22Our wagon scraped along the unkempt grasses that had claimed the road. An occasional piece of cobblestone would gently remind us to slow down and look around. Along the impromptu nine hour journey, the last hour was more than worth the drive. Mast-worthy conifers, all the solitude you could ever want, and the sight of a black bear greeted us from our two-month flatspell in Chicago. “I could live up here. I could live up here and die up here. I could be really happy up here, at least in the few months between winters.” We camped on the point, arriving before dusk at 10:14 p.m. We stocked up on the healthiest sausage and the heartiest beer we could find. We had not planned on surfing this week. Ryan Gerard and Captain Jack invited me and within the next hour, I was in the car and halfway through the city, bound for the great north. Just the way I like it, except I did not pack any camping gear. Not the way I like it, I figured a board bag was the best sleeping quarter I would have in Northern Michigan. During the flood of the night, I thanked God that Jack had packed an extra sleeping bag and a tent. Then I cursed him as I heard the vans pull up in the night. First the lights and the faint rumble of the v6 engines woke me. The seemingly unending sliding doors of the “surf mobiles” kept me me wondering how many were out there. And the loud-speak and firework hoots of drunkards… well, they sucked. “So much for solitude.”
Far from epic, the waves, an ominous fog, and some coffee soothed over any tension. If there is any such thing as undergunning a suit, we did it. Our 3/2’s and long johns kept an “up north” feeling to the sessions and a “45” degree feeling to our skin. Matt Campbell brought some of his new boards. One of his mini simmons helped get my sea legs back on the right point. The point treated us right, so we cleaned up, put on our flannel and hoodies, leaving her as she was.
We drove through the night to be home for the tedious and monotonous thing that is work. We smelled like a bonfire and wetsuit hybrid from hell, our eyes were strung out from little sleep, and our bodies were spent.
In the winter, absence light and low temperatures lead us to daydream of trips to the tropics. This time the warm city air and still water led us to crave the taste of winter. The shivers, the pines, the waves, the weather, some dark ale at night and some coffee in the morning. Nothing better.
