Day 3 - Hatchet Lake to Moskey Basin - Greenstone
Category: Trips and Places | Subcategory: Isle Royale
Tags: Backpacking, Greenstone Ridge, Mosquitos, Wilderness Challenges, Lakes & Wetlands, Trail Conditions, National Parks
Published: 2026-06-24
This day began before dawn. I woke to a dark tent and the sounds of wolves howling. Their cacophony echoed from the deepest reaches of the island. I heard their noises soften. Knowing that I was at nature’s will on this island, I went back to sleep.
The Greenstone Ridge is the main backbone of the island stretching nearly the length of this Edenic landscape. Our first task was to climb steeply to the ridge. Before leaving camp we spotted an enormous dragonfly caught in a spider's web. The spider was beginning to prepare breakfast just after we finished ours.
We began to climb up the ridge passing through birch forests with high understory. Elevation on this island is deceptive. No area is truly flat. We climbed a dragon’s back of dips and hills continuing to gain height until we were on the Greenstone Ridge.
On the ridge, the abundance of wildflowers and alpine plants returned as we were treated to another wonderful day. The sunshine on our bodies and the landscape. It was an awe and a relief. We walked on a mostly flat trail dipping down to pockets of forests, before rising again to see lush fields. To our left, was the Canadian wilderness and the landmarks of Sleeping Giant and to the right showed the lowlands of the island and further out to the Superior Sea.
For hours, we walked through fields of endemic Packera insulae-regalis watching clouds come and go, having time to stand still, the pines sway, and walk on the everchanging and timeless ridge. For long stretches, I was able to lift my bug net, and see the beauty unscreened.
Giving our bodies a much needed rest, we had a long lunch on the ridge. After lunch, we noted that our water was running low. We made it our next objective to go to West Chickenbone Campground to refill our water before continuing on to Lake Richie Campground. We broke off from the ridge trail onto a trail heading south. We began traversing muddy switchbacks and bounding over streams for the next mile or so.
East Chickenbone started as a normal campground. There was a shallow, sandy area to wade into to obtain water and a small clearing where a log sat in the middle.
Water filtration on this trip has been a time warp. Following the NPS recommendations, we used a double filtration method first filtering through a microfiber filter before using iodine. This meant gathering the water, filtering it through the microfiber filter, adding iodine tablets, waiting 45 minutes, then adding an additional tablet to get rid of the iodine taste, waiting another 45 minutes, then drinking. This task that we thought would take maybe a half hour a day took multiple hours since our filter, at this point, was so clogged that I had to forcefully squeeze water through to speed it up. Even then it was little more than a trickle. Before long, the bugs were on us.
On our first day, we chose not to camp at West Chickenbone Campground because of its proximity to still water and its bugginess. East Chickenbone was worse. We scooped water from the lake and started to squeeze the water through the filter. They waited just long enough for us to feel safe and begin the filtering process. Then, they attacked with full force. They came four at a time, landing all at once so that I had a delay in killing all of them. We put on rain jackets so they couldn’t penetrate our upper bodies. For the next eternity, we cycled through squeezing water until our forearms gave out, shaking the lactic acid from our forearms, and dancing awkwardly desperately trying to keep the mosquitos away. We chose to leave as soon as the first stage of filtering was over. We put the iodine tablets in, stored the water in my backpack, and hiked out.
After departing the cursed Chickenbone Lake, we continued on through the verdant forests before coming to Lake Richie. This beautiful lake had islands within it and was a peaceful rest. We evaluated the sites, and after the mosquito massacre of the past forty-eight hours, we decided to push on to Moskey Basin on the shores of Superior in the hopes of finding a wooden shelter. Despite it being close to dinner time, we decided to go forward and were enchanted by what came next.
Moskey Basin Campground lies on, well, a basin, adjacent to a river flowing into Lake Superior. Our descent from the ridges of the beginning of the day continued. Our descent into the marshy basin's headwaters meant one primary thing, mud. After Lake Richie, the trail turned steeply and downward, into mud. Stepping on the sides of the trail, we still sank past our ankles. The absurdity of our predicament came to us as we waded through a mud chute. The only thing that trumped our predicament was the signs for canoe portages. To our amusement and fatiguing lucidness, joy prevailed as thoughts of campers with canoes yoked on their shoulders coming through this area. Our mud bath continued until we encountered the first section of planks.
Just a foot wide and centimeters above the still water, stretched wooden planks one after another out into a swamp. We looked at each other, excited and nervous, put our hiking poles in one hand, and walked on, not seeing the end. These plank trails took us through Amazonian plants, and as we looked into the clear water, we saw even more submerged. These planks stretched for hundreds of meters before we stood back on firmer soil. We cycled through this for the next half hour, when suddenly, I saw a splash ahead. My partner was seated on the plank, with one foot firmly over the side in the water. We laughed and helped her out.
With wet feet, we continued our balancing act until clearings started to open up, and we were at the mouth of Moskey Basin. We crossed a wooden bridge with one hand railing to the other side of the swollen river and walked a bit further to the basin campground.
My feet and thighs were fatigued, but we made it to the land of wood shelters with the hope of securing a spot away from the mosquitos. We walked through the site checking shelters, one after another weaving in and out of the high grass. These were gorgeous shelters with a view of the Basin. I told my partner to take a rest while I checked the rest. I had a sinking feeling as I saw tents set up along the path, but checked anyway. It was not to be. We had to hike two hundred meters to the edge of still water where the overflow site was and started to put up the tent.
The mosquitos here were even worse than in Chickenbone. They were so thick that I had no less than fifteen to twenty on me the entire time. My thick clothing kept many away, but for the first time, they started to bite through my thick pants. It was hard to do anything as I constantly had three or four taking turns landing on my hands - the only exposed part of my body. After the basics of the tent were set, I sent my partner out of the bugs onto the dock for safety, and I continued until the job was complete.
The woods had taken their toll and blood. The first three days spent nonstop in bugland had frustrated and humbled us. I was glad to sit at the end of the dock, with my shoes off. Filtering from clearer water made that chore go quicker, and as a treat, we ate our prized Chorizo Mac-N-Cheese meal as the sky began to overcast, then darken.
We decided to get an early night, before the majority of the bugs would be out. It was a frightening thought that the experience of setting up the tent was merely a tease of the crescendo about to unfold. We zipped up the tent and spent the evening with our headlights pointed up spotting and killing the mosquitos left in the tent.
Summary
- From: Hatchet Lake Campground
- To: Moskey Basin Campground
- Miles: 13.2
By Joshua Zubik
