June 24, 2007 water water everywhere

Today, we took the obligatory (and expensive) boat tour of Pictured Rocks in Munising. It was difficult keeping Elise occupied for a two and a half hour boat ride. She just didn’t see the allure of sandstone striations or beautiful blue-green water. She entertained herself in a variety of ways, some of which were more welcomed by our fellow boat riders than others. She convinced herself that she saw the Little Mermaid, Ariel, waving at her from one of the caves in the rocks within the blue-green water. The picture above is one of the more annoying ways she entertained herself.

We went 37 miles out, almost to Grand Maris. It was 87 degrees, but we found out the temperature of that water that numbed our toes within 20 seconds yesterday at the beach, thanks to the captain of the ship. He reported a bone-chilling 53 degree water temperature. Brrrrr! Chris insisted on getting life preservers for the girls, just in case, but at that temperature, I said they’d be hypothermic within five minutes. Still, daddy wanted to err on the side of precaution.

While we were out at almost the furthest point, a beautiful point where water cascaded down the striated rocks, the captain told the story of the Edmund Fitzgerald. The boat was caught in a storm and forced against the rocks under the falls. The storm beat the boat to shreds; 46 people died at this point of such beauty. Ironic.

After that story, and putting up with Elise’s shenanigans for two hours, we were happy to get off the boat. We bought two pounds of fresh whitefish pulled from Lake Superior at the creatively named “Fish House” in town. Tonight, once again, I cooked it over an open fire outside the cabin. We also bought some fish sausage. I’m not a fan of sausage of any type, but Chris said it was delish. I’m not convinced enough to try it.

After dinner, I took the dogs on a three mile puppy run up the ATV path to Wyman Road, a northbound dirt road. The sun was setting, and it was absolutely, blissfully silent, except for some songbirds singing an evening lullaby. Aspen shimmered their tiny leaves, waving a silent hello, and the air smelled so good. I can’t wait to be back here in winter.

Tomorrow, we’re planning a trek over to Newberry to the Warren’s mushers’ cabin and to see some wolves and Oswald’s bear ranch.