I sit alongside my husband in our vehicle, gazing at The Lake.
It’s not ice-bound this year even though it’s mid-February. We are at the Pincushion Overlook, high above the little town of Grand Marais. Below, Lake Superior is putting on a gray and gold show. The gray of the overcast sky and the gray of The Lake are pierced by shafts of gold sunlight that reflect as golden pools on The Lake’s surface. The panorama is spectacular.
We aren’t alone. Carloads of visitors and cross-country skiers also share the parking area, many of them taking pictures of the view.
I don’t live on The Lake. In fact, I live ten miles inland, but I feel that I do. When explaining to strangers where my home is, I tell them I live 40 miles south of the Canadian border on The Lake.
Other lakes have names- –Pine Lake, Loon Lake, but this largest fresh water lake in the world doesn’t need one. It simply is The Lake to all who live near it. Although its beauty is unsurpassed, Lake Superior has a darker side. It is not a benevolent minion of nature. It’s a powerful force.
My first-hand knowledge of this happened many years ago as I walked my dog along the rocky shoreline west of Grand Marais. The late autumn day was sunny, but the waves were building strength as I walked obliviously some 50 feet away.
My dog and I stepped down into a shallow hollow carefully picking our way down. Carefully, because the rocks were slightly frost rimmed. When we reached bottom, I started scrambling up and out of the depression, but the dog’s paws couldn’t grab the icy rocks.
She slid back down. She tried again, but with no luck. Suddenly the booming waves sounded stronger and closer, nearer. Just how close was I? I didn’t know. I threw apprehensive glances towards The Lake, but, thankfully, saw no foamy waves.
How, I wondered, was I going to get my dog out of this situation? A blinding truth struck. As beautiful as its waves were, The Lake was unstoppable. It was simply a force of nature like a mountain or an ocean, and I a puny human being. If the wind and waves were to rise, it would mean nothing if my dog and I were engulfed by them.
I managed to cajole and pull my dog out of the situation. As I walked home, I experienced a newfound respect for The Lake, and it has never left.
Loading Comments