TR (5/31-6/7, 2021): Ishpeming, Feldtmann---and some commuting
Posted: Sat Jun 12, 2021 4:25 pm
[this is going to come in pieces, governed by the 3 attachments per message limit. Apologies in advance for the high ratio of words to miles.]
Background: The Feldtmann loop and the Ishpeming trail (a 7 mile spur off the Greenstone that deadends at Malone Bay) are the two major stretches of IR trail I hadn’t walked yet. And I was supposed to have a visiting gig a short day’s drive from Grand Portage this spring. Hence Plan A: Voyageur to Windigo; around the Feldtmann Loop, out the Greenstone, down the Ishpeming Trail to Malone Bay; Voyageur home. COVID scuttled the visiting gig, so I wound up starting and finishing my terra incognita tour at Rock Harbor---something that, as I’ll explain below, made more sense when I formed the plan than when I executed it.
5/30: Ann Arbor to Copper Harbor.
Between one thing and another, I hadn’t driven to Houghton (or beyond) in two years. This version of the drive seemed particularly rich in pontoon boats and cannabis emporia billboards that were probably best appreciated stoned. (My favorite: “Budz Weed—next exit. Don’t go out of your way!”) I bivouacked at the Bella Vista.
5/31: Copper Harbor to Rock Harbor to Chippewa Harbor.
Bearing around 40 wildly excited passengers, the Queen chugged across calm waters to Rock Harbor. I’ve learned to lurk toward the back of the mob during the orientation, in order to wind up near the front of the permit line. Permit secured, I bustled over to leave a bag of clean clothes and dry shoes at the lodge office, then headed down the Tobin Harbor trail. My objective was Chippewa Harbor, where I had a ferry to catch the next morning.
The 7+ miles to Daisy Farm were all bonus miles. When I’d planned the trip, I’d thought I’d start at Daisy Farm, the projected destination of the Queen during Rock Harbor dock repairs. Those repairs got rescheduled, so I got to start from Rock Harbor instead. Despite carrying 6 days of food that enabled me to set a personal IR record for pack weight (a staggering 22 pounds), I didn’t lament this. The only other occasion I’d walked from Rock Harbor to Daisy Farm, the trail had been so buried in deadfall that navigating it commanded most of my attention. This time I could look around, explore the Siskowit mines now that they weren’t obscured by a fallen forest, and generally take a more relaxed attitude toward forward progress.
Entering Daisy Farm, right around shelter 10, the trail disappears abruptly under a pond heroic beavers have created by damning Benson creek. Shelter 10’s friendly denizen (who seemed like they might be the only person in camp) explained that I could either skirt the outage by walking the beach, or follow an official detour through DF’s shelter city. I took the beach, rejoined the real trail briefly, then turned left toward Moskey Basin. The Moskey trail was faint but fun, especially for the first spell, when it climbs through and then follows a ridge across a succession of rocky clearings, before starting a woodsy descent. Near the inflection point, smelled before seen, was a former moose, well on his or her way to being a moose skeleton.
Piles of sawdust and gaps freshly-cut in fallen trees attested that a trail crew had been down the spur to Chippewa Harbor. But any human footprints they left had been overlaid by mooseprints making a trench down the center of the muddy trail---a trench that parted to diverge around boardwalk sections. This got me to wondering whether moose resented the boardwalks: “why has some idiot erected a linear trip hazard along this perfectly serviceable pathway?”
I followed the short portage to the tip of Lake Richie’s southeastern tentacle---a very pretty and peaceful spot. Decidedly less peaceful was the sand hill crane I disturbed shortly thereafter. Reaching Chippewa Harbor around 7, I set myself up in Shelter 1. Shelter 2’s occupants (not backpackers, or so I inferred from the 24 pack of bottled water on the picnic table) were off on a mission; another party had paddled a canoe named “Ramboat” from the Queen and were tenting. I was out before the sun was down—and slept well, despite the best efforts of leadfooted critters scurrying across my shelter roof to rouse me during the night.
Animals:
Loons!
Mergansers!!
Conventional ducks
Frogs, numerous
Snakes, way too numerous
Squirrels
Vole? Or maybe just an extremely ugly squirrel?
Moose, deceased
Very irate sand hill crane
(to be continued)
Background: The Feldtmann loop and the Ishpeming trail (a 7 mile spur off the Greenstone that deadends at Malone Bay) are the two major stretches of IR trail I hadn’t walked yet. And I was supposed to have a visiting gig a short day’s drive from Grand Portage this spring. Hence Plan A: Voyageur to Windigo; around the Feldtmann Loop, out the Greenstone, down the Ishpeming Trail to Malone Bay; Voyageur home. COVID scuttled the visiting gig, so I wound up starting and finishing my terra incognita tour at Rock Harbor---something that, as I’ll explain below, made more sense when I formed the plan than when I executed it.
5/30: Ann Arbor to Copper Harbor.
Between one thing and another, I hadn’t driven to Houghton (or beyond) in two years. This version of the drive seemed particularly rich in pontoon boats and cannabis emporia billboards that were probably best appreciated stoned. (My favorite: “Budz Weed—next exit. Don’t go out of your way!”) I bivouacked at the Bella Vista.
5/31: Copper Harbor to Rock Harbor to Chippewa Harbor.
Bearing around 40 wildly excited passengers, the Queen chugged across calm waters to Rock Harbor. I’ve learned to lurk toward the back of the mob during the orientation, in order to wind up near the front of the permit line. Permit secured, I bustled over to leave a bag of clean clothes and dry shoes at the lodge office, then headed down the Tobin Harbor trail. My objective was Chippewa Harbor, where I had a ferry to catch the next morning.
The 7+ miles to Daisy Farm were all bonus miles. When I’d planned the trip, I’d thought I’d start at Daisy Farm, the projected destination of the Queen during Rock Harbor dock repairs. Those repairs got rescheduled, so I got to start from Rock Harbor instead. Despite carrying 6 days of food that enabled me to set a personal IR record for pack weight (a staggering 22 pounds), I didn’t lament this. The only other occasion I’d walked from Rock Harbor to Daisy Farm, the trail had been so buried in deadfall that navigating it commanded most of my attention. This time I could look around, explore the Siskowit mines now that they weren’t obscured by a fallen forest, and generally take a more relaxed attitude toward forward progress.
Entering Daisy Farm, right around shelter 10, the trail disappears abruptly under a pond heroic beavers have created by damning Benson creek. Shelter 10’s friendly denizen (who seemed like they might be the only person in camp) explained that I could either skirt the outage by walking the beach, or follow an official detour through DF’s shelter city. I took the beach, rejoined the real trail briefly, then turned left toward Moskey Basin. The Moskey trail was faint but fun, especially for the first spell, when it climbs through and then follows a ridge across a succession of rocky clearings, before starting a woodsy descent. Near the inflection point, smelled before seen, was a former moose, well on his or her way to being a moose skeleton.
Piles of sawdust and gaps freshly-cut in fallen trees attested that a trail crew had been down the spur to Chippewa Harbor. But any human footprints they left had been overlaid by mooseprints making a trench down the center of the muddy trail---a trench that parted to diverge around boardwalk sections. This got me to wondering whether moose resented the boardwalks: “why has some idiot erected a linear trip hazard along this perfectly serviceable pathway?”
I followed the short portage to the tip of Lake Richie’s southeastern tentacle---a very pretty and peaceful spot. Decidedly less peaceful was the sand hill crane I disturbed shortly thereafter. Reaching Chippewa Harbor around 7, I set myself up in Shelter 1. Shelter 2’s occupants (not backpackers, or so I inferred from the 24 pack of bottled water on the picnic table) were off on a mission; another party had paddled a canoe named “Ramboat” from the Queen and were tenting. I was out before the sun was down—and slept well, despite the best efforts of leadfooted critters scurrying across my shelter roof to rouse me during the night.
Animals:
Loons!
Mergansers!!
Conventional ducks
Frogs, numerous
Snakes, way too numerous
Squirrels
Vole? Or maybe just an extremely ugly squirrel?
Moose, deceased
Very irate sand hill crane
(to be continued)