Beautiful Rocks, Water, and People

After a morning walk, I heat the quiche I pre-baked at home over a grate above the fire pit, making just enough noise to rouse the sleeping kids, without having to tell them to get up. My “quiche” is really an egg pie, loaded with protein, carbs, and fat, because I wanted something hearty to fuel us for our day kayaking the Pictured Rocks shoreline!

As many times as I’ve been up here, I have never seen the Rocks from the water, and I am practically giddy as we gather our gear for the trip. The sun has come out, and the lake is still remarkably calm, which I know can change in a minute. I don’t have a lot of experience kayaking lakes, and none of us have kayaked the Great Lakes. On my Au Sable canoe trip in July, I finally learned why I’d never tipped a canoe before. I have often heard people tell a story of ending up in the water on canoe trips, and I think, “Were you trying?”, because it’s really not easy to flip a canoe, unless you stand up or lean way over the edge. I listened from the bow on that Au Sable trip as my good friend’s father told of some wild rivers he’d canoed in his life, as he steered us down the quiet Au Sable. My rivers of choice tend to be calmer, and the lakes I’ve canoed might have been wavy, but never white water. It’s funny how it took so many years for me to put that together. I think of this as we board the re-purposed tour boat that brings us the five miles out to sea, from which we’ll launch our kayaks into the open water.

Lake Superior is unpredictable. It’s not a river, it’s not a wavy lake, and I’m not in my trusty canoe, my preferred vessel of choice. I like to sit up on the water, whereas in a kayak, I always feel too low to the ground. Rather the difference between driving an SUV versus a small sedan. But for this trip, of course the kayaks are the optimal choice, and we are in tandem, my daughter in the bow of her hubby’s kayak; Lea is the navigator, while I steer ours. I had checked the weather repeatedly over the past few days and hours, as the trip loomed closer, sending a silent thanks to Mother Nature each time I saw the winds were low and the temperatures high. Not only is the lake potentially rough, it is cold, remarkably cold, potentially life-threateningly cold if one were in it long enough.

We couldn’t have been luckier. We see incredible sights, kayak right up to the cliffs, into coves where the walls tip inward above us, through caves, and over shipwrecks. The winds remain at 5-6mph for most of the trip, but pick up steadily over the hours. The tandem kayaks are long, and the natural shape of the waves pulls the nose of the boat out toward the open water, away from the shore, making it a constant battle to steer through wide-open stretches, even in the small-ish waves. We are a little worn out, and a little grumpy with each other (the people in the front thinking we in the stern don’t know how to steer, and we in the rear thinking the people in the bow could be helping more). I would bet many hundreds of dollars that this same conversation has been had many hundreds of times along these waters.

It’s an incredible experience. Only at the very end of the trip do the winds really pick up, making it a true challenge to get the kayaks back aboard the powered boat. My heart races and muscles burn as the large boat we are trying to board sways and swings away from us in the waves. I paddle with all my strength to point us onto the ramp as we also dip and sway in the swells. We make it, and the waves grow increasingly larger as we motor back the three-ish miles to the dock. By the time we arrive, the waves are crashing, and docking the multi-passenger boat takes 3 attempts. It is a very tiny taste of what can happen on these waters, this majestic lake in which hundreds of ships have sunk. We had this one day together to kayak, what with the kids’ schedule, and I am so thankful for the weather and the ability to do this with them. It is sure to be one of those Life Memories for all of us.