Michigan Blue’s features often whisk me down a river of memories, complete with cerulean blue skies, turquoise waters, and emerald-green forests, all made more enjoyable and unforgettable because I’m experiencing nature with my family.
Looking at the astounding photography in this issue, I’m in Seventh Heaven once again. In the reverie that it inspires, I’m dreaming about tooling through the Upper Peninsula with my husband and sons. This time,we’re exploring St. Ignace, Sault Ste. Marie, Copper Harbor, Newberry, Grand Marais, Negaunee, Paradise, Marquette, Munising, Au Train, and Seney, — and the list goes on.
As I recall these carefree hours, I’m once again on a tourist boat at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore that’s dropping me and my kayak into Lake Superior’s somewhat-choppy waters. Already gliding ahead of me are my two sons, while seated behind and with me, my husband paddles. As my three rocks, they calmed my fears when our tour guide stated, “Yeah, there’s a slight chop today.”
Slight chop or not, there’s no way I would have missed out on that adventure. Each second, each droplet of time spent in nature with my trio of men is golden. Like tiny pebbles polished by water and wind over the years, my memories glisten brightly. I’m sure we’re etching something that will never disappear from our hearts; it’s permanent imagery that will color all my musings.
The night before that adventure, the four of us sat in a Marquette hotel room talking excitedly about the multi-hued sandstone cliffs and the vivid waters we’d soon experience up close and personal, deciding where we’d grab coffee, and determining who would share a kayak with whom.
When my head hit the pillow that night, motherly thoughts ebbed and flowed in my head, recalling the time nearly two decades earlier when we first introduced our sons to Pictured Rocks. Donning our souvenir Upper Peninsula T-shirts, we boarded a large tour boat — no kayaking on that visit, as they were much too young to navigate Lake Superior. Back then, my worries didn’t loom as large, because I had more control.
The kayaking excursion was more than we imagined. The chop was evident, and I felt it, but our ever-watchful tour boat was never far from us as we paddled through the stunningly vibrant turquoise waves (the clear waters allow sunlight to travel far into its depths and the deeper the water, the more luminous the color). While bobbing amid the crests and feeling the sun on my face, I leaned back for a couple minutes to absorb the majestic cliffs, those pictured rocks and their streaky mineral-stained hues of siennas, pinks, and greens, and the relaxing sloshing and splashing sounds of Lake Superior against our kayak — and I was inspired to break the silence.
I yelled “Seventh!” and my three “rocks” chuckled. They knew what I meant; it’s our family’s code for “I’m in Seventh Heaven.” They’ve heard it time and again, always in nature and always with them.
Although they may be reluctant to admit it, I have to think they were in Seventh, too.
