Re-Immersion

I owe this one to Bill Koepke, a good friend of mine who shared a post about the Bluemind Challenge. 

Bridget and I have been busy.  Projects on the house, soccer with the kids, and work fill in the bulk of our time.  Additionally, I had been working on some writing, and then some side work to finance its editing and publication.  It has been difficult to find time to slow down and stay in touch with things that are important to me personally-water, nature, and exercise. 

When Bill described the Bluemind Challenge of getting in, on, under, or near natural waterways and connecting with them every day for 100 days, I knew it was just the medicine I needed. 

Most days I jump in the Little Plover River a couple blocks from my house. 

The spring-fed water provides an invigorating shock.  Regaining my breath, I sink in and watch the water as it slides past the bridge of my nose.  Peering upstream, the wild riparian corridor looks as it might have 300 years ago, lush and intimate.  For a moment, I am locked in the present and immersed in my surroundings.  Something I’ve been desperate for without realizing it.  Sometimes you don’t realize how far you are from your path until you finally regain it.

It so happens that we had a number of trips that popped up, all of which brought us close to the water. 

Door County

We had our honeymoon (Wedding was in January, on the shores of Green Bay) originate in Door County, and the plan was for me to take to the Great Lakes again with Endeavor to paddle

from Washington Island to Upper Michigan’s Garden Peninsula.  On the day of the passage, winds picked up from the south and I simply wasn’t ready for it. So after some easy paddling on protected waters, we took in Door County for an extra day. Good thing too, because on an evening stroll in Nicolet Bay, I met Captain Richard and

First Mate Debra aboard their 45' steel hulled sloop Ciara Madeline. They over nighted just off from Peninsula State Park as part of their tour through northern Lake Michigan and Lake Huron. Their adventures are blogged at Sailing Ciara Madeline.

We also got in some biking and some terrific sunsets view from shore. There is a ton of comercialization in many parts of that peninsula, but the natural treasures there are worth seeking out. One of our best moments was eating Indian take-out we'd picked up in Sturgeon Bay at a lookout in a county park near Ellison Bay.

Pictured Rocks, Munising, MI

I joined Bridget the next day for the drive to our other planned destination in the Michigan's Upper Peninsula to take in Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. Our first morning out, we mosied out on the water but got a little

seasick as the rock face perfectly reflected waves to a chaotic jostling of our boats.  We found a quieter surface as we paddled along the beach and wandered a spell up the Miners River.  Venturing back out onto the lake, the rocks and crannies we explored were otherworldly.  We were captivated by the sound of swells in the crannies and the forms of the

nooks and crevaces. The clean water and wild landscape inspired awe and rejuvination of the soul. I can’t explain it any further.  If you have the means, I highly recommend getting out there.  Not on a huge power boat, but in a kayak--A small craft that enhances intimacy with the environment.  A guided tour

is a perfect way to go.

On our last morning, Bridget wanted to hit the North Country Trail and I was drawn to another jaunt on  Gitche Gumee.

 I put in at 6:30 am on glassy water and had one of the most extraordinary paddles of my life.  This is precisely what I built this boat for, and it served me well.  approached some circular holes in the stone face. Paddling along the rock wall that runs up 60 feet to the woodlands above, I looked into the clear green water to see giant boulders not far under the surface, like dinasouar eggs sitting dormant and awaiting some kind of wake-up. The scene felt ancient and unchanged by time, man, weather, or nature. These rocks, albeit more eroded with some features collapsed and others revealed, have looked like this for eons. I can't explain or really make sense of the peace that came with visiting this place, and I don't need to. I just took in as much of it as I could and basked in the new sensation that this environment affords.

With nothing on these rocks to give reference for size-no doors, windows, cars, or poeple, things look smaller than they really are.

A domed hole in the rock looks to be 20 feet high but it’s double that, and goes back into the rock face almost as far.  I paddled through the Grand Portal Arch twice, and its immensity still isn’t totally apparent even when under it.  From beneath its cathedralesque form, a slot is visible in the rock face.  It looks too small to accommodate a kayak until I paddle up to it.  I was able to follow this deceivingly expansive cave back about 30 feet from the outer rock wall. Reluctantly, I turned my back on this wonderous waterscape and made my way back toward civilization.

The feeling of the wild lands and green water of Gitche Gumee lingered with me as I returned to work for a few weeks before our next trip. 

Pike Lake Chain, Iron River, WI

In the later part of June we went north for a family reunion on the Pike Chain of Lakes, just south of Iron River, WI.  Besides getting on the water, we hung out in Duluth as some of my family ran the Grandma's Marathon, and we got out on a few bike rides. The lake took center focus, though. Loons serenaded us every day we were there.  My brother in law rented a pontoon boat and we caught up on some fishing.  I got some paddling in too, and even some sailing on a small boat that

had been gifted to the owners of the lodge where we stayed.  Good times reconnecting with family and slowing down just a bit, even if my sister caught the biggest fish! 

Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, MN

At the week’s end, we were to pick my son up from his first summer camp experience in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area of northern Minnesota.  My daughter asked if while

we were up there if we could camp in the Boundary Waters too. By a dose of trail magic, we wound up with a permit to the same entry point used by my son’s group on their 4-day canoe run.  Rather than move around, we spent two nights at the same site with a couple little side jaunts on the second day.  This may have been the best campsite I ever visited.  It took some doing to get there, though.

  We started with a head wind that blew in mist and then rain and then heavier wind and then heavier rain.  It stopped dumping on us as we reached our site, so we were still able to have a fire and dry out-at least until we got in the tent and it rained through the night. 

Next day was cool, cloudy, and misty.  We paddled and portaged to another lake to get a feel for the landscape.  Later on Julia and I went out and caught a northern, got tooted at by a trumpeter swan, and heard baby beaver crying

from inside their lodge.  That was a first for both of us. We returned to camp under clearning skies.  Exploring the lichen, moss, and topography of the rocky point we perched on was an exploration that could fill a number of days on its own.  Julia and Bridget made miniature boats that they sent home into the lake through the step pool formations in the rock.  The day'sunset was behind a cloudless sky and calm water. 

I love the coincidences and happenstances of a trip like this. Permits were scarce at the late hour I was shopping for them, but the lake we put in on happened to also be the farthest point I paddled to on a trip 14 years previously. Three weeks after I explored this territory, a huge fire raged through and burned most of the territory I'd covered. Now the forest is young and brushy, still with a few corpses of burned trees sticking above the canopy. Life and death just seem to live very closely together in this wilderness. It's one of the reasons I love it so much.

Next morning we headed out straight away after striking camp.  Talking over the water, we started processing the experience.  Julia summed it up best:  "It feels like my soul is being purified!"

Anyone soulless enough to put areas like this at risk with mining or sell them off for profit has no clue the life that wilderness breathes into a person who goes there and takes the time to connect with it.  Trying to explain to such people the life they are missing is like trying to explain to a dog what it’s like to have thumbs.  You just can’t know what you’re missing of something you never experienced.  This is precisely why this blog exists and is the purpose of the book I

am finally about to publish.  To inspire the following of our inner compass to wild places like this rather than being swept along by societal currents. Let’s help one another get out there in the most holistically healthy ways possible to reap and enhance the richness of this Earth.