My second backpack trip to Isle Royale I chose a trail that is named the hardest trail in Michigan. The Minong Trail. It is the back side as I call it of the island. It is the side that faces Canada. It looks like you can touch Canada from the bluffs. It was hard. They were right. Hardest? I haven’t done them all to be able to compare? Easiest for me of any trail I had done since I had failed miserably at my previous trip to learn who I am again.
My goal was to walk the entire length of the island, just on the backside. I would still have to wiggle around back to the spine of the island to get to Rock Harbor. My end goal is to have walked all the footpaths on this island. And to see as many of the orchids as possible. And a moose meandering aimlessly and not wildly running me off trails. To see a wolf or at least wolf scat. To start exploring the smaller islands via da boat. Take my dads canoe there. Hundreds of islands to find. To portage and see some of the inland islands on the island.
I don’t even know what my end goal is. To live? Not be afraid to live? I’m not afraid to die. It’s living that is hard. Not ready to die just not afraid. I live each day and minute sometimes like it is likely my last. Because it could be. I kind of resolve to this. Give in to it. Accept that I may just think this way. I may be someone who is afraid to live. But doesn’t want to die. But it also makes each day really lively to me. Each moment is alive just in case it’s soon. Living in the moment for me is being afraid it’s the last.
Anyway. Now that that’s sorted out.
I had done what I called the hard part of this hard trail. I know this doesn’t always mean the rest is easier it just means it is not as hard. I came in to my spot to stop. Todd Harbor. I had sort of wanted to stay on the Lakeside. Just to see the sun come up from the view as opposed to in the woods. Just to wake up to a different view. Or same view from a different angle. Like moving your bed. It’s still seeing your room just from a different angle. New perspective. I usually, usually meaning the last and only time I came, prefer to camp and stop inland somewhere. A little more secluded. In my mind I want to be secluded. But I could barely move. I could barely walk 10 more feet let alone ten more miles just to be secluded when I was as secluded as one could be on a secluded island in the middle of Lake Superior. But I wanted new perspective. To move da bed.
Todd Harbor would likely mean people. People harboring in after fishing all day on the northern side. As soon as I walked up I saw a cabin with stuff. Lots. They looked to be there for days. I saw a generator. I saw coolers, not just coolers but Yeti ones. Which are ridiculous heavy. My heart rate increase. I kept walking. I found a spot and unloaded my back. Not far from the cabin. I just couldn’t get myself to keep going. I like to walk through camp the last spot so when I wake early I’m not walking through camp early. I’m right at the edge. I struggled to walk down to the water. Boots off, and walking on the warm large smooth stones that litter this lake. They feel like foot massages to me. The water is freaking cold. It always is. I always think it will feel refreshing. But it just feels cold and wet. I find a pile of more stuff on the shore. Water bottles and gas cans. I needed water. Or I feared I did. I had plenty likely but I am a water hoarder. There looked to be plenty. I took two. Went back laid down fell asleep.
I was woke to chaos. I had dreamt widely I was being suffocated by someone. Lights were blaring in my tent and I couldn’t breath. I finally untangled myself from my mummy sleeping bag cords that somehow I had gotten around my neck and saw that there were lights shining through the woods. And so many people. At least 4. This is so many too me. 1 can be, when I’m expecting 0. They were sloshing and crashing and yelling. I was scared they would notice water bottles missing. Then murder me. This is always my first thought. Eminent death. I have to talk myself up from this. To a lesser case scenario.
They walked to and from and to and from that boat. I hear saws and power and music. Then finally nothing. I get up in the middle of the night or it was actually like 8 at night, to pee. I walk down to the shore again to see this boat. I do see this boat. It’s floating aimlessly slightly away from shore with no boaters. It looks expensive. Who buys a boat and lets it boat alone? It’s not anchored or tied to any thing. It’s just all alone about 20 feet away.
I have to tell them. Yet I don’t want to know anything about them. Or to have them know I am here. I walk up slowly and so nervous. I don’t really want to get involved but I don’t really want them stuck in the island with me. I want them to go back out on the water with da boat. I also don’t know what would happen. Would the coast guard come? The park service? Would they bring helicopters? Da boat would just keep going until it got somewhere I guess.
I was so scared they would know I was a woman alone in the woods who stole their water and now have to tell them their boat is out for a late night boat trip. ”um, your boats getting away.” I scared them to death, they did not know I was sleeping like 59 feet away. There were fish bones and plates and things everywhere. They didn’t seem so scary. They were messy. And careless. Unlikely to plot a midnight murder and notice twowater bottles gone.
They run. He runs more likely. Da boat. Da boat. It was just kind of swaying aimlessly a little off shore. Luckily across the bay was a group this boat man was with and they were still up. After an hour of boat rescue and more yelling and lights and sloshing they finally settle again. I never do. I lay awake. Until morning. I sort of wanted to go back and make sure they secured da boat to something securer than nothing. Did he just pull it up last time? I’m not a big boat owner, it also wasn’t that big . Don’t you drop an anchor or something? Or tie a rope around something? I will need to know these things to bring da canoe. I already know these things. I’m sure he does too? Things happen.
As I’m packing up and eating oatmeal the man from the night before comes to my camp. He looks exhausted. He walks up and says. ”sorry bout da boat.” Then offers me a giant bag of fried fish and water. I say ”no problem.” Then he starts talking. And doesn’t stop. In his northern Minnesotaian way. Da boat over and over. I can hear it still today. He tells me all about da boat. It was new. First time on a big trip. He had a new hat that said the name and a keychain. He was a new boater. He brought his sons here. His brother. I couldn’t stop him. I was starting to panic he would offer to load me up in da boat and take me to the other end. He looked concerned I was walking. I looked concerned he was boating.
I tell him I’m good. I do this all the time. Meaning one other time. He says, be careful out there, you never know whats out there. He had that right. his fish was delicious. I admired his story. It was messy and chaotic. It reminded me of my first trip. The things I learned from the things I learned. The mistakes I made to not make again. I think about them still today. I imagine them boating the world. Learning and boating with da boat. Da boat the that likes to boat alone.
Aspenleaf 