It’s a Small World

We quietly pushed off just as the sun came up and continued down the north side of the island, gazing at the silent woods, funny skimmer ducks and looking into the clear blue depths of the lake. Rocks would suddenly rise up and our depth finder would beep, informing us that we were once again in water less than 6’ deep. How on earth boats made it through there back before GPS we don’t know. There would have had to be a lot of hectic bearing taking and paper chart plotting but probably most of all they just would have stayed farther out in the deep.

Thanks to a recently acquired hobby of rock hounding, our destination this morning was Agate Beach and the nearby coves. The course in is truly treacherous and we crept along, wiggling our way between rocks until we could slide up on the beach.

What joy it is to scramble on deserted shores, the icy water lapping at your bare feet while the sun bakes down and twinkles on the water. Signs of moose abounded, but we never saw so much as an antler. The rocks on Superior’s shore are extremely diverse and colorful and we poked, splashed and dug for an hour or more. We found a few small agates, but mostly just other pretty rocks that grabbed our fancy. I fetched the hammer from the boat and we busted some open, hoping against hope for a rare treasure but nothing too dramatic showed up. Zach had the sudden notion to swim and he shivered and shrieked in the water, claiming high and low that it wasn’t so cold but his glaring pink skin belied his words and we knew better than to join him. I could have stayed there a lot longer but finally got weary of the constant cry of “all aboard” that kept coming from the boat and reluctantly returned.

At the next beach we dined like kings on wraps and chips before once again taking up the rock search. This time we were rewarded with a few more agates, but time was moving on and so must we.

Rounding the point to head into Windigo brought us right over the shipwreck of the SS America. To read more about it go to https://www.nps.gov/isro/learn/historyculture/ss-america.htm. There was a mooring ball by it for Dive Boats and we happily took advantage of it, tying on and pulling ourselves slowly over the wreck to gaze and imagine. Almost gives a person the urge to be a diver… ho boy, I sorta hope Heath didn’t think of that because we all know what that means. I may as well start flipper shopping.

As we cruised up the Harbor stretch headed to Windigo a seaplane flew over us and landed in a spray of water. We watched it dock and before we had gone much farther it had turned around and took off, rising just above our bow. We waved and smiled.

Windigo has a little store, an Information Center and the much sought after fuel and showers. It was fairly deserted compared to Rock Harbor and the thick woods and silence almost oppressed me. The rest loved it and we took a hike up to Grace Creek Overlook where we could see the truly untouched inland wilderness and, according to some fellow hikers, hear a moose splashing in the stream just out of sight.

The Information Center has lots of cool things like shipwreck information and a really old lighthouse light with the huge glass fresnel lens that had come from the Rock of Ages Lighthouse.

Leaving Windigo behind, we continued to explore the outer islands, pausing at an animal trail that led to wild raspberries and wet, muddy shoes for me, thanks to a particularly clumsy maneuver while beaching. Somewhere on John’s Island there is a motor boat up on the shore looking for all the world like it’s ready to go out, except of course for the fact it’s absolutely high and dry.

Zach had said the word “pancakes” during our hike and we all had a sudden appetite for them. None of us felt like going far so we ended up in a little cove close to the wreck for night. The sun had disappeared in a brilliant blaze of pink by the time we had our anchor set and before long we were frying pancakes. The smoke from the overheated butter blotted out the stars but our stomachs were happy.

I was finally settled in bed, my snoring companions all around me when I saw with a sinking heart that no one had turned on the mast head anchor light. Scramble scramble scramble out of bed to the breaker, flip on the switch and scramble back. Settled again, I looked up and behold, still no illumination. That’s when I realized the plug must have got knocked outside and it was gonna take a real operation for me to go get it plugged back in. With a quick “please God, help no one to bump us in the night”, I fell into an undisturbed sleep.