2008 Great Lakes Sea Kayak Symposium

Well, this year’s Great Lakes Sea Kayak Symposium is a wrap.

Weather was not as nice as last year, but more than one person commented on the cooler temps being easier to paddle in. And the fog lent a mystic ambience to the paddling trips.

As usual the symposium passed too quickly. This year was my first as a volunteer with the symposium and hopefully one of many working with the group; it was a pleasure to do so, to say hi to people I knew through paddling, and to meet some more great folks in the sport. It really is remarkable the range of people this event brings from near and far.

I want to thank Tiffany, Patrick and the rest of the gang at Riverside Kayak in Wyandotte, Rob and the rest of the committee, the rest of the group, the instructors, other volunteers, the great presenters, the vendors, and certainly the town of Grand Marais for making this such an excellent event. Let’s hope next year’s 25^th anniversary can do this great symposium justice.

Candid about Candid Photography

As I continue to feed my photography addiction and my creative jones, I’ve been branching out into shooting candid shots (with varying degrees of success). Now, I’ve always enjoyed shooting people and other animals in action and sports photos - running, jumping, racing, boating, etc. Capturing those brave souls in the Nub’s Nob super pipe or on the recently outlawed tabletop jumps has been a favorite pastime of mine for a few ski seasons now.

But I’m talking more about shooting people who are not necessarily involved in sports or a specific action, but more in the motions of everyday life. Enjoying a book, a stroll or a meal, contemplating one another, or on autopilot as we all are from time to time. Capturing the dynamic of the person lost in thought or the group lost in laughter. For me it’s a new challenge; in addition to developing creative compositions is the added sensitivity of respecting privacy. So I shoot in public venues only and even then, in situations where either a crowd is present and the privacy scale is nil, or in situations where I know I’m being inconspicuous. In other words I try to be considerate.

Last week, while shooting a favorite hot dog vendor from what I thought was a considerate distance, I received a rude inquiry as to what I was doing, and told it was illegal. I was taken aback. I told him calmly that he was in a public space and as such, there was nothing illegal about what I was doing; I wasn’t planning on selling the photo. But it did make me think. So I did some reading and some mulling of candid photography.

In the end I have to say my mind wasn’t changed – much. “Asking permission first” kind of defeats the purpose of candid photography. If people are noticeably uncomfortable I’ll try to pick up on that more. I’ll try to be even less conspicuous. And as before, if someone objects to me photographing them or using their photo, of course, I won’t do so.

I still wonder how some of you photographers out there feel...

Signs of Spring

OK, after a brief warmup we are in the 50’s and grey and cloudy. But I have to tell you, I just returned from downstate and spring is indeed on the way. For further evidence I offer these pictures:

"In the Spring, I have counted 136 different kinds of weather inside of 24 hours"

-Mark Twain

27th Annual Juried Photo Exhibit

Crooked Tree Arts Council
Petoskey, MI
January 12 - March 1, 2008

Petite Portal Point

Opening this January 12^th is the 27th Annual Juried Photo Exhibit at Crooked Tree Arts Council in Petoskey, Michigan. I’ve shamelessly inserted the above photograph, which I took while on a paddling vacation to the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore last summer. Fortunately the photo was accepted into the exhibit and I’m greatly flattered. The opening is on January 12th, from 2 to 4 pm, and the show runs through March 1. I enthusiastically encourage everyone to take it in; there are some truly beautiful works this year. And this show has motivated me to go forward and develop a photography website to get my work out there, so look for further development of this website here in the near future.

But my real reason for posting this (honest!) is to trumpet another virtue of the town of Petoskey, Michigan. With a relatively meager population of under 10,000, and removed from the perceived cultural refinement of the Southeast Michigan area, Petoskey does remarkably well representing the arts. Within the city there are no less than six fine arts galleries, and in the adjacent locales of Bay Harbor and Harbor Springs, the number increases to eleven. This, in addition to the numerous stage acting and musical performance organizations in the area. The Crooked Tree Arts Council (link on right) could probably tout their virtues better than I, but they serve as the anchor for the arts pursuits in the region, serving the public out of a beautifully restored an important historical fixture in the heart of downtown. It’s own facilities include two galleries, a performance stage, studios, workshops and administrative offices. Crooked Tree holds some wonderful events, providing funding for the center and a venue for local individuals and organizations to perform and shine. Some of my past favorites have been performances by the Civic Theater, some great films, the annual “D’Art for Art” event in July, and the juried photography exhibit. Some features I’d like to catch down the road are cooking workshops, the “Day Away” trip – a visitation of regional galleries like the Art Institute of Chicago; and almost any of the featured concerts, plays, and art displays.

It’s just another of the many reasons I love living in the Petoskey area.

'Tis the Season!

The temperatures have dropped, the jet stream is nestling into it's winter pattern but the lakes are open and warm. The lake effect snow machine that blankets the northern part of the state in a downy-white quilt has begun blowing.

One of the things I cherish most about living in Northern Michigan near the water is the change of seasons. Of course, people almost everywhere in the U.S. experience the transition. But in this region, the change is dramatic, more akin to turning a page between chapters of a book, rather than a slow 'fade-in fade-out” of a film. The fall colors usher in the transition from summer with vivid colors, colors that use the rolling hills and blue lake as a canvas to paint a seasonal vista unique to Northern Michigan. After the leaves are all but gone, winds increase further, days shorten significantly, and the steely waters begin brooding. For over a week now, I've driven through town every day to see an agitated gunmetal gray bay, full of closely stacked waves anywhere from three to eight feet, obscuring the marina breakwall and light in white clouds of spray and rolling in hurried formation into the east and southern shores of the bay.

Once the patterns shift to winter weather, lake effect snows begin. Cold fronts dropping across the warm lake pick up moisture and deposit it as snow along windward regions adjacent and inland from the lake. Meteorologists say about a fifteen-degree difference in temperatures is required to generate the conditions (obviously with air temps well below freezing). When these ingredients exist, even in the absence of an organized storm, the recipe can create widespread snow across entire regions or within surprisingly isolated areas. One can sit at a coffee shop in Petoskey, with overcast or even partly sunny skies, and look across to the north side of the bay to a heavy snowfall. Sometimes, with no snow falling in town, the other side of the bay is completely obscured by snow. During the beginning of winter, the temperature difference between water and air is great enough to keep us in almost-daily doses of fresh white stuff.

With the arrival of winter and the lake effect snow machine, in an area with three ski resorts in a thirty-mile radius, comes the anticipation of ski season, which commonly begins Thanksgiving weekend. Running shoes and road bicycles pass skis and snowshoes on their respective transitions into and out of hibernation in basements and attics. Snowplows are mounted, snowblowers and snowmobiles are tuned up, winter tires go on, and glinting bright lights of all colors begin to appear, tempering the cold, dark evenings with the promise of the coming holidays. And the words of seasonal greetings spoken to each other in the crispness of winter become visible in the form of cartoon-cloud puffs of frosty steam.

Bon Appetit!

You're looking at a piping-hot dish of Calamari Puttanesca alla Fresca with shrimp, on angel hair pasta. Now, before you bookmark this page as a kitchen companion - although I've modified this recipe, made it mine to a certain degree - it began as a simple recipe from an Italian cookbook and not something crafted from scratch. Anyone could make it; people sometimes let cooking intimidate them. But what you get out of it might be more than simply something to fill your stomach.

Salivary glands first awaken with a crackling sautee of onions and garlic, then proscuitto, and the aromatic steam created. Tomatoes, wine and spices add color and a bright, pungent quality to the scent. The calamari, some chopped basil and grated parmesan add some festivity.

I swear, there is something in the scent of any home cooking, but particularly Italian red sauces, that acts as an antidepressant or stimulant. I made this dish on a cold, gray and snowy day, the seasonal change in the weather keeping me indoors. But filling the house with such scents as it did added a warmth and comfort. I sat by myself with a nice glass of red wine and took in the tastes and smells.

Home cooking can enhance sense of place and add to intimacy. And the process of creating good food is therapeutic in itself. Something to be shared if possible, but also enjoyable in your own company.

Apostle Island National Lakeshore

I've lived in Michigan all my life, never more than two hours from one of the Great Lakes, and am fortunate enough to have traveled them often. Once in awhile, even now, I'm surprised by an area I visit for the first time. This last September, when I traveled the islands with two friends for six days, the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore became one of those places.

The Apostles Islands are located on the South shore of Lake Superior, in Northern Wisconsin and about 1-1/2 hours from the Michigan border. A collection of over twenty islands ranging from tiny to over ten miles long, the park features red sandstone cliffs, numerous sea caves, wilderness settings, and the unpredictability of Lake Superior. From the Petoskey area, we loaded the three boats and gear into one vehicle and drove about 7 hours, through the entire upper Peninsula and into the town of Bayfield, Wisconsin. Bayfield is another one of those beautiful little Great Lakes towns, with a very nautical feel, quaint downtown, long-established marina and a point of access by ferry to Madeleine Island, one of the largest of the Apostle Islands and the only really developed one.

We planned to paddle the Outer Island loop, as described in the Guide to Sea Kayaking on Lakes Superior and Michigan: The Best Day Trips and Tours, a great publication by by Bill Newman, Sarah Ohmann, and Don Dimond. We awoke Sunday morning to a light drizzle and low sixties temps, and just itching to get out on the water. By the time we made our way to the beach, the skies were breaking, forecast was for north to northeast winds and 2'-3' waves. Smiles broke among us.

I brought my Valley Pintail for this trip for a few reasons: I wanted to have something fun to maneuver into and around sea caves, arches and fallen rock; and I wanted to take the boat in which I could be the most confident in rough water. I compromised a bit in storage space, a compromise that was well worth it to me on a weeklong trip. I was warily but excitedly anticipating traveling this area of Superior, exposed to the northwest to northeast, in fall, when the lake becomes a bit more active. No matter how cliche it sounds, Superior really is different than the other Great Lakes, and more like a sea than any of them.

The first day we traveled from Sand Bay to Sand Island, broke for lunch, and then to York Island, riding waves increasing to 3' or so into shore. Approaching the island, we were able to catch some lengthy rides on the growing waves. Camping at York Island wasn't bad for being so close to the mainland. The island has about seven campsites scattered along a picturesque crescent-shaped sand bay with a sunrise view, and a panorama of some of the outer islands. I slept with my tent facing the bay and a gentle breeze flapping the tent fly.

The following morning, we put in for Raspberry Island. Weather forecast was for sun, 1'-3' waves, and 5-15 mph winds. However, the forecast also called for winds increasing and out of the east to southeast the following day. Stopping at Raspberry Island to visit the restored light house, which turned into a well-guided tour of the lighthouse by a very accommodating ranger who knew his stuff and clearly enjoyed his job, sharing the history of the islands and the lighthouse. What a great representative of the park. After thanking him for the tour, we loaded back up to paddle onward, up the east coast of the island and toward Bear Island. We stopped at the island for lunch, watching a few bald eagles soar and frolic, and then paddled the rocks and occasional arch along the east coast before making the north crossing to Devil's Island, a one-mile long island with numerous sea caves, one campsite, and a remote feel we were going to get used to. As we unloaded, we listened to the forecast call for a gale warning the following day, with 25-35 knot winds gusting to 50. Sounded like we might be windbound.

I had developed a case of tendonitis in my wrists, so I opted out of a tour of the sea caves. I hiked the mile through an almost Pacific Northwest-primeval forest to the north end of the island, spotting such out-of-place residents as azaleas and cranberry among the more northern-climate plants. I arrived at the other end and encountered a group of contractors, working on roofing the light keeper's house. They looked up in surprise at my presence, with the approaching storm in mind. Friendly on this distant island, they certainly made known their concern for our welfare at the hands of Superior, until I assured them we had no intention of paddling if conditions actually materialized as predicted.

Spotting a large freighter on the horizon, I had arrived to the cliffs and sea caves on the other side of the island, just in time to see the two kayaks rounding one of the arches, whooping shouts of joy echoing through the caves below. I filmed and marveled as they literally paddled beneath me through the red sandstone cliffs below, through intensely contrasting aquamarine water.

Sometime early Tuesday morning, the winds increased and the gale began blowing. By daybreak, it was instantly apparent we wouldn't be paddling this day. The weather service held firm on the wind prediction, and called for up to 10' waves nearshore, and up to twenty-foot waves offshore. I had gotten my wish to safely witness Superior in all her fury. Surf snaked angrily along the shore, while whitecaps marched forward from a cold steel horizon. The wind howled overhead through the trees, the roots of some visibly straining to hold their footing. We ended up spending the day exploring the island, lighthouse, lifesaving station, the leeward side of the island, and the same caves we saw the day before, this time with surf pounding through arches and holes. The gale continued all day, the wind like a neverending train roaring overhead and offshore.

Wednesday morning, we awoke to gentler winds and a nice, easy 2’-3’ roll on the water. We decided to shorten our loop, planning to paddle to Manitou Island, then Oak, then back to Sand Bay on the mainland. So we paddled to Otter Island, broke for lunch, and continued on to Manitou Island. Manitou apparently has only one campsite – a beachside spot with another great sunset view. After a fairly easy day of paddling – one of our only calm, easy days - we took advantage of the beachside fire ring to build a blaze to be proud of, sat back, and enjoyed the sunset.

Conditions were forecast to pick up the next day, and continue on through Friday. We broke camp quickly, with a severe thunderstorm warning being aired by the NWS, and by the time we hit the water, the skies were darkening. We ended up sheltering at the south end of Manitou Island, where we found a pretty neat historic fishing camp. I have to say, the parks system has done a wonderful job featuring historical elements like this on nearly every island we visited.

The storm blew through, and we were met with an almost instant calm, belying the conditions to come in a few hours. We made the two-mile crossing to Oak Island, paddled the Hole in the Wall sea cave, and landed for a break, spotting a rather ominous and very large path of Black Bear tracks. By the time we launched again, conditions had picked up to a strong and steady wind and 3’-4’ closely stacked waves. Paddling into the wind, we made slow progress and were reaching the bottom of our collective tanks, when we looked landward and saw no less than seven bald eagles soaring on the updrafts of the island. Personally, that inspiration made me forget about my weariness and paddle on to our camp at Oak Island.

By now, the wind had commenced howling once again. We would wait the afternoon, evening, and into the next day for this gale to calm, but it never really did. After spending the following morning and afternoon socked in from the wind, and hiking 5 miles or so to the ranger station and back, we packed and awaited the forecast cancellation of the small craft advisory. Turned out that it never was cancelled, but we were compelled by a forecast of snow and twenty – degree temps to make our final crossing. It ended up being a challenging one, with 4’ beam waves and wind, with waves in a secondary direction coming from clapotis generated from the mainland cliffs. After reaching Raspberry Bay at near dusk, we decided to bail, stow our boats under a launch dock, and hiked the rest of the way to Sand Bay. After fetching the car, we drove into Bayfield to have a much – deserved pint or two and some real, hot food at Morty’s Pub, a great local spot.

Almost very place I’ve paddled in the Great Lakes warrants a return visit, but not too many more than the Apostle Islands. The islands, the red cliffs – actually called Brownstone, from which Brownstone townhouses got their title – the sea caves, and the mighty Superior prove to be a compelling combination. If you’re looking to challenge your abilities, get away from the crowds, and have your own little island to yourself, I highly recommend this island getaway during spring or fall.

"Playing Catch Up"

Great Lakes Sea Kayak Symposium 2007
July 18-22, 2007

Sometimes it seems that the best vacations happen when the trip is an unplanned impulse. Last July 18, during a difficult week and upon encouragement from a friend, I split Petoskey for a spur-of-the-moment trip to the Great Lakes Sea Kayak Symposium.

The Great Lakes Sea Kayak Symposium is in it's 23rd year, and takes place on the harbor of the wonderfully sleepy little town of Grand Marais. It runs three and a half days from Thursday to Sunday afternoon, features wide-ranging and excellent instruction, a great variety of guided trips, and consistently good speaking guests on Thursday through Saturday evenings. Kayak and equipment vendors and reps also attend and there is always an opportunity to try on some nice boats.

Arriving late I missed out on Thursday's activities but made lessons on Friday morning. The groups were nicely sized in the 10 to 15 person range, a great size for learning and just getting to know one another. Everyone seemed to be intent on getting the most out of the long weekend, and the weather certainly cooperated. After lessons ended that afternoon, I got to talk to Andy Knepley of Great River Outfitters, who sold me my first sea kayak when they were still located in Michigan. Afterward, I had a chance to get in a decent run from Grand Marais down the Grand Sable Falls trail and back, as the day was just too crisp to not take advantage - although with the winding and rolling two-lane highways, I was wishing I had brought my road bike for the trip. Later that evening, Wendy Killoran presented an interesting narrative on her solo circumnavigation of Newfoundland. The passion with which she takes on her travels really comes through, and listening to and speaking briefly with her was a bit of an inspiration, because I'd really like to take on an extended trip while I'm able. I met a few folks during the wine and cheese party afterward before giving in to sleep and returning to my campsite.

Saturday morning I took one of the tours, a 12-mile round trip from Sand Point to Trout Bay on Grand Island. Twenty of us met at the city campground and carpooled to Sand Point near Munising, where we were on the water by 10 a.m. I drove to the launch with a young instructor and great guy named Nate, who rode shotgun and supplied a few good CDs for a soundtrack to ease us through the early morning.

I've never paddled in a group so large, and it was nice to get to paddle awhile with each other, sharing conversation against a mesmerizing backdrop of golden sandstone cliffs, sea arches and shallow caves, and emerald water. We had a lunch stop in Trout Bay before making our return trip, and paddled back along the rocky shoreline and back to Sand Point through the wake of three consecutive tour boats. Returning to Grand Marais around 5:15 in the afternoon, we arrived in time to make the Grand Marais High School fundraiser, featuring the upper peninsula's original pocket food: beef and vegetable pasties. Afterward, race winners were awarded, followed by a raffle and a fascinating presentation by Dave Snowberg on his epic travels of the ANWR in Alaska by kayak and on foot, intended to raise interest and awareness to the land and it's sensitive position. Dave, like Wendy Killoran, really has an eye for composition and his photography was a show by itself.

Sunday I slept through the morning mist paddle but made Kelly Blades' “kayak games” and “kayak play”classes. A benefit of these courses is discovering more about boat control, but it's really all about the fun. Kelly seems to be a natural fit for this stuff, and had everyone in the water, laughing, and exhausted by the end of the courses. Before we were done, there were more than a few amused spectators standing on the beach. Afterward I tried out a few more of the boats on my wish list, and the symposium wrapped up with a very impressive traditional rolling demonstration by Doug Van Doren.

This was only the second Great Lakes Sea Kayak Symposium I've been to, and I really enjoyed it. Tiffany Van De Hey and the rest of the team put on a wonderful show. Everyone seemed to genuinely enjoy being there from whatever their perspective. I've been sea kayaking about 6 years now, so it was nice to get to say hello to some of the people I've met along the way, and get to meet a few more involved in the paddling community. And the weather really was perfect Upper Peninsula summertime.

Moreover, the town really seems to graciously and warmly embrace this event, and the schoolkids and staff did a wonderful job putting the fundraiser dinner together. I spent some time talking to locals and seasonal residents throughout the weekend and found them to be unfailingly laid back and kind. This town is a great jumping-off point for getting one's various outdoor grooves on in a really beautiful area. And somewhere during the weekend, I realized I had visited this area three times in the last 9 months and last paddled Pictured Rocks exactly one month ago. This area is beginning to feel like a familiar friend.

Another thing about unplanned vacations: they seem to be over before you know it. As I drove home I reflected on the weekend, how enjoyable it was, and again, how those impulsive little vacations really turn out well.

Additional photos here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/28182749@N03/sets/72157605924306640/show/

Tailwinds

Last Sunday I paddled the shores of Lake Michigan from the Wilderness State Park entrance to Mackinac City and back with a local friend. Under azure partly sunny skies and on clear aquamarine great lakes seas we paddled toward Big Mac, the four-mile suspension bridge celebrating it's 50th anniversary of completion this summer, and solely responsible for the connection of the Lower and Upper peninsulas of Michigan. We michiganders owe the Mackinac Bridge Authority thanks for their continued successful management of this bridge.

We expected east to southeast winds throughout the day and anticipated paddling our return in tailwinds and following seas. Waves built as we lunched on the shores of the mighty bridge, and on our return back, we found ourselves in 3'-4' confused following seas as we crossed Trail's End and Cecil Bays. The kind of ride where you have to keep your hips loose and your hands from getting behind you, and resist relaxing on the wave. Good bracing practice. The topography at the tip of the mitten seems to split the east winds, which come back together from over sea and land at Trail's End Bay. As a result, we had following seas with a quartering chop.

I love the Greenlander in these conditions; it's a bit sensitive due to it's hull cross section, more grippy than slidy like my Pintail, but it really cooks in following seas and wind. Oftentimes I can catch a wave from atop it, drop into it and catch the one ahead.

We were able to enjoy some extended rides, dipping to maintain course and speed, and brace from occasional quartering waves, making excellent time on our return and getting in some good practice for an upcoming trip to the Apostle Islands in fall.

Teaching a Friend

For the last few weeks I’ve been teaching and encouraging a friend to sea kayak. We’re both preparing for the Race Around the Bay, a 4 mile paddle/33-mile cycle/8-mile run around Little Traverse Bay, sponsored and organized by Northern Michigan Sports Medicine in Petoskey, MI (more on this event soon). As someone who loves paddling, and aspires to be an instructor someday, the opportunity has been rewarding. The fact that I get to help a friend learn is an added bonus.

After quite a few stints in my Greenlander on flatwater, and not being a stranger to kayaking or being on the water, I suspected she was ready for some more lively conditions, so last week we made a 4 mile crossing from Petoskey to Harbor Springs and back. A west wind with considerable fetch brought 3’ and occasional 4’ swells to the bay, and Harbor Point funneled winds to make the final mile or so even more interesting.

It took me the entire first half of the round trip to begin to let go of my concern for her. But on the return paddle, I quietly smiled inside at her revelry of being out in these conditions, enjoying them and appearing to be completely at home. I heard a few whoops of joy and watched some instinctual bracing, all which caused my smile to spread to the outside. We made the 7 mile round trip in under 90 minutes.

Conditions often define the level to which people want to pursue kayak touring. For me, although I love paddling of any kind, getting into lively and challenging conditions is what I most enjoy about the sport. Watching a friend get the same enjoyment as you do from an activity you love is like sharing a great secret.

Kayaking Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore

A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to kayak the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and just over 3 hours’ drive time from Petoskey, Michigan. I paddled the area with a friend from across the bay, and we traveled Southwest to Northeast from Munising to Grand Marais, a 45-mile route, in three days’ time.

In my limited experience, I place Pictured Rocks as the most beautiful lake shore in our country – towering sandstone cliffs rendered in warm sunset shades, rising over deep blue-green waters of Lake Superior, and topped by mixed forest habitat clinging to the cliff tops. About halfway through the trip, the cliffs give way first to lower rock outcrops interspersed with cobble beaches, then to the giant Sable Dunes, before finally reaching the terminus of Grand Marais, an idyllic little harbor town with an end-of-the-world ambience not unlike the town of Cicely, Alaska in the TV series Northern Exposure.

This area also has great sentimental value to me, having visited several times on family vacations and later in life with a mother who helped instill my enjoyment of the outdoors. I’ve also hiked the trails with friends and acquaintances. But until this summer, I’ve never had the opportunity to view the entire coast from the water. We were blessed on our trip by great weather, open backcountry campsites, and sparse park population, and only plagued by the notorious stable fly during the last day.

The trip left a few tangible personal impressions on me, but two were paramount: first, the old
familiar feeling of being drawn back to my love for backcountry travel was rekindled as it is every time I get off the beaten path; secondly, gratitude for my recently departed mother’s selfless efforts in making the outdoors such an important and appreciated part of my life literally knocked me to my knees at one point. I’ll never stop wishing I could somehow turn back time and give the thanks to her I long to.

Other impressions were made: We encountered a fair amount of younger people traveling by foot on the park’s trails, which I found reassuring. At first glance it seems less and less people are interested in the backcountry experience and the lack of interest gives me pause for the future of our parks systems. In a time when we seem to be more focused on material goals, surviving the rat race and training our children to compete in that race early on in life it was refreshing to see mainly younger backpackers. I was also reminded of the potential of Superior’s moods; even though we had decent weather, one cannot paddle near to the towering golden cliffs without feeling vulnerable and wary of changing conditions. As always, I was struck by the beauty and remote feel of this park and the surrounding area, but for the first time, the unique perspective caused me to be moved by the sheer scale of the Pictured Rocks. For the first half day I suspect we were both grinning like schoolkids.


I’m sure I’ll return as often as possible – one of the wonderful things about my home town is it’s proximity to places like this – and I recommend the trip to anyone. In terms of safety, the lake is best traveled in summer, after the temperatures stabilize and before the fall winds begin. One should be properly prepared, coordinated with others for any action required by difficult conditions or emergency situations, and packed and dressed for a range of weather and temperatures. When we were there, water temperatures were in the 40s, which doesn’t give you much time to endure exposure. Having said all this, there are various options for travel distance, level of isolation, and amount of exposure to the elements.If you live anywhere near the Great Lakes and enjoy Sea Kayaking, there aren’t many destinations I’d place higher on a paddling wish list than this spectacular creation of nature.

Venture Forward

Paddling Grand Sable Dunes
photo by Bentley Whitman

Well, I'm climbing aboard the Blog Train after some encouragement from friends and some protracted admiration of other efforts out there in the blogosphere. I can't guarantee I'll maintain all of the established conventions, jargon, lingo, latest IT conventions, so on and so forth, but I'm a good learner. Hopefully those of you whose work I admire are complemented if I borrow from your ideas or ask your opinions.

I can't even guarantee the content of this blog won't stray from it's intended purpose: a window into, source of information and celebration of my favorite free-time outdoor pursuits and a commentary on life in this wonderful place we know as Northern Michigan. I feel a bit reluctant to define the content that much; I like to stick to themes, but I also want to allow myself and readers the freedom of discussing whatever thoughts are generated herein (or out, or after). I'll continue to add to, adjust, manipulate as necessary in order to bring you the best version of what I want to bring forth, and to allow me the outlet this will provide.

I moved to the "winter water wonderland" of Northern Michigan four years ago last June, after a lifetime of vacations to the area and a growing desire to live where the outdoor environment presents so many opportunities. Now, I'm just surpassing the point where I look around after a weekend of recreating and think to myself, "about time to return home from vacation". ...just before realizing I am home.

And what a home it is.