Lake Superior Adventure for Two

Shore of Lake Superiro at Whitefish Point

Summertime adventures.  Seems like you get them whether you plan them or not.

I recently traveled to my home-town, St. Ignace, to stay with my mom.  

I’m home when I can see the bridge in the distance and begin to ride over it’s tremendous expanse.  

Blue, glistening water.  Small green islands in the distance.  Mackinac Island in view on the right.  The “Turtle” looks relieved the ice has finally melted and summer is here.  His face, by the old Roundhouse lighthouse, smiles as each wave washes away the winter chill.

Today Mom and I are in Paradise.  Seriously, Paradise is Paradise.  You have to plan ahead, but being here is worth the packing.  Food, warm and cold weather clothes… Mom even brought two sets of tennis shoes.  She inevitably gets one pair wet in the waves while we’re combing beaches for rocks and fun.

We drove through Trout Lake and it makes me happy to see some things don’t change in small U.P. towns.  Tourism is very unpredictable and the business owners have to savvy to survive.

 Never Assume Winter is Over
(See the snow-plow on the left?)

Old Railroad Yard in Trout Lake

We rented a room at the Paradise Inn.  Quite a big change from the dinky motels of the past!  Comfortable beds, quiet, clean, warm and even has an air conditioner in case of hot weather.  

It’s also down the road from an excellent restaurant called The Fish House.  Mmmmm, the broiled Lake Superior whitefish, (fresh catch of the day) along with a  large baked potato were luscious.  

Some of My Whitefish I Gobbled Down Before Taking a Picture

Mom, Studying the Menu at The Fish House

Being Yoopers you’d think we’d have remembered bug-spray.  It’s like forgetting a spare tire when you travel the U.P. in the summertime. I bought a can of “Off” for $7.89 at a small market in Paradise. Price of forgetting!

The wind off Lake Superior kept any mosquitoes or black flies from bothering us.  We saw a few people leaving the  woods, though, swatting at something.

I’m almost convinced it’s impossible to take a picture or describe in words the joy I feel walking the beaches at Whitefish Point. 

Mom Has a Name
(Paula Cronan with her walking stick)

I’ve already looked at my downloaded pictures and they only skim the surface of beauty.  I’ll take more pictures today.  It’s not my priority when my eyes are down on the big and small rocks I’m walking over, the graveyard of driftwood and silvery trees and the vast lake sending waves to tousle the beach rocks. Back and forth, in and out, drowning out any sounds of human presence.

Some of the Sand Had Sparkles of Black and a Redish Color

Tourists were everywhere. Mostly looking at the lighthouse, museum and a small section of beach marked by a large sign.  I suspect the cold wind that hit them when they got to the beach, was enough for them to turn around and get back on their motorcycles, RVs, and other vehicles.  Mom and I didn’t have to walk far away from the entrance to be in our own world away from the bustle.

The water is cold.  I don’t mind the cold.  I took my mask and snorkle and went in anyway.  I can’t say I “jumped” or “dove” in.  I stood in the cold water up to my knees and took about ten minutes splashing the water on my face, hair, back and arms, adjusting to the temperature.  The only thing stronger than the “Brrrr”, my body was jolting to my mind, was the unknown adventure calling to me to explore.  

Me, Under a Large Tree Root
( I put my hat on top so I'd know where my stuff was, when I got out of the lake)

This morning Mom is getting ready and I’m posting this so we can check out of the inn and see what’s waiting for us on the shore.  Maybe a huge agate!  Maybe an unbelievable, striped stone, or a smooth one with spots and sparkles.  How could it be an adventure if we knew what was in store for us ahead of time?