Making it to Marquette

Departing after weather days generally induces an increased mph for the first part of the day - to our initial start this was no exception. Cruising on down towards L'anse we took full advantage of a six+ mile crossing to skip the tour into Pequaming...

The shoreline climbed toward the sky as sandstone topped with trees and the water under the sun (WAHOOO no clouds!!) bore a deep azure to teal color. Little wind prompted a warmer and very much appreciated paddling atmosphere. As developed houses came into the peripheral, we ducked into an appropriately named Sand Bay for lunch, devouring some quick calories we made the push around the Abbaye (spelling) Peninsula where the flies were more than happy to see us.

The day had drug on and miles were not yet menacing, however a revitalizing occurrence sprang into our presence as the Huron islands appeared on the horizon some many miles in front of our bows. We lucked out by finding a sweet campsite right on the point with some burly trees, which kept the heavy rain at bay during the night time hours.

The next morning, was comparable to the PUDs (pointless up and downs) on the CDT (continental divide trail) we powered 7+ miles down the shoreline to get into SKANEE to pick up a food drop, eat some lunch, then paddle another 7-10 miles of cliffed out shoreline out of the bay towards the famed Huron Mountain Club. The Mountain Club we were warned is renowned for its ginormous estates, sanduesque beaches and not so happy/joyous feelings towards folks who aren't really, really, really ridiculously good looking. Although feeling slightly uneased while consuming our noodle/frybread dinner we had to wonder what we would do if fog skewed our vision and we were unable to blend in with that ridiculously goodlooking crowd. We deciphered that our best plan of action was to make the most of our delightful daylight and kick on passed the HMC in a torrent of speed and paddling prowess.

Despite local reports, we actually nearly missed the HMC, but to no dismay paddled in and out of the bountiful coves which lined the shore. Beaches held the finest sand as more miles were put behind us than ahead. Through the sanded out beaches, and sand stone cliffs we encountered a Big Bay, appropriately named, BIG BAY. Sliding passed the breakwall, we arrived at an abandoned little shack with a fuel pump, and note for the harbor master. We called the magic number and within ten minutes were greeted with a kind lady from the campground to haul us and our goods to their fine camping establishment. Again my distance from the camping world, we were surrounded by large campers and folks with tent cities set up around Televisions and other homely commodities.

The prevailing downpour that evening prompted our early morning departure and paddle to within 15 miles of Marquette. The shoreline began to explode into a dynamic expose from beach to bedrock within feet. We hugged the shore and crossed the bays where we could because there was a slight bit of Fog, and by slight we mean HEAVY fog, this would be a re-occuring theme in our lifestyles as the day wore on. We eventually made it to Granite point, where you guessed it, everything turned to granite, ZANG ZA BAM- just like that. Impressive, and very much out of the ordinary for us Apostle Islands paddlers. The trucking heeded its way until thunder exploded from the clouds and white lightning struck from the sky. Ducking into the dense forest we sheltered up and made plans to hunker down for the night and rouse the paddling spirits once day broke...

Once day did break we saw our short proximity to Little Presque Isle Point, which to me signified within striking distance of Marquette. SWEET!! It would be a hop skip and jump if we could just cross some bays, duck around isles and make merry with the paddling. We thought this would surly rob us of magical miles of stretching shoreline and may take away from the experience. Thus we kept the shore at close proximity because that's really all we could see with the dense fog, and made headway towards Marquette. We immersed ourselves in a labyrinth of granite until we passed the famed 'black rocks' where a few folks were contimplating the leap of faith. The fog growing heavy again at this point ensured we stay close to the break wall near the functioning ore dock, where upon circling around it were greeted by a MONSTROUS ORE boat. We were glad to have enough vision to see that beastly boat and waited for it to harbor itself. The blast from its fog horn could be felt throughout the boat, bulkheads, and anything that was not in a dry bag, pots, pan, brain- you know the important stuff. A wild experience for a wildly foggy day. Crossing the shipping land there, we hugged the beach until we were able to find McCarthy Cove (spelling?) and crawl up on some warm sand where we waited for our Marquette buddy Alison...

Today's scale of excitement went to eleven!