Back on the Road, and a Little Bit in Love

APOSTLE ISLANDS, WI


The rocky bluffs stretched out into vast rolling hills, and the pine trees gave way to deciduous trees of all manner. As I drove farther into Minnesota, the forests grew thicker and darker, creeping ever closer to the road's edge. Though my love for Minnesota may be tempered slightly by the mosquito who accompanied me for 300 miles, it really is such a lovely part of the country. 


2 1/2 days and 1200 miles took me from Montana to the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore in  Northern Wisconsin. I didn't know this place existed until three years ago when I took a roadtrip. My then partner-in-crime raved about Wisconsin and all its beauty, which I ignored entirely, plagued by memories of a very rainy childhood vacation to Milwaukee that mostly stirs up memories of watching the circus parade in the pouring rain. But a couple dozen states after setting off, we landed here where I once again had to put my foot in my big fat mouth. It's amazing here. I'm a little bit in love. It reminds me of Maine, with whom I've had a longstanding love affair (even pre-dating my first actual visit to the state). The two lane highway to Bayfield is nearly empty, but a few bikers. Gently rolling hills stretch out before me, wildflowers in bloom, rich forests with ferny underlayers, and the damp sweet smell of pine wafting in my windows. Occasionally I catch a glimpse of Lake Superior through the trees. 


When I first passed through here so many summers ago, I thought to myself "I need a kayak and a month for this place!" lamenting our tight schedule that demanded our onward travel. What I forgot in coming back here, still only for a few days, is that I do actually NEED a kayak. Most of the islands are only accessible by boat, and only two of the twenty-two are serviced by the extremely expensive National Park concessionaire's ferry (Yep. Thanks NPS for keeping the parks affordable for all of us.). Traveling solo and with absolutely no experience navigating on water, not to mention the 38 degree water and lack of westuit, renting a kayak and heading out on my own seems like a bad idea. Or maybe I'm just getting to be a wimp in my old age. 


So I'm still planning to come back someday. Someday when I have more time. And a boat. And a companion. 


But for now I have a lovely campsite nestled in the trees, with the views of the lake making up for the swarms of mosquitoes. I took a ferry out to the one island that is not actually a part of the park. (Ironically the ferry to the private island that is clearly not hurting for money is much more affordable than the ferry to the public islands). I read and napped in the sand, with only the sound of lapping water interrupting the silence. The water is cold but the sand is warm as I walked along the shore, picking up bits of rock and glass and wood smoothed by the water.