Go Kayak Now! » Lake Michigan

End of the season notes: northern lake MI lighthouses and my P&H Cetus LV

johnfleming — Fri, 17 Sep 2010 18:28:34 +0000

Sturgeon Bay – Gray’s Reef light – White Shoal light – Waugoschance light – Temperance Island

8/26/10

posted by John Fleming

The Endbridge Oil Kalamazoo River disaster put an abrupt end to my usual midweek upstream-paddling workout. If I could smell the oil, I wanted to either help somehow, or get the hell out of town. But there are no volunteer clean-up opportunities for public citizens. So my oldest daughter and I took the only available opportunities to help setup at the animal recovery center, and then go North. We were fortunate to be able to spend most of August in Charlevoix, northern lake Michigan. I took my kids on daily ‘death marches’ that I hope they remember fondly in hindsight, discovered a brand new shipwreck at Sleeping Bear Dunes, and snuck away for a few solo paddles. It was a good time to be up North, as the water was much more lumpy up there than down South.

Daughter Number One

I was fortunate to wind up the season with two surf days and three marathon length day solo trips. (I even found a rare lake Michigan offshore break, but I claim it as my turf and will beat you up if I find you there…) I was never able to track down any paddling partners. In three weeks, I probably saw two hundred pungo-type kayaks in J-cradles around Traverse City and Petoskey, but only three “real” boats.

My last trip was off of beautiful Waugoshance Point , a true gem of the Michigan’s lower peninsula. The 5 mile paddle from the Sturgeon Bay launch to the tip of Waugoshance Island is stunning. Mile after mile of shallow bays, shoals, rocks, sea birds.

numerous shoals in Sturgeon Bay

Temperance Island

Out past the point, into lake MI, is an incredibly shallow reef that extends about 20 miles out towards Beaver island. It is cut by a shipping channel, marked by several lighthouses and numerous signal buoys to guide boats through the channel and into the Straits of Mackinac. If you get to one of the lighthouses, and the weather is clear, it’s hard not want to go to the next one, and the next one, each separated by about 5 miles. Or keep paddling west to the islands… maybe next year.

Gray's Reef lighthouse is white. Hog Island on horizon.

not the best place to pee

I paddled out to Gray’s Reef first, which put me 5 miles offshore, and about 10 miles from the launch. To the amusement of the maintenance crew, I was able to take a leak by standing one foot on a ladder, and one foot hooked under a deck bungee to keep the boat from blowing away. Not comfortable, but at least I was able to get out of the boat.

At Gray’s, one just starts to the see low forms of Hog and Hat island on the western horizon, the edge of the ‘Beaver Island archipelago’. Very tempting, but I had to save that for a later date. To the North, it is a deceiving five miles to White Shoal light, the familiar barber-pole light of MI license plate fame. I say deceiving because the light looks close, but the curvature of the earth obscures the base of the light house. After you feel like you have paddled long enough to get there, you just start to see the base, and realize you are only half-way.

shipping channel bell buoy. White Shoal and Upper Peninsula in background.

White Shoal lighthouse is not white - well, not totally

From White Shoal, it is about seven miles back to Waugoshance light. It’s something like 1.5 miles off-shore, and maybe six miles from the closest launch, making a great day trip.

the shell of the Waugoshance lighthouse

This beautiful, burned-out hulk of a lighthouse was used as target practice during WWII by fighter pilots stationed in Gaylord. All the interior structure was burned away or has been stolen, leaving the copper ‘birdcage’ at the top of the tower.

looking back past Waugoshance to White Shoal

This is really an amazing area. Except for the shipping channel, the water was never deeper than 30 feet, so I could see the bottom the whole way. I was also fortunate to get a long weather window with only 20 knot gusts and 2-4 foot waves. In rougher weather, the water around these lighthouses gets really gnarly. It would be great to have had a partner, because I spent seven hours in the boat, and was only able to stand up once.

Long Term Cetus test:

I’ve spent the whole season in my Cetus LV. I’ve seen several reports about how the boat carves, how stable it is, how maneuverable it is, how it rolls like a dream. This is all true, and I love those things about it. It is a really fun day-tripping boat, or rough water boat, for a 175 pound guy like me.

I have not heard or seen much reporting about its down-wind or cross-wind performance, which is really important for planning a route through wind and wave conditions. I’m going to say right now that the Cetus LV is not the perfect downwind boat – but I like it. I can confidently paddle any direction into wind and waves, but after a few long exposed paddles on lake Michigan, I realized that I was sub-consciously adjusting my route to allow for three distinct directions: directly down-wind, directly cross-wind, or 45 degrees downwind. This may have something to do with the typical lake MI conditions: 2-4’ swell and 20 knots of wind. The Cetus is fast, and it can be accelerated nicely to catch these small waves, and stay fast to catch the next one. This is great for reducing paddling time. However, on lake Michigan, the smaller waves are typically so close together that the bow is frequently touching the next wave, making it easy for the stern to get pushed around by the wind or waves. And this reveals that the Cetus LV tail is a little loose; looser than my Sirius, of course, but also looser than my Capella 163. Directly downwind the Cetus LV is great, and 45 degrees is very comfortable with a little attention and edging. But in between zero and 45 degrees, the boat can require what feels like an inordinate amount of corrective strokes, which negatively affects speed and is tiring. So the trade off is ‘keeping speed up’ vs. ‘holding course’. For me, I quickly hit diminishing returns trying to hold, say, 30 degrees off-wind. At some point in August, I realized that I was planning my whole downwind routes like sailing legs. I would paddle cross-wind up to a mile, so that I could then surf a longer 45 degree leg. I’m convinced that this was faster, less tiring, and more fun in the Cetus LV, than taking the direct route back.

I love my Cetus LV, but I’m still searching for the perfect boat. I feel like I have tried all the serious competitors, except the TideRace boats. Too bad I ran out of time at Savannah Canoe and Kayak. I think it’s time for another trip!

End of Summer Kayak Surfing

kwikle — Wed, 08 Sep 2010 14:47:25 +0000

Each Summer there are weeks and weeks of flat water on the Great Lakes, to the point where the kayak surfing junkies are ready to start sacrificing puppies to the weather god for a 3 foot wave.

September has given up her jewels like an oyster with a hiccup.

I managed to get out three times in four days.

Day one was big, but very windy and hard to break out. Six to eight foot waves caught just near the outside of the pier in South Haven, cutting towards the pier at breakneck pace, and then cutting away at the last minute. Breaking back out became an exercise in futility with the wind. I became more and more exhausted on each return trip to deep water until I was rolling more than paddling. A friend of the family who is now a South Haven Police officer came out to the pier and told me that he couldn’t stop me from going back out, but that he would feel better if I got away from the pier because of the rip current. I told him I was ready to bag it. Storm surge was flattening out the waves as the wind built to new crescendos in the 40 knot range. For a day with 35 knot wind veering Northwest, I managed four or five really good rides where I caught solid bottom turns, a few cutbacks off of the foam pile.

Day two The wind and waves had died down but there was still a strong swell moving out of the south west. I sea kayaked down to the dunes near Van Buren State Park into the wind for an hour our two, and then rode the swells back to the beach, playing in the small 1-2 foot waves near the beach. I have increasingly been trying to surf my sea kayak backwards ala Scott Fairty when the challenge of the wave itself is not that great. It’s been good fun to try to learn to surf in reverse. Bow ruddering for directional control when headed downwave is whacky stuff.

Day three
The wind was peaking at 40 knots, but had actually veered almost completely NW by the time I made it out to the beach. I paddled out on nearly flat water to catch steep easy to catch waves as the sun set across a stormy sky. Each time I paddled out, I basically sunk the tail, then leaned forward and dropped in on a seven foot wave. I would typically cut right along the wave face until it started to close out, and then I would try a cutback off the foam towards the pier, by then the first wave had typically fizzled out, and then I was climbing over the top of the next set on the inside right towards the pier at high speed, only to cut away at the last second to turn around and paddle back out. I could have kept going all night. The knowledge that the air temps and the water temps will not stay so warm for very long fueled the desire to keep surfing in the dark. I kept catching rides like this right up until the sun was gone.

Many of my posts have waxed prophetic on surfing. Suffice it to say each time I have a day like I did yesterday on Lake Michigan, I feel a lot better about my life. No thoughts about work, home projects, problems exist. Just lean forward and paddle like hell.

Sea Kayaking South Manitou in a day

johnfleming — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 14:04:57 +0000

Glen Haven – South Manitou – Glen Haven

8/4/10

posted by John Fleming

It’s 8am on Cannery Beach, Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. It’s me, a chain smoking heavy equipment operator, and nobody else. He says that no overweight tourists will be at the beach until about 11, and he wants to lift the cannery up off the ground before they get there. By the end of the day, my body and physics degree will both agree that the crane and I have each expended about the same amount of total energy. To which my liberal arts education replies, “but I have been across the sea.”

In the grand tradition of doing things my mother would not approve of, I want to paddle out and back to South Manitou in a day. It’s not the longest paddle, about an 8 mile crossing, but it is exposed. The last time I did something like this, I didn’t see a soul from the time I left the highway until I got back to shore at the end of the day, which was cool but a little nerve wracking. At least today I get to talk to chain smoking guy, which takes the edge off before I launch the boat into the surf.

Today is a beautiful, clear morning, with 15 knots blowing from the North with gusts to 20. The day before had 4’ surf out of the west, and I was able to get a couple of decent rides in the surf kayak off the beach in Charlevoix. The weather report for this morning says 2-4’. What the report doesn’t convey is that there are still 2-4’ waves coming from the west, plus the 2-4’ waves coming from the North. If you do the math, that’s not really 2-4’. Off shore, this translates into arrhythmic sloshing, with big peaks occasionally obscuring the Manitous. I choose the GL paddle, because I it feels good into a headwind. I keep my eyes fixed on the South Manitou lighthouse. I’ve never gotten seasick, but I’m not taking any chances. After a time, the headwind is wearing on me, the island doesn’t seem to be getting any closer, and I keep dragging my fingertips in the water to check that I am still moving. I alternate between wondering what the hell I am doing out here, are my kids going into the waves in Charlevoix without lifejackets on, am I going to develop tendonitis, and should I really have left shore with the GL paddle in my hands? The need to throw my right shoulder into the occasional oncoming wave brings me back to the moment, and at least I can grin at the wave forecast.

Two and a half hours later, I am visiting the 1960 wreck of the Francisco Morazan, in the wind shadow of South Manitou island.

After this, my plan is to head over to visit the lighthouse and maybe take a nap. Near the lighthouse I encounter a distinct sewage smell, and hordes of biting flies. I walk the shore, in constant motion, swatting myself like a penitente. My Freya-style sexy fuzzy rubber pants keep the flies off my legs, but are making me overheat. (sorry, no pics) My last act before launching is to rip off the pants. Big mistake; hundreds of flies descend on my sweaty legs. (sorry again, no pics) I jump in my boat and leave shore, but I can never get all the flies out of my cockpit before getting on the sprayskirt. I paddle on, feel bites on my legs, open my skirt, flush out a few flies, quickly close the skirt. Repeat. Repeat. About a half mile offshore, I jump in the water and flood my cockpit to remove the flies. Brilliant.

Rather than take the most direct course back. I paddle east for a mile or so, out of the wind shadow of the islands, so that I can surf downwind back to Cannery Beach. The waves have cleaned up a bit. I stare at the bow toggle. Each time the bow drops, I lean forward, dig in, and surge ahead. Compared to the slog out, I can’t believe how fast the islands are receding, and how fast the mainland is approaching. In less than an hour and a half, I surf all the way back to the (now) crowded beach, broach at the last second, sideways high-brace surf-landing with a ceremonious ‘thump’. I feel everybody’s eyes on me, impressed by my skillful arrival.

(To be honest, this is quite a bit different than my re-entry earlier in week. Returning after my ‘reconnaissance’ paddle for this trip, I wet-exit and float on my back to cool off, until I realize that tourists are swimming out to “rescue me”.)

Ice Cliffs on Lake Michigan near South Haven January 2010

kwikle — Mon, 25 Jan 2010 14:48:54 +0000

Ice Cliffs on Lake Michigan near South Haven January 2010, originally uploaded by Go Kayak Now.

I had an excellent paddle along the cliffs on Saturday afternoon. I tried to explore all the areas where the cliffs were highest and were the brash ice was loose. Paddling amongst the flows and pancake ice is a serene experience. It is otherworldly, and sometimes violent as ice cracks, breaks off and falls into Lake Michigan. Other times it is more subtle where you hear a grating, or sliding noise as a giant piece of ice tumbles over. The loose crumbly bits of ice that float loose next to larger icebergs rub against one another. This makes a sound like a cocktail shaker with a martini in it. Am I the olive?

Temperatures were in the high thirties, rain sprinkled and spat a few times, but then the sun broke out among the clouds.

My gore-tex drysuit is in for repairs with Kokatat, so I wore my Brooks tuiliq and IR neoprene pants, I was plenty warm except my feet. I had a warmer pair, but I lost one in my ICE in the surf. I have a lonely single fleece lined bootie in the garage to remind me of the nasty swim I took on the rocks.

The full gallery of sea kayaking in the ice pictures can be found here:

Sea Kayaking the ice on Lake Michigan Jan 2010

kwikle — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 14:59:18 +0000

The ice is beginning to get interesting along the shore of Lake Michigan. We have a thaw on that might allow kayakers to get out and see the ice. I am thinking of heading out during the day on Saturday.

Some serious considerations for safety must be taken into account if you would like to try this. The ice piles as high as 30 feet sometimes, so it is good to keep away from it in the event it calves and drops into the water. Also Once out on the water, there is no way off the water in the event of an emergency. It is the same as paddling cliffs with the added danger that these cliffs may fall on you.
You must be prepared for cold water immersion and be able to perform deep water rescues. A self rescue is a must when traveling alone.

A kayak with two bulkheads in the event of rescue
Some kind of signaling device, marine radio, cell-phone in waterproof case. A whistle, signal mirror and flares would also be a good idea.
Proper cold water immersion wear, the minimum would be a wet suit, paddle jacket, neoprene booties and gloves, warm hat. Obviously a drysuit is preferable.
Lifejacket (duh)
Drybag with dry, warm clothes including a spare hat, gloves, and socks. Fleece or wool clothing is preferable.
Tow belt, in the event an exit off the ice involves getting out of the boat.
Hot water, or hot drink in a thermos

Here’s a slideshow of photographs from a couple of different ice paddles on Lake Michigan in 2009.

Icepaddle Saugatuck Jan 03 2009

Lighthouse for Sale

johnfleming — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 02:45:56 +0000

At the end of August I wrote my first post, about paddling to Ile Aux Galet (Skillagalee) island, which started out intimidating but turned into a ton of fun, surfing back to the mainland. Besides about 10,000 birds, the only thing on the island is a beautiful 1888 lighthouse, which is still active. http://www.michiganlights.com/skillagaleelh.htm

Ile Aux Galets

So I was intrigued when I came across this brochure for a new planned-unit development proposed for Muskegon, MI.

http://www.beaconhillusa.org/pdf/BeaconHill-USA.pdf

The photos are really nice, the graphic design is good, and there is more than a little altruism involved in building “the greenest community in America.” But, a few factual errors in the text put me into a skeptical frame of mind. Finally, I was shocked by the statement that they are going to relocate the Ile Aux Galets lighthouse to the middle of this development.

From an environmental standpoint, the development sounds good on paper, and I think the Lake Michigan shoreline would support such a development, even if I think the economy would not. The developer is quite serious about alternative energy, wind power* and sustainable architecture. But, re-appropriating a lighthouse to be the cultural centerpiece/icon of a development is, at best, a misguided attempt to establish a “historiocity” for a new project, and for me at least, sends up red flags. I don’t think that the “Greenest Community in America” would pull such a theme-park maneuver. As an architect, I have quite a few opinions about preservation. For me, context is everything. I would much rather see something fall to ruin in its historical location, than be moved for aesthetic effect. A prime example would be Disney’s Celebration, a “new town” they built near Orlando. Celebration, complete with folksy schools and a town hall, stands as a blatant attempt to re-create an American past that never really existed. It focuses on style and image, over culture and real community development. Rather than operable, accountable schools or democratic public institutions, they focused their considerable attention on image, doing things like spending $150,000 to import a single large Live Oak tree, because it looked “cool” and “old”. Another thing to keep in mind is that planned-unit developments are usually built in phases, to allow for adjustments in market demand. If the first phases are well-received, any altruism typically disappears, the target price of subsequent units are adjusted upward, and the development becomes noticeably more upscale. The most successful example of a coastal “new-town” is probably Seaside, in the Florida panhandle. Planned as a self-contained, somewhat affordable, new-town with fantastic architecture and planning, it rapidly developed into an expensive enclave of second, third, and fourth homes. (It was shown at its most bland in the movie “The Truman Show”.)

The whole moving-the-lighthouse-thing agitated me. So, I contacted various sources, including the developer, to find out what was up.

A quick search of the developer turns up some interesting information. Some of his previous business dealings in the area made a few people so mad that they started this web-site (which carefully avoids libel by containing only publically available information). http://www.timlangenberg.com/ For this new development, the developer organized a bunch of financing and land deals that fell apart with the recent meltdown of the financial markets. He has taken a brief furlough out of the country, but is planning to return soon and get back to work on this development. He still wants the lighthouse, which he sees as central to his development.

So, how does one go about buying a lighthouse?

Because the Coast Guard is not tasked, or funded, to preserve historic structures, the Coast Guard has been unloading lighthouses, via the National Historic Lighthouse Preservation Act of 2000. Once a lighthouse is slated for sale, it will go to other government agencies, municipalities, or failing that, to non-profits, in that preferential order. If you obtain a lighthouse this way, you have to maintain it as per

National Park Service (Sec. of the Interior) guidelines for historic structures, which can be prohibitively expensive. If no government or agency steps in to accept a lighthouse, the NPS will auction the lighthouse as a last resort. If purchased at auction, the NPS guidelines no longer apply, and the new owner can do whatever they want with the lighthouse, including moveit.

The following link describes the act, as well a list, by year, of available lighthouses in the U.S.:

http://www.nps.gov/history/Maritime/nhlpa/nhlpa.htm

So, what about the Skillagalee lighthouse?

The Skil. lighthouse is not yet on the NHLPA list. It is automated and operational, and is listed by the Coast Guard as an “active aid to navigation”. In other words it appears to be safe for the moment, with no plan for disposal. However, if it does go on the list, it would quickly be in jeapordy, like the nearby Waugoshance light. Skillagallee is more remote than Waugoshance, and receives far fewer visitors. It is quite probable that no town or non-profit would step in to acquire it. In that case, there is no reason to think that this guy won’t get to buy it for his development.

Why couldn’t he just stick a windmill in the center of his town? It would at least be appropriate.

For further resources regarding lighthouse preservation:

http://www.michiganlights.com/index.htm

posted by John Fleming

*P.S. wind power on the Great Lakes deserves credible advocates!

Surf Kayak Monkey Face

kwikle — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 16:24:06 +0000

My Surf Kayak Monkey Face from Keith Wikle on Vimeo.

I think surf kayaking is cool. Luckily, I know I am not. Try not to look in the mirror too often, you may laugh at what you see.

This was a great day surf kayaking on Lake Michigan this August. Steep six foot waves and warm water to play in!

Go Kayak Now!
Sea Kayaking and Surf Kayaking for the moving water enthusiast.
http://www.gokayaknow.com

Surf Kayaking Evangelism Received

johnfleming — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 03:32:07 +0000

My first day in the surf boat was early last April, on a much ‘smaller’ day. Everything was in the 30’s: air temp, water temp, wind speed. It was gnarly and the boat didn’t fit at all. But even with cramped feet, it was fun. And then some silly little four footers trashed me until my head pressed into the sandbar and I swam, but it was still fun. Unfortunately, the boat didn’t get back on the water until yesterday.

Yesterday, everything started to come together. The wind and waves had shifted NW, the water was still in the 60’s, the waves were bigger, and the boat almost fit (aaargh, my feet still hurt). Going in, I thought that the biggest challenge was going to be mental. I had a plan to start small and gradually work my way out to the bigger stuff where Keith and the board surfers were hanging out. This quickly changed after the steep little four footers near shore kept working me over, again. Every time I’d get on the step part of the wave, the bow would bury and WHAM. I suppose one of the nice things about pitch poling is that you roll up facing away from the beach, ready to paddle back out for more. After being a pummeled a few times, I figured I would try something different, and headed all the way out towards the outside of the break.

Ironically, the waves which I initially thought I would be very scared of were actually the easiest to catch. The biggest challenge for me was still accelerating at the right moment to catch them, but the big waves made it much easier. If I timed it just right as the biggest waves surged underneath me, a precise lean forward and a couple of strokes would get me surfing down the face. As soon as I got out to the boardies I did just that, and picked up a perfect eight footer that allowed me to link carved turns all the way back to the beach. I felt like hot sh*t, and quickly associated “big” with “fun”. I spent the next two hours vainly trying to replicate what turned out to be the best and longest ride of the day. Fortunately, almost catching huge waves can be really cool. There is a brief “top of the world” experience as you perch on the crest, riding the wave but unable to drop in, before gently dropping off the backside.

I also eventually found my limit. Just like countless other times, I spotted a nicely building wave, spun 180 degrees and paddled like hell while looking back over my shoulder. Time slowed down, and this wave just kept growing, filling my peripheral vision. I leaned forward and felt the massive wave heave up. An instant later I was rocketing down the face of a 12’ wave. My five seconds of carving glory ended in a white blur as the wave broke over me. Rather than tumble me, it drove me under the water, blasting my eyelids full of water, and I surfaced still facing the beach. As the water drained from my eyes, I noticed all the surfers were staring at me. I’m going to pretend it was with admiration.

Keith digging in

So far, my surfing experience seems to be 90% paddling back out and waiting, 9% frantically trying to catch a wave, and 1% actually surfing. But, that 1% is pretty scary sweet! I can see why Keith gets all geeked out about getting proper waves. I imagine that I will be out there waiting, too. FYI, it was a bit challenging taking any photos from the surf boat. I still feel like I am bobbing around on a cork, but hopefully that will improve. After I was too trashed to go on, I took a couple of short videos of Keith out next to the pier. The waves right up against the pier crumbled really fast (they reform nicely later), but I think the videos are cool.

The link to the flickr set is here. (I’d like to think Keith had a brief “oh sh*t” moment during the last clip)

The day before our surf session, I went out to the lake with my three year old son to witness the peak of the storm. I didn’t know if he would like it, but he had a blast.

The wind was blowing something like 45 knots straight out of the west. The westerly was not a good day to be in the lake itself, and I watched the board surfers give up within an hour. The waves rolling down the channel however were beautiful, but it was complete mayhem towards the end of the piers. I will definitely be taking the sea kayak down the channel (but not into the lake) during the next big westerly.

posted by John Fleming

Monday. Big, clean 8' - 12' waves rolling straight down the channel.

South Manitou Island Sea Kayak Trip

kwikle — Sat, 12 Sep 2009 19:06:10 +0000

View of crystal clear Lake Michigan over the shoals on South Manitou Island from my Nigel Foster Sea Kayak

The Manitou Islands of Lake Michigan are the Lower Peninsula’s greatest treasure. Michigan, funnily enough get’s a reputation as an industrial rust-belt state, that frankly it doesn’t deserve. I hope in some way, it keeps this undeserved reputation so that our secret remains safe. The sand beaches between Grand Haven Michigan and Mackinac City are some of the most beautiful, scenic beaches I have ever seen. And the Islands of Lake Michigan are the sparkling gem in the crown of our Lower Peninsula. As a younger man I always dreamed of far off places that were more exotic. Ireland, France, Eastern Europe, North Africa. Those places are pretty awesome. But in some ways Lake Michigan, and the islands will remain even more special because they are where I’m from. I can pack my car with my family, my kayaks, and head out to one of the most scenic places I’ve ever seen in hours instead of days.

View Larger Map

North and South Manitou Island are two of the best islands to introduce sea kayakers to offshore paddling. I’ve been to the Islands off the coast of Lake Michigan before. The first time was with Jason Roon in 2002 right after I got into paddling. I knew three things about kayaking. How to paddle forward, how to eskimo roll, and how to turn. Jason thankfully knew a lot more than that. We went to North Manitou in November. As I remember it we went out in 3-5 foot seas from Good Harbor beach and aimed for Dimmick’s point, and wound up on the west site of the island and had to paddle back into the wind to land more by Donner point. We were stranded for a day on the island due to weather. And then paddled back in dead calm. It was great fun, but somewhat terrifying at the same time.

The next time I went to North Manitou I went with Justine Curgenven and a few other paddlers to camp on North in beautiful weather. We visited South Manitou island and had a beautiful time visiting the wreck and the Valley of Giants. My most memorable moment, and probably Pastor Van Doren’s as well was surfing back to North Manitou Island from South Manitou. Doug cut left, and I parked my Silhouette up to the cockpit on top of his Betsie Bay Valkyrie, I could have given him a kiss from where I stopped. We were four miles between the islands and about eight miles off shore. Probably not a good place to put a hole in someone’s boat?

This trip we organized around being able to have families take the ferry from Glen to South Manitou. My brother in law Shawn Denton and I paddled over from Cannery Beach. The crossing is an easy one, 6 miles. It took about an hour and forty minutes. We had glassy conditions for the crossing. Having done the crossings in steep waves with a serious headwind, I was quite happy to do it in ideal conditions. I would recommend getting a chart and making sure you watch the freighter traffic. Two freighters passed through the Manitou Passage while we were making the crossing. Freighters are not looking for kayaks, and will have a hard time turning or stopping to avoid obstacles due to their size, so consider them a hazard. If fog or other weather hampers visibility you better be on your game for navigation because the only landfall after Manitou is Wisconsin.

Once on the island you have to register at the dock for a campsite. Because we landed near the weather station campground in the middle of the southern part of the island we had to have our families pick up the tags for the campsite. Be aware that due to the high number of visitors to South Manitou island, they have many, many, many rules and regulations about what you can do. Here is a short list of things you can’t do on South Manitou:

You can’t camp near the water
You can’t walk down to the water anywhere except where marked because of dune erosion
You can’t walk off of trails due to the need to not trample vegetation
You can’t pee within 100 feet of water or the trail
You can’t bathe with soap near any water source
You can’t take anything from the island

They have good reasons for each of these, so don’t think I am mocking them, but you should stop by the ranger station for the indoctrination to get a handle on the rules.

Once we settled in camp, we spent the rest of the afternoon lounging on the beach and playing in the water. Once sunset was approaching Laura and I took off around the western tip of the mountain to have a look at the wreck. Having seen it once before, I wanted to take Laura. Interestingly enough, the reference to the Francisco Morazan as the cormorant hotel in This is the Sea II has changed, the park service has started to control the population of cormorants, (shooting them). So there are significantly fewer cormorants than there were in 2005 when I was there last. Nevertheless, the wreck of the Liberian freighter stood there in all it’s glory. Some skin divers, who may have been illegally diving the wreck of the Morazan also pointed out the wreck of the Walter L. Frost, which was run onto the shoals in 1905. Ironically the Morazan hit the Frost as it ran aground scattering the wreck over a wider underwater area.

The Walter L Frost a wooden steamship sank in 1905 in a storm on Lake Michigan

We ended up making many trips out to the wrecks on Sunday with wives and kids, so everyone could see the wreck. Gabriel and I go to paddle out together to see both. He was really excited about the Morazan. And pleasantly surprised by the Frost.

We hiked around the island and took many pictures as the full moon was out on Friday night, and was still quite full come Sunday. The moon was so bright and so close it looked like it was hanging over Empire dunes. I took many pictures and then discovered the night setting on my pentax. Each image had a ghostly effect that reminded me of Wim Wenders film Until the End of the World. They have a machine that shows what your dreams look like on a video player.

Come Sunday we packed and hiked the remainder of our vast food supplies back to the dock. The return paddle was nearly as calm as the way out. We managed the crossing back easily and landed near Cannery beach.

Go Kayak Now! Manitou Island Photo Gallery on Flickr

Sea Kayak Trip Report from Ile Aux Galet

johnfleming — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 21:33:46 +0000

Ile Aux Galets (Island of Pebbles), aka Skillagalee, is a very small island about 7 miles offshore from Cross Village, near the NW tip of Michigan’s lower peninsula. The island sits atop a large shoal. On the east it is separated from the mainland by a deep channel about 5 miles wide and 100’-200’ feet deep, on the west lies the Gray’s Reef shipping route. Numerous wrecks on the island led to construction of a series of lighthouses in the 1800’s. The current lighthouse was built in 1888, and was automated in 1969.

Last year I did long day trip in the area, paddling around the beautiful islands of the Waugoshance point peninsula. Since then, I have become very interested in doing some larger crossings over to the islands of Gray’s Reef (Beaver, Garden, Hog), but have had difficulty scheduling enough vacation or partners. With only enough time this season for a long day trip, I thought that Ile Aux Galets would make an intriguing and slightly intimidating ‘inaugural’ off-shore voyage. Despite its proximity to the shipping lane, it is only accessible by very shallow boat, and does not appear to be visited very often, if at all.

The NWS report for the area predicted a stable high pressure system for 24 hours, with 20 knots winds from the SW and 1’-2’ waves, which would give a nice rear-quartering tail-wind for the return leg. Because the SW fetch is over 100 miles, I was skeptical about the wave estimates, and I was also curious how the waves would behave over the deep water.

The visibility was excellent, and the waves at shore were 1’ and choppy, matching the NWS report. Looking out from the beach confirmed what I would have guessed from the wind speed and fetch: scattered whitecaps were visible and larger waves formed the horizon. The top of Ile Aux Galets lighthouse was barely visible from the beach, but you had to really search for it. (Even less visible were the light houses on Gray’s Reef and White Shoal – I think most people visiting the beach would not be able to see any of them.) Launching was easy, and the water was shallow until about a ½ mile off-shore. As the bottom dropped out, the water color changed to the deepest blue, and the confused water gave way to nicely-formed 3’ to 4’ swells rolling down the channel. The quartering swell and 20 knot wind were fine, but kept me on my toes. This was fun, but the lighthouse didn’t seem to get any bigger for over an hour… Unsure about what the conditions would be like over the shallow shoal, my plan was to approach the leeward side of the island. I turned directly into the wind for the last half-mile, and progress became pretty slow into the 15-20 knots. The smell of bird poo grew quite strong, and I probably could have followed my nose to the island; but I was glad to get out of the boat for a break.

The island was stunning, and very exposed. The shoal is shallow about a half mile in every direction around the island, and the wave energy appears to dissipate quite a bit before reaching the island. However, I am sure the island would be a pretty exciting place to be in a large storm.

About a thousand birds were slightly pissed off that I was there. The first birds I saw off-shore were two types of tern (Common and Black?), followed by Double-Breasted Cormorants, and ring-billed gulls. Near-shore I was surprised to find ducks and Canadian Geese, paddling around with babies that appeared to be a few months old. Rodent and fish bones were scattered around the island, along with the occasional dead bird. The cormorant nests were particularly amazing, and appeared to be abandoned for the rest of the season. (Its seems like a visit earlier in the season may be more disruptive to the breeding cycle?) The nests were built on the ground or shrub branches (there are no trees). The taller ones (2’ – 3’ high) seemed to be particularly old, and I would love to know how old they really were. They had bones, rope, and other flotsam embedded in them. There were rodent bones laying around the nests, but I think that these were prey that the parents delivered to their chicks.

It was really hard to tell how often the island is visited. There was absolutely NO garbage. There is one-hundred year old construction debris, but no signs of recent visitors. It was also refreshing that there was only one piece of flotsam on the beach, a float for a fishing line.

I finished taking pictures, and being careful not to touch any bird poo, ate some lunch. Meanwhile, the swell had grown a tad bigger. Paddling straight back the way I came would mean continuous rear-quartering swell, which would be a waste of some really nice waves. The psychological stress of this trip involved the initial dread of launching towards a miniscule point on the horizon that disappeared with each wave. Now, pointing the boat back towards that big shoreline wasn’t as intimidating, and I wanted to have some fun. I decided to dogleg back, a SE reach across the swell until about half-way across, then heading NE directly down-wind for about four miles to the launch-site. Once I got away from the reef, the swell was consistently well-formed 4’rollers, with the occasional bigger set rolling through (big enough to have real fun on). Despite the wave heights, I was still surprised to see only two boats on such a beautiful, cloudless afternoon. The first was a big party boat that hailed me for a radio check to see if I was okay, and then finished by telling me I was crazy. The second was a tug boat that crossed close by on its way towards Little Traverse Bay; it just absolutely pounded its way through the swell, and I was convinced that I had the better craft. After an hour of swell directly from the side, turning directly down-wind was a gas. Until I got within a mile or so of Cross Village, I got to play on the most consistently well-formed waves I have ever experienced. Once I reached the right speed, decently long rides were the norm. The occasional bigger set had me yelling “woo-hoo!” to no one but the wind. Of course, all good things must come to an end, and eventually the water became more confused near shore, as the deep water ends and the bottom comes up to about thirty feet. This shallow area extends about a half-mile from Cross Village, and it diminished wave heights by at least half. After surfing such nice conditions out in the channel, it was a bit surreal to paddle back into the beach on little, tiny waves.

I am definitely going to try to paddle further off-shore on windy (but friendly) days!

Posted by John Fleming