Pilgrimage to Trout Bay

When was the last time you gave away both your heart and soul at the same time? Four of us did just that recently.

There are little caves, coves, arches and passageways in the sandstone cliffs on Grand Island, honed there by storms and winds that patrol Lake Superior. In my kayak I passed through an archway and into a cave with two openings to the sea. I proceeded slowly toward the exit. Then I stopped. I had to. I had a framed view of Lake Superior and the cliffs of the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore on the opposite shore. Seepage was running off the edge of the cliff and dropping where I would exit. The droplets popped on the lake's surface - a sound that would keep a camper awake but content on a misty summer night. I found a piece of heaven in that little respite.

An hour earlier, John Hanson, Tom Mack, Dave Vieth and I had pushed our kayaks off the shore at Murray Bay, leaving behind the 1845-vintage Stone Quarry Cabin and Settler's Graveyard where timeworn gravestones, many barely legible and leaning sideways, are engulfed by tall grass and flowers.

We were undertaking an adventure not possible back home, just 120 miles away. The first event came when we passed over a sunken ship known as the Bermuda. The 150-foot wooden vessel sunk in 20 feet of water during a storm in 1870. Its superstructure is harbored so near the surface it seems to reach out to grab you.

We moved beyond Muskrat Point, where two nights earlier campers noticed bear claw marks on the outside of their tent. We paddled north along Wick Point to a large mass of sandstone divorced from the mainland. The tiny island has a lone tree with a bouquet of red flowers sprouting from it. We paddled slowly near the shore and under trees harboring two bald eagles. We came so close to a unfazed family of mergansers, we half expected the ducks to hop into our kayaks.

We rounded Wick Point and got our first glimpse of East Channel Light, the refurbished wooden lighthouse that has guided sailors for 140 years. It resembles a church. A sandy beach welcomed us so we glided in to get a closer look at the icon as well as an old iron boat that has been laid to rest alongside it.

For the next three miles, our sensory receptors were on high alert as multicolored sandstone cliffs cantilevered over the water and showcased the coves, caves and archways. In winter these cliffs sprout ice curtains. During this warmer time of year, the spray falling from the palisades is mesmerizing. One of these mini-waterfalls was holding a man and woman's emotions hostage. They were sitting next to the drippings in their kayaks having lunch.

A white buoy sits out to sea, not far from these cliffs. Paddlers can go to the buoy and look down into the clear water to see the ribs of another ship that met its fate during some other Lake Superior storm.

As we ventured further, the tall cliffs of Twin Points greeted us. Beyond there we reached Trout Point, turned left and started heading off the big lake and into Trout Bay, a horseshoe-shaped rendezvous with Lake Superior. The enclosed area has two miles of sand beach below multicolored cliffs on each end.

What held us most in awe were the sandstone cliffs we glided over. Yes, over. They could be seen below the water's surface. Many dropped away 20 or 30 feet beneath us. Others came so close to the surface we wondered if we might scrape the hulls of our craft on them. In various places, deep and circular cavities were visible in the underwater shelf. Many of these natural wonders held boulders of various sizes. Huge fissures led the eye into deeper and darker water. It was intimidating to see, almost sucking the breath from your lungs. It gave us the sense that we were dropping into some sort of abyss.

Our first stop on the west side of Trout Bay was Cobble Cove. The tiny inlet would be a great hideaway for honeymooners. The best campsite is some 20 feet above the cove that can be reached by way of a steep passageway and a rope. Two days before we landed there, campers found themselves stranded when 8-foot waves took the inlet captive.

In calmer conditions, I imagined that a tent staked on the sandy base of the bay would eliminate the need for an air mattress. Campers can walk barefoot with confidence for hours. The only lights visible at night are cast by the stars and moon.

Trout Bay is that point where people give away their hearts and also their souls.

For more information, Google "Hiawatha National Forest Center" in Munising. There's ferry service to nearby Grand Island Ferry Service, call 906/387-3503 and commercial bus lines to the area, 906/387-3503.