Chris and I broke camp bright and early to leave for our kayak tour of Pictured Rocks, stopping at Hardee’s (Carl’s Jr.) on the way for chicken and waffle breakfast sandwiches. On the drive, Chris mentioned how his coworker said that Subarus—the kind of car I want—come with a hacky sack, because it’s most commonly driven by hippy granola people. I laughed that I wouldn’t mind, though I never feel like I belong with the people who share my hobbies such as acroyoga, salsa dancing, and art. Chris checked us in while I waited in the car, and returned with a tie-dye waterproof phone case, which cracked me up and annoyed me at the same time, since I thought he was just making fun of my hippie child tendencies. Turns out he thought I would like it because it wasn’t boring like the other solid-color cases, which would have been an accurate assumption if it hadn’t been hot pink tie dye.
Our tour guides provided life vests and spray skirts and gave us the rundown on what to expect. When everyone was ready, we headed to the docks, where a large vessel held rows of lime green kayaks on its roof. We climbed aboard and sat by an open window to look at the lake. It was a little drizzly out, but the sun was starting to peek through the clouds.
When we reached the beautiful cliffs of Pictured Rocks, our captain directed us to the back of the boat, where the crew slid kayaks down a chute to the water below. They helped us climb into the tandem kayak, me in the front and Chris in the back, and we pushed away from the metal dock that held the kayak in place. We approached the water’s edge as a group, where two people were swimming and climbing on the edge—the only people we saw doing anything like that until the end of the tour. Giant pockets were hewn into the side of the colorful layered cliffs by water erosion, like holes in a block of swiss cheese.
Not far off we saw our first and one of the most iconic stops—Lover’s Leap: a towering archway under a little peninsula. Looking up as we drifted beneath it reminded me of Natural Bridge, though it was smaller. We continued on to many landmarks, including Rainbow Cave, Gull Rockery, Grand Portal, Battleship Rocks, Indian Drum, Indian Head, Chapel Rock, Spray Falls, Painted Caves, Cave of All Colors, and Miners Castle (if I remember correctly).
Everywhere we went, the water was crystal clear and bright teal, matching the teal patches of sediment on the rock, which was marked with layers of black, brown, red, orange, tan, even purple in some places. Overhanging ledges dripped purified water that we were told we could drink, and tasted like minerals. Close to the bottom of the cliffs there was a distinct line of pebbles, which our tour guide said if we could get one out he’d give us two million dollars. Funny enough, Chris managed to knock one out with his paddle, but it fell into the water where we couldn’t reach.
My favorite spots were the caves. The first that we went into was massive and round, and we went in a circle through it on its outer edge. Our voices, the waves, and splashing paddles echoed deeply off the walls. Chris pushed us along while I took pictures and videos. We traveled under another smaller archway, over a tiny current between a narrow path of rocks (the most adventurous part of the journey!), and under a very low tunnel (my absolute favorite part) that wound through the rock a little ways, like a labyrinth.
Towards the end, we reached a beach covered in tourists near Chapel Rock, on which was a 250 year old tree, whose roots stretched like a bridge from its stand to the cliff beside it. Apparently, the rock between had fallen out from under it, but despite having no dirt to nourish it upon the chapel-shaped structure, the tree managed to survive by reaching its roots to the woods. “Life finds a way,” Chris quoted Ian Malcolm from Jurassic Park.
That was our final stop, after which we returned to the boat that took us on a long ride back to where we’d started in Munising. Chris and I then went to Falling Rock Cafe for a bite to eat (I got ice cream), and found it to be the most delightful little book shop eatery, much like the concept I had in mind for my coffee shop library. (Maybe one day!) We took our time in town, wandering through different gift shops and information centers, buying souvenirs for my family. At one point we also bought pool floaties for camping, since it had been painfully hard the night before and camping pads or air mattresses cost too much. Then we planned a couple quick hikes to end the day.
We visited Miners falls, where we took a half mile hike through beautiful forest of tall, skinny trees for a pretty waterfall overlook; Miners Castle, which gave us great views of the water where we’d kayaked earlier; and Miners beach, a sandy stretch of crystal clear (and freezing cold) water. Monarch butterflies made an appearance from time to time, exciting me with a flash of orange against the green backdrop.
Having camped the night before, and planning to camp again, Chris and I were in need of a shower. We had acquired eco-friendly soap that could be used for hair, body, dishes, and laundry without hurting the environment. Changing into a bathing suit, I braved myself for the 50-degree water, and ran in before I could chicken out. The cold knocked the wind out of me! Still, I managed to submerge myself entirely, and the “hippy soap,” as we called it, worked surprisingly well!
Chris was a big baby and refused to come in for a long time. I teased and pressured him until finally he inched his way into the water. I came out briefly to grab my camera. The sun reflected beautifully off the turquoise water as it began its descent towards the horizon. I returned to the shore, where a line of pebbles like the layer in Pictured Rocks added stripes to the textured sand beneath my feet. Then, as I glided gracefully into the water towards Chris, my tranquility was broken by an attack. Horse flies! A massive fly pelted my head, circling madly as I flailed and shouted! I swam to Chris, who spun in circles splashing at the beast.
I grabbed a stick and hit one of them like a baseball, knocking it into the water and earning proud exclamations from Chris. His wings wet, the monster couldn’t fly away, and I smashed it into the sand. It took a few tries before it squished, and Chris gave it a burial of sand. We laughed hysterically.
When Chris finally submerged his shoulders into the water, I cried, “You did it! How does it feel?” to which he responded with a laugh, “I’m not a damned polar bear, I’m from Texas.” We finished bathing, then gathered our things and ran up the beach to escape the many irritating, biting black flies, wondering how on earth no one else was getting bitten. As it turns out, they sell bug spray specifically for the flies on the beach. Too bad no one had told us!
Finally clean, Chris and I drove around looking for a campsite to settle down in for the night, but had no luck. Everything had been booked up ahead of time, so we found a hotel in Marquette to spend the night. So, we never got to use our pool floaties, but it was significantly more comfortable, and provided the rest I needed for our last day.