Navigating da' North shore: Grand Portage to Grand Marais

As our day wore on waves bounced us up and down actualizing our reality of not making as far as we would have liked. With no definitive campground available we ended up seeking refuge in Horseshoe Bay amidst a public land trust. Twas a good thing too, the next day the wind picked up and we watched waves rise and fall from the comfort of under da tarp. The tarp pulled triple duty that day shielding us form wind, rain and hail – Cool.

Later in the afternoon we were visited by some locals whom tried to make it to Isle Royal in their much larger lake-going vessels, however they too were thwarted by Superior’s mighty seas. They shared stories, spirits and food to ease the world of weather waylay we had succumbed to experience there in Horseshoe Bay. Regardless of the weather, we were very much appreciative for the shelter the bay offered, we watched stationary as water toiled up and down capped in white for the remainder of the afternoon.

Our next morning we launched bright and early style with intent to make it to Grand Marais Minnesota, a fine destination in northern Cook County. There we would meet up with my (Brian's) mother and hop down the coast using state parks as our residency for the next week. Simple plan, simple lifestyle.

Once on the lake spirits of motion, the water rising and falling under the kayaks roused us. For it felt only natural at this point to paddle in seas of the 2-5 ft variety. Paddling down this stretch of shore re-emphasized the harsh reality of lack of landing zones. The rock, all very jagged in every which way did not allow for an easy take out, unless the conditions were quite calm. Combining the shoreline with an abundance of lakeside housing fostered a somewhat debilitating experience. On the water you were but a mere catalyst of travel trying to recapture that ambiance and independence of adventure one beach at a time. We paddled for just over seven miles before we were able to land, a mere skip in the big picture, but a quantum leap in reality of privatized shoreline adjoining our next many days of north shore adventure. Our acceptance beach was that bearing the name of Paradise and to hop out and work the legs thoroughly it was named rightly so. This place has a special connection for folks all over the lake, a devote refuge of rocks 13 miles north of Grand Marais; it is a perfect place to seek solace while traveling either way on highway 61 especially for those whom that break out their ‘agate vision’. In the short time we were there sixty minutes or so, Alissa produced a handful of agates which bore a unique marking to the world, you see Paradise beach has it’s own specific agate, which it shares with the world. Superior does her best to move the gem in and out of reach for the hounds, but ever so often one can be blessed to appreciate its’ intricate bounty.

While combing the beach for auspicious agates the wind began to build and waves shift the shoreline from the North East. No big deal though right, at least it would be at our backs. However, I will be the first to admit it was a slight difficult to motivate into a burly wind and breaking sea. People who were arriving by road would generally gallivant down to the beach and mill about for, oh perhaps 10 minutes and then bound back to the vehicle to allow their bodily cells to regain consciousness. We suited ourselves up for immersion of the upper body (big wave protection) and headed out into the maw.

On the water we rose and fell with the swell, saw the Coast Guard’s spiffy new boat, wondered what they were doing out a day such as this, and undoubtedly they returned the favor. Some hours later we arrived in Grand Marias, sneaking into the break wall we quickly sought out a place of luxurious camping at the Municipal Campground, which very much to our surprise was almost full. WOWSERS. We rendezvoused with my mom, set up camp and took on the Gunflint to eat, drink and be merry.