, Moose had moved out of our range.

Bryan, not being a kayaker, turned down my Kayak use offer. However, he needed a ride to Houghton, which I was happy to give.

Morning came, and I watched a freighter move across the mouth of Merritt Lane and wondered—only for the hundredth time—what the crossing over to Passage Island will be like.

It wasn’t until morning that I noticed this:

The other half of my energy bar made breakfast while I waited for the weather forecast on my marine radio. All that I got was something along the lines of “wind from the east 10-20 knots” (or maybe mph). And so on the strength of little information I had to decide—stay another day, or go?

We went. Yesterday’s text forecast for today was 5-15 knots increasing to 10-20 knots in the afternoon, so it seemed better to leave now.

Merritt Lane was calm right up until its southern end met the unsheltered section between Porter Island and Bobs Island. Today’s water was definitely less flat than yesterday’s and today’s decision seemed different, less a matter of staying close to shore where the water seemed more energetic than my comfort level would like or crossing over to between Bob’s Island and Smith Island, which route was at least diagonal through the swells rather than parallel to them. To review:

I chose the second option, and once on that path made my way without pause. Having started to listen to Dubside’s podcast the phrase “Water is my friend” was on a loop with every stroke and every slide into a trough of water. There wasn’t time to second-guess my decision (although I’ve wondered about it since then).

Soon, and with relief, we¹ entered the calm waters of Tobin Harbor and the rest of the day transformed into a beautiful and otherwise unremarkable day on Isle Royale.

1. Kayak, of course, was not relieved. She was in her element. ︎

Well, before getting to that, let’s review what I knew about sea kayaking six months ago: Almost nothing. Also my sea kayaking experience: Hardly any.

While I was dressed for immersion—drysuit, neoprene hood, neoprene gloves, bailout bag—I had no skills to speak of, except some level of good judgement. Paddling in Tobin Harbor is generally good judgement. Paddling to Merritt Lane less so, in light of this forecast:

“East winds to 5 to 15 knots becoming northeast 10 to 20 knots in the afternoon, then increasing 15 to 25 knots late. Waves building to 3 to 5 feet occasionally to 7 feet.”

National Weather Service

But never mind the forecast! I’d mostly—mostly!—be in Tobin Harbor and Merritt Lane. The only spot I had to worry about was this exposed part between Bobs Island and Porter Island:

And I could always turn aro und if anything became too intimidating. So I set off on this morning, yet another beautiful day in Isle Royale.

Tobin Harbor itself was uneventful. I took my time, mostly paddling close to the north side. The part past Bob’s Island wasn’t flat, but it was manageable, although the thunderous noise of the pounding surf beyond Red Rock Point is not my preferred Isle Royale soundtrack. It was followed by the blissful calm of Merritt Lane.

Somewhere along the way I began to wonder about spending the night at Merritt Lane. I had the contents of my bailout bag, and there is a shelter at Merritt Lane, so it would be doable. Probably not comfortable, but doable.

Upon landing, I remembered that all the signs back at Rock Harbor pointed to me spending that night at Rock Harbor: the contents of my shelter, the cockpit cover at Tobin Harbor dock. I turned on my phone, and lo and behold I had a signal. I texted my sisters, one of whom would be sure to communicate my location to the rangers.¹

After dropping my drysuit and bailout bag in the shelter, I took off on an exploratory trip. Imagine the immense force it took to soften these rock edges:

That’s about as far as I went, so not all the way to Blake Point.

Although I didn’t bring anything but my bailout bag and my Kindle, at least I brought those. I briefly considered sleeping outside on a nice patch of ground between a couple of rocks, but I figured at least there would be no wandering moose inside the shelter.

I fell asleep to this:

1. I imagined that it’s better to know right off where to start looking, although later my
   sister said a kind of late-season malaise could be heard in the voice of the ranger she spoke to at the Houghton Visitor Center who she tasked with communicating my location to an on-site ranger. ︎

I suppose I could hike to Daisy or Lane Cove or up to Mount Ojibway. But Kayak is lonely, and I have no intention of leaving the relative safety of Rock Harbor. So I carry Kayak over to the closest slip, where the floating docks are by the marina office, just before a crew starts removing the floating docks for the season. There are signs every day of Rock Harbor shutting down. The store had opened some during the first couple of days, but now remaining merchandise and shelving began to be covered in white sheets. Park ranger sightings are few.

I suit up in my rented drysuit and start to bend over to pick up my paddle. I can’t, because I am puffed up like the Michelin man. So I unzip a bit to release the extra air.

Finally I am in Kayak, and we begin to make our way to Tookers Island. The wind is such that I find myself paddling almost exclusively on one side in order to maintain direction. Kayak has a rudder, and I had forgotten to deploy it.

Ranger Carrie had warned me that waves look bigger when you’re in the water, and she was right! They weren’t so large as to intimidate me, but for the first time I felt the size of me relative to Lake Superior and the power of the water.

Tookers is about a mile from Snug Harbor, and in due time we arrived. I explored and then wished I’d brought enough to spend the night. In reality, I had a bailout bag and would have been fine to spend the night.

On the return trip, I deployed the rudder and found maintaining direction much easier.

Whatever the wind speed forecast was going to be, Tobin Harbor was nearly always going to be a calmer choice. Since I wanted to paddle every day for the rest of my visit, it made sense to move Kayak to Tobin Harbor.

So upon my return, I encountered the Brown family from St. Paul, a couple of whom I’d met on the way over, and asked for help. They kindly said yes, and thus the rest of my week was set.

For the first time in my Isle Royale experience, Mount Franklin becomes a destination rather than a place to stop along the way to somewhere else. I eat lunch, read books, gaze at Belle Isle and beyond. I puzzle over a dead mouse in the middle of the trail.

Early the next morning, I walked down to the dock to scout out parking my car for easy removal of Kayak. I didn’t plan to remove it on my own, as I had some confidence that someone would be willing to help, and so it was that a nice person on a day trip to the island offered assistance.

It was foggy the whole way over.

My permitting ranger, a kayaker herself, suggested that given my novice level I stick to Rock Harbor (with maybe an overnight at Three Mile) and Tobin Harbor, paddling on days on which the forecasted wind speed range was 5-15 knots, and nothing higher than that. So noted. Today was not a 5-15 knot day.

After setting up in a shelter and parking Kayak on the public kayak rack (being capable of a short-distance shoulder carry), I hiked out to Scoville Point and then explored the tent camping sites of Rock Harbor. Over by the first-aid cabin, a black-morphed red fox strolled by, perhaps hoping for a bit of my sandwich, and not for the last time.

Then in early July, probably inspired by finally watching George Desort’s Fifty Lakes One Island, I got to wondering if anyone had ever hiked all the trails in the park in a single visit. Such a feat requires some paddling, both to cover the portage trails and to reach trails in other areas accessible only by water. My choice of vessel is a sea kayak.

I figured that I could be ready for such a trip by summer of 2025. The backpacking and hiking are the easy parts for me, but I have little paddling experience.

By mid-August I had found and purchased a used Seda Viking.

I canceled my McCargoe Cove plans and rebooked on Isle Royale Queen IV in order to focus on paddling in Rock Harbor and Tobin Harbor.

A friend gave me most of a roof rack and I scrounged parts for the rest of it. My husband and I watched numerous videos on how to safely transport a kayak.

We visited a local paddling shop for some equipment and advice, because knowledge gaps are many and YouTube videos can take one only so far.

I learned and practiced a wet exit with a spray skirt on a local lake. I spent a few hours paddling on the same flatwater lake.

I did one test paddle with the local paddling shop, during which the owner very nicely suggested, based on my (non-)experience, that not going was the wiser course of action. My plan was to never leave Rock Harbor or Tobin Harbor and to be completely honest with the rangers about my experience level, so my expectation was that would be enough to compensate for my lack of experience.

I completely outfitted the kayak and rented both a drysuit and a GPS satellite messenging device.

My husband made some minor repairs to Kayak. On the morning of my September 21 departure, he said “I love you, and don’t worry about scratching the boat.”

And then Kayak and I left.