My Dream Vacation at Isle Royale

Editor’s Note: This summer, Jim DuFresne visited Isle Royale to celebrate the 40th anniversary of his guidebook. He was there only four days, but it was one of his best trips ever. Interested in an autographed copy of Isle Royale National Park: Foot Trails and Water Routes? They are available in our e-shop along with other titles by Jim.

By Jim DuFresne

I arrived at Isle Royale last summer, never having seen a wolf there in a lifetime of exploring this wilderness Island. Lots of moose, lots of wolf tracks, lots of nights when I listen to their howls, but never a single encounter with one in Lake Superior’s wildest corner.

In 2017, when the wolf population declined to a single inbred pair incapable of breeding or killing a moose, I thought I was out of luck.

By then controversy had erupted when researchers, including Rolf Peterson of Michigan Technological University, advocated introducing mainland wolves on the Island, a strategy called genetic rescue. Others argued against meddling with nature in a national park, establishing a line in the sand between direct human intervention and a hands-off approach.

After considering several proposals, including doing nothing at all, the National Park Service announced in 2018 a plan to introduce 20 to 30 wolves on Isle Royale over a three-year period. It was the best effort, they thought, to bolster the nearly extinct population and cull the growing herd of moose.

It was not an easy decision. For the first time in history, the National Park Service pre-empted natural dynamics to reset the ecological equilibrium of a wilderness area. The first wolves arrived that fall.

More followed. When I stepped ashore last August, there were 31 wolves living in four packs, and the intervention was seen by most as hugely successful. But encountering one was the last thing on my mind.

Park officials had extended me an invitation to give my presentation, The End of the Trail, in the place where I kicked off my career. In 1982, I spent the summer on the Island researching the first edition of Isle Royale National Park: Foot Trails & Water Routes, and I couldn’t think of a better way to wrap up my farewell speaking tour than to give my final appearance here.

But I was only on the Island for four days and, for the first time, not backpacking or paddling deep into the backcountry. I arrived with friends and stayed in a housekeeping unit overlooking Tobin Harbor, accommodations featuring a stove, refrigerator, comfortable mattresses and sofa, and, best of all, a hot shower.

During the day, we hiked, but at night, we opened those ice chests we carted over from Copper Harbor and cooked enticing dinners. No Ramen noodles on this trip. The only thing we had to purchase from the Rock Harbor Store was a bag of ice ($8) to keep our beer cold.

I had never experienced Isle Royale like this before. It was wonderful.

My first day was the best and the most sentimental. Crossing Lake Superior on the Isle Royale Queen IV, I had a hunch this might be the last time I’ll visit this special place.  I was touched when I saw other passengers reading a copy of my book, seeing what lied ahead for them on the Greenstone Ridge Trail.

I chatted with the captain in the pilot house, and after we entered Rock Harbor Inlet, he welcomed everybody to Isle Royale National Park and then handed me the microphone.

I told them who I was and then said after 40 years of being the only author of the only guidebook this park has ever had, I was calling it a career. Before I could extend them an invitation to my presentation that night they gave me a loud round of applause.

I was emotionally overwhelmed by the gratitude of people I had never met and most likely would never meet again.

After checking into the lodge, I appointed Jim Walters, one of my hiking partners on the trip, as my “tech guy,” and in the afternoon, we walked over to the Rock Harbor Auditorium. I packed my laptop and a small digital projector I borrowed. The park staff was responsible for finding a screen or, at the very least, a clean bedsheet. You make do with what you have in the wilderness.

When we arrived, the auditorium was open, but nobody was there. Strange, I thought.

We began setting up equipment and chairs when Heather Allor, a young ranger spending her first summer on the Island, popped in and apologized for not being there.  She was outside chasing away a wolf.

“A wolf?” I said. “I’ve never seen one here before.”

Turns out there were a couple of wolves who had become accustomed to visitors, staff, and the easy life around Rock Harbor.  They would wander on the edges of Isle Royale’s main entry point and occasionally into it. Visitors were shocked one morning to see the pair resting at the foot of the flag poles overlooking the harbor.

Park staff would immediately approach them with whistles and other gadgets to chase them back into the wilderness. Eventually, the NPS Regional Headquarters in Minneapolis sent a specialist to the Island to deal with the situation. He arrived with a paint gun.

The immediate plan was to keep them away from busy Rock Harbor until the season ended in October and then hope the harsh winter – and empty buildings – would force them to resume their natural lifestyles.

I couldn’t give the wolf much thought because we had a sudden crisis of our own. Just a couple of hours before the presentation, the three of us couldn’t get this borrowed projector to work. And there wasn’t another one anywhere on this island in the middle of Lake Superior.

For almost an hour, we pushed buttons, restarted my laptop, relaunched the PowerPoint program, but nothing appeared on the screen. I was starting to freak out when Jim – my tech guy because he knows just a little bit more about this stuff than I do – said it maybe it’s just a loose connection. 

When I reconnected the projector’s HDMI plug into the adapter on my laptop, I heard a click, and the program appeared on the screen. The incredible sense of relief was euphoric. A tech guy, ranger, and speaker were all high-fiving each other when suddenly, that wolf reappeared.

We saw it through the windows, walking along a paved path just behind the auditorium. The only wolves I have ever seen were in Alaska and always at a distance. This one was probably only 15 yards away. He looked huge to me. So did the radio collar he was wearing.

He followed that path as if he was on his way to the lodge then suddenly stopped to observe his surroundings. Finally he turned around and went back into the woods.

“Hey! You’re first wolf on Isle Royale,” Allor said to me.

“He comes back during my presentation, he’s going to upstage me,” I said with visions of my entire audience jumping up in the middle of my show and rushing to the windows to see a wolf.

He didn’t. And on my last trip to the Island I gave my best presentation and saw my first wolf.

Four days later, it was hard to board the Isle Royale Queen for the trip home. It always is.