I decided to split my full day on the island into two hikes: a loop up to the Greenstone Ridge, over to the former fire watching tower, then back down a different trail (5 miles); then I’d pack up and hike to Lane Cove, a small site on the north side of the island (over the ridge, 7.5 miles).
On the hike up to the ridge, I saw a wolf print it the mud, which is as close as most people ever get to seeing a wolf. (Note: I am not most people; I saw a glimpse of one 8 years ago. 🙂 ) I also saw moose tracks, but I was sure I wouldn’t see one: because ahead of me on the trail was a loud party of six. One member in particular was the kind who didn’t know how to speak in a low voice, or how to shut up for very long. Whenever he spoke it had to be loud enough for all six people in his party to hear clearly. And yes: I mean all six, because it was clearly important that he hear his own voice.
I tried to hold back and let them get out of earshot, but they weren’t fast enough. At one point they stopped and I was getting close to passing them, considering what I could say to the loudmouth. That was a mistake. Because I wasn’t paying attention to where I was stepping. Which is especially bad when you’re crossing a bog on a boardwalk.
I fell. I didn’t go in all the way, just both legs and one arm. My camera bag got splashed. Not wrecked, but apparently it shorted out the batteries. (I was already on my spare batteries, by the way.) So my good camera was out of commission. And my “spare” camera was my iPhone, which I had to keep powered down when I wasn’t using it. This put a serious cramp in my photography.
That was less of a problem than being soaking wet over a mile from camp. But there was nothing to do for it but turn around and walk.
When I got back to Daisy Farm I changed into dry clothes and put the wet items in the dock to dry in the sun. There is no better way to dry clothing in the wild, and fortunately it was sunny. The t-shirt dried quickly; the boots slowly; everything else in between. I considered just staying at Daisy Farm, but when the boots were mostly-dry, I decided to go through with the rest of my plans.
With everything packed, I headed up to the ridge. The trail reached the top near the Ojibway Mountain observation tower. This is a popular rest stop, and it’s possible to climb partway up for a spectacular view (which is already pretty good from the ground). Fighting my acrophobia, I climbed high enough to snap a few photos. There were a couple NPS employees there, replacing some of the equipment in the tower for monitoring air quality and atmospheric conditions; a lighting strike has damaged it. One of them was there for his fourth dime that day, carrying gear in for the Daisy Farm dock. Yes, he had impressive legs.
It was warm on the ridge, so I was sweating as I hiked, but 70F was better than the hotter temps before the “something” came through. My sunscreen came through, allowing me to hike without my hat much of the time. Hiking on the ridge was easier than hiking onto it, but still hard work. I decided not to turn north and hike to Lane Cove when I reached that trail, but to turn south and camp at Three Mile instead. I didn’t want a seven-mile hike over the ridge the next morning.
Blueberries grow wild on the ridge, and hikers are free to pick them. I didn’t hunt extensively (e.g. going off the trail) and most of what I saw were dried up. All I found was a few itty bitty plants – must have been new this year – at the edge of the trail, with itty bitty berries. They were tasty though. The other popular IR berry, the ubiquitous thimbleberry, is not in season yet; those are either still white flowers or just beginning to develop into fruit.
My next landmark was Mount Franklin, a peak with a great overlook of the northeast of the island. When I got there, however, the spot was occupied by a couple of big ravens. I waited for them to move, doing my best to snap some pictures with the iPhone.
I wasn’t able to get a shelter at Three Mile, and took the last yet site, on the water’s edge. I’d previously camped at the site next to it, which actually has access to the lake (rather than a tangle if trees and undergrowth). To my west was a group of teenage boys who probably should’ve been at one of the group sites (located away from the main camp area to minimize noise). Further east were middle-ages couples who didn’t understand how dad their voices carry. At times it sounded like being at a state park. :sigh:
