Wednesday August 18 1999
Left Hatchet lake about 8:15am. With a steep climb up to the Greenstone ridge. The first mile or 2 looked like the wooded kettle moraine area. Then back to the lichen and moss covered rock ridge of the Greenstone. We found more blueberries. But no one was interested, we ate the whole gallon Lalasa saved from yesterday with our oatmeal. Sure was good. We had almost 8 miles on the Greenstone ridge about 1/2 way we were high enough again to see Canada to the north and more of Isle Royale on the south. It was too hazy to see the U.P. Again perfect weather for hiking, overcast and a slight breeze. The sun didn't came out till about noon. Again today we saw fresh moose and wolf tracks and scats. We met a lone hiker coming from where we are going today who saw a moose about 1 hour earlier. We're still hoping. Jeremy Ryan and Arius led the way again. With a long rest stop at the train junction waiting for us to have lunch together. Then we descended down for 31/2 miles through marshes and bogs past lakes till we reached Lake Richie. What a beautiful lake! Just like the gorgeous lakes in the boundary waters: loons , lots of woods, easy access along the shore, islands and nice for swimming. The group campsite is again under tall trees with lots of tent pads space and well away from the sites. Ben has become our resident past chef, Keith and Ben seem to always volunteer to get water. Maybe the y want to get away from Jeremy's constant chatter. Even the red squirrels chatter at him to stop. Lalasa just goes into her cute little tent, Arius is always busy, and even Ryan took a nap. This trip would have been pretty dull without Jeremy. I heard some twigs breaking in the woods as I crossed one of the many boardwalks over a wet and boggy area. The brush was so thick I couldn't see more than 25 yards, every time I started to walk I heard it, so I'd stop. Finally Ben and Lalasa caught up to me. We gave up and went the rest of the way to camp. It turns out that about 1/2 hour earlier Arius went past this same spot and saw a moose. He took pictures, yeah, finally! I'm again under the stars writing at it gets dark listening to the loons and am occasional fish jump. Keith
Day 6 Keith Jacks
Isle Royale national park foot trails and water routes, page 21
Early on February while working on the annual winter wolf count, biologists watched a male and female wolf and three pops enter a thicket near Lake Mason. Then to their utter amazement, they saw a moose run out of the trees followed by the male wolf lunging through the snow just inches away. Most kills occur at night, and for the scientists to actually witness this predator-pray relationship was a rare opportunity. With a reckless leap, the male lunged through the air and locked his jaws on the back leg of the running moose. Hanging on was a near-impossible task, and one biologist would later write that the animal appeared to be "flopping like a rag doll" in midair. But when the moose slowed to weave through another stand of trees, the female seized the opportunity, and now there were two wolves, attached leechlike, to the hindquarters. The moose quickly collapsed on to its sternum but kept its head up while the wolves teared at its rump, turning the white snow deep red. Suddenly the moose lunged forward, regained its feet, and thrashed the still clinging male with rapid-fire kicks with its other rear leg. At the same time, it lashed out at the female as she danced just out of reach in front. The attack was now in a frenzied peak with the blood-soaked male refusing to let go and the moose whirling back and forth in an effort to trample the female. Unable to gain a grip anywhere else, the female again attached herself to the other rear quarter. Now the wolves were dragged, side-by-side, over logs and thrown against trees as the moose whirled around. But the wolves held on and eventually the moose went down on its sternum again. For a while the moose sat up, panted heavily, and glanced at the predators tearing at its hindquarters. But gradually its lungs became feeble, the rear legs would no longer kick, and inevitably it collapsed into the snow. Like and death on Isle Royale
