Day 13 -- To Duluth, Minn.

On our hike yesterday, Charlie and I passed two young men on the trail who gave us nothing more than a perfunctory glance as they trudged in the other direction. When we returned to the boat, Keith reported that the same pair had shown up at our campsite and lounged on the rocks for a while before retreating into the woods. 

The encounter inspired Charlie and me to sketch out the plot of a movie we’re calling “Dead Spot.” It’s about a family enjoying their houseboat vacation until severe weather traps them in a bay overnight. Unfortunately, no one knows of their location; their campsite is in a radio “dead spot,” because the surrounding cliffs block the signal. And they are terrorized by a pair of sadistic hikers, who seemed charming when they first turned up – with a story about how their campsite got ravaged by a bear, and can they hang out here for the night? As the night wears on, the family members get picked off one by one until the last sibling fights off the hikers with an axe and the sheer will to survive. There’s all kinds of drama and plot twists, including a cliff-jumping accident and a battered fishing boat – a would-be escape vessel, if not for the outboard motor that’s gone kaput. 

So that’s what I was dwelling on when I woke up with a start at about 2:30 this morning, instead of enjoying the silence and the stars and the gentle rock of the boat. Did I hear footsteps on the dock? Did I hear footsteps ON THE ROOF? The door next to our bed is unlocked, so if an intruder enters I can thwack him with a paddle. But the paddles are outside! Dammit! Where is the axe?!?!?!

I finally fell back to sleep but woke again around 4:30. This time everything was still. No gentle rock. No drum beat from the basement. No footsteps on the roof. With my head on my pillow, I had a wide view of the back deck of the boat. Beyond that, I could see a smudge of orange on the horizon, between the calm, dark waters of the bay and the inky void above. And for more than an hour, I watched, wonderstruck, as the color slowly seeped into the morning sky.

I roused everyone else at 6 a.m., and we were untied and chugging out of the bay by 7. Natalie piloted us most of the way, and we were back at the Northernaire base by 11:30.

Breakfast. Look at how still the lake is!

My view for four hours this morning. This is the life!

Primo spot on the pleasure cruise back to Base.

I am so proud of this crew. We had a great, GREAT time on the houseboat. The highlight of our trip, by far.

We unloaded our gear from the boat, loaded it all into the car and drove two and a half hours to Duluth. We’re staying at Pier B Resort, a new hotel on the revitalized waterfront that includes a beautiful park and outdoor amphitheater, the Great Lakes Aquarium and a paved walking and biking trail. The hotel has bikes available for rent, cornhole games, outdoor ping-pong tables and pickleball courts as well as lakeside fire pits, nightly marshmallow roasts and a great view of Duluth’s landmark Aerial Lift Bridge. Our “family suite” – which is just two adjoining rooms, one of which with bunkbeds – is clean and modern, with a soaring cement ceiling. As hard as it’s trying to be hip and stylish, it still has that pre-fab, sterile motel feeling – kind of hollow and soulless.

We walked a short distance to along the pedestrian trail to Canal Park, a popular waterfront area, where we ate dinner on the rooftop at Grandma’s.

Three days on the boat (and a couple of sleepless nights) have completely zapped my energy. It’s 9:30, and I’m toast; headed for bed immediately.