The Kayakers are Coming!

(Convoluted nod to Tolkein there.)

Pete, Mike and I stayed overnight Sunday instead of driving home after the ICE. Weather permitting, we had decided to head to Meyers Beach and paddle along the mainland sea caves.

The weather was great the next morning. While en route to the beach, I called my brother to file a float plan for the sea caves, and added that we might also paddle out to Eagle Island. We had contemplated doing that over Memorial Day weekend, but hadn't said anything about Eagle when we left our float plan, and for that reason as well as others, we had decided to skip the trip to the island that time. But I had learned from that experience, and wanted to keep our options open this time around.

We got to the beach, launched, and paddled east. About a mile along the caves, Mike proposed heading out to Eagle. Having just finished our ICE, we dutifully performed a risk assessment, and while we were talking, a bald eagle flew out from the shore, circled overhead, and winged back to shore. Clearly a sign that we should make the trip, so we headed out.

Eagle is the westernmost island in the archipelago, and the second smallest at less than half a mile long and a quarter mile wide. It's closed to visitors from May 15 to September 1st to provide a safe haven for several types of nesting birds, including Great Blue Herons, Double Crested Cormorants, and Herring Gulls. We were fortunate to be in the Apostles after Sept. 1st, and to find a perfect day for a paddle out to the island. There was very little wind, and the predicted dense fog advisory had been lifted. The weather was a bit hazy, but clear.

As we approached the island, we paddled over the Eagle Island shoal, a shallow area to the south of the island. For us kayakers, the shoal added interest as we looked down at the rocks in the clear water. To sailors, clearly a different story.

Nearing the southern shore, we could see a sea stack that had separated from the rest of the island in a vivid example of how these islands exist in a geological blink of an eye. What was left behind by the glaciers is being worried and eroded away by freezing and thawing, tenacious roots of vegetation, wind and water.

The island itself was more interesting than I had imagined. I was expecting more of the eroding bluffs one sees on the western side of Sand, but there were numerous rock formations. After returning home, I read about the various waterbirds that nest in the trees, and I mentally kicked myself for not looking for the nests, but c'est la vie.

After rounding the island, we stopped for lunch on some flat rocks in the gap by the sea stack on the southwest corner, then headed for home. The day continued to be a bit hazy, and Pete the poet noted that it seemed like we were paddling through molten silver.

We reached the mainland, then headed west to our launch site. About half way back, I noticed a tandem kayak approaching but didn't pay much attention to it. Then I heard someone say "Hi, Peggy", and realized that the intrepid Brian was in the tandem, along with his mom. I'd met Brian when he was our guide on the Outer Islands trip earlier in the summer. His mom had never been paddling with Brian, so she was getting a great introduction to the Apostles by seeing the mainland sea caves on a calm day. Brian had circumnavigated Lake Superior the previous year, and his mom had provided logistical support on part of the route. She told us that it had been quite a challenge each day to find where the heck Brian and his paddling partner had stopped for the night.

Our next paddling encounter was with a woman who had a border collie sharing her kayak. The dog was sitting up in the front of the cockpit and having a wonderful time, although she started barking when I came up to chat and got inside the perimeter she considered her territory.

Back at the beach, we landed, carried the boats up the stairs, loaded them on the cars, and then headed for home. It was a little gem of a paddle to cap the ICE weekend.