Who ever called Lake Superior a lake was smoking crack! That body of water is an inland sea and cranky one at that. On this first day, the waves were steady and calm but within three days they would be tumultuous and downright dangerous.
If you had plopped me down on this western shore of the lake without my knowing it, I would declare I was in the Pacific Northwest somewhere. The water is dang cold, the shoreline is rugged, and driftwood decorates the beaches.
There is something soothing about being on or near the water. I don’t know if all those water molecules are resonating with my water-balloon like (ok, say it water retaining…) cells or if all that coolness calms my hot-blooded Leo personality. Since water is almost always in motion, perhaps I am simply living vicariously through it and allowing my perpetual-motion-machine of a body to stop for a change. Either way, it was hard not to just linger near the shore and watch the endless waves grapple with eternity on the slopping sands.