Scale

Last fall, the Nina and Pinta were in town on the Ohio River. Actually, they were replicas of those ships. I took a group of people to see them. They were surprised at how small they were, although I don’t think they fully appreciated the scale.

Imagine being in one on the vast Atlantic, out of sight of land for over a month. Few people ponder that. Or, know that the Santa Maria survived only half the trip.

But, what an adventure that must’ve been. Being out on the open sea like that. I think I’ve touched on that with some offshore kayak trips, but it’s far from duplicating it.

I’m hoping to capture some of the essence with a kayak trip through the Apostle Islands this August. Don’t let the month mislead you. August on Lake Superior resembles August in Ohio only in spelling.

I posted the trip on a paddling web site and drew all kinds of interest. The announcement contained the necessary qualifications, but not everyone pays attention to that. Or, maybe they don’t register what an open water crossing is.

Some of them do. The others, I strongly suggested they join me in a preparatory course on Lake Erie beforehand. That reduced the number of candidates.

I informed the remainder that the course would take place on South Bass Island, where we would camp, which everyone thought was great. After further discussion with the instructors, we altered the plan a bit. As part of the course and preparation, Plan A would be to camp on the mainland and paddle out to the island, barring extreme conditions.

I communicated this to the group and the question was predictable. How far? Twelve miles. The group became smaller. Better to find out now than after a drive to the tip of Wisconsin. If you’re not comfortable with a couple days of double-digit crossings on Lake Erie, you’re going to have a hard week with five of them on Lake Superior, paddling from island to island.

Most of the paddling we usually do is within sight of land, if not a stone’s throw from it. You don’t get a sense how vast things can be like you do when you’re little more than a dot on a big body of heaving water, out of sight of land. That’s scale.