9/18-25/2010: 1st trip to Isle Royale, surely not the last!

[upnorthjeeper]

After my English instructor had a chance to go over my paper she found numerous issues such as flopping verb tense. I made some corrections and want to share the final copy with you. I still have not done an actual TR for the time on the Isle and I am sorry to say that it probably won't happen. I am more of a photographer, not a writer. If you feel detached from Isle Royale don't forget that you can always browse through the hundreds of photos I posted here. http://picasaweb.google.com/upnorthjeep ... directlink They are also on my facebook page, my name is Jeremiah Harrington and I am part of the N. Michigan network.
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Royale Magnetism

The warmth of the rising sun never felt so good. The air felt so pure and crisp as the breeze blew across my freshly buzzed head. My stomach turned awry, and I rushed to the back of the boat. I was taking a ride on the notoriously nauseating Queen IV to Isle Royale National Park. During my countless hours researching the trails, mountain tops, inner lakes and more, I had completely fallen in love with this ancient archipelago. I felt that powerful forces of fate were drawing me to this place. I would get chills every time I looked at other’s photos or studied the maps. I saw this trip as beginning of a new chapter in my life.

I got to the dock just as everyone was boarding the Queen, nearly missing out on a trip that I’d been planning for well over 6 months. I basically drove my car right onto the ramp of the boat to make my presence known, and then rushed into the ticket office. I hastily threw over a hundred dollars onto the desk and asked the attendant “Room for one more?” in a slightly sarcastic tone reminiscent of a Twilight Zone episode I saw before. I think the clerk caught my pun, as he smiled back. He then told me in a military style command to get my car off the loading dock and into the back lot because they were about to launch in minutes. I quickly re-parked my car and ran back to the boat.

Just as we departed the sun began to rise by means of a golden-red tone over some low wispy clouds off in the horizon. The captain warned us of four to six foot swells, but they didn’t come until about twenty minutes into our three hour tour. I recall, with great detail, looking back at the tip of the Keweenaw Peninsula, watching it get smaller and smaller as we began our trek out into the mighty and majestic Lake Superior. I no longer smelled the hints of the fall season. The air morphed into algae and bird droppings.

The last time I was in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula was nearly ten years ago. That was when I had attended two semesters of college at Northern Michigan University, and this seemed like quite the fitting reunion for me and the great north. As we drifted further out into the lake, all sorts of questions dashed through my mind. Did I bring enough food? Did I bring enough batteries and memory cards? Would a rutting bull moose really run a backpacker up a tree? With my extensive research I knew that the answer to all of these questions was yes. Still, I was extremely anxious despite my thorough studies and meticulous planning.

Back home, just a couple of weeks prior I was promoted to a Team Leader position at the main Onstar Call Center. This was going to be a great break from all the new stresses I was experiencing. I meant to leave them at home, and little did I know at that time my backpack was weighted with all those tensions and worries anyway.

As I looked around I noticed that one of the other travelers wearing the same boots as I. His were so well broken in that they made mine look brand new and out of the box, despite the fact that I had put over fifteen miles on them in practice. Still, this worried me, but just like all the other concerns there was no turning back now. I had to go with what I brought. Thankfully, I found in the end that they were broken in enough for me to have avoided getting even a single inkling of a blister over the entire week of backpacking. Once we were far enough out to no longer see any land, the waves came. It was a very chilly and windy ride once we were out in the open water. I felt the ferociousness of the gusts blaring within my ear drums. The wind sounded just like a fighter jet doing test runs over my father’s place down state.

At that point I decided to go back into the cabin of boat and try to relax my mind. The waves grew bigger and bigger until the point that when I’d look out the window all I’d see was sky, then all water. If I didn’t have so much faith in the captain I would have swore that the boat itself was about to capsize. This cycle was very frequent, to the point that I saw a few very healthy looking young people turn a whitish purplish green, as they rushed to the back of the boat. Only minutes later I followed suit. Purging myself felt like a rebirth, I thought the madness was over, that I would be able to enjoy the next couple hours. Was I ever wrong! I spent the next two hours going back and forth from my seat on the boat, with my head lying down, to rushing to the back deck.

This was my first time experiencing seasickness, it was an extremely gut wrenching experience to say the least. I can only compare it to having an extreme but short-lived case of food poisoning. One of the most vivid memories was hanging over the back of the boat, watching my vomit flail in the wind and melt into the rushing waves. At one point the product of my upheavals stuck to my chin, and then flew onto the guy standing next to me. He didn’t appear even the least bit disgusted, he just patted my back and said “Don’t worry buddy, we’re almost there”. It was as if he accepted my apology before I could even attempt to mutter it out between my labored breathes. I could tell this wasn’t his first time going out to Isle Royale. The worst part was the fact that the waves were so rough that I could hardly stand, let alone try to walk to the deck and back a dozen times. I was warned of the potential for seasickness during my research, but no amount of reading could help prepare me for the reality of being on a boat in the middle of Lake Superior in late September.

During the final hour I was a little better and tried to make idle chat with the man sitting next to me. Still, our conversation was interrupted by my less frequent trips back and forth to the stern of the boat. He told me that he was going to the island to as part of a wedding party. His son got married on Isle Royale that weekend. This was one of the last trips to the island for the year, and I recalled reading that the Queen was generally close to empty after Labor Day. Not many people choose to visit so late in the season, because as fall comes it tends to be pretty cold that far north. The waves on Lake Superior are also much bigger then, sometimes making travel impossible. The wedding fully explained why the boat was nearly packed, and with people who had dreamy eyes of love, not the awe of a forthcoming week long adventure. The wedding party was going to stay in the lodge by the visitor’s center, but the bride and groom were going backpacking. They would pitch tents or stay in the three walled shelters, just as I would.

Once the island was within sight and the waves calmed I instantly felt better. This time I grabed my camera before heading off to the deck. I started happily snapping away at the growing rocky and forested land mass that we were approaching. My mind was full of wonder and excitement as we pulled up to the dock. All my worries ceased. I also had an overwhelming feeling of déjà-vu. The island looked everything, and nothing, like I had imagined. Right then and there I finally knew it to be true. A new chapter of my life was about to begin.