However that peaceful existence would be abruptly cut short by some Ursus Americanus exploration in the evening hours. Once you retire to your marvelous nylon shelter it is all but too easy to drift off and think everything that ends well shall be so throughout your slumber. Tonight though was a misconception. Whilst journaling we heard a noise in the nearby forest and shrubbery. To my wishful thinking, I kept saying ‘it sounds like a hoofed animal’- for no reason other than the shear wish that perhaps if I thought long enough it may go away, or be an actual hoofed animal- not so much the case. This animal was on a mission, a food-finding mission. A boisterous beast plopped out of the woods, right next to the tent. Absurdities, profanities, yelling, loud noises, flowed freely from the tent to scare said beast. To no avail, as this particular beast, we’ll call refer to it by it’s given name ‘a black bear’ would not back down. (Nothing gets between a bear and its’ desire for food!)
A bluff charge to the tent. A quick romp through the woods and an additional very sleepless night. Yippee! The next day we were awaken abruptly by some boat crunching noises. Alissa deemed it a bear on the kayaks. In my pre dawn-esque existence I imagined some bear dragging one of our loaded sea kayaks through the woods; in which case I wanted nothing to do with that bear. But sometimes you have to rise above that fear and rise above it we did as we tromped down to the beach in skivvies w/ driftwood in hand ready and willing to knock the bloody socks of anyone or beast messing with our lake exploring craft.
To no real surprise we found the kayaks tampered with. (EEEK!) Alissa’s got flipped over, pivoted 90 degrees counter clockwise to the way it had been and wedged underneath my boat. Adrenaline pumping, we made like a few trees and got the heck out of there (I know the proper response is ‘leave’, yet when that word is pluralized it doesn’t work so hot, eh?) knowing darn well there was some bear sitting just out of sight from us waiting for food. I could just imagine its’ thoughts as it witnessed us mowing (pronounced mah-oww-ing) down some Cliff Bars™ on the water, away from the immediate grasp of its inquisitive paw. “Aw geeze…. C’mon, I need that! Can’t they see I am so famished? (Emace-oed in the books of S.Domek.® terminology). They’re eating right out there on the water!? What type of world is this?” A world where we do not want to be the reason for habituating bears to food from humans, that’s what kind.
Off on the water we paddled into what seemed like a pleasant day. Nice. Due to our abrupt breakfast, we ended up cooking some brunch at a nice beach a few miles, (or was it six?), from where we started.
Back on the water, wind at our backs. Waves started to white cap. Then SHAzaMM!! (Think a word denoting EXTREME AWESTRUCK event.) We were in the midst of a melee. Not a for-serious melee, but one conjured up in my head. Waves easily became two meteres, and our minds… expanding to comprehend effective action. We quickly embraced the importance of not paddling through constricted areas. Soon we were in burly breaking waves, the horizon rising and falling 6-8 feet at a time (and on the slight occasion 8-10 ft YOIKES! –Think Shaggy from Scooby Doo). Now, had the shoreline not been so dern rugged, and boats not loaded the experience may have been more enjoyable and perhaps carefree; but this specific test with the boss (as locals on the south shore refer to Lake Superior) happened to be a bit much. Up and down, down and up, brace on the left, brace on the right, take a brief surf; quickly realize that is not in your best interest… If only we had those Nostradamus –esque visions to foresee our future for the next few days we’d have… Well, to be honest I don’t know what we would have done, but I am sure it would have been spectacular. You can always go back and attempt to decipher what coulda, woulda and shoulda made a difference with your performance. But the reality of our situation happened to be the waves got HUGE and we were committed. So we held our own, sang songs, which for me usually works in waves three feet or larger, (the theme to Mario® seems to suit just fine, what with the rising and falling of the wave you can imagine yourself in one of the fastidious levels gathering coins, super powers or dodging those blasted mushroom characters- but I digress) or just gracefully kept the boat upright until we were able to duck into a bay out of the wind and get our bodies on solid ground just north of Oiseau Bay.
We reveled in the remaining daylight feeling accomplishment and empowered. (Just about as empowered as Mario must feel at the end of the level when he jumps and slides down the flagpole, fireworks exploding all over the place… Yeah, that’s about right.)This particular day and the next would be spent in this gallivanting granite landscape. Some intriguing intrusions just a hop, skip and jump away from our tent made it all worth it, even if it did rain like mad the next day, continuing to thwart our forward momentum with wind.
Hanging out under our ‘white lightning’ tarp (muchas gracias Granite Gear!!!) we had sufficient time to really explore the reality of Lake Superiors’ Isostatic Rebound, which is when the land rebounds (e.g. bounces back from YEARS of glacial depression, or its’ weight upon the land). 
Currently the Western half of the lake is rebounding quicker than the eastern and due to the immensity of this Canadian Shield shoreline it’s not too difficult to understand why. Everything over here seems much heavier from the geology to the weather.
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