|
USA -
Wisconsin
|
|
Written by melissa conroy
|
|
Page 1 of 3
“Think hanging a picture!” Doug shouted from his kayak. He held his arms up, paddle aloof, to demonstrate. “You have a big picture frame in your arms and you want to move it. Move with your waist, not your arms. Also,” he swooshed over to take another look, “you're holding the paddle backwards.”
I rotated the paddle around and tried to stretch my screaming shoulder muscles out at the same time. Why in the world was I stuffed in a tiny plastic craft floating in choppy 40 degree water miles from land? Why was I the only one in our group of six that wasn't effortlessly gliding across the one-foot waves?
As a splash of icy water merrily leap up inside my hull and sloshed affectionately against my legs, I reminded myself that I could be at home grimly trudging through the endless maze that had become my master's thesis. In comparison, freezing my buns off while trying to make a kayak go forward under the cheerful but unhelpful advice of my companions seemed like heaven in itself.
We were paddling around the Apostle Islands, a cluster of twelve slabs of land situated in a corner of Lake Superior. The origin of that name is shrouded in mystery: some claim they were named for the twelve apostles, others that a vicious gang known as The Apostles had made their hideouts on these outposts. Myself, I was angling for the former: the fierce mosquito population of most of the islands would have soon sent all but the most desperate of criminals running eagerly into the arms of the law. For us modern adventurers, equipped with high-octane DDT and full-body bug suits, the mosquitoes were nearly unbearable; I can't imagine what early explorers must have suffered.
All I know is, the whole-head bug net I purchased on a whim saved my life. This became apparent the first night we landed and began setting up camp. It had been a rough crossing to begin with, and I was not doing well at keeping up with the group, so I was both tired and irritable. We finally made it to our first landing. Getting out of the kayak proved to be a challenge – I didn't know enough to charge straight into the beach, so my kayak turned sideways and began thumping lightly against the shore while I sat still, afraid of capsizing it and so tired I wasn't sure I would be able to clamber out of the kayak even if it was still. Luckily, one of our group hauled me into shore, and we six were soon unloading our stuff sacks and heading towards the bear lockers.
Clearly scout mosquitoes had alerted the general population to our presence, and we had a massive crowd waiting to greet us. They enthusiastically fell upon us in a mass onslaught, happily ignoring the barrages of insect spray we threw at them. Luckily the neoprene wet suits we wore were thick enough to prevent penetration, although this didn't stop mosquitoes from trying and some were actually large enough to drill through to flesh. However, any other non-neoprened body part was instantaneously a target. Within seconds, we were all digging frantically in bags for insect nets.
The nets prevented facial bites but did not stop the mosquitoes from hovering around our heads so that each of us had a personal insect bubble everywhere we went. Eating provided to be a challenge: we accomplished this by scooping up a spoonful or forkful of whatever we were eating and poking it up under the net into our mouths. It looked uncannily if we all had trachea holes we were eating from, and the occasional mosquito would end up with the reconstituted food and endless granola bars we consumed, but I just counted it as extra protein.
<< Start < Prev 1 2 3 Next > End >>
|
