We Are New Reporters

Hello, we are new reporters. We are hired to do news for Park Service, we are, how you say, excited. The Dengate girl tell us we are last resort, which she tell us is good thing.

Now a little for us. We are Vladimir Verstratski and Boris Johnstokev, here for cultural learnings in America for short time and for reporting journal training. Our government, they are pleased with our involvement in American media.

Now for first, how you say? Headliner.

The Queen Boat, she is not running, and the Ranger Boat, she is delayed-
Isle Royale Queen Boat is not running for August 15, 16, and 17 except for 17 at evening for one trip, which makes distress in visitors. Boris though, he tell me visitors on boat, they are more distressed, like sick moose. My sources, they tell me the Queen Boat she is going twice today which will get visitors catch up.

Searching and Rescuing for visitor at Daisy's Farm-
Boris and I we are called out from rest to searching for missing man at Daisy's Farm. After long searching time, he is not found that night but in morning. We are glad he is found.

Boris and I, we are here til next time. Take easy.

Leaving the Isle

I'm writing this post from my dining room in a little suburb of Detroit. I drove a car today. I went out for breakfast. A truck just drove by, the pavement is hot, at night the streetlights turn on and the streets fill up with partiers, and when I want to go jump in the lake, I have absolutely zero options.

It's pretty weird.

I left the island on the Ranger III Saturday morning, and already I wouldn't mind going back. My last week was pretty rad, what with cliff-jumping at Conglomerate (if anyone has yet to go there, getcho butt in a boat NOW), causing a grease fire at the Ben East (you know how I do), and a rather wild water balloon fight. We had our interp farewell party, complete with awesome thermoses and delicious brats. There was swimming and jumping and boating and stargazing.

I hear you guys have had some wild weather out there; I shudder to think about the crowds that I'm sure are filling up Rock Harbor and Three Mile campgrounds. Beyond the weather, I'm not sure what's going on there right now - and thus, I leave you, and say farewell, because reporters with zip idea about what's going down tend to be pretty sucky reporters (not that there is any lack of them in our media, probably.) It's been fun to be your reporter. I'd love to be back. In the meantime, stay strong, live loud, treat the island well, leave some splash traces, and be nice to my fearsome foursome (now a threesome...ooh, that sounds exciting) and our fearless leader. Give Steve a high five for me.

With love from the mad bad streets of Deeeetroit -
Liz,
Your Snug Harbor Reporter

P.S. Oh, and you didn't think I'd leave you news-free, did you? My replacement should be starting shortly. His name is Vladimir Verstratski, and he just arrived from Russia. I know we're all looking forward to his posts.

The Seaplane is Out of Service...

Remember how the seaplane showed up last week suffering mechanical problems, forcing a few passengers to hightail it onto the Ranger to get home? A cylinder was misfiring, and the pilot had to return to the mainland carrying only himself, keeping the weight down. As it turns out, the engine requires a new part (frankly, it seems rather lucky to me, with all this going down, that the seaplane isn't floating/sinking somewhere in the middle of Lake Superior at the moment.) The said part is being Fed-Exed from the East Coast, and the seaplane service predicts they won't be up and flying before Wednesday. In the meantime, we'll be importing Windigoans (as it turns out, we have a very friendly immigrant policy in Rock Harbor) and trying to fit everybody on the Queen and Ranger.

Speaking of "in service" and "out of service," I actually heard Dispatch on the radio today, their volume being, for the first time, slightly louder than that of an ant whispering lullabies. Is this here to stay? No predictions can yet be made.

Lastly, and of top importance here in Snug Harbor, ripe thimbleberries are finally everywhere to be found. This marks a new and delicious era of summer!

Stay tuned for some awesome action shots of line catching, taken by our very own Andrea Tavegia...

A Typical August Saturday

We've been getting busy in Snug Harbor, with over 200 in the V.C. every day and full loads on the Queen and Ranger, but there remains a very small number of Incidents. Of course, we have our aviators, which helps us reign justice. There are the swarms of day-trippers requesting the spots to "find wildlife - well, I mean, moose", and the occasional people missing their rides home (just this morning, the artist-in-residence has been stranded, having never been picked up from the cabin), inflatable kayakers getting buffeted around the harbor, and the assorted blisters, sprains, and sore throats. But nothing, happily, too very taxing. Or, in fact, taxing at all.

Pete has left us yet again for another stint at another NPS destination. Oh, and last night I did my last ever evening program on bugs, complete with a musical introduction and announcer voice compliments of Casey, which came, as few introductions ever do, at the very end of my program. (Andrea saved the day, as she has a tendency to do.) It's a long story; Casey, I again apologize for making you hide behind the podium for the program's entire duration. :)

The Ranger III left this morning slightly later than usual, loaded down with several boxes and a display case from us for Houghton. The seaplane, apparently, suffered some kind of engine problem on the way over - they told the passengers as they landed, "Wow, just made that one - I never did get up to the proper altitude." Reassuring. The couple scheduled to return to Houghton purchased two last minute Ranger tickets and hopped on as the whistle blew.

The sky is blue, the sun is shining, and the harbor's calm - it's another happy weekend in Snug Harbor.

Aurora Borealis

Last night the northern lights came to Isle Royale, and it was too beautiful and amazing and otherworldly for me to even attempt making some kind of trying-to-be-witty comment about it. People gathered on the docks; we laid out in the cool night, and simply watched the sky. The view was perfect in Tobin Harbor - we could see the towering beams of light dancing to the north for a long while. At one point, a perfect shooting star blazed right across the middle of one. It was absolutely ridiculous how perfect it all was.

Extreme thank yous to those in Houghton who gave us a heads up. We tried passing the word on to a bunch of visitors here, and those who headed out late last night pass on their gratitude as well.

In other news, Casey killed a mouse on the Ben East West kitchen counter last night using only a half-full Planter's peanut jar and his bare hands. He wasn't even wearing his aviators. Stay tuned for news on possible hantavirus outbreaks in the interp population...

Huntin' Zebras, IsRo Style

Remember that giant pirate ship that sailed in several days back? Two masts? More lines than a Shakespeare play? Possibly the only group of people in the world ready and able to compete with the population of Mott Island at rowdiness?

Well, they also had a hull covered in more zebra mussels than we like to see in Lake Superior, and as you might remember from a previous post, several of our diving finest went down to scrape those buggers off. I now present, compliments of Cherie and Pete (many, many thanks to their fine photography) some photos of the ship and the diving expedition...

Views of Chrismoose

Thanks to Cherie, I bring you some pictures of Chrismoose; whether you were there or not, you can now live vicariously through these shots of company and cheer...

Folks gather outside the rec hall for conversation and recreational fly-swatting:
Food, drink, and uproarious laughter are enjoyed by all:
And Levi good-naturedly appears to fail at the ol' butt darts (although it's hard to tell in this photo - he might be making an amazing shot here, and chuckling delightedly at his great skill and fortune; as the old Ojibwe saying goes, a man who succeeds at dropping quarters into jars using only his rear end will go far in life)

Major, Major Updates

I have a lot of big news for you guys today, so hold onto your seats and get ready to learn many both exciting and melancholic updates.

NUMBER ONE: Our amazing, fearless, and super-skilled leader, Andrea/Mama, has returned from her training in Wisconsin. She arrived on the seaplane yesterday afternoon, startling Andrew as she excitedly hollered from the plane's window. She came bearing a large box of donuts, and was thus very eagerly greeted by all. We can all breathe easily and laugh happily now that she's back. (Although Casey did do an absolutely stellar job as acting lead in her absence.) As far as the training went, it sounds like the hotel room lamps were decorated with small moose, and most people from other parks think that our own Isle Royale is very "weird." But in a good way. Regardless, Welcome home, Andrea!!


NUMBER TWO: Chrismoose, as it should have been, was a blurry conglomerate of Rock Harbor sunset and tequila sunrises, hot food and ice-cold KBC, starlight and firelight, hugs and whoops, games and gifts. Photos (from Cherie on Mott) are forthcoming. Games included the ever-popular "butt darts" (many congratulations to Ranger III's Paul for his exquisite marksmanship); there was also a white elephant gift exchange that began with 28 strangely shaped presents under the festive Chrismoose tree. I am proud to say that, as number four, I walked away with a delicious Tootsie Pop and a sizable chunk of bubble wrap.

It was a warm, moist night, and Mott truly came alive with good company, even though I understand that there wasn't quite as much pre-planning done as in previous years. ("There wasn't that much food," is what I heard from the Col Plumer, who, granted, is a thirteen year old boy with, presumably, the appetite of one.) I must admit, I was previously unaware that so many people existed at this end of the island. Like moths to a bright light, we clustered around this glowing, fictitious holiday - and instead of zapped to death, just got - ahem - zapped? And spent a merry night with friends new and old. Merry Chrismoose!!

NUMBER THREE: Our interp ranger Wanda, our very own native Californian, has left us. She left the island Saturday morning on the Ranger III - a sudden departure, and one that means a lack of Wanda and all that she brings with her (botanical knowledge to mammal stories) for the rest of the season. Her departure was due to a family emergency, and required haste. We'll make do in her absence, now down to just five interp rangers in the Snug, but Wanda, we'll miss you!

In honor of her leaving, and as a manner of goodbye, I'd like to share an excerpt from something she wrote about the island:

What I loved about it right off was the wildness, the wind, the waves, even the steady, cold rain. And now that I reflect, also the remoteness. After six hours on a boat, you know you've gone someplace. It's like going to Antarctica...remote. Wild.
Michigan has a special kind of greenness. It's a mixed green of dark spruce and the spring green of aspen and paper birch. It's a lighter, merrier green than our redwoods. It is a smilier, warmer green than the somber, dreary coast trees.
I loved the rocks right away, and the waves and the spruces, and the off-shore islands. I, like everyone else, wanted to see wolves and moose. Just the possibility of seeing them in tantalizing, a primeval challenge.
The hugeness of Lake Superior is sobering, but it wasn't until the orientation tour to Passage Island that I started to be enthralled by shipwrecks and lighthouses. The lighthouses are a natural extension of rocks and waves, rising up from their rocky islets...The shipwrecks, too, are an extension of wind, waves, and rock, but an extension based not on physical proximitiy, but on cause and effect. In this case not blue skies, but steel gray, with flurries of snow and roaring winds.
...
I've always been charmed by water, since I was a small child and wanted to go "wimming" in every small puddle. Now I am enchanted by the shades of blue and aqua, the waves splashing, the ducks with their ducklings in tow, and perhaps above all, by the prospect of paddling my own small kayak on those blue waves.

We and the island will miss you, Wanda - know that wherever you sit as you read this, in the dry, foriegn place of northern California, we're thinking of you. Snug Harbor will most certainly not be the same.
Goodbye, Wanda!!

In order to leave this post on a slightly merrier note, I'd like to conclude with this perfectly delightful poem, given me by Paul of the Ranger III (the very same excellent marksman from Chrismoose):

About Mosquitos

Someone once asked me

What good are mosquitos?

I told them I'd find out,

Since I really don't know.

One thing that's for sure

Is their appetite for blood -

Their annoyance is much easier

To hate than to love.

So what on earth possessed nature

To include them in her plan?

Was it so gear stores

Could sell "Off" in a can?

If we look a little deeper

Into the overall scheme of things,

There's much more to the picture

Than their itchy little stings.

Have you ever watched a warbler

Dancing through the trees?

Picking them off one by one,

When he gets to feeling hungry?

Frogs, snakes, and dragonflies

Think they're great for lunch

And bats feast on them regularly

When they come out at dusk.

So in fact they do serve a purpose

In Nature's circle of life.

So don't think too badly of them

When you scratch their little bite.

P.S. I would also like to add a Happy Birthday to my dad, who turns fifty today!!!