The lake is the boss. It's pretty
simple really. She doesn't care what your plans are, doesn't matter
if your bucket list isn't filled, concerned little with how much
you've prepared. The lake, mother nature, is the custodian of all
that happens here. The cold waters, and her islands worry little of
forecasts and plans.
The boss is Lake Superior within the
Apostle Islands. This statute would apply anywhere on Gitchigumi,
but in particular within this National Lakeshore in the northern most
realm of Wisconsin. Under the protection of the US National Park
Service, the lakeshore is comprised of 21 islands and shoreline,
totaling 70,000 acres. Located in the coldest of the great lakes,
it's know for sandstone sea caves, historic lighthouses, natural
wildlife habitat and traces of old growth forest.
The
Apostles are one of the places most kayakers would have scrawled on a
napkin, perhaps with a crude map outlining island hopping and a list
of the best campsites next to a penciled in calendar. Those scraps of
paper devising the trip may sit idol for years, but they are always
there, waiting.
In
reality, I didn't have any notes or maps tucked amonst my outdoor
gear in the basement, but that drop in my pail was there and the
adventure would happen at some point.
Sea
kayaking was introduced to me a little over a year ago when I joined
some friends in a borrowed boat for a paddle on Lake Arbutus in
central Wisconsin. I have a canoe background, but had never really
spent any time wetting a double blade from a kayak. The sport
appealed to me-there is an quiet escape as the prow slices silently
through the water. I tried a couple different boats that day and
realized I may as well start checking Craig's List-I'd have my own
soon. A week later, a 17 foot Current Designs Caribou had found a
home in my garage.
I'd
listened to stories of paddling, particularly Apostle Island
paddling, from friends Mark and Tom for years. Adventure tales,
yarns and sometimes, scary stories. They are both experienced big
water paddlers, and in taking me under their wing, learned to be very
patient. Slipping a tippy long boat into the water and making it go
where you want it safely, does have a learning curve. The design of
these particular “Greenland” boats are characterized by feeling
tippy but having good secondary stability-great for skilled paddlers,
less so for a novice. In any regard, they are fast and efficient,
and well suited for tripping-I'd need practice.
With
a year of paddling under my belt and another 'yak in the garage (a
whitewater model for frigid spring runs), the urge to finally make
the Apostles happen was set in motion. With campsite reservations
made, the “training” proceeded. Mark and I ventured out a few
times on local flowages and the Mississippi and I made a habit of a
early morning launches into Arbutus a few times a week to improve my
technique and strength. Confidence and anticipation were growing.
Our best laid plan was to head to
Little Sand Bay (park headquarters) via Ashland and Bayfield and do a
half day paddle to York Island, or first stop. So much for an
agenda-the lake didn't care.
The late Monday night storm to hit
northern Wisconsin changed all that. Our Tuesday morning drive
halted in Mellen - hwy 13 was gone just north of there. A canyon
replaced where the road had once been. No fix there soon. We tried
some town roads instead and none were passible. Amazing. Checking
with a local, it appeared the only way to Ashland was to backtrack
and head west to state hi-way 53, a 3 or 4 hour detour!
Eventually, after a few more deversions
and a flat tire, we made it to Chequamegon Bay outside of Ashland and
Washburn, only to be greeted by a red plume of silt pumping out from
Fish Creek and other small tributaries. Hope of saving our day one
plans faded as we pulled into Little Sand Bay being pounded by
strong winds, high waves and floating brick stained debris. The
ranger reported numerous kayakers had to be rescued the previous
evening there. On to plan B.
Late night rain pelted the small tent
rainfly-”Well, this doesn't sound good,” I thought. Worse, winds
buffeted the trees surrounding our campsite just outside of Bayfield,
foreshadowing another day of delays.
Thinking maybe we could make a run at
the sea caves outside of Meyers Beach, we took a spin to Cornucopia
to check conditions, hoping for a favorable wind direction, as
predicted. Nope, Rangers had the kayak launch and beach closed-
“Small Craft Warning” said the sign on the barricade. Mother
Nature is Boss. Descending to
the beach, it was obvious why the lake was shut down-whitecaps
crested 3 foot crimsom colored waves-water that had an unrestricted
run all the way from Two Harbors Minnesota. No paddling here today.
Trying to salvage a day, we decided to
get back to Bayfield and paddle the Friendly Valley beach area off
the Sioux River which was protected. Any time on the cold (usually
clear) water is a good thing, so a few hours in the swells was
perfect to test out gear-wet suits and assorted paddling necessities.
Glad I did-my PFD was constricting me and I felt terrible. The
extra layers for cold water paddling required some adjustments and
eventually everything was dialed in. Wet suits? Oh yeah, the lake
demands respect and anyone in the water without one won't last long.
Reservations had us on Oak Island on
Day 3, so with calmer conditions in the morning we decide to make an
attempt to reach it from park headquarters again. Unfortunately,
Little Sand Bay still had waves running high and from the west. No
go. So much for the weather predictions again. Mark came up with an
viable option however- maybe we could make it from the Bayfield side
on the south-hopefully we'd be be protected from the wind in that
direction.
A block off downtown Bayfield, we
finally unloaded camping and paddling gear for our first island
pursuit. As if to welcome us to this continuing adventure, the
islands and the lake dropped a thick drippy fog bank on us as we made
our first paddle strokes into the water. No matter, we're doing
this.
Staying close to the lee shore, the
paddle up to Red Cliff was pretty good-within a half hour I had my
“sea legs” -that auto pilot feeling where balance and paddling
are unconscious. Crossing some quartering wind at Buffalo Bay we
were rewarded with beautiful brownstone rock faces which the lake
continually carves and gnaws away. At 9 miles, we'd made good time,
but it also couldn't be denied that the swell, waves and chop were
growing. Mark mentioned that sometimes the Islands will force the
wind to wrap around and change direction and that seemed to be ahead
of us in the one mile crossing to Oak Island.
Being a good tutor, he kept checking-
“How are you doing?” as the boats cut into some of the bigger
water I'd ever been in. “Okay” which I mostly meant. With just
a ½ mile to go and near the mid channel shipping buoy, the waves
were breaking more and more-the lake resolved we needed to turn
around-it wasn't worth the risk. She is the boss.
There was no
thought to turning tail, it just is what it is. We beat it back to
the Red Cliff Bay side and resigning ourselves to the long return
trip. Along the way, paused to check out the shipwrecks of the
Ottawa, Rambler and Coffinberry, all laid to rest in the late 1800s
in a small shallow bay.
Maybe it was a wind
shift, or just the lake and islands granting a repreve, but
continuing down shore, the gentler swells and calming chop allowed us
to make a few brief explorations of the small Red Cliff sea caves.
They are remarkable and rugged and provided some photo ops and a
break from churning out mile after mile in the boats.
Continuing south,
and finally settling into a a good rhythm, I was suddenly about
jolted from the cockpit as my boat seemingly barely missed colliding
with a enormous structure directly below! As my heart returned to my
chest, I realized it was a large shipwreck (the Fedora, lost in 1901)
just below the surface. Spinning about, Mark and I followed the wood
and iron skeleton along it's length (over 280 feet!) in what was a
surreal sight this far off shore. Totally unexpected, but a
highlight none the less. The lake does claim it's victims it seems.
Mark joked all week
about options-we needed a lot each day of this trip. It seemed that
as we paddled back toward Bayfield, Basswood Island, just across the
north channel from us, was, well, right there. The gears were
turning in my mentors head, and day three's “option B” would be
to cross to Basswood-surely no one would be out at those campsites he
suggested (we'd only seen one kayaker all week). Well, okay...lets
try.
Just as in cycling
the wind always seems to be in your face, in paddling, it's a
quartering breeze that becomes your nemesis, always turning the boat
making things difficult. We worked hard to cross and it was a relief
to round the southern tip into calm sheltered water. Marks
prediction was correct-no one on any of the 3 campsites here, a
gorgeous spot above a small rock face.
As challenging as
the rocky take out was, we managed to land and quickly set up camp.
Black flies were tolerable and mosquitos kept at bay by the campfire.
So camping here wasn't according to plan, but as it worked out, we
had a beautiful view of Madeline Island and the city lights of
Bayfield 3 miles distant. From our vantage, we'd watch a tour boat
cruise by, a few sailboats and the ferries shuttling back and forth
to La Pointe.
Our
final day in the islands started with a discussion over camp coffee
as to what “options” we'd have. No rush, rain the previous night
soaked tents and tarps, so we'd need some drying time anyway. We'd
toss in a quick hike to one of the 1800's brown stone quarries as
well on Basswood-a little insight as to the difficult life people had
here a hundred plus years ago (there also is an old farmstead located
on the island). Although we looked at circumnavigating
Basswood and then heading for port, the milage seemed a bit tall
after the long paddles the previous day. Option C or D (I can't
recall which) was to head across the east channel to Madeline, then
down to La Pointe and finally cross to Bayfield. Seemed doable. But
then again, the lake calls the shots.
Stowing gear in the boats and
successfully launching off the bouldery landing, we settled into a
cruise up the east side, passing by the old quarry dock, barely
visible below the icy waters off shore. Sailboats began leaving the
harbor, a sign that maybe we'd hit more wind than predicted again.
What's good for sailing, isn't necessarily good for paddling. Mark
coached to take a east heading, which would put us about halfway up
Madeline's west shore. Easier said than done.
If I learned anything from this
crossing, it's to trust your boat. The waves rolled in at about two
feet, not huge, but about as large as I wanted. Greenland kayaks are
designed for this-the Inuits have thousands of years of R & D of
both the boats and paddles-they used what worked. As long as I
steadfastly watched the next wave quartering in, and had good paddle
placement, the boat would roll up and over like it's designed to. As
Mark once observed, these are the most sea worthy water craft out
here. I hoped so.
The crossing was taxing because we had
to paddle on one side 90% of the time-neither of us had skegged
boats. Even after reaching shore, the winds ran down along the
lakeside and in places, the waves and swells were larger hitting the
shallow water. One or two small bays offered rest, but at some
point, we both realized we were not paddling to Bayfield-trying to
cross the channel again, even further, was not going to happen this
day-the lake had determined as much.
Not thinking Superiors water could get
more raw, I was wrong-rounding the tip of Madeline, suddenly both of
us realized our hands starting to freeze. It seems the boat and
ferry traffic here churns and mixes even colder water from below if
that's possible. Wallowing in the swells near the break wall, the
boats turned and headed into the welcome sand of the beach-my arms
and back appreciative of the rest.
Perhaps a bit out of place among the
floppy hat, white short, Hawaiian shirt tourists here, we marched up
a side street in wet suits to change into “civilian clothes-” a
better option for downing a burger and beer at the lakeside bar and
grill. A ticket on the Island Queen to reach Bayfield was just $14
with our kayaks. Deal. Seemed a simple resolution at this point,
right? Well, the lake is the boss and it was as if she wanted
to tease our plans one more time. Instead of big waves hindering our
paddling, a consistent edict all week, she calmed the waters, forcing
us to second guess our decision. With gear already stowed, we both
looked out over the 4 mile crossing most likely thinking the same
thing. Dismissing the thought (not easily), we both reached down
instead and grabbed a handle on a kayak and started the haul to the
ferry dock.
It's known by some the islands in the
Apostles shape and mold the weather here to their liking. The 21
dots of land and the deep cold waters of Superior are in their own
world and they govern the weather as they wish. Although not
unfolding like we'd planned, spending time with boats, water and
friends in the Apostles is always rewarding. No matter the long
range forecast, or your reservations, the lake is the boss.
