I sometimes say that my grandfather would be mortified by my sense of direction. I never know if I am traveling north or south or east or west. I can get lost in Grand Marais. Apparently the navigation gene has skipped a generation.
My grandfather, Roy Oberg, had an unerring sense of direction. He was a commercial fisherman on Lake Superior for many years, but is best known as captain of first the Voyageur and then the Voyageur II, transporting people and goods to Isle Royale for the Grand Portage- Isle Royale Transportation Lines. He carried the mail and groceries to the people living on the island and hauled backpacks and canoes for the island visitors for more than 50 years.
Best of all, he welcomed his family to stowaway on the boat. The memories of trips to “the Island” with grandpa are some of the best of my childhood. I remember trips spent huddling under blankets with my sister and cousins in the bow as the Voyageur slammed into waves, spraying us with icy cold, pure Lake Superior water. We stubbornly stayed outside, not wanting to miss a thing.
I remember the warm, slow cruises into the bays and inlets— the pause near the shipwrecked steamer America and the sail past the Rock Harbor lighthouse. It was so fun seeing the island people or National Park staff came out to get their mail, their groceries or just to say hello. Everyone was always happy to see Grandpa and to chat with him and to hear his distinctive chuckle.
We had fun walking around the boat swaying and saying, “Whoa!” when a particularly big wave hit. It was an honor to take Grandpa’s coffee-stained mug down to the galley for a refill. Climbing the ladder back to the pilot house on stormy seas was challenging and exciting.
I remember my mom cooking in the tiny galley on the trip around the island. I can clearly recall watching the broth in a cup of chicken noodle soup slosh from side-to-side with the rolling of the boat.
We always felt safe on the Voyageur, because Grandpa was at the helm. Rain or shine, fog or blue skies, flat calm or high seas, he knew his boat and he knew the lake. He knew the Island, the depths of the channels, the location of the reefs. He loved the Island and the Big Lake.
I didn’t inherit his seafaring skills, but apparently my son has. After a summer season working as a deckhand on the Voyageur II, my son Ben decided he wanted to pilot the boat from Grand Portage to Isle Royale. He acquired his captain’s license two years ago and has been following in my grandfather’s wake.
Last weekend I got to tag along. It was an amazing trip down memory lane. I still like sitting in the bow, feeling the wind in my face. I still like leaning on the railing, watching the hull cut through the glistening water. And I still like meeting the people of the Island.
It was fun to watch Captain Ben welcoming passengers and visiting with tourists as he and deckhand Dan loaded kayaks and gear. It was wonderful to be onboard to see him maneuver in and out of the beautiful bays I enjoyed as a child. When we reached Rock Harbor, where the Voyageur II stops for the night, I watched in awe as Ben smoothly slid into the narrow space right next to a lavish yacht. Grandpa would have been proud.
It was a quiet, peaceful trip— no emails, no cell phone, just happy memories of time spent at Windigo, Rock Harbor and Daisy Farm. A few things have changed since my last trip decades ago, but much more was the same. I’m lucky to have had two Voyageur captains in my life, to get to be “crew” then and now.
The navigation gene may have skipped a generation, but the love of water has not!
I shall carry away with me a deep and lasting impression of this country with its primeval forests, its bird life, its freshwashed shores, its moose and innumerable bays and passages. Its size and grandeur surpassed my expectations. It would make the finest water and trail park I can think of.
Stephen T. Mather, Director, National Park Service on Isle Royale, 1924
Leave a Reply