Apostle Islands: Sea Caves and Home

This entry is part of my write-up of a September 2024 trip to The Apostle Islands. The story begins here.

Monday 9/9

Monday's conditions were benign and so we headed out to see the Sand Island Sea caves. First, we made the roughly three mile crossing to see the historic Sand Island lighthouse, built  in 1881. From there we paddled down the island's coast, and WOWZA! Whatever we had been expecting, the sea caves exceeded it. The Apostles are sandstone islands, and over the millennia the water has etched out beautiful caves into the islands' shorelines. The caves on Sand Island aren't super tall, but they're deep and form a maze of twisty passages, each unique, that you can explore by kayak. Some of the passages are big enough to paddle all the way through: go in one spot and come out another. And the sound of the water in the caves is great too. It's all super cool. We all had giant grins plastered on our faces the whole time we were there. We spent a lot of time there, and we took many, many pictures - some of which are included below. Pictures are better than trying to describe it. We were even lucky enough that another paddler happened by, and he took a group shot of us. 

When we finally pulled ourselves away from the beauty of the caves we paddled down the island to the dock / campsite area, where we took a lunch break. Then we paddled back to camp.

When we got back, we faced a decision. We were due to spend two more nights at York Island, but we had pretty much fully paddled the immediate area - we had come to York Island from the east, we had explored west in our visit to Sand Island, going south would take us back to the launch, and to our north was just the big, open lake. Plus, we enjoyed the sea caves so much and wanted to see more, with the hitch being that the other two big sea cave sites - Devil's Island, and Meyers Beach on the mainland, weren't within reasonable paddling distance of our campsite. So we made the momentous decision - never done before on one of our trips - to return from camping one day early so we could see the Meyers Beach caves. The plan was to break camp Tuesday morning, paddle back to Little Sand Bay, load all the gear into the cars, drive to Meyers Beach, launch there and paddle to the nearby sea caves, paddle back, reload the cars, then, because we figured we'd be too lazy to make camp again, stay in a hotel and head for home first thing Wednesday. Sounds relaxing, right?

I should mention that this change of plans also helped with one of our trip constraints: both Béla and Rob and  needed to be home for commitments back home Friday night/Saturday morning, and staying ashore Tuesday night would give them a little more travel buffer by allowing them an earlier start for home on Wednesday.

Monday's dinner was my Middle Eastern Chicken. I like the idea of this dish, but having made it on two trips I've decided that I don't really like the seasoning - it's going to take some adjustments to the recipe before I bring this dish again.

The "money shot"

More Sand Island Sea Cave photos:

Sand Island lighthouse

Tuesday 9/10

On Tuesday our goal was - MORE SEA CAVES! We said goodbye to the islands, broke camp, and paddled back to Little Sand Bay. Once back we started loading all our gear and kayaks, with a plan to eat lunch at the nice picnic tables at Little Sand Bay and then head to the Meyers Beach launch. All of a sudden Tom realized he couldn't find his phone and came to the conclusion that he must have left it on the driftwood log he had been sitting on back at the island while he was waiting for the rest of us to finish packing our boats (Tom is a fast packer!). I understand the kind of frustration and anger you can experience when you make a mistake like that, and after a moment of indecision (Was it worth it going back? But there were some great pictures on the phone!), with a combination of adrenaline borne of frustration and basic tall person strength, Tom hoisted his kayak back off the roof of my car like it was a toy and headed back down to the beach to paddle back to York Island, which would take about an hour each way. And I heard him exclaim, ere he went out of sight, "You guys go on to Meyers Beach, we'll meet up tonight!"

Tall Tom heads off to recover his phone - or so he thinks

By the time Rob and Béla finished loading their boats and we had eaten lunch, about 45 minutes had passed since Tom's launch and the three of us resolved that we'd just wait around for him to return and then all go to Meyers Beach together, even though that would mean a later launch. Suddenly, long before we expected him to be back, we saw Tom walking towards us, smiling. He said that while paddling he had had time to think, and realized partway to the island that his phone had been in the pocket of his PFD all along. Crisis and complications averted!

After that excitement we hopped into the cars and drove the 20 minutes or so to Meyers Beach, a popular launch and park since it offers a nice beach and easy paddling access to sea caves - it's only about one mile from the launch to the caves. However, the place does include one unexpected barrier, in that the parking lot sits on a bluff well above the lake, so you have to carry your kayak down a long flight of stairs to get to the launch beach. Forty seven stairs, for those counting (who counts stairs?!). Admittedly, the risers were shallower than a regular flight of steps, so we carried our kayaks "only" up and down the equivalent of maybe three stories. Trust me, it was a workout, which required our group of four old men to rest for a bit after both the down and up trips. 

The Meyers Beach sea caves were every bit as spectacular as Sand Island, but had somewhat different characteristics. They were grander in scale, featuring very tall caverns; however, there weren't as many passages to paddle through. In addition, conditions were a little rougher than when we had visited Sand Island and so we were more hesitant to poke into the caves for fear of being caught by big waves while inside. The waves did, though, create really cool and thunderous sound. 

Stairs down to the Meyers Beach launch

Meyers Beach sea caves

Splashy on the way back

On the way back the water conditions picked up, as we by then knew they would given the time of day. Again, nothing challenging or dangerous, but I for one was ready to be done with wind and waves! By the time we left Meyers Beach our day had included two paddling trips, breaking camp, and loading and unloading the boats several times, and so we were all too tired to spend any significant time behind the wheel. Instead, we figured we'd have dinner and get a hotel in the nearby town of Ashland (large enough to have a bunch of chain hotels) and get an early start for home on Wednesday. We had a delicious dinner at a restaurant overlooking the lake, where we feasted on Wisconsin's own cheese curds and more whitefish (fried this time). We split two appetizers, cheese curds and pretzel bites, and wound up dipping the cheese curds in the jalapeno cheese sauce which had come with the pretzels. My cardiovascular health surely took a hit from fried cheese dipped in cheese, but after a week of camping, the indulgence was delicious!

Cheese curds!

Strangely, Ashland's hotels were all fully booked, so we wound up staying further up the road in Ironwood, where I discovered something that was new to this east coast city boy - apparently in the Upper Mid-West people go out cruising for multi-day excursion in their ATV/UTV vehicles. One hotel we stayed in had a bin of complimentary shop towels for guests to use in cleaning off their motorcycles or ATVs so guests wouldn't use the towels from their rooms for such dirty tasks, while in Ironwood some Mad Max lookin' vehicles parked next to ours in the parking lot. 

I'll also mention that the night we stayed in Ironwood was the night of the Presidential debate. I watched it with Rob and Béla in their room. Béla, a proud Hungarian, nearly hit the ceiling when Mr. Trump cited Hungarian strongman Viktor Orbán as a character witness. Tom wisely ignored the whole debate thing. Here's a musical remix of a debate highlight for those who missed it. 

UTV's parked next to us at the hotel

Wednesday 9/11 and Thursday 9/12

There's not too much to write about the trip home, as Tom and I basically hoofed it home as fast as we could. We took a different route home - south through Wisconsin then east by Chicago, while Rob and Béla went back the way we had come via the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

Tom and I spent the night near Toledo, where we had dinner at a cool local bar/pizza place/live music venue in Maumee called The Village Idiot. Think JV's, but larger and maybe marginally more hip. Food took forever to arrive, but the pizza was great and the drinks were dirt cheap. Smooth sailing all the way, except that just a few hours from home we got stuck on the highway for an hour and a half due to an accident which closed the whole highway at the Allegheny Tunnel. But we made it home safe and sound.

The Village Idiot (looks bigger in the panoramic photo than in reality)

Foggy, pretty morning on the Interstate

Remains of the wreck which closed the Allegheny tunnel

All in all, another extremely successful trip. Beautiful scenery, great paddling, no one died (almost doesn't count). More total days than usual, but fewer days camping and fewer days paddling - but still a great trip! While I do a lot of the research and legwork in advance of our trips, I usually feel like a lightweight in terms of group gear contributions during the trip itself. Rob and Tom bring water filtration, a complete kitchen, shower, clotheslines, etc., while I bring just my sunny disposition. Thus, I was thrilled on this trip to have been able to have provided the solutions to a couple of gear challenges. Béla forgot to bring his spray skirt, and paddling without one would have been a total non-starter in Great Lakes conditions. Fortunately, I had packed an extra so I was able to lend him one. Likewise, Rob found himself without a headlamp since he had brought the wrong batteries, and I was able to help him out because I had packed an extra.

Not too many campcraft notes from this trip:

• I'd like to make myself a little doormat for in front of my tent - I'm tired of kneeling down in the dirt/sand/mud when getting in and out of the tent. I might get a second inflatable pillow to use instead of a drybag under my knees. 
• While my continuing old-iPhone-as-GPS experiment was more successful this year than last, it still needs fine-tuning. For one thing, it's difficult to see the screen out on the water. I think I'll experiment with a different case, and maybe wearing it on a cord around my neck rather than keeping it out under the deck bungies. I should have tested it more extensively before the trip. 
• My ultra-packable but therefore very thin tent continues to degrade - the mesh is starting to give way, and I've patched a number of holes in the fabric. I think it's good for another trip or two. 
• Tall Tom's new Jetboil Basecamp stove is awesome! Works even when wet! 
• Oh, and I have to mention the King of Chairs. After last year's I spent considerable space in my write-up grousing about Tall Tom and Rob's fancy big chairs and how I was like the little kid with my small camping chair. Well this year I showed up with a bigger, better chair than any of them! Arms! Cupholder! Storage pocket! Thank you, Amazon!

Apostle Islands: The Middle Chapter

This entry is part of my write-up of a September 2024 trip to The Apostle Islands. The story begins here.

Saturday 9/7

Repositioning days are always tiring. You have to break camp, load the kayaks, paddle to a new locations, then unload and set up camp all over again. We got an early start - by this time we recognized that the morning was the calmest time on the lake. York Island, our second campsite, was fairly close to Little Sand Bay, where we had launched, and so our route involved retracing our steps, albeit under much calmer conditions, including lunch at the same Raspberry Island beach where we had stopped for a much-needed break on the way out.

We did deviate a little bit from the direct route to explore a sea cave at Oak Island. Oak is a large, centrally located island with a number of campsites, and would have been a good spot for us to have camped - except it's been closed all season due to "ongoing bear activity", so while we could look at the cave, we weren't interested in landing there. Any information you read about The Apostle Islands warns you about the high black bear population in the islands, and Oak Island in particular is said to have the among the highest density populations of bears in North America. For better or for worse, we didn't see any bears during our visit, but our Manitou Island campsite was right between the two islands - Oak and Stockon - with the highest bear populations, and bears are strong swimmers, so we took extra precautions. In addition to being very careful with food storage, we all carried whistles in camp to alert each other of any critter incursion, as well as to shoo away the bears if needed (black bears are generally timid aroudn humans unless threatened). When we launched I had asked Ranger Angel what the bear problem was with Oak Island, to which she replied, "we don't have a bear problem; we have a people problem." Apparently, early in the season campers had been sloppy and had stored food in their kayaks, teaching the bears that kayaks are things which contain yummy food - and they have to give the bears some time to get back to normal before it's safe to bring kayaks there.

Oak Island Sea Cave

We had never seen a sea cave before and so we found the Oak Island cave to be pretty cool. Big enough that you could paddle into it with room to turn around, and great, gran echoing sound as the waves crashed in the cave. Little did we know that this was tiny, a mere amuse bouche compared with the caves we were going to see in days to come.

It was Saturday and the weather was good, and so the Islands were more crowded. The beach at Raspberry Island, which we had had to ourselves when we had stopped there on Thursday, already contained several other groups of kayakers. There was a group of four young women in double kayaks accompanied by a guide. As a joke I said that we should invite them to join us at York Island, where we were had campsite 1 reserved. We did exchange a few words with them, and learned that in fact they were headed for York campsite 2! Alas, no island hijinks occurred, though later in the afternoon we watched in amusement as they attempted rescue practice. in the bay at York Island.

The rest of the trip to York was uneventful. Needless to say the lake kicked up a little as the day went on, but nothing really troublesome. York Island is shaped like a giant apostrophe, with the concave side creating a pleasant bay facing north. We rounded into the bay and had a little trouble finding our campsite because, as previously noted, they're not marked in any way which is visible from the water. Fortunately, Site 3 was already occupied by a guy named Mike, out for a trip with his daughter, and he steered us to Site 1 (actually, in doing so he realized that he had accidentally landed at Site 2 - I told you they aren't well marked - and set to relocating to Site 3). 

Campsite 1 on York Island

The York Island campsites for whatever reason do not have picnic tables, but there was some split log seating which we were able to use as a low table, plus our site had a bear locker for food storage - have I mentioned how awesome bear lockers are compared with hanging bear bags? Plus, York Island has hands down the best outhouse I've ever seen at a campsite. Large and, um, commodious, and was supplied with toilet paper (one ding: the hand sanitized dispenser was empty). It even came with a little broom and was so clean (despite being right on the beach - it also offered a view if you propped the door open) that I felt compelled to sweep out any sand I tracked in every time I visited. The only downside is that there was the one privy was shared among the three campsites. This caused a little bit of a traffic jam when there were eleven of us on the island Saturday night, but once the other groups left on Sunday it was no longer an issue. Quite a pleasant change from the "Stump toilet" (basically a box with a toilet seat on it - an outhouse without the house part) on Manitou, and way, way better than "leave no trace" camping. York, being closer to the mainland, also had better cell reception. I reliably got one bar of LTE connectivity on my phone, which helped with my weather forecasting duties, as well as staying in touch with the home front.

Dinner was my quick cook dehydrated vegetarian quinoa black bean chili, with a gourmet appetizer of sweet potato Pringles, and home-baked chocolate chip cookies (thank you, Valerie!) for dessert. 

Trust me, this is way better than the typical campsite commode

Staying safe from bears in the bear locker

Sunday 9/8

As expected, Sunday brought another Small Craft Advisory, and so we decided to stay ashore (I really enjoyed how Thursday's adventure had converted even the most daring among our group to my cautious outlook!). Tall Tom and Rob hung out in camp while Béla and I bushwhacked our way to the other end of the island so we could get a look at the route to the Sand Island sea caves, our next day's destination. This turned out to be a really nice hike, particularly on the way back when we stuck as much as we could to the rock crags along the island's shoreline, which offered great views and sound in addition to being an easier place to hike than pushing our way through the interior scrub.

Which way next, Béla?

We ran into some kayakers who were taking a break on the York beach, who confirmed that it was pretty rough out - four foot waves, by their estimation. We were glad we had made the choice to stay ashore that day. 

The beach at York Island

Relaxing in camp

York Island scenery (from our hike)

We spent the rest of the day relaxing about camp. I don't like being cold and usually eschew the lake shower, but it was warm enough that I ran into the cilly (65 degree) lake, even ducked my head under, then ran like heck to take a warm shower (I had heated the water before running into the lake). Dinner was another fancy Rob special - an appetizer of hummus and crackers,  chicken tacos with sun-dried tomatoes, topped with corn and shredded red cabbage, and a dessert of almond toffee biscotti. It was another clear night and we watched the stars, including seeing this weird seemingly endless chain of objects moving through the sky - satellites? UFOs? - which we researched and realized were Starlink satellites. I had heard of Elon Musk's Starlink communications system, but hadn't realized that it current consists of over 6,300 satellites - which has roughly doubled the total number of manmade objects in space.

One more thing - one night as we were sitting on the beach we saw a Great Lakes cruise ship pass by, which I recognized as one of the Ponant ships, since V and I had looked into Great Lakes cruises. We got a kick out of the fact that these people were paying a pretty penny to be looking at Great Lakes scenery - which in this case was us. Since we had some connectivity, I looked up the ship's Bayfield port call activities, which included strolling the quaint town (check!), catching a meal at a lakefront restaurant (check!), and for a mere $300 extra, kayaking (check!). We did all their activities except for the native Ojibwe dance performance, for $9,000 below their price! But I bet their beds were comfier. 

Looking at the cruise ship looking at us

Bonus photo: Rob, Tall Tom, and Béla on the water

Continue to the next part of the trip.

Apostle Islands: Gordon Lightfoot Warned Us

This entry is part of my write-up of a September 2024 trip to The Apostle Islands. The story begins here.

Thursday 9/5

Thursday morning we drove the roughly 20 minutes to our launch point at Little Sand Bay in The Apostle Islands National Lakeshore. Upon our arrival we were met by Ranger Angel (it makes sense that the Apostles have a guardian Angel, right?), who directed us as to where to launch, checked our permits, gave us useful information about the weather, and told us how to describe our location ifwe needed to call 911 (!). She also gave us a once-over and declared that we appeared to be "shipshape". It is not her responsibility to evaluate people's ability to paddle in the open waters of Lake Superior, but by her own admission if she detects that people don't have the appropriate skills or preparation, she'll gently steer them to safer courses of action.  

Loading the kayaks at Little Sand Bay

Many people are familiar with Gordon Lightfoot's song The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, about how the waters of Lake Superior ("the big lake they call Gitche Gumee") proved too much for a 700 ft., 14,000 gross ton ship. Folks contemplating a trip to the Apostles can also read the part on the official web site where it says that the lake can become "extremely hazardous when weather conditions become unfavorable". Or maybe they will have read John Frank's excellent book in which he states that "the big lake can replace a peaceful, calm sunset on one evening with a life threatening experience the next day." Well, all I can say is that ample warnings were available.

At the time we arrived at our launch point conditions were calm. The wind and waves had picked up a bit by the time we packed the boats, but it was nothing we couldn't handle - maybe 1 ft. waves. There was no extreme weather in the forecast, and Ranger Angel hadn't said anything about particularly rough conditions that day. As we paddled north from Little Sand Bay and rounded Point Detour (the northernmost mainland point in Wisconsin, BTW), things got yet choppier, and soon we were the proverbial frogs being boiled. Things just kept getting a little worse, and we dealt with it, and then a little worse, and we dealt with it, until it got to the point where we found ourselves getting hit by five foot waves coming off the lake from our left.

Thursday's track

How tall is a five foot wave? This is not a trick question - it's five feet peak to trough. When you're sitting in a kayak your head is maybe three feet above the water, and so an alternative answer to "How tall is a five foot wave?" is "two feet above your head". Tall enough that as I was paddling next to Tall Tom, suddenly I'd have to crane my neck and look up to see him, then as the wave moved between us he'd disappear, then when the wave would pick me up I'd have to look down to see him.

Fortunately, for the most part the waves were long period swells - that is to say, like big long sine waves which kept picking us up and putting us down, picking us up and putting us down, which is much better than if five foot waves had been breaking over us, in which case we could have been in real trouble. Nonetheless, it became hard to make progress or even stay on course, particularly with since our kayaks were heavily loaded with a week's worth of gear and food. Plus, every once in a while a wave would crest as it went by, and that release of energy would take a stab at tipping the kayak over, or leave you hanging in the air for an instant like Wile E. Coyote when he steps off a cliff, before you'd plop back down onto the water. Paddling started to require constant vigilance, always being prepared for the next wave that was coming, and placing paddle strokes appropriately.

Interestingly, I didn't feel panicky - in fact, I've experienced waves on the Chesapeake which, while smaller, seemed much more determined to capsize me. Maybe it was the long period of the waves, maybe it was extra stability from the fully loaded kayaks, but I rarely felt like I was in danger of tipping over, even in waves which made me exclaim out loud when I saw them coming at me. To tell you the truth, I was more worried about heart attack from exertion than about capsizing, but I kept checking in with myself and never felt my heart pounding - I was OK. As we fought our way forward we knew we would have a chance to take a break when we got to Raspberry Island, about five miles into our twelve mile trip. By the time we got into the thick of it turning around wouldn't have been any shorter or safer than continuing, so we plugged on, working really hard to keep forward momentum going. This went on for what seemed like a really long time.

Finally, as we started to get into the lee of Raspberry Island we got some shelter from the wind and the water conditions began to settle down. We stumbled onto the beach, which happily was on the protected side of the island, and all let out a collective "What the h*ck did we just go through?", as we had all just made it through the roughest conditions of our paddling lives. But fortunately, at this point we were safe. Camping isn't officially allowed on Raspberry Island, but we knew that if we needed to we could make emergency camp there until conditions calmed down. Raspberry also has a lighthouse and is visited by tour boats, so we were within range of "rescue". The funny thing is that as we had fought our way through the waves I, usually the most cautious of the group, figured that everyone else had been having a grand old time riding the rough stuff. When we got to the beach it turned out, though, that everyone else was at least as frazzled as I was. I just wish I had hooked up my GoPro - that would have been some great video!

We took a good long break to eat lunch and collect ourselves. Rob even got out a new toy he had picked up at one of the outdoor stores - a floating thermometer in the shape of a rubber duck (BTW, water temp was about 65 degrees). We decided we'd walk the several hundred yards down the beach to a point where we could see the rest of our route to our destination on Manitou Island, and then make a decision as to what to do. Fortunately, the waters between Raspberry and Manitou Islands appeared much calmer. Once you get east of Raspberry you get some protection from other islands farther out, and so you're not fully exposed to the fetch of the full lake. We decided to continue on.

Rob walks his duck at Raspberry Island - quack, quack, quack!

Once we relaunched we realized anew how tired we were from fighting the waves. As I paddled, my arms hurt, my abs hurt, and my whole core hurt, and everyone else was feeling the same way. As we had been preparing to launch someone had struck up a conversation with me, saying the scale of the islands was tricky. You could be paddling towards an island that seemed fairly close by, and you'd paddle and paddle, and yet the island never seemed to get any closer - more foreshadowing! This certainly seemed to be the case as we huffed and puffed to keep our kayaks moving forward. It also didn't help that we falsely had in our heads that we had only five more miles to go, when the distance was actually closer to seven. It took us 2.5 hours to go the first 5 miles, and then another 3.5-4 to go the next 7. That's pretty slow, and is attributable to a combination of lake conditions, exhaustion, and paddling loaded boats.

Finally, we made it to Manitou Island, where we were greeted by a rainbow, as if some great lake spirit (or would that be a great Great lake spirit?) was saying, "you trial is over!" Even with coordinates in hand and the efforts of master navigator Béla it took us a little poking around to find our campsite. One area for improvement is that the Park Service really needs to mark the campsites so they can be more easily seen from the water. This campsite had a tiny sign, and the one to which we moved a few days later had no sign at all. We came ashore to find a lovely campsite (just as promised by the book), with plenty of room for all of us, a metal "bear locker" where we could store our food - so we didn't have to go through the hassle of hanging our food, which was great. I was cold and wet and shivering, so I pulled on my new no-brand neoprene jacket ($39 well spent dollars on Amazon, half the price of the name-brand NRS jacket) and set to work getting my tent up and getting unpacked so I could change into dry clothes. Tom somehow had it together enough to prepare us a delicious dinner of sloppy joes, but when it started to rain we all retired to our tents and turned in early for the night. I slept almost nine hours, which is unusually long for me, particularly since I usually toss and turn on the first night of a camping trip. Ironically, by the time we went to bed the lake was dead calm - another thing we had read which turned out to be true was that the lake typically starts out calm in the morning, gets more windy and wavy mid-day, then calms down late afternoon into the evening.

Manitou Island off in the distance - and a rainbow

Friday 9/6

One thing we do for safety when we do these trips is to bring cell phones from as many major carriers as we can. At our campsite on Manitou Island we had no connectivity on Verizon or AT&T, but Tom's T-Mobile hotspot sniffed out a tiny bit of signal (I suspect that, being a special purpose device, it has a larger antenna and possibly better signal processing than a cell phone), which had allowed us to get messages home saying that we were safe and sound. Rob and Tom take care of a lot of campcraft - setting up the kitchen, filtering water, and so on, and so I was happy to take on the job of group weatherman. Unfortunately, while we could send and receive texts we had little to no data connectivity, so I got a weather forecast the old-fashioned analog way via our marine VHF radios. It turned out that there was a Small Craft Advisory in effect for the day, indicating that winds could reach dangerous levels for small boats. Having experienced what the lake could do without a Small Craft Advisory in effect, and being a little bit sore from the previous day's adventure, we were perfectly happy to spend the day ashore. We got our camp better organized, put up our rain tarp, and chatted about our experience. I must say, we had done well individually and as a group. You always want to have skills for conditions worse than what you expect to encounter in case, as we had experienced, the situation gets unexpectedly challenging. All of us had maintained good control of our kayaks, had for the most part stayed together as a group, and had kept an eye on each other.  We talked through what we would have done if one of us had wound up in the water (note, we agreed that two of us would have executed a rafted rescue while the third patrolled, ready for contingencies such as chasing down a lost paddle).  I honestly believe we could have pulled off such a rescue, but it would have been exhausting for rescuers and victim alike. Now, if more than one of us had wound up in the water, that would have been tough.

In the afternoon we hiked down to the Historic Manitou Fish Camp, a ramshackle 1930's-era fishing camp preserved by the Park Service. Unfortunately, many of the buildings were locked up (the site is currently officially closed for renovation), but we got to visit the outdoor structures and peek inside the buildings. Also, being on the side of the island which faced the mainland, we got a little bit better cell signal, and so I set to work downloading weather forecasts. The walk to the fishing camp from our campsite was about 1.8 miles. Rob and Tom headed straight back, while the ever-energetic Béla and I explored a side trail to a scenic overlook, which turned out to be just another beach on the island - not really worth the detour. All told, Béla and I walked about four and a half miles. 

Hiking on Manitou Island

Manitou Fish Camp

Checking out the smoker at the fish camp

Rob prepares lovely multi-course dinners, and on Friday we had an appetizer of hummus and crackers, followed by turkey sausage jambalaya, with toffee and spiced dried fruit for dessert. We were treated to a beautiful sunset with golden light at our west-facing campsite, followed by an amazingly clear night full of stars. However, the weather still had some monkey wrenches to throw into our plans. Our intent had been to camp at Manitou for three nights, but while the forecast called for calm conditions for Saturday, Sunday's forecast included another Small Craft Advisory. We really didn't want to do another long paddle in high winds with loaded boats, so we decided to break camp and move to our second campsite on Saturday, a day early. Fortunately, I had foreseen this possibility and had overlapped our campsite reservations. So, we enjoyed our lovely evening on Manitou Island, then snuggled into our sleeping bags early again (another monkey wrench - frost advisory in effect!), knowing we'd be getting up early to break camp and reposition.

Golden sunset light at our campsite

Checking the forecast over breakfast

Béla doing the dishes

Example of one of the weather forecast pages I was able to use when we had connectivity

Continue to the next part of the trip.

No Man is an Island (except sometimes) – The Trip to the Apostles

Monday 9/2

After packing the car to the accompaniment of a pretty sunset on Sunday (a positive portent), Tall Tom and I departed for The Apostle Islands on the afternoon of Labor Day. Rob and Béla were a few hours ahead of us. There’s not much to say about driving the Interstates – the miles slowly ticked by as we headed through Pennsylvania and into Ohio. I will mention that I was surprised to encounter diversity I hadn't expected at a highway rest stop outside of Cleveland. I noticed an obviously Orthodox Jewish guy gassing up a minivan, and spotted the rest of his family inside the rest area. In a sort of balance, when we came back to the car there were two Muslim guys prostrate on the grass strip next to the parking area doing their evening prayers. Being a dog owner, Tall Tom pointed out that the grass right next to the parking spots at a highway rest stop might not be the most sanitary place to stick your face, but oh, well – the things we do for our faith. While the two of us ate dinner we noticed the adjacent table was occupied by a large Hispanic family, fully decked out in MAGA gear. Even the kids had their red hats and Trump shirts on. I pictured Ohio as being a bunch of bland, white bread people – I guess I was wrong.

Pretty sunset while loading the car

We had intended to go only as far as roughly Cleveland (if even that far) on Monday, but once Rob and Béla texted that they had made it all the way to Ann Arbor, we decided we would make it there too. While they had arrived in time to have a nice dinner and brewpub visit, Tom and I got in about 9 PM, just in time to settle in and hit the hay. Our hotel was a eerily deserted Wyndham Conference Center, and when the four of us met up for breakfast on Tuesday we had the place to ourselves. At about 9 AM we set off together, having switched teams for the day – I had Béla in my car, while Rob and Tom rode together.

Tuesday 9/3

There are two routes to The Apostle Islands: one across the bottom of the Great Lakes, and the other up through Michigan, including crossing the Upper Peninsula (“UP”). Both routes are about the same length, and my traveling companions were good enough to agree to take the “UP” route, which would take us through Escanaba, MI, home to Aronson Island. A long time ago I typed “Aronson” into Google Maps just to see what would come up, and along with a lot of accounting firms and other professional practices, up popped Aronson Island. It’s been a “bucket list” destination for me ever since, and so we made Escanaba our planned second night stopping place. 

Along the way to Escanaba we did have some fun, including stopping at Northwoods Outfitters, a giant outdoors store focused mostly on hunting and fishing, but with some stuff of interest to our style of outdoorsiness. We stopped for lunch at a restaurant called Darrow’s in Mackinaw City just before the bridge to the “UP”. Darrow’s looked like it could have been generated by AI from the prompt “Midwestern Diner”. Big display case of pies. Lots of people in plaid and other L.L. Bean-looking clothes. Significantly high average BMI (maybe from all that pie). The menu highlighted fresh lake whitefish, a Great Lakes fish which is apparently the same fish used in the kosher deli whitefish salads of my youth, and so I ordered a blackened whitefish sandwich. It was very fresh and delicious – firm, and flavorful but not fishy. For dessert we all split a single piece of their pecan pie.

We had made reservations at one of Escanaba’s two hotels (while the town is neat and tidy I sense it’s not a big tourist destination), choosing the one within walking distance of America’s best island. When the Hotel Luddington opened in 1864, it was (per a historical marker) “the largest and only hotel in the city having baths, steam heat and electric call bells - $2.00 per day”. Today, there are no longer electric call bells and the price has gone up somewhat, but the place seems otherwise unchanged since its Civil War era heyday, and it would be a great setting for a Scooby Doo mystery. Big, old, and creaky. Our rooms turned out to be suites – mine had a bedroom, living room, full kitchen, and a strange empty walk-in closety sort of space, and all-told was at least as big as my first apartment in New York. The furnishings were sort of yard sale/antique shop caliber, and my suite had paintings where you felt the eyes should be following you as you walked around. In addition to our group, the only other guests we saw were a large and friendly group of motorcycle tourists.

Main Street, Escanaba, at sunset

Home at last!

I drove 900 miles for this picture!

After a day of sitting, the four of us were eager to move around a little and so we walked the length of the town’s commercial strip. Like many so many American towns, Escanaba has a quaint but failing downtown. There are a handful of shops, the most thriving of which seemed to be the cannabis dispensary. Sadly, it was not called Escannabis, which would be what I would name my business were I to open a cannabis dispensary there. At dinner we ran into the motorcyclists again, which was not too surprising since there were only two open restaurants in town. After a surprisingly good meal, we walked over and made our first visit to Aronson Island, where we staged a photo shoot in front of the island’s sign.

The House of Luddington

House of Luddington decor

The House of Luddington’s past guests include Thomas Edison, John Phillip Sousa, The Harlem Globetrotters, and Johnny Cash. Surprisingly, we were not visited by any of their ghosts during the night (being visited by the ghost of Johnny Cash would have been super cool!!), and in the morning after a quick cup of coffee we loaded up our stuff and headed back to Aronson Island – this time by car – where I was thrilled to find more signs, each unique. My original bucket list hope had been to actually launch my kayak from my island, but with a full day’s driving ahead, none of us really felt like pulling the boats down and getting into full paddle rattle just to say we had done it (though adding a second Great Lake to our trip’s paddling would have been cool). Instead, we satisfied ourselves with exploring by car and on foot, including visiting the island’s pretty beach, which faces Little Bay du Noc on Lake Michigan. We took lots more pictures.

Aronson Island signs

Aronson Island Beach

All good things must come to an end, and eventually we departed Aronson Island, bound for our final destination of Bayfield, Wisconsin. Escanaba didn’t really offer anything in the way of breakfast (I had hoped to try the signature Swedish pancakes at the Swedish Pantry downtown, but alas, they were closed for renovations). We set off with empty stomachs, figuring we’d grab something along the road; however, once you leave Escanaba, there isn’t much of anything along the road through the UP, and we drove about 75 miles before we came upon a tiny strip mall which contained a Subway and, interestingly, a rather hip coffee bar called “Buddha Bean”. I got an egg sandwich at Subway and a decaf Americano at Buddha Bean. The barista was apparently new, and while she pulled the espresso shots without issue, she added tap water rather than hot water (an Americano is several espresso shots diluted with hot water down to American coffee strength), leaving me with a lukewarm coffee. Worst coffee I’ve ever had in Crystal Falls, MI! I'm giving them only one star! I should have gone back and had them remake it, but we were eager to resume moving.

Escanaba to Bayfield was a relatively short 4 ½ hours, which was nice. As we approached Bayfield we of course stopped at another outdoors store, and I noticed the rather nice looking StageNorth Arts Center. I guess the human urge to create art is strong, even in the remote Chequamegon Bay area.

Our first stop in Bayfield (because we stumbled upon it) was the Maritime Museum, where we learned about the maritime history, and lots of shipwrecks – foreshadowing! – of Lake Superior. Tall Tom had reserved an AirBnB for us, and after checking in we had a light lunch in town. I could tell we were in Wisconsin from the fact that my "salad" was 85% cheese and 15% salad greens. We spent the rest of the day on the typical fussing we do the night before launch – buying fresh food items, and packing, re-packing, and re-re-packing gear. We did have a very nice dinner at The Pickled Herring, a restaurant with a deck overlooking the lake. Rob, who loves all manner of fish and fish parts, ordered the whitefish livers, which sadly, weren’t as exceptional as the fish itself. We retired early to get a good night’s sleep before launching.

Shipwreck display at the Maritime Museum in Bayfield

Surprisingly good map of The Apostles from 1671

Rob ordered the whitefish livers at The Pickled Herring

Continue to the next part of the trip.