After three days of 30 to 45 mile per hour winds, the gale started to wane. We were tired of sitting in our tent, so we decided to muscle our way into a stiff headwind rather than spend another night in the same place. Our progress was measured in feet rather than miles, and occasionally I had to turn on our GPS to confirm that we were actually moving forward. The strongest gusts caused us to paddle in place, but during the lulls we were able to slowly inch forward. After 6 hours we pulled ashore at the end of a long sand spit and set up camp as darkness set in. Over night the winds died, and we awoke to a glassy lake for the first time in a long while. We hurried to pack up camp and set off early, anxious to reach the Apostle Islands and the Squaw Bay Caves.

As the sun set, we explored the sandstone caves and arches of Squaw Bay.

The sun was low in the sky as we reached the first cave. When we paddled deep into the cave we discovered the sun’s reddish glow shining through a second entrance. We slithered through the narrow corridor and popped out on the lake. Smiling, we continued down the cliff face exploring cave after cave until it became too dark to distinguish caves from cliff face. In the darkness our ears took over and feasted on the melodies made by slopping in and out of the porous sandstone. Soon the cliffs tapered and a beach began to form. After 14 hours on the water we set up camp.

The sandstone walls have been carved into Swiss cheese over millennium by pounding waves.

We wolfed down a double batch of Macaroni and Cheese and marveled over the caves we had just explored. People had told us about them, but we were not prepared for the number of caves that dot the cliff face. It was like a mile long block of Swiss cheese laced with tunnels made for mice, elephants, and everyone in between. In the morning we would press on, but this is one place we would have to revisit.

The last rays of light before darkness fall on Squaw Bay.

In the morning our hatch covers were frozen closed, and our spray skirts were hard to the touch. The lake would remain calm for several more days, but the temperature was dropping, winter was coming, and the paddling season was quickly coming to an end. Bundled in all of our clothing, we set out at a quickened pace determined to make the final 150 mile push to Grand Marais, MN before the next storm rolled in.

After four days, we reached Tettegouche State Park and paddled though familiar waters for the first time in over a month. Amy and I have lead dozens of groups of kayakers on tours through the caves and arches that line this spectacular coastline while working for Superior Coastal Sports, a kayaking business in Grand Marais. We could see the Apostle Islands, and Squaw Bay 30 miles to the South, and laughed at the fact we had been there just a few days before.

As we rounded Shovel Point, and exited Tetagouch State Park the light was beginning to fade. We dug our paddles in and pushed on knowing that we only had 50 miles to go.

Most of the remaining 50 miles was new to us, and we paddled close to shore soaking in the lichens, cobble beaches, and cliffs that make the North Shore so special, causing us to wish we had further to go.

Days of cold, calm weather helped the miles tick by along Minnesota’s North Shore.

As Grand Marais came into view this afternoon, our pace slowed and we dreamt up crazy inventions like a battery-operated cockpit heater designed to keep our spray skirts from freezing to our kayaks, allowing us to travel through the winter.

Our 1,100-mile journey is over. Winter is coming. But in some ways, we aren’t quite ready to stop. Tonight we are going to set up camp on the beach where we began our journey seven weeks ago. Warm beds, and hot showers can wait just one more night.

We made it to Grand Marais! Our kayaks touched land on the beach we left on August 30th.