Sailing the Apostle Islands - Don't Forget Your List!

Good winds for sailing help leave everyday concerns behind.

We're on deck of Mariah, John's thirty-six foot Cape Dory, a beauty of a sailing boat, three hundred feet off Raspberry Island. The midmorning sun is high in the pearl blue sky, unmarred by even a hint of cirrus. On the southern horizon rests a herd of cumulus clouds, as if tethered to the land. The warm sun beats down, the prize for enduring eight months of winter. A chilly breeze reminds us kindly that winter is never far off. Today, we don't care.

The view from our anchorage at Raspberry Island.

It's the first of four days of in the Apostle Islands. Idyllic, I'd have to say, except for the annoyance I'm feeling. The annoyance struck suddenly with a crude epithet from my lips as we sped along a country road headed for the marina. I forgot the beef jerky! The good stuff from Nelson's Butcher Shop, enough salt-laced protein to keep two sailors happy for four lunchtimes. I had looked forward to surprising John.

"You shouldn't have told me," he said. I had to, though; I wanted to share the pain. It didn't work. I was still fidgeting at my negligence, still seeing that delicious dried beef sitting on the shelf of my refrigerator. Acceptance is a slow-acting palliative, especially when you start remembering other things you forgot. White wine. Jack Daniels. Salad dressing. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Off my game, is what I said.

I didn't make a list. That was my problem. You need a list for wilderness camping. (This was luxury "camping" but it was still wilderness.) For thirty years people have admired and complimented me for my canoe camping lists - with good reason. I have never been caught in the wild without everything my companions and I needed for comfort and survival. Well, except for the toilet paper incident, but we won't go into that now. Besides, that incident had a surreal resolution that I believe my years of diligence earned for me.

I was lax on this trip. It will never happen again. I'll have a list for next year's sailing trip, a written list. Bet on it. In fact, I've already put it together and begun refining it.

Well, things got better; and my chagrin ebbed. A cold beer on a sunny deck will do that. A hike across a lonely island to a lighthouse will go a long way to soothe, as well. (Well, not so lonely; the tour boat had deposited a clump of tourists that littered the trail.) That evening, we grilled fresh whitefish from Lake Superior that evening and settled into the rhythms of life afloat.

Aboard ship or on land, John is always so helpful.

The next morning, after a leisurely breakfast, we headed for Julian Bay on Stockton Island, a favorite anchorage of John's. We again had good winds. We dropped anchor at lunch time and commenced to seriously hang out for the next two days. We read. I wrote. John tinkered with instruments and gadgets. We went ashore, where we hiked and talked with the rangers. The only excitement was following the drama of a sailboat that drifted away from its anchorage while its owners wandered the trails on the island, the anchor not having been correctly set. We listened to the radio messages and watched as a good neighbor motored out to retrieve the sailboat - better than t.v.

Efficiency: doing my writing and collecting solar rays.

We hiked the Tombolo Trail on Stockton Island.

On Saturday night, John set his radio dial to Radio WTIP, Grand Marais, and we sipped wine and listened to "Small Change," a trivia game. Two hours later, the hosts of the show snnounced that their time was up until next week, and John and I wondered where the time had gone.

Do you know the theme song of the Muriel Cigar commercial sung by Edie Adams? Do you know who painted "The Boating Party?" Who was the leader of Oliver Twist's gang of street urchins? The name of the president who had three dogs named Drunkard, Tippler and Tipsy? The last name of Bonnie of Bonnie & Clyde? If you like trivia like this, you'd love "Small Change." For two hours the hosts fired dozens upon dozens of questions at the audience and then took answers on the air. The good news is that WTIP is a small local station with not many listeners, so you can get through to them to answer. We got through several times and batted about .500 on our answers. We set John's cell phone on the table between us, sipped wine and when we had a couple answers, one of us would grab the phone and call. Great fun.

Hello. Grand Marais? I have the answer.

If you want to find out how much fun, you can check out "Small Change" online. The show is on Saturday evenings, 7:00-9:00, Central Time.

Oh, the answers, in the order I asked the questions:
* "I'm a little Muriel, only a dime. Why don't you pick me up and smoke me sometime?"
* Renoir.
* Fagin.
* George Washington
* Bonnie Parker

The next morning, after breakfast and coffee on the deck, we took the dinghy and motored along the shoreline, exploring bays and sea caves.

We toured close to shore.

This monolithic rock (rocky monolith?) lies just off Stockton Island.

We ventured into sea caves.

That night we listened to the lonely notes of a saxophone from a nearby boat as we stayed up late to watch the moon rise over the lake to the east. In my entire life I had never seen a moonrise from the horizon. It is a stunning sight, a quivering ball of fire that gives no light to the sky as it seems to rise from the dark waters on the distant horizon.

Here I am, working hard, earning my afternoon beer on the deck.