Companion Paddling

Egg Harbor-Ephraim

27-28 August 2022

An interesting and totally unintended thing happened as I gained the big waters of Green Bay. Instead of doing jaunts on the river solo and running the shuttle myself by bike, I increasingly had other people with me. When I started at the mouth of the Fox River, it was at dawn after spending the night at my mom’s house. She gave me a ride to the put in and picked me up the next day in Egg Harbor. I could have biked the shuttle, maybe, but I wasn’t sure where my take-out would be. I’d have likely chosen a destination I knew I could achieve, like Sturgeon Bay, which would have shortened my progress by 15-20 miles. I also would have had to bike the shuttle, which would have made an already exhausting jaunt devastatingly so. Work would have suffered even more that following week! Most importantly, though, I got to share this experience with my mom. Even though we have profoundly different dispositions on leisure and recreation, her helping me out inextricably made her part of this storyline. Thanks Mom, for that and everything else.

This next leg was a little different. I had some company throughout the weekend. Bridget and I came upon an open campsite in Peninsula State Park for the last weekend in August and jumped at it. We anticipated a weekend of hiking, paddling, maybe some biking. I released my laser focus on covering as much water as I could and relished the thought of lingering in this beautiful area a bit, rather than barging through in one fell swoop. So, we drove up the peninsula together to camp, and pack in as many outdoor activities in as possible. After we pitched camp in the dark, I arose earlyish Saturday and drove with Endeavor from the park, through the town of Fish Creek, down to Egg Harbor to put in at my previous takeout on th

e Village Beach. Winds were out of the south at 5, but were to increase to 15 throughout the day, under bright skies and mercury that started in the 60s and rose to about 80. Another gorgeous day for advancing north.

This was a fairly short jaunt, just shy of ten miles. I say that hesitantly because the wind was at my back. Should these distances be attempted into the wind, it’s hard to say how much longer they would take. Interestingly, I have yet to paddle any substantial distance into the wind (knock on wood). It’s like I’m living an old Irish blessing, wind at my back and sun warm upon my face. In this case, with the fates once again with me, I rode the seasonal southerly breeze north for about two and a quarter hours.

Rock faces had become the norm along the shoreline, with most of the homes sitting atop a sheer face that extended from between 5 and 50 feet above the water. I was in larger waves now, perhaps some of the largest I’d experienced. It is so hard for me to measure their size, being so close to the water and with so little experience in these conditions. What I first thought were 3-4 feet on Lake Poygan earlier this summer were certainly a quite a bit smaller. Now these were perhaps 2-2.5 feet, some with the beginnings of white caps upon their crests. I was stable in Endeavor, rolling with the waves and paddling with solid strokes for stability and propulsion.

I had made it to clear water, beyond the algae of lower Green Bay. I was now in the cliffs of the northern Door County, whose landscape is marked by blue water and white rock. It feels a bit more crisp and pristine. Sand and limestone replace the mud and industrial shoreline farther south and on the river.

This neat and natural delineation are a draw for lots of people. Most, even the tourists themselves, ourselves, complain that Door County is overrun with people. It ultimately is what it is. One point I find interesting before leaving this topic, though, is that with all the beautiful rock features, points, islands, and topography, the most common activity for people in Door County is shopping. They come here to buy stuff. But there is, of course, another realm of engagement. People do get into sailing, fishing, and biking. Hell, some even paddle! There also happens to be a concentration of potters and artists.

I cleared a point that marked the entrance to another harbor, with Fish Creek at its base. The masts of the sailboats at their moorings mingled with the shops and houses that crept up the bluff. I kept the scene at a distance, cutting straight across, yet again shooting for the farthest point I could see on the peninsula. This expanse is such a joy to explore. My mind allowed to wander, thoughts to slow down, even losing track of time. Taking each swell on its own, being driven forward by the approaching wave and alternately lulled as its back side raises the bow in an incline. The stern is sometimes swept to a side, but the intimacy with the vessel accommodates a nearly simultaneous response. I play with different types of strokes and movements: bold and forceful, dabbling the tips of the blades and rolling at a more rapid cadence, offsetting my grip from being centered on the paddle shaft to maintain a straight course, and adjusting trim by leaning farther forward. Slowly, I’m experientially learning to handle this boat. We are becoming an extension of one another.

This point I was heading for was in the park itself. Gaining it, I realized it served as the perch for the Eagle Bluff Light House. I paused briefly to snap a picture of the sun-shrouded landmark. This was a bit of a task, removing my paddle from the water, thus relinquishing my most effective means of stabilization. I was now left to roll with the waves, relying on my hips to sync

with the surface of the water. Have I mentioned my deficit of rhythm? I made it a quick photo op and got back underway.

I made my way farther up the coast and past a smattering of islands off my port side. Despite their being the better part of a mile away, they blocked the waves considerably. It was interesting to me how easily the undulations in the water were disrupted by obstacles in their path, and how far downwind that effect can endure. The shoreline also turned away from the wind, further sheltering me as I approached my destination for the morning, Welcher’s Point.

At last, on nearly flat water, I made my destination. Just a couple hours, but the tale of my morning’s jaunt was a beautiful one. I had been on the water just long enough to acquaint myself with the rhythm of the wind and waves. I felt an ease and peace of mind come over me upon locating the pulse of my surroundings.

I lingered a bit, savoring the moment, before leaving Endeavor on the rocky shoreline to find a route up the clay bank to the forest land that leveled off 10 feet above. I hauled my paddling bindle through the picnic area, across the main road of the park, and into the campground where our base for the weekend had been established. Bridget wasn’t waiting around for me; she had planned a great hike of her own and was checking it out.

I returned later to the take-out with Bridget and she helped me with the rest of my gear and vessel. Then we enjoyed a hike that took us into the afternoon, and I rode my bike down to Egg Harbor to grab the truck. As I wove in and out of cars stuck in the incessant traffic of Fish Creek, I wondered if I wasn’t missing something that all these people were into. They did their shopping at galleries and designer stores, then ate at niche restaurants. Here I was on a 25 yr old bike searching out the back roads to Egg Harbor. I’d been coming to Door County for a long time, having bicycled throughout this area since high school. Despite the popularity of this area for cycling, I still feel like I was in the minority of people having such an experience. And despite the romance of moored sailboats that is captured in so many paintings, it is the highway, not the water, that is congested with tourists from the south. I wasn’t sleeping in a hold below the waterline, but I was living every bit of this aquatic richness. In the end, I decided I wasn’t missing much by skipping the shops. To each their own. It had been a full day, to be sure, but we still had an evening to enjoy in the villages in the way that most people experience Door County.

Next morning, Bridget and I set out together from the rocky beach of Welcher’s Point where I left off the day before.

We put in at about 7:00 am, wary of strong winds that were growing from the southeast. We anticipated protection by the mainland, while the lake side of the peninsula was buffeted by large waves and was under a beach warning. We started out innocently enough on flat water, and even paddled to Horseshoe Island to check out the cove where sailboats love to moor for an evening’s sojourn. Wind was picking up, but before we left those shores we were privy to a family of bald eagles out for a Sunday soar.

From Horseshoe Island, we headed straight for Eagle Bluff. The lee of the cliffs there provided the savory sight of diminishing seas. Not to mention some spectacular views of the sheer rock faces. But there’s just something heartwarming in knowing that whatever

turbulence you presently experience is on the wane. We took our time approaching the calm, clear waters of Nicolet Bay. This was a moment worth savoring. Skirting the shoreline, we entered Eagle Harbor pro

per and set a heading for the beach where the truck was staged. The waves remained tame, and we enjoyed our slow aqueous stroll into town. Once the boats were lashed to the truck, we walked to a café for a breakfast I won’t soon forget. What a delightful morning in Ephraim. About 3.5 miles that morning, and every moment of them glorious. As Bridget mentioned a few times, “There’s just something about paddling up to a destination!”