First Time Visit: 8/24/10 - 9/1/10
Posted: Thu Sep 30, 2010 8:57 pm
Greetings:
(I know this is rather lengthy - a CliffsNotes version may become available later.
)
I made my first trip to IR the last week of August ‘10. Went solo. I had planned to go August ‘09 and had been in training for four months. A few weeks before departure I had emergency surgery and was in the ICU for over a week. Oh well. "Maybe next year," I thought (I'm used to it, I'm a Cub's fan). I would not recommend getting a small bowel obstruction, if you can avoid it.
Well, next year arrived quickly. This time I'd been in training since February, alternating bicycling one day (my primary activity, as my moniker will tell) with practicing with a fully loaded pack the alternate day, doing things like making 180 round trips up and down the stairs in my house (I figure it's equivalent to a 1500 ft elevation gain and loss). I know, I know, walking up nice, evenly spaced carpeted stairs is nothing like being on a trail, but what are you gonna do – I live in northern Illinois and there's not much topography around here, at least not within 40 miles.
Tuesday 8/24: Destination - Rock Harbor
Get to the Ranger dock. It’s a gray, moist morning. The weather forecast posted on the Visitor Center predicts 25-30 mph winds out of the west. Not good. I've never been on a boat before, but I've had experience getting a little “iffy” when flying or when someone else is doing the driving. So I wimp out and pop a "less-drowsy" Dramamine I bought at the last minute. After the LNT presentation and getting past the breakwater, I spend much of the time out on deck, watching the whitecaps, feeling OK. After getting a little chilly I went inside and snoozed a bit. I’m jolted awake by the ship’s fog horn – we had entered a fog bank during my snooze. With the boat rockin’ and rollin’, and without being able to focus on the horizon to prevent my brain from getting confused, I start to feel a bit queasy. So I just kept my eyes closed, and after a while we broke out into the day’s first sunshine.
After arrival, took the Tobin Harbor trail to Three Mile campground. Quite a crowd. Had to stay in a group site with about 10 other people. So much for solitude. Oh well. I worry that in the coming week the rest of the campgrounds will be crowded as well.
Wednesday 8/25: Destination - Chippewa Harbor.
Got an early start heading west on the Rock Harbor trail. Shortly after the Mt. Franklin trail junction I heard a rustling just off to my right in the woods. Thought it was another packer, but no – the big, brown rear end could mean only one thing – a moose! She (I assume it was a she due to the lack of antlers) walked a few steps away and laid down in some undergrowth, turning her head to look at me. She couldn’t have been more than 10 yards away. I couldn’t get a great picture due to the density of the brush she was hiding behind. She seemed content just to rest and look at me, so I moved on. As it turned out, that would be my only moose sighting for the whole week. Lunched at Moskey Basin; probably would be a good place to catch a sunrise, but must press on.
The rocky, rooty trail was starting to take a toll on my feet. Had felt hotspots, but by the time I stopped to apply some moleskin it was too late; blisters had already developed. Oh well.
Arriving at Chippewa Harbor, the shelters were all taken, but I had the tent sites all to myself. Met a retired couple who were partway through kayaking the south side of the island – seems like it would be a neat thing to do. Sitting on the dock after dinner, watching some fishermen make their futile efforts, I heard what sounded like a howl coming from well up the harbor. “What was that?” I asked. “A loon,” one replied. Cool. The first time I had heard a loon. I would come to enjoy their haunting calls throughout the rest of my trip.
Thursday 8/26: Destination - Windigo (the easy way).
At the dock, watching the sunlight gradually illuminate the trees and bluffs on the west side of Chippewa Harbor, awaiting the Voyageur II. Bid adieu to the couple as they launched their kayaks, heading to Malone Bay; they said to wave when I passed by on the VII. Had a very pleasant trip to Windigo, (sunny, 70’s) spending the whole time outside on the deck at the stern. After disembarking, I hustled towards the campground, hoping to get a shelter. A couple heading the other direction on the road told me I’d have my choice of a site – they said they were the only ones in the campground the night before. Got a nice shelter on Washington creek, and it was nice to draw water from a tap. I had wanted to do the Huginnin Cove loop as a day hike, but the blisters on my pinky toes wouldn’t let me.
Took in the exhibits at the very nice Visitor Center (puts the one at Rock Harbor to shame). Attended the presentation put on by the Power Point ranger (Lucas) that evening. He played to a grand audience of 5 of us. The topic was Isle Royale shipwrecks. I found it very good and quite enjoyable.
Friday 8/27: Destination - South Lake Desor.
Had a bit of trouble sleeping through the night – I was concerned about the coming day’s 11-plus mile trip, knowing that it was going to be mostly uphill and that my feet had taken a beating on the 14 mile hike on Wednesday. I had the impression that the stretch to Island Mine was going to be steep and rocky. However, I found that the trip wasn’t bad at all; sure, it was uphill, but the grades weren’t too steep, and the trail was mostly dirt through the woods with few rocks and roots. Arrived at South Lake Desor after 5 hours – a better than 2 mph clip – which I felt good about. I was the only one in the campground when I arrived, and I chose site 1. This turned out to be my favorite campsite of the whole trip. It was very peaceful, and I had my own private basking rock down on the lakeshore. A great place to lay out in the dappled sunlight shining through the birch trees and take a snooze.
Then the loons roused me from my nap. One was on the shore to the east, another was on the island to the west. One would call. Then the other. I wonder what they were saying to each other? Haunting.
After a completely clear and breezy day with temps in the 70’s, the wind grew calm. The surface of the lake was almost like a mirror. High cirrus clouds moved in just in time to provide a colorful sunset. And the call of the loons continued. Cool.
Awakened in the middle of the night by a howling wind. Hadn’t staked down the tent, so I got out and placed some branches to hold down the corners. The trees were really whipping in the wind – the just-past full moon lighting up the white bark of the birch trees. Cool. Grew a bit concerned because I had seen so many fallen birch trees during my hikes – thought one might blow down on me – but I survived the night.
Saturday 8/28: Destination - Hatchet Lake. A fairly easy easy 8 miles.
I’m going to say something here that may get me banned from a future trip to the island: I found the hike from Windigo to Hatchet Lake quite disappointing. It was almost entirely a walk through the woods. Now don’t get me wrong, woods are nice, but I can go to a forest preserve near my house and walk through the woods as much as I want. I was hoping to see some vistas on IR, but all I was getting was a walk in the woods. Occasionally I’d come to a crest, or I’d bushwhack a bit to a knob off the trail, and I’d be rewarded with a view of . . . . . . . woods. Maybe that’s the Minong Ridge beyond? Or maybe it’s Canada? Or maybe it’s Lake Superior? I couldn’t tell because any view to the horizon was 95% obscured by trees. Jim DuFresne’s book mentions a couple of “side trails” to scenic overlooks. I didn’t see any markers or obvious footpaths – perhaps I was too focused on watching my footing to see any. Oh well. At least the weather was nice: sunny, breezy, 70's.
After 4 hours on the trail without seeing anyone, I encountered a young couple going the opposite direction. We chatted a bit and I mentioned my disappointment above. They said their itinerary had been Windigo to McCargoe Cove via the Minong Ridge trail, returning via the Greenstone. They said if I want vistas, take the Minong. Maybe I’ll do that next time, (if I’m allowed back on the island).
At the Hatchet Lake Trail junction I met 2 young men, wheezing after their climb up from the campground. They said they were day hiking to Ishpeming Point. I didn’t have the heart to tell them they were in for a letdown, because the tower wasn’t accessible, and even if it was the surrounding trees are taller than the tower. I met them again that evening at the lake as we all filtered our water. I asked if Ishpeming Point was all they hoped it would be. Needless to say . . . . .
Picked out a campsite, but soon became aware that the neighbors – 2 adults and 2 kids – were being a bit too noisy. And I wasn’t pleased to see them hurling rocks at the birds on the lake. Maybe I’m a curmudgeon, but I was annoyed, so I moved to one of the group sites to put some distance between us. After I set up camp another packer walked by, heading to the individual sites. After a while I saw him walking back, leaving the campground. I guess I wasn’t the only one annoyed.
Sunday 8/29: Destination - Chickenbone West. Another not-too-difficult 8 miles.
Finally some views! At about the half-way point there appeared to be the beginnings of a footpath to the north. After a few yards on this path a knob came into view. There was a sizeable pile of rocks on top – bigger than a cairn, and definitely not a natural occurrence. I went to the top, thinking I had conquered Mt. Siskiwit. I marked a waypoint on my GPS (368584E 5322855N), but when I consulted my topo map that evening it became apparent that I had unknowingly walked past Mt. Siskiwit about a half mile earlier. Oh well. Shortly after departing that unnamed summit came the great viewpoint where so many of the lakes from north to east to south were visible – definitely the high point of the day (even if not elevation-wise).
Arriving at the Indian Portage Trail junction, there was a notice attached to the post warning of toxic algae blooms in Chickenbone Lake. Gee, thanks for letting me know. We were warned about Lake Ritchie when we arrived on Tuesday, but this was news to me. So after setting up camp I had to go up and over the Greenstone twice to get water from Lake Livermore. Oh well. After resting at the campsite for most of the afternoon I started a dayhike to McCargoe Cove. I got about half-way when I realized that it would probably be getting a bit too dark by the time I returned if I went all the way, so I turned around. I should have left earlier. Oh well. Had the campground all to myself that night.
Monday 8/30: Destination - Three Mile.
Awoke to thunder and lightening. What to do? Today’s scheduled to be a 12.5 mile day. Haven’t seen a weather forecast in four days, so don’t know how much it might rain. The storm sounds like it’s well to the north, so I pack up and go. Good move – the rain stays away and the day turns out to be sunny, breezy, 70’s (sound familiar?), albeit it a tad humid. A pleasant enough hike, and after a few hours a post cleverly labeled “Viewpoint” leads to great views at the edge of a bluff – it was a good place to break for a granola bar and Gatorade, and to let the breeze dry out my shirt. I press on, take a pass on climbing the Mt. Ojibway tower (too many people), and arrive at Mt. Franklin with its awesome views to the north. Descending the Mt. Franklin Trail I tell myself that I wouldn’t want to be going the opposite direction. Arriving at Three Mile I get a great site (number 9) right on the rocky shore. Take a dip (brrrr!) to rinse out my clothes. Later, a group of mergansers passes by. For some reason they get startled and take off, apparently running on the water. Never seen that before.
Can’t see the sun set because it’s behind the ridge, and there’re no clouds to provide any color, but I laid out on the rock slab, watching the stars take over, to the point that the Milky Way becomes discernable, something I can’t see at home. Cool. Not only that, but Jupiter, being close to opposition to the sun, rises big and bright enough to reflect off the water. Cool.
Tuesday 8/31: Destination - Rock Harbor.
The day starts out cloudy, so not much of a sunrise. It’s an easy trip despite the rocks and roots, and it’s made easier because the food is nearly gone and there’s no need to carry more than one bottle of water. Wimp out and grab a shelter. As I make a day hike to Scoville Point the sky clears. Sunny, breezy, 70’s. Get to the very end of the point and watch the waves crashing on the rocks, unimpeded by any barrier islands. Powerful. Cool. This is what I came to see! Could have stayed for hours watching and listening, but unfortunately didn’t bring sunscreen (still got a burn). Returning, I buy a bag of Doritos, sit on a rock ledge below the shelter overlooking the harbor and watch the Queen depart. Took a while to fall asleep that night because the neighbors in the adjoining shelter were up late and apparently couldn’t grasp the concept of not letting the shelter door slam shut every time they used it.
Wednesday 9/1: Destination - Shower house!
Need I say more? Followed by a calm return trip on the Ranger, spending the whole trip out on deck. And yes, it was sunny, and in the 70’s.
Epilogue:
I must say my visit was pretty cool. I had never been backpacking before, even though it’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long, long time; like, for a quarter century (I’m 53). I don’t know anybody who backpacks, and when I was doing my planning (and spending loads of money at REI), I was wondering if I was being foolish. After all, backpacking is something only boy scouts and college kids do, right? My mother couldn’t understand (“Why would you want to do something like that at your age?!”) I must say I am pleased that over half the people I encountered in the backcountry were older than me: Retired folks; wrinkles; heads of silver hair! So maybe I wasn’t so foolish.
I believe my six months of training served me well – I didn’t have any trouble endurance-wise with the hikes, even starting out with a 54 lb pack (I'll need to figure a way to reduce that weight next time). What caused me trouble was my feet. I thought my boots were broken in well, but even with silk sock liners I still got blisters on both soles the first full day, and my pinkie toes had owies most of the time. It’s possible that the first full day I wasn’t hiking too smart. Hurrying down the Rock Harbor Trail I kept stepping on all the rocks and roots with the balls of my feet, instead of making nice, flat foot steps. I also think next time I’ll be proactive and wrap the pinkies with moleskin before I take the first step. (As noted above, I am a rookie at this backpacking thing).
Another thing I’ll have to remember, if there is a next time, is to not be in such a hurry to get to the next campground. It turns out that my anxiety about getting a campsite was unwarranted; maybe it was because of the time of year that I visited. Maybe if I take my time I won’t miss the viewpoints and overlooks I may have walked right by.
I also think I may have been spoiled on this trip. For nine days there were sunny skies, pleasant temperatures, there was no rain, and there were NO bugs! What are the odds of that happening again? (Actually, I did get one mosquito bite).
Until next time . . . . .
(I know this is rather lengthy - a CliffsNotes version may become available later.
)I made my first trip to IR the last week of August ‘10. Went solo. I had planned to go August ‘09 and had been in training for four months. A few weeks before departure I had emergency surgery and was in the ICU for over a week. Oh well. "Maybe next year," I thought (I'm used to it, I'm a Cub's fan). I would not recommend getting a small bowel obstruction, if you can avoid it.
Well, next year arrived quickly. This time I'd been in training since February, alternating bicycling one day (my primary activity, as my moniker will tell) with practicing with a fully loaded pack the alternate day, doing things like making 180 round trips up and down the stairs in my house (I figure it's equivalent to a 1500 ft elevation gain and loss). I know, I know, walking up nice, evenly spaced carpeted stairs is nothing like being on a trail, but what are you gonna do – I live in northern Illinois and there's not much topography around here, at least not within 40 miles.
Tuesday 8/24: Destination - Rock Harbor
Get to the Ranger dock. It’s a gray, moist morning. The weather forecast posted on the Visitor Center predicts 25-30 mph winds out of the west. Not good. I've never been on a boat before, but I've had experience getting a little “iffy” when flying or when someone else is doing the driving. So I wimp out and pop a "less-drowsy" Dramamine I bought at the last minute. After the LNT presentation and getting past the breakwater, I spend much of the time out on deck, watching the whitecaps, feeling OK. After getting a little chilly I went inside and snoozed a bit. I’m jolted awake by the ship’s fog horn – we had entered a fog bank during my snooze. With the boat rockin’ and rollin’, and without being able to focus on the horizon to prevent my brain from getting confused, I start to feel a bit queasy. So I just kept my eyes closed, and after a while we broke out into the day’s first sunshine.
After arrival, took the Tobin Harbor trail to Three Mile campground. Quite a crowd. Had to stay in a group site with about 10 other people. So much for solitude. Oh well. I worry that in the coming week the rest of the campgrounds will be crowded as well.
Wednesday 8/25: Destination - Chippewa Harbor.
Got an early start heading west on the Rock Harbor trail. Shortly after the Mt. Franklin trail junction I heard a rustling just off to my right in the woods. Thought it was another packer, but no – the big, brown rear end could mean only one thing – a moose! She (I assume it was a she due to the lack of antlers) walked a few steps away and laid down in some undergrowth, turning her head to look at me. She couldn’t have been more than 10 yards away. I couldn’t get a great picture due to the density of the brush she was hiding behind. She seemed content just to rest and look at me, so I moved on. As it turned out, that would be my only moose sighting for the whole week. Lunched at Moskey Basin; probably would be a good place to catch a sunrise, but must press on.
The rocky, rooty trail was starting to take a toll on my feet. Had felt hotspots, but by the time I stopped to apply some moleskin it was too late; blisters had already developed. Oh well.
Arriving at Chippewa Harbor, the shelters were all taken, but I had the tent sites all to myself. Met a retired couple who were partway through kayaking the south side of the island – seems like it would be a neat thing to do. Sitting on the dock after dinner, watching some fishermen make their futile efforts, I heard what sounded like a howl coming from well up the harbor. “What was that?” I asked. “A loon,” one replied. Cool. The first time I had heard a loon. I would come to enjoy their haunting calls throughout the rest of my trip.
Thursday 8/26: Destination - Windigo (the easy way).
At the dock, watching the sunlight gradually illuminate the trees and bluffs on the west side of Chippewa Harbor, awaiting the Voyageur II. Bid adieu to the couple as they launched their kayaks, heading to Malone Bay; they said to wave when I passed by on the VII. Had a very pleasant trip to Windigo, (sunny, 70’s) spending the whole time outside on the deck at the stern. After disembarking, I hustled towards the campground, hoping to get a shelter. A couple heading the other direction on the road told me I’d have my choice of a site – they said they were the only ones in the campground the night before. Got a nice shelter on Washington creek, and it was nice to draw water from a tap. I had wanted to do the Huginnin Cove loop as a day hike, but the blisters on my pinky toes wouldn’t let me.
Took in the exhibits at the very nice Visitor Center (puts the one at Rock Harbor to shame). Attended the presentation put on by the Power Point ranger (Lucas) that evening. He played to a grand audience of 5 of us. The topic was Isle Royale shipwrecks. I found it very good and quite enjoyable.
Friday 8/27: Destination - South Lake Desor.
Had a bit of trouble sleeping through the night – I was concerned about the coming day’s 11-plus mile trip, knowing that it was going to be mostly uphill and that my feet had taken a beating on the 14 mile hike on Wednesday. I had the impression that the stretch to Island Mine was going to be steep and rocky. However, I found that the trip wasn’t bad at all; sure, it was uphill, but the grades weren’t too steep, and the trail was mostly dirt through the woods with few rocks and roots. Arrived at South Lake Desor after 5 hours – a better than 2 mph clip – which I felt good about. I was the only one in the campground when I arrived, and I chose site 1. This turned out to be my favorite campsite of the whole trip. It was very peaceful, and I had my own private basking rock down on the lakeshore. A great place to lay out in the dappled sunlight shining through the birch trees and take a snooze.
Then the loons roused me from my nap. One was on the shore to the east, another was on the island to the west. One would call. Then the other. I wonder what they were saying to each other? Haunting.
After a completely clear and breezy day with temps in the 70’s, the wind grew calm. The surface of the lake was almost like a mirror. High cirrus clouds moved in just in time to provide a colorful sunset. And the call of the loons continued. Cool.
Awakened in the middle of the night by a howling wind. Hadn’t staked down the tent, so I got out and placed some branches to hold down the corners. The trees were really whipping in the wind – the just-past full moon lighting up the white bark of the birch trees. Cool. Grew a bit concerned because I had seen so many fallen birch trees during my hikes – thought one might blow down on me – but I survived the night.
Saturday 8/28: Destination - Hatchet Lake. A fairly easy easy 8 miles.
I’m going to say something here that may get me banned from a future trip to the island: I found the hike from Windigo to Hatchet Lake quite disappointing. It was almost entirely a walk through the woods. Now don’t get me wrong, woods are nice, but I can go to a forest preserve near my house and walk through the woods as much as I want. I was hoping to see some vistas on IR, but all I was getting was a walk in the woods. Occasionally I’d come to a crest, or I’d bushwhack a bit to a knob off the trail, and I’d be rewarded with a view of . . . . . . . woods. Maybe that’s the Minong Ridge beyond? Or maybe it’s Canada? Or maybe it’s Lake Superior? I couldn’t tell because any view to the horizon was 95% obscured by trees. Jim DuFresne’s book mentions a couple of “side trails” to scenic overlooks. I didn’t see any markers or obvious footpaths – perhaps I was too focused on watching my footing to see any. Oh well. At least the weather was nice: sunny, breezy, 70's.
After 4 hours on the trail without seeing anyone, I encountered a young couple going the opposite direction. We chatted a bit and I mentioned my disappointment above. They said their itinerary had been Windigo to McCargoe Cove via the Minong Ridge trail, returning via the Greenstone. They said if I want vistas, take the Minong. Maybe I’ll do that next time, (if I’m allowed back on the island).
At the Hatchet Lake Trail junction I met 2 young men, wheezing after their climb up from the campground. They said they were day hiking to Ishpeming Point. I didn’t have the heart to tell them they were in for a letdown, because the tower wasn’t accessible, and even if it was the surrounding trees are taller than the tower. I met them again that evening at the lake as we all filtered our water. I asked if Ishpeming Point was all they hoped it would be. Needless to say . . . . .
Picked out a campsite, but soon became aware that the neighbors – 2 adults and 2 kids – were being a bit too noisy. And I wasn’t pleased to see them hurling rocks at the birds on the lake. Maybe I’m a curmudgeon, but I was annoyed, so I moved to one of the group sites to put some distance between us. After I set up camp another packer walked by, heading to the individual sites. After a while I saw him walking back, leaving the campground. I guess I wasn’t the only one annoyed.
Sunday 8/29: Destination - Chickenbone West. Another not-too-difficult 8 miles.
Finally some views! At about the half-way point there appeared to be the beginnings of a footpath to the north. After a few yards on this path a knob came into view. There was a sizeable pile of rocks on top – bigger than a cairn, and definitely not a natural occurrence. I went to the top, thinking I had conquered Mt. Siskiwit. I marked a waypoint on my GPS (368584E 5322855N), but when I consulted my topo map that evening it became apparent that I had unknowingly walked past Mt. Siskiwit about a half mile earlier. Oh well. Shortly after departing that unnamed summit came the great viewpoint where so many of the lakes from north to east to south were visible – definitely the high point of the day (even if not elevation-wise).
Arriving at the Indian Portage Trail junction, there was a notice attached to the post warning of toxic algae blooms in Chickenbone Lake. Gee, thanks for letting me know. We were warned about Lake Ritchie when we arrived on Tuesday, but this was news to me. So after setting up camp I had to go up and over the Greenstone twice to get water from Lake Livermore. Oh well. After resting at the campsite for most of the afternoon I started a dayhike to McCargoe Cove. I got about half-way when I realized that it would probably be getting a bit too dark by the time I returned if I went all the way, so I turned around. I should have left earlier. Oh well. Had the campground all to myself that night.
Monday 8/30: Destination - Three Mile.
Awoke to thunder and lightening. What to do? Today’s scheduled to be a 12.5 mile day. Haven’t seen a weather forecast in four days, so don’t know how much it might rain. The storm sounds like it’s well to the north, so I pack up and go. Good move – the rain stays away and the day turns out to be sunny, breezy, 70’s (sound familiar?), albeit it a tad humid. A pleasant enough hike, and after a few hours a post cleverly labeled “Viewpoint” leads to great views at the edge of a bluff – it was a good place to break for a granola bar and Gatorade, and to let the breeze dry out my shirt. I press on, take a pass on climbing the Mt. Ojibway tower (too many people), and arrive at Mt. Franklin with its awesome views to the north. Descending the Mt. Franklin Trail I tell myself that I wouldn’t want to be going the opposite direction. Arriving at Three Mile I get a great site (number 9) right on the rocky shore. Take a dip (brrrr!) to rinse out my clothes. Later, a group of mergansers passes by. For some reason they get startled and take off, apparently running on the water. Never seen that before.
Can’t see the sun set because it’s behind the ridge, and there’re no clouds to provide any color, but I laid out on the rock slab, watching the stars take over, to the point that the Milky Way becomes discernable, something I can’t see at home. Cool. Not only that, but Jupiter, being close to opposition to the sun, rises big and bright enough to reflect off the water. Cool.
Tuesday 8/31: Destination - Rock Harbor.
The day starts out cloudy, so not much of a sunrise. It’s an easy trip despite the rocks and roots, and it’s made easier because the food is nearly gone and there’s no need to carry more than one bottle of water. Wimp out and grab a shelter. As I make a day hike to Scoville Point the sky clears. Sunny, breezy, 70’s. Get to the very end of the point and watch the waves crashing on the rocks, unimpeded by any barrier islands. Powerful. Cool. This is what I came to see! Could have stayed for hours watching and listening, but unfortunately didn’t bring sunscreen (still got a burn). Returning, I buy a bag of Doritos, sit on a rock ledge below the shelter overlooking the harbor and watch the Queen depart. Took a while to fall asleep that night because the neighbors in the adjoining shelter were up late and apparently couldn’t grasp the concept of not letting the shelter door slam shut every time they used it.
Wednesday 9/1: Destination - Shower house!
Need I say more? Followed by a calm return trip on the Ranger, spending the whole trip out on deck. And yes, it was sunny, and in the 70’s.
Epilogue:
I must say my visit was pretty cool. I had never been backpacking before, even though it’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long, long time; like, for a quarter century (I’m 53). I don’t know anybody who backpacks, and when I was doing my planning (and spending loads of money at REI), I was wondering if I was being foolish. After all, backpacking is something only boy scouts and college kids do, right? My mother couldn’t understand (“Why would you want to do something like that at your age?!”) I must say I am pleased that over half the people I encountered in the backcountry were older than me: Retired folks; wrinkles; heads of silver hair! So maybe I wasn’t so foolish.
I believe my six months of training served me well – I didn’t have any trouble endurance-wise with the hikes, even starting out with a 54 lb pack (I'll need to figure a way to reduce that weight next time). What caused me trouble was my feet. I thought my boots were broken in well, but even with silk sock liners I still got blisters on both soles the first full day, and my pinkie toes had owies most of the time. It’s possible that the first full day I wasn’t hiking too smart. Hurrying down the Rock Harbor Trail I kept stepping on all the rocks and roots with the balls of my feet, instead of making nice, flat foot steps. I also think next time I’ll be proactive and wrap the pinkies with moleskin before I take the first step. (As noted above, I am a rookie at this backpacking thing).
Another thing I’ll have to remember, if there is a next time, is to not be in such a hurry to get to the next campground. It turns out that my anxiety about getting a campsite was unwarranted; maybe it was because of the time of year that I visited. Maybe if I take my time I won’t miss the viewpoints and overlooks I may have walked right by.
I also think I may have been spoiled on this trip. For nine days there were sunny skies, pleasant temperatures, there was no rain, and there were NO bugs! What are the odds of that happening again? (Actually, I did get one mosquito bite).
Until next time . . . . .
