Michipicoten to Marathon (entry one).
Our minds still in a frenzy from the previous 72 hours we arrived back in Wawa, Ontario late in the afternoon on the 18th of August ready and poised to be back on the water. We wouldn’t depart until the next day after reveling in a full night of sleep (not on a bus) re-packing and organizing our lives back into drybags. The life out of the kayak seems so simple.Departure from the beach near our boats’ safe hold at Naturally Superior (these folks are friggen AWESOME) provided a neutral initial entrance into the water, neutral with a hint of sluggishness. ‘Geeze were these boats this heavy before?’ Indeed they were, give a week off and start fresh with a food re supply packs on additional poundage to the vessel. Yet we paddled on, back into the rhythm, back into the lake, back into a headwind and approached one of the most exposed population depleted area of the lake. That Northeastern knuckle we all know and love as the Pukaswa. Rigtheous.
We would paddle a few days before obtaining entrance to the Puck (as some locals call it) due to some heavy weather and unrelenting waves. For all informative purposes we’ll think of this portion as the ‘Pre Puck’. The beginning of said journey took us in and out of a few islands, passed beauteous sand beaches, secluded, as they were, amidst a backdrop of the entire southeastern part of the lake. Still holding substantial daylight we were able to dine in the late afternoon and keep on kicking until dusk settled in; as was almost the case while jockeying for a campsite around the Dog River. The beach adjacent to the mouth maintained its existence as a monstrous gravel bar, warranting tricky landing in the surf, which at our rendezvous was breaking slightly. We were unable to reach the campsite up the river due to a conflict of interest between the waves meeting the current of the Dog, so we headed down the shore further to the False Dog harbour. It appeared to be a great place to camp, which is why the motor boaters whom zoomed in before us probably were fairly stoked. We ended up paddling back into another bay which had no view of the lake, (something we tried to avoid so we could keep an eye on the weather), so we returned to the gravelbar from whence we came and landed betwixt the wave sets on the gravely beach next to the Dog, river, just for clarification purposes, we had not found a K-9 friend.
Our next morning we galavanted up and out of camp to beat the wind forecast, a forecast that could induce nerve bending travel around Point Isacor (re-named for our journey point I so Scared – due to reading several accounts of harrowing experiences in the pinnacle of its presence). Paddling out and away from the beach by 7:50 A.M. we felt fairly good about life, the clouds, what bark was made out of on trees, you know the essentials in life; yet these warm feelings would briefly shift as we ducked into a seldom sought after campsite to potentially hole up for the day in accords with the wind. However, this place was literally a hole in the forest, some cleared trees large enough for a tent, horrible place to land, and not much area to stretch the legs. Seeing some other paddlers on the water elevated our confidence and friends from the Thunderbay Coast Guard a.k.a. weather radio, informed us the wind would not break us in two. With that, we finished a snack, re-precariously moved our boats from the rocks and headed back in the lake to paddled beyond IsoScared. This particular area preps ones mind for that total seclusion and isolation which can solely be experienced on this side of the lake. The highway and rural communities dip away from the shore leaving your thoughts, ambitions and spirit to wander with the animals, natural history and tales of the past.
While traveling this stretch of the lake we were reading a borrowed copy of ‘Teasing the Sprit’ (THANKS BRIAN AND NEYASHA!!) a manual, or user guide if you will, to that portion of Canadian coastline. The book, very detailed and rich with stories, also heeded warning to the Lake Superior traveler, denoting such phrases, as “Paddling Lake Superior is a risky venture High skill, endurance and self reliance are necessary when plying Superior’s sea. Be honest about your paddling skills. In sudden weather shifts, quickly paddle to shore and wait; and Remember, Lake Superior kills quickly.” which to the first time traveler of this region can all but inundate ones fear of the area. However, we heeded the cautions held our own and traveled with diligence and a safety conscious mind at all times.
The shoreline diluted its sandy depositions and traded the former existence for pebbles and boulders of granite, which just in case anybody out there was curious, is a trite harder to land on than that good ole’ quartzite. While bouncing about in the waves searching for the famed ‘kayak sanctuary’ we found a secluded sandy beach within a semi protected bay to keep our boats and spirits safe from the boisterous attitude of the Lake. Luckily we did find this locale, as we would spend the next two days perched against the tree line awaiting an escape back to the clear waters of Superiors’ ambiance. Our first day was well earned with heavy wind and waves lapping against leased perch on the beach. The next day we were abruptly awaken pre-dawn by a heavy thunderstorm, one that we could hear gain presence across the lake until finally it was right on top of us, less than a second between lighting shout and thunder response. People always talk about how lightning drills are bunk, they waste time, etc. But really, can such challengers tell us of a time when they felt more alive. I mean really, every cell in your body is ignited with adrenaline, awaiting fate and happy to hold that crouched position atop a therm a rest. We arose few hours later and thought there was a great opportunity to head out on the water as no waves were present. No sooner had our hopes risen than the simultaneous rise of the wind speed occur. The blue sea quickly turned white and we once again were watching the waves lap against our shoreline. Upon inspection of the high water mark from the previous night, it was confirmed the highest wave came within 22 feet of the tent. Good thing Marmot® products come with a waterproof coating. When we finally snuck away from this gem of solitude we sighted another paddler on the mighty seas of Superior. It turned out to be none other than some guy, (probably Canadian) in an open aluminum canoe, loaded to the hilt with stuff and paddling with a kayak paddle. He was grateful to see other forms of life as he had been holed up for the previous two days and thought he was a ‘chump’ for waiting out the weather. Mind you this is a guy in an OPEN canoe w/ no flotation or cover, telling us he thought he was a ‘chump’. The then proceeded to enlighten us that the waves around the point were not breaking, but gentle five to six foot swells or ‘rollers’ as he deemed them. This place would set as a foundation to reinforce the heaviness of the weather and Canada.
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