Isle Royale National Park 2023: Wednesday, September 27

Usual camping sleeping means waking up every hour or two, just because. On this night the cause was obvious—I’d wake up shivering. All I had was my clothing, a dry suit, an emergency blanket, and a rain poncho. Not enough for conditions, and certainly not life-threatening. I’d wake up shivering and then use my breathing to stop shivering and fall asleep again. On repeat until morning.

Morning came, and I watched a freighter move across the mouth of Merritt Lane and wondered—only for the hundredth time—what the crossing over to Passage Island will be like.

27 September 2023 | Sunrise at Merritt Lane Campground | Isle Royale National Park MI
Sunrise at Merritt Lane

It wasn’t until morning that I noticed this:

27 September 2023 | Shelter graffiti at Merritt Lane Campground | Isle Royale National Park MI
Kudos to the person who added this. It is one of my favorite graffittis in the park (and there aren’t that many worthy of the title).

The other half of my energy bar made breakfast while I waited for the weather forecast on my marine radio. All that I got was something along the lines of “wind from the east 10-20 knots” (or maybe mph). And so on the strength of little information I had to decide—stay another day, or go?

We went. Yesterday’s text forecast for today was 5-15 knots increasing to 10-20 knots in the afternoon, so it seemed better to leave now.

Merritt Lane was calm right up until its southern end met the unsheltered section between Porter Island and Bobs Island. Today’s water was definitely less flat than yesterday’s and today’s decision seemed different, less a matter of staying close to shore where the water seemed more energetic than my comfort level would like or crossing over to between Bob’s Island and Smith Island, which route was at least diagonal through the swells rather than parallel to them. To review:

Decisions

I chose the second option, and once on that path made my way without pause. Having started to listen to Dubside’s podcast the phrase “Water is my friend” was on a loop with every stroke and every slide into a trough of water. There wasn’t time to second-guess my decision (although I’ve wondered about it since then).

Soon, and with relief, we1 entered the calm waters of Tobin Harbor and the rest of the day transformed into a beautiful and otherwise unremarkable day on Isle Royale.

  1. Kayak, of course, was not relieved. She was in her element. ↩︎

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