We drove
north from Coon Rapids through suburbs, then corn fields, then forests, all
interspersed with lakes, ponds and puddles, on scenic roads with unique names
like Lake Road, Lake Drive, Lake Highway, and Lake After Lake Parkway. We
finally left the big highway in Da-Lute, MN. Foreigners call this town Duluth,
but residents of this working town on Lake Superior pronounce it a little
differently. A major port for iron ore
and grain, Duluth is at the far southwest corner of Lake Superior, and doesn’t
get the brunt of the winter storms that are always respected and sometimes
dreaded by mariners up here (remember the song about the steamship Edmund
Fitzgerald?). 
After
driving down a scenic two-lane road for a couple of hours with virtually no
traffic in either direction, we arrived at our designated campground in
Russell, Wisconsin. Within the Apostles Islands National Lakeshore, Little Sand
Bay Park sits on the shore of Lake Superior with a very well-kept campground
and a small marina and harbor protected by seawalls of very large rocks. Here
is My Lovely Bride with our Docks-hounds Rudy and Gretchen checking out our new
digs; not a bad view, eh? 
Nearby are
The Apostles themselves… not the original Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, but
beautiful tree-covered islands a few miles off shore. Lake Superior is known
for its storms and we were hoping to kayak the beautiful shoreline and offshore
islands. Just offshore 2 or 3 miles is Sand Island, which we planned to kayak to later in the week. Sunsets here are sublime...
On Thursday morning we noticed a couple in a nearby RV stirring. Not
only did they have Wisconsin plates on their car, but they had two sea kayaks
on their roof and wetsuits drying in the early morning sun. (Wetsuits, you ask…
in September? Yes, Dear Reader, because even with a balmy 70F high in the
afternoon, at night the temps fall into the high 40s, and the lake water temps
average around 58-60F.) We wandered over and met Roy and Kathy Green, experienced
kayakers who have a relatively unknown condition known as kayakitis, the
uncontrollable urge to acquire more and more Eskimo-style boats until your
children see their inheritance dwindling to nothing, forcing them to seek out
legal help to have you committed to an institution for the nautically-deranged. They offered to accompany us on a trip to the Red Cliffs near Meyer’s Beach on the south shore of Lake Superior. The sea caves in the cliffs here are considered one of the world’s top kayaking destinations.
That's Kathy exiting the cave mouth talking to Suzanne at left.
Kathy, as
it turns out, is the real instigator here (she is a former swim coach and
lifeguard); Roy, a retired school superintendent, gave up his second career as
a horseman/cowboy because Kathy had the sense to know that unlike horses, kayaks
don’t bite and kick you. Now they have seven kayaks between them, and are both
highly skilled paddlers. Roy also was a pole vaulter, and now uses an
Olympic-style rowing machine for upper body fitness. Here is Roy exiting a narrow slot in the rock wall...
Earlier I mentioned the fierce storms that breed on Lake Superior, with 50-60 foot
high waves, large enough to sink large ore carriers without a single survivor.
This photo shows what can happen when the wind and waves pick up and smash into these lovely cliffs and caves...
Some of the
caves have openings large enough to drive a bus through, and other were so
tight that you had to duck your head, put your paddle parallel to your kayak,
and pull yourself through with your hands on the cave ceiling and walls.
Good
thing it was a calm day, or you could be squashed on the ceiling like a bug;
there have indeed been numerous injuries and fatalities in these caves during
bad weather. Today, however, was a perfect day for visiting these unique
natural attractions. We were very grateful for Roy and Kathy’s offer to go
along with us; not only were they expert kayakers, but they were also tireless.
My Lovely Bride and I normally paddle along at what we call a “mellow” pace;
Roy and Kathy are hard-core kayakers, and didn’t break a sweat in their fast,
steady pace, and politely slowed down a bit for us.
On the way
back to the beach where we put in, Roy decided to do some practice rolls, just
for fun. For those who have never rolled a kayak (and that’s probably most of
you, right?), it’s a learned skill that needs constant practice. Imagine
hanging upside down under your boat while holding your breath, and using your
paddle and hips to twist your kayak upright; hopefully your spray skirt (yes,
some guys do wear skirts) keeps Lake Superior out of your boat, and you pop up
nicely with wet head and hands, but the rest of you (relatively) dry under your
wetsuit. (Wait, let’s see, they call it a wetsuit because yes, the 58 degree
water does get inside, but it helps keep you warm by not losing as much body
heat… hmmm…). Few paddlers hit every roll perfectly, and I recalled that it had
been about 20 years since my last rolling session. (Maybe I should find a warm
pool back home in The Villages before trying out my kayak roll in Lake
Superior!)
After our
paddle, we invited Kathy and Roy over for drinkees in The Coach, and then they
took us to dinner at Maggie’s in Bayfield, a charming lake port town that has a
fishing fleet as well as pleasure boats and a quaint town center. It also has
several historical buildings like this Victorian inn. It is a famous sailing
destination, with the Apostles being a wonderful place to anchor for several
nights of solitude before returning to the madness of civilization.
Whitefish
and lake trout are the usual catch of the day here. We weren’t too sure about
the whitefish livers that Kathy ordered (neither of us had ever tried fish
livers). She assured us they tasted just like chicken (where have you heard
that line before?) and we weren’t disappointed… they were actually quite yummy!
The whitefish sandwiches (both sautéed and broiled) were also delicious. I also
wanted to try the local microbrew, Running Naked, but My Lovely Bride said not
to embarrass her, so I stuck to the mellow Amber brew instead. (Sometimes she
is SUCH a prude.)
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