Rain and Fog, Isle Royale NP

Isle Royale continued:

After our day off and my very enjoyable hike to Rock Harbor with my new BFF Mary, I slept like a baby. John had caught wind of my chilly nights and gave me a wool blanket--what a difference! I woke at 6 am, and lay in my bag for a while enjoying being warm. I waited too long, though, and it started to rain. Not hard, but in a tent any rain sounds like a downpour. I crawled out of my bag, got dressed and donned my rain gear, and headed to the cabin for breakfast.

The rain never amounted to much, so I spent Saturday working with Mike, Jim and Bob at the Kemmer cottage, painting the boat house.

Mike behind the Kemmer cottage. Mrs. Kemmer, who wintered in Hawaii, kept gardens at her cottage, which are now overgrown.

Jim paints the boat house. 

We got a full day of work in, although by the end of the day a light rain was falling along with the temperature, and I could see my breath. After dinner we had a brief, heavy rain, and we started a fire in the fireplace to knock the chill back. Out of nowhere the wind started to howl. The sun had come out and we were taken aback by the sudden gusts. I grabbed my camera and ran outside. The wind was blowing up Tobin Harbor from the southwest, and menacing clouds plowed across the sky to the north and east.

Storm clouds pass to our north.

It was still clear to our west, so the sun lit the small islands, producing a beautiful juxtaposition with the grey sky and steely water.

As quickly as it had come up, the wind died back down. I sat and watched the weather for some time before fog started to roll in from the west, dimming the sun. Big swells were pushing in from the northeast, indicating weather and wind far out over Superior. It was eerie, since the surface of the water had calmed, but the swells were crashing against the rocks below me.

Fog and low clouds obscure the sun.

Just like that, visibility dropped to less than a half mile. I was struck by how quickly the weather changed, so dynamic near such a large body of cold water.

Scoville Point across the cove from Dassler cabin in the thickening fog.

Fog descends on the Stack cottage on Minong Island.

The bench overlooking Tobin Harbor, the Dassler cabin in the background.

Finally, around 4:30 Sunday morning, the storms caught us. Lightening flashed and thunder boomed, and I lay there trying to remember if there were any trees nearby large enough to reach my tent. By the time I got up at 6:30 the storms had passed and the sky was clearing.

Dawn from my tent.

We headed back to the Kemmer cottage Sunday morning. John was talking about sending us newbies over to visit with Rolf and Candy Peterson, who have been studying the wolves and moose on the island for nearly 50 years, after lunch. But I didn't have a warm and fuzzy feeling about the weather--it felt unsettled to me--and the morning forecast confirmed a chance of thunderstorms in the afternoon. I told John to count me out.

We worked on the boat house until lunch, then returned to Dassler. The sky began to darken, clouds chasing us across the harbor, and it started raining around 1:30 pm. It didn't let up until nearly 4:30, so no more work got done that day, and no one went to see the Petersons. We decided we would try for Monday afternoon.

Storms loom over Tobin Harbor, with the old pilings for the Dassler dock in the foreground. Due to the location of this dock, it was constantly getting ripped apart by ice and waves, and so has not been replaced.

After the rain passed I went down to the cove to fetch water to filter. A pair of Spotted sandpipers were making their way around the steaming rocks, which were now warming in the sun.

Scoville Point after the rain.

Spotted sandpiper looking for goodies.

Trees near Dassler cabin.

It was not long, though, before the fog pushed in again, thicker than the day before. I stayed in the cabin for a while, writing in my journal and sketching the layout of the cabin as well as a map showing the immediate area with the names of the small islands. (My plan, though I may not get to it, is to set up a page with my journal entries and I'll include those sketches there.)

Fog around Scoville Point

Next: Finishing the Kemmer boat house, and a trip to visit the Peterson's

Near Disaster

What the heck is this, you ask? Well, this is what happens when you set your camera and tripod down, don't pull one of the legs out all the way, and it tips over when your back is turned, smashing onto a tile floor.

We had just returned from the Kirtland's Warbler bus tour, and the rain that had dogged us all morning had finally come and it was pouring. I needed to get to my van so I could go get ice for my cooler and make lunch before the seminars began. I stopped in the hotel lobby to ask the T-shirt vendor if they had a bag I could put over my camera--I'd left all that stuff in the van. I had set the tripod down and turned to reach for the bag when the fellow said "Watch out!" and I turned in time to see it hit the floor. It made a tremendous crash, the lens cap went shooting across the room, and there was a sudden silence as everyone turned to look. I said something silly like, "That was unfortunate", picked the thing up, thanked the women who had retrieved my lens cap, and slunk out of the hotel.

So in the van I started looking over my gear. The camera seemed fine. My 300mm lens, however, was not happy, and that was one of the first pictures I took with it. I tried all sorts of different combinations, took the 1.4x converter off, tried both camera bodies, all with the same effect. I was mad. Never in 30 years have I dropped a camera. I also rarely use a strap or a tripod. Only now, when I took my hand off of it for a second, did I have an accident.

I cussed and swore and cried a little. I considered going home. I put all the gear away and sulked. But after a few minutes I got the lens out again and looked it over. I noticed something seemed loose inside. I gave it a good shake--what was there to lose? I hooked it back up to a camera and fiddled with it, and realized that the problem had something to do with the image stabilizer in the lens. After messing around with it, I got it to start working again. Whew! So I made myself a sandwich, ate a quick lunch, and went back in to listen to the welcome speech. I decided though to skip the first seminar, go get gas and ice, and then test the lens.

The hotel is right on the beach, so I took the camera down to the shore to see what was hanging around. First I saw this Spotted Sandpiper working its way towards the pier. I can see, looking at this bird, how woodcocks and snipes are in the shorebird family. The have very similar facial features.



As I moved closer to the water I saw a Kildeer, who spotted me as well.


It made a half-hearted attempt at the broken wing display then flew off. I looked for a nest or young birds but didn't see either.



I then turned my attention to the water where I saw a group of Common Mergansers. I had never seen the male before--my experience with them was always mom with chicks, at which point dad is long gone.


Satisfied that my camera was going to be able to limp along for the rest of the weekend, I went back into the hotel to catch the next talk, one on warbler ID. I was surprised to learn that there are 37 species of warbler in Michigan, and I ticked off in my head the ones I had seen. But there were many I had not, and one that struck me as particularly handsome was the Chestnut-sided. Ooo! I thought, I want to see that bird!

After the warbler talk I decided to skip the last seminar and head back to the campground. The big dinner with Don and Lillian Stokes of Stokes Nature Guides fame was that evening. I needed to get changed and regroup. I ended up taking a nap, but had about 10 minutes before I needed to leave. I grabbed my camera sans tripod and made the short walk into the woods. There, tumbling and spinning through the trees, was a female Black and White Warbler. I love the pattern on her tail coverts, it reminds me of the Empire State Building.


I also saw a Magnolia and Yellow-rumped Warbler, then spotted this young fellow in the tree directly before and above me.



A Chestnut-sided Warbler! I'm telling you, I need to wish for a million dollars, because here was the bird just a few hours before I was hoping I would get to see. And thanks to Roger Erikkson, who had give the warbler presentation, I knew this was a first year male--his chestnut stripe was broken in the middle.

And then, as if on cue, a breeding male showed up, his solid chestnut stripe and bolder markings showing the difference very clearly.


Dinner that night was fabulous, Don and Lillian hawked their new book, and I returned to the campground late and crashed. Rain moved in with some thunder, making for a restless night. I had signed up to take a car pool trip to look for grassland birds in the morning, and I wondered if I had enough rain gear with me!