Day 12 -- Voyageurs National Park

5:30 a.m.

NOT a good night’s sleep for me. One of the boat’s pontoons is perched on a rock, but the other side is free. We’re rocking a bit in the wind, which picked up overnight, and as the waves thwacking the hull it sounds like someone is banging on drums in the basement. All. Night. Long.

8 a.m. 

Coffee on the front porch as I try to catch up a little on the blog. Everyone else reports that they slept very soundly. It’s a blustery day, with low, dark clouds barreling across the sky. Every so often there’s a fleeting patch of blue, which gives us hope for a sunny afternoon.

We can hear snippets of chatter on the radio, including Northernaire boats 23 and 29 planning a rendezvous in official maritime radiospeak: “We’ll be there in an hour,” one of them responds. “Right now we’re feeding our faces with pancakes.”

9:30 a.m.

Pancakes with wild blueberries for breakfast! Thanks to Clare for the delicious meal.

  

11:10 a.m.

We’re planning on heading back toward the Northernaire base today. Tonight we’ll spend the night at one of the campsites closer to Base, so it’ll just be a short trip back tomorrow morning; we’re supposed to return by 9 a.m. Our trip today may take longer than a few hours, as we’ll be heading straight into the wind. 

We untie, push back from the campsite and head out of Anderson Bay. But as soon as we get around the point and into open lake we realize exactly what we’re up against: The water is roiling with 4-foot waves that are breaking on nearby rocks in 10-foot sprays. Although we have miles of wide-open water to cross before the next protected passage, Natalie, the captain, has decided that this is manageable. A second later, the houseboat hits a huge wave, and the grill on the front porch topples over in a crash. With a collective cry of “OH SHIT!” we all immediately realize that this is NOT manageable. This is crazy and terrifying. We struggle to turn the boat and immediately retreat back into Anderson Bay. 

We motor all the way to the back of the bay and tie up at the public dock. There are no whitecaps in the bay, but the wind is still whipping across the surface of the water and the houseboat is bouncing against the dock.

From this vantage point we can look straight down the bay and see the water churning and slamming into a little island at its mouth. If the water seems to calm down later in the day, we’ll try to venture out again.

The bluffs around the bay block the radio signal. Depending on where we’re standing on the dock, we can get one bar of cell signal. I’ve texted Kevin at Northernaire – Vonnette’s husband – to apprise him of our situation. He responds with a weather report – winds from the WNW at 20 mph (although I’m betting they’re higher than that*) – and tells us to sit tight until conditions improve.

11:45 a.m. 

Even though we’re tucked into the back of a bay, the wind is screaming around the houseboat. Spitting rain stops and starts. Keith and Clare have gone off to explore the inland area on the Cruiser Lake trail that starts here. 

1:00 p.m.

We’ve accepted that we’re going to spend the rest of the day here, and we all occupy ourselves with reading, fishing, exploring, lazing. Natalie has busied herself with learning how to tie knots.  

It could be a lot worse! We have a dock and trails, and relatively calm water here in the bay. 

I almost step on a giant snake slithering along the rocks on shore. It’s at least 3 feet long. It has two bright yellow stripes down its side. A garter? Do garter snakes get that big?

1:30 p.m.

Kevin and Bill from Northernaire motor into the bay in their speedboat and tie up at our dock. They are visibly shaken after the long trip across the seething lake and said it’s very, very rough and perilous. We are amazed and grateful that they came all the way out here to check on us. They recommend that we stay here until the weather calms. Before they head back out, Bill fixes the outboard motor on our skiff (again).

2:00 p.m.

Charlie starts to take the skiff out into the bay, but returns to the dock almost immediately, saying the wind is too strong and it’s too choppy for the little boat, even in this bay.

3:30 p.m.

Charlie and I venture out on a two-hour hike that circles the peninsula between the bay and the lake. It follows a ridge above the bluffs and then descends to the lakeshore, where the wind is whipping and waves are slamming into the rocks. Across the lake, to the far west, we can see a break in the clouds, which we’re hoping signals a shift in the weather in couple of hours.

The trail loops back inland. We munch blueberries along the way; the trail is lousy with them. We’re looking for bears, which have been spotted out here, but we only see a deer and several of different kinds of scat.

While we’re up on the bluffs, my phone finds a scrap of signal and receives a text from Kevin at Northernaire, who reports that the winds should be calm tomorrow and recommends that we stay here tonight and depart for their base early in the morning. If we leave early enough, we can get back between 10 and noon, we hope.

It's so hard to capture the churn of the water in a still photograph. But there was no way we were going out on that lake today.

Moose?

6 p.m. 

The winds have started to die down, and the sky is clearing.

Natalie announces that not only has she learned how to tie 13 knots, but she can also now tie all 13 with her eyes closed. 

7:30 p.m.

Homemade pizza is on the menu, but we can't get the oven's pilot to light. So we throw the pies on the gas grill, which still works, even after it crashed to the floor this morning. We underestimate the heat and the time it takes to cook, and manage to thoroughly burn the crust. 

9 p.m.

The bay is now completely still. We make a campfire in the fire ring and stay out for as long as we can stand the moquitoes. We might be breaking park rules by making camp at this public landing, rather than at a designated houseboating site, but we’re not too concerned. This was a weather emergency. If a ranger shows up somehow, I’m sure she will understand. We’re grateful that we could retreat to this protected area. Because we felt safe and secure, it turned out to be a very fun and relaxing day! An adventure!

After the skies cleared, we went on another short hike. See the beaver lodge in the distance, on this inland pond?

Frisbee game

*Note: Two days later, after we had made it back to dry land and a WIFI connection, I logged on to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration's (NOAA) website to find a report of hour-by-hour weather conditions for International Falls on Sunday, July 19. Throughout the afternoon, winds were steady at 25 mph, with gusts near 40 mph. I also found a news report about five people who had to be rescued when their boat capsized on White Iron Lake near Ely on Sunday, as well as news reports of 90 mph straight-line winds toppling silos and stadium bleachers farther to the west. Indeed, a nightmarish weather day.

Plenty o' free time: Natalie -- who has aspired to a pirate's life on the high seas since 2014, when we visited the North Carolina Maritime Museum, has declared herself the captain of our ship, and has delegated pirate ship roles to everyone else in a hand-written decree. I am the quartermaster, who is in charge of punishment, and food and water supplies (sounds about right). Keith is the Boatswain, who apparently just generally supervises (yep) and reports to the Quartermaster (absolutely). As the Sailing Master, Charlie is in charge of navigating and piloting. And fishing. And Clare is the Powdermonkey (just because that's a cool title) and Cook.