Winter Camping in the Refuge, Goose Island

My husband and I like to do a lot of outdoor activities together.  Winter camping isn't one of them. Along came Larry. Larry, Mike's sidekick, is game for just about anything.  I generally show up at some point to hang out, take some photographs and then escape to a warmer, safer place. Let the high jinx ensue. So when the temperatures were dipping down into the single digits, they were in their zero degree bags, happy as can be.  I was at home in bed, happy as can be.

The sun was just starting to dip when I arrived.

Goose Island is on the Mississippi River, in the middle of the Upper Mississippi National Wildlife Refuge.  All you can see are woods, a bluffline and the river stretching out in front of you.

Here's my White Fang shot.

The refuge is 261 miles long.

It begins at the Chippewa River near Wabasha, Minnesota and ends near Rock Island, Illinois, spanning four states.

At the campsite with Larry and another recruit, Tripp.

Hey, they're multiplying. Larry met Joe, on the left, in the parking lot and invited him out to the campsite. True story. Joe was wearing a lightweight wool coat and Puma tennis shoes. He might not have had socks on. He did not camp overnite.

There are over 400 camp sites at Goose Island.  There isn't much competition in early March.

Mike staked out this hovel where they ended up building a campfire and hanging out.

They lived through the night. My husband told me the next day that Tripp fell through the ice. They had gone for a walk the next morning. The sun was shining, warming up the ice and there was a crack in the ice from a tree. As they were noticing this, crack, and Tripp is thigh deep in water. I'm gasping as he's relaying this to me. 

Me: "So he went straight home, I assume?"  

Mike: "No. We walked back to the camp site and he dried everything in front of the fire."

Winter camping is not for wussies.