LAKE MICHIGAN 2020

My Second Crossing.

BIG BLUE | Will She Welcome Me Back?

​To be the first to complete a round-trip crossing of Lake Michigan I have been in training since the first of March, when ice was still on the Minnesota River. I have logged over 800 miles this season. I am confident that I have the skill, equipment, and capability.

All I now need now is the opportunity. But, it is this condition that I have the least control over.

I have decided my third great lakes crossing will take place between mid-July and mid-August. Studying the weather forecasts for Two Rivers WI, and Ludington MI areas, I am looking for two back-to-back days where winds are expected to remain below 8 mph, and for an additional day of calm as a safety precaution.

On Tuesday evening, July 14, all the parameters have been met for a Thursday launch. The lake is forecasted to be still on Wednesday with favorable winds on Thursday. I tell myself it’s a go. 

In advance, I reach out to Two Rivers Chief of Police and USCG to make them aware of my plan. Chief of Police, Brian Kohlmeier, was most helpful as he shares additional insights about the area and offers additional support if needed.

Before I launch, I have so much to do, and my greatest concern is the serious stiffness and pain in my lower back. The pain is so great it has nearly brought me to tears. No doubt, this year’s training and conditioning has taken its toll.

I keep my eye on the forecast to look for a trend of improvement or deterioration. Wednesday morning, I cancel my planned grand adventure. After just a short period of time the updated forecast looks nothing like it had before. 

This reinforces my concern about how fast things can change on and around, the lake and my need of a 3-day window of favorable conditions to launch.

All jacked about accepting the personal challenge, I have to be self-aware and make sure that I don’t accept paddling conditions which exceed my predefined parameters:
Go:   Winds less than 8 mph
Go with Caution:   Winds between 8 - 12 mph
No Go:   Winds greater 12 mph

I begin to wonder, “Is the risk of a round trip great lake crossing simply too great?” Two popular phrases continue to pop up in my mind.
​   1.  “Failure is not an option.”
   2.  “He died trying.”
It is the later I don’t want attached to my namesake and memory.

After an emergency massage and heat treatment Tuesday evening, my lower back muscles have relaxed to the point where I can now stand and bend (slightly) without pain. I will continue to apply heat until either the discomfort is gone or when I launch from the west shore of Lake Michigan.

Two days later, the forecast is favorable for a one way trip on Friday. The second leg is in doubt as the winds are forecasted to be greater than the parameters I have set. I will continue to monitor to see if conditions improve or worsen. The final decision about the second leg of the round trip will likely not be made until moments before launch.

​Every hour I return to my computer to check on the weather in hopes that conditions improve. It becomes apparent that I will not be the first to attempt or complete a round trip across Lake Michigan. Day-two conditions are not improving. In fact they are deteriorating at a pace far greater than I would like. The winds are forecasted to be in the low-to-mid teens with gusts expected to reach 20 mph. In the back of my mind, I wonder, "Will the conditions collapse all around me while I am on the open lake like they nearly did when I crossed Lake Superior?"

The good news is Friday remains much as originally forecasted, so I remain committed to paddling across Lake Michigan from Wisconsin’s Rawley Point Lighthouse to Michigan’s Big Sable Lighthouse. 

With the Two Rivers Chief of Police and US Coast Guard made aware of my plans, hotel and taxi services reservations made, It’s a Go!

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I wonder, “Will my second solo paddle across Lake Michigan be considered a failure because I didn’t complete the round trip as I originally set out to do, or will it be considered a major accomplishment for what it is by itself?”

The Five-hour Road Trip to Two Rivers Wisconsin is Uneventful.

That evening before I head to my hotel, I will visit Point Beach Forest State Park and walk around Rawley Point Lighthouse to get my mind in the game. As I near the park, the deer are thick. It seems as if every few hundred yards, there is another family grazing or crossing the road. It makes for a wonderful approach to this scenic wooded area. 

When I pull into the park, I am relieved that the entry gate is open. It’s a cool night with temperatures in the mid-60s, much cooler than I had expected. Also to my surprise is the strength of the wind. It is supposed to be calm tonight, but in the distance I can hear the waves crashing on shore. It reminds me again of how the conditions on a lake are often quite different from that in town. 

As I make my way on the boardwalk to the lakeshore, I can hear the voices coming from the group that has rented the lighthouse for a party. Peeking through the trees, I can see they’re watching a movie on a large outdoor projection screen.

I make it to the beach where the wind and wave action is strong, nearly violent. The beach looks nothing like it did five years ago when I first crossed Lake Michigan. The beach has largely eroded and there are fallen trees lining the shore. The sound of the crashing waves and shoreline debris is unsettling.

The six-mile trip to the Lighthouse Inn in Two Rivers is quick. All the while I work to push out those creeping thoughts of concern and doubt.
 
As I pass over the bridges in town, I look over to check the water beneath. The rivers are all like glass, no indication of any wind. This is unsettling as it again reminds me how different the weather forecasts for a town are different from that on the lake. 

​Again, I find myself pushing out those creeping thoughts of concern and doubt.

I make it to the front desk just  before10:00PM and when the hotel staff is about to call it a night. They’re aware of my arrival, my plans, and everything is ready. They tell me where I can park my car until I return the next day, or later. As I make my way upstairs to my room they wish me good luck.

Before I call it a night I open my bedroom curtains and window to look and listen to the sounds of Lake Michigan just below. It is with mixed emotions that I notice the waves are stronger than expected and for winds reported to be at 0 mph. But, the crashing waves are much less violent than they were just 45 minutes ago. “That’s a good thing.” I tell myself.

As expected, it was a restless night.

I wake with a sense of excitement about what the day will bring.
All the while, I push out those thoughts of uncertainty and creeping doubt.

On my way back to Rawley Point Lighthouse in the morning to drop off my kayak, I stop at the first convenience store to stuff my face with much-needed carbs. The best I can do is stomach one breakfast sandwich. 

After carrying my kayak and gear to the shore of Lake Michigan, I look over this magnificent and beautiful ‘great lake.’ All I can see is an endless sea with a few boats dotting the horizon. It’s an incredible view. At 6:20AM the conditions are about ideal and all that I could have hoped for.

I check out the waves breaking on shore. They’re much less violent than the night before. I estimate that once I paddle through the 20 yards of heavy wave action I will be on my way for what will surely be a 12.5–hour great lake grand adventure.

I think to myself, “How lucky am I to have the health, means and opportunity for yet another once in a lifetime experience.”

I call my taxi service to verify my early morning pick-up time at the hotel for 7:20 AM. This  doesn’t give me much time for all that I must do. But, I want to push myself to get on the lake as quickly as possible. 

​Shortly after leaving the hotel it is clear my taxi driver, a local resident, doesn’t know where Rawley Point Lighthouse is. I offer her my help. But, the time I had reserved to find that zone to mentally prepare has been replaced with angst and frustration. 

After unloading the taxi of my two days of paddling gear and supplies, I stage all that I have next to my bright red 17’2” open sea NC Kayak. I mentally map out my packing strategy to ensure even distribution of weight and quick access to those things that I will want when I land in Michigan; sleeping gear, My Pillow, dry clothes, and toiletries.

Looking over Lake Michigan, the conditions are better than what they were just an hour earlier. The sun is about to break through the gray cloud-covered sky and the lake is calm. I am feeling optimistic about meeting my goal of crossing the lake in 12.5 hours.
​
With the kayak all packed and pointed toward the lake, I slide in, secure my waterproof skirt, and put on my kayak gloves. It’s the moment of truth. I’m all in and it’s a go!

I launch. There is no turning back now.

I push off and make it into the lake at an official time of 8:42AM. I am immediately challenged by the crashing waves breaking over the front of my kayak. I take the splash head-on and then break though to the open, calm water. 

After shaking off the effects of the cold water spray to my face, chest, and arms, I shout out,”YAY!!!”

The conditions are near perfect. The moderate chop is easy to manage. But, for some reason, I am finding it difficult to stay on my desired ESE course of 104 degrees. I don’t give it much thought other than needing to improve my focus and shake off my early morning tiredness.

An hour later, the rising sun has burned away much of gray covered sky. It looks like I will soon be layering on sunscreen for the rest of the day.

Two hours into my trip, I begin to closely monitor my progress. I am logging good speed and distance. In fact, my early pace is much faster than expected. The shoreline behind me is barely visible, and excitement for the journey starts to build. If I maintain this pace, I am certain to complete the day’s journey within my 12.5–hour goal.

Excited about my fast start, I am optimistic about setting a record pace.

For some reason I struggle to get on course. As hard as I try, the best I can do is hold due east. If I don’t make a correction soon, I will be getting off the lake well north of plan and closer to Manistee.  

The lake conditions  begin to change and are near perfect. The sky is nearly cloudless, and the sun is beating down hard. The waves have changed from small chop to peaceful slow rollers, and the slight building wind from the SW is coming across my right shoulder. The wave action is so calming and hypnotic I have to fight myself from dozing off.  ​

Knowing that I must make a correction to my heading I try taking a hard to turn to my right. But I can’t. The lake continues to fight me and push me north. The best I can do now is hold a true east setting. ​

It reminds of my trip across Lake Superior, where along the way, the wave action was slow and deliberate. Similarly, I could not change course and had to wait until conditions changed or when the lake decided to release her hold.

At about four hours into the trip, the calm rolling waves have given away to the small chop that I expected. The wind has begun to shift more toward the south, and intermittent whitecaps are now evident. This is all expected as the forecast was for winds to pick up to around 8-mph as I near Ludington. 

I continue to monitor my progress via GPS. Despite my pace feeling the same, the readings are indicating less progress, considerably less. But, the good news is I’m not being pushed any further north, and I am possibly making some gains toward the SE.

When all alone, there is time to pause, reflect, to give thanks and prayer.

When out in the middle of a great lake, where there is no land to be seen or anything to be heard other than the lapping of water against the side of your boat, it is an amazing feeling and experience. 

If you’re a believer, it is a come to Jesus moment. 

It is here when I think of family and friends and give prayer. I talked to my brother, parents, and grandparents. I imagined them laughing, shaking their heads in disbelief, or giving encouragement. I give prayer asking God to watch over and protect my daughters, granddaughter, close friends and dear loved ones. And I give thanks for the incredible life I have been blessed with.  

​Because the trip across the lake was so long, I have the opportunity to repeat the conversation more than once. Each time, I feel more at peace with myself and with the challenge ahead of me.  

But, as time passed and my progress along the lake was not what I thought it was. I begin to realize why my mother was not smiling as much as I thought she would, my dad seemed to be looking at what was ahead, and my brother had this devilish smile (smirk) on his face. 

It was because I was in trouble and I didn’t even know it, not yet. In fact, I wouldn’t know how much trouble I was in until the next morning, after I wake up and realize where I eventually landed.

​Lake Michigan’s persistent wind had been slowly shifting throughout the day. It began from the southwest, moved to the south, then shifted to the SE. Each with the intent of pushing me further off-course and to the north.  

Unlike my other grand adventures, on this trip the wind and wave action was constant. I never had the opportunity to take a pause, to relax and take in the breathtaking views. Every moment I was forced to keep focus on my paddling and balance. At night, when I expected the wind to ease, it only strengthened. When I wanted to break and take in the view of the brilliant stars above, I simply couldn’t. 

I don’t remember exactly when I decided I could no longer ignore my declining forward momentum and lack of southeast progress. But, at one point I made the decision I had to overcorrect and head due SE if I was going to make it to shore anywhere near Ludington’s Big Sable Lighthouse.
​

Frustration began to creep in, but I could not let doubt or fear do the same.

As I entered the shipping lanes near the Michigan side, I was lucky those passing freighters were well ahead and behind me. There was no risk of my being hit or impacted by their giant wake, unlike my 75–mile race on Puget Sound where the giant transpacific freighters took out several entrants and nearly swamped my borrowed kayak.

While it is difficult to judge distance on a great lake during day–time, it is impossible at night. I have also learned from several nighttime trips how the distant lights can be misleading, giving you a false sense of security and hope. 

I marvel at the skill and courage of our early ocean navigators.

As the sun was about to set, I could tell it was going to be a magnificent display of color, and I didn’t want to miss it. When I could feel the incredible redish-orangish burst of light grow behind me, I glanced down to my watch again to determine when it would be best to turn my kayak around to take in this view. 

​Then I remember, too late, my watch is set on central time and I am now in eastern time. By the time I turn my kayak around, the million–dollar sunset has disappeared. I am crushed as this was a highly anticipated moment of my cross lake journey.

As the sun slips below the distant horizon so do my hopes for a timely finish.

With it now pitch black, I begin to strategize my final approach. With my strength rapidly depleting, discomfort increasing, and the wind unrelenting, there is little room for error or worsening conditions. I look to my phone to take in my GPS readings. I estimate the distance remaining and recent momentum. 

There is no chance I will finish within 12.5 hours and I am thinking it may be closer to 14 hours or nearly 11 PM. I am disappointed and can’t think about it anymore. So I shift my focus back on the basics of paddling, nourishment, and replenishment, and continue paddling.

With my compass remaining on a true SE setting, for some reason, I am certain I will be landing on the beach of Ludington at about 10 miles south of Big Sable Lighthouse. I think to myself, “This will make for a quick trip to the SS Badger in time for its 9AM departure back to Wisconsin.”

I can feel the wind picking up as it is hitting me straight on. After two hours of paddling my GPS readings indicate that not only have I not made any progress, it appears I have lost ground.
​ 
This momentum, or lack thereof, is simply unsustainable. I must break through the hold this lake has on me. I take a drink of my electrolyte charged Gatorade and dig in deep. After more than 12 hours of paddling, I have no other choice but to sprint. 

​After about a half hour I take another GPS reading and it’s clear I am making real, measurable momentum. After another half hour of sprints, the landmark lights are brighter, giving me encouragement.

Looking to my right, I try making sense of the pattern of red lights. I am certain it’s coming from the Ludington breakwater. I can’t be too far from the park’s beach where I will set camp for a few hours sleep before a park ranger notices and wakes me to tell me that camping is not allowed here. I’ll worry about that later, I just want to get off the lake and get a few hours sleep somewhere.

I continue to dig deeper, well into the reserves. After another hour, perhaps more, I can hear the sound of waves crashing on shore. There is a large building just off to my left. It appears to be a public building, perhaps a boathouse for a club or possibly USCG. I don’t remember seeing it before. But, it has been five years since I was here last.

With the end in sight, my reserves are nearly fully depleted.

With the end not to far distant, I decide to beach my kayak out of sight from this large, and well-lit building. From what I can tel,l the beach just ahead is clear of any debris and will make for a soft and safe landing.

​I hit the beach head0on at 1:02 AM (CT). I have just successfully completed my second solo paddle across Lake Michigan. As with my first cross–lake trip, there are no shouts of joy or sigh of relief. My only thought is, how am I going to exit my kayak without falling over and spilling into the lake, and how soon will I fall asleep?

After struggling to pull my kayak above the lake’s waterline, I stand above my kayak. I am too tired and sore to either change my clothes or set camp. But, as the night’s cool air begins to chill my body, I decide I must move or die standing. LOL.

Working through the pain, I unpack my kayak, unroll my sleeping bag, and position My Pillow. After air–drying, I discover my towel and wipe off the remaining wetness of the lake and my sweat. With a fresh set of clothes on, I slip into my sleeping bag, then shape the soft beach to best fit my aching body, and within minutes fall asleep.

I wake to learn I landed nowhere near where I thought.

I wake up about four hours later and look over beautiful Lake Michigan, then scan the beach to learn where I landed. 

I am surprised that I am unable to see any discernible landmarks of the Ludington area, such as the breakwater off Ludinginton’s Stern Park and Beach. In fact, I soon learn I am nowhere near the town of Ludington, and have landed seven miles further north.
​
This shakes me up. 

I realized yesterday’s winds and wave action were much stronger than I had thought and that they had pushed me much further north off course. If I hadn’t so forcefully worked and paddled in a direct SE direction I may very well have landed 20 miles further north and closer to Manistee.

I think to myself, “Was I lost at sea and didn’t even realize it?” and, “Was I in greater danger than I thought?“​​”

I then shift my thinking and give thanks to the power of prayer and for those who were watching over me. As one said, "There were a thousand angels looking over me."

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CROSSING LAKE MICHIGAN
I am truly blessed to have had the strength, training, equipment, and opportunity to experience yet another Great Lake crossing. It was an amazing experience which I sadly acknowledge, I will likely never attempt again.

I hope you have enjoyed my stories and photography, and that it has inspired adventure in you. To read stories and view photography of my past five years of paddling, click here.