KAYAKING LAKE SUPERIOR
Written By JAMES LASAK
Photography By SAM LINDNER
One small step into the unknown can change your life in the most meaningful of ways.
Some things just find you. And although selfdriven effort can create fortuitous opportunities for oneself, some things do just fall in our lap. This is where my story starts.
Sea kayaking is a niche sport in itself, and within it are even more niche pursuits. Before discovering what I now consider an essential form of outdoor recreation, I regarded kayaking as most would — a quaint, often inland lake or river activity that requires little preparation, is relatively low-impact, and frequently pairs nicely with a fishing pole between your legs just in case you decide to throw a few casts.
Growing up in the woods and waters of northern Wisconsin — hunting, fishing and just about everything in between — I’ve always considered myself an outdoorsman. But it was not until college that I discovered sea kayaking, or that is to say ... when sea kayaking discovered me.
Marquette, one of the largest cities in Michigan’s vast Upper Peninsula, has always been a hub for outdoor adventurists on both ends of the extreme spectrum. And, in its rapidly growing succession, has claimed me as yet another soul enthralled by its particularly chilly neighbor — Lake Superior, deemed “Mother Superior” by many locals and those wild enough to test her icy fury. It was on Lake Superior that I stumbled into sea kayaking, and it is still along her inimitable shoreline that I continue to paddle today.
After attending a presentation by a local kayak outfitter in one of my outdoor recreation classes at Northern Michigan University, I secured a job as a guide-in-training, assisting with tours along the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. Our trainer, Henry Davies, taught us all — and I mean all — the skills necessary to become competent and trustworthy kayak guides: advanced strokes and maneuvers, group management, safety, rescues, time management and, yes … more rescues. There was no stone left unturned. Enter: surfing. Not just surfing — sea kayak surfing.
Those of us lucky enough to live on or within driving distance of “the big lake” know that Superior behaves more like an ocean than a lake. She can generate 30-foot waves and hurricane-force winds. Picture a school bus. Now tip it vertically. That big.
On the day we guides-in-training put all our skills to the test, the waves were “only” 4–6 feet high — not enormous, but big enough. I’ll never forget the moment I charged into those waves, then caught one just as I’d seen my instructor do 15 minutes earlier. Hooked instantly, I knew I’d found something special.
The feeling of surfing itself is thrilling, as is any activity where you can harness aspects of the Earth’s natural power and translate it into movement. But in the waves, you are being moved — by the Earth, without a trace left, without taking, without cultivation. From that day forward, I dove in head first — pun fully intended.
My passion and skills harmoniously grew greater by the day, and I began chasing waves whichever way the wind blew them. The bigger, the better. On the Great Lakes, all of our waves are wind-generated. This means that in order to have the best waves, you have to have the worst weather. If you want to catch superb waves, you must brave the bitterest of cold. It is customary to see surfers in the fall months riding waves on their boards while the gettin’s good. In the early fall, warm water temperatures (40°–50°F) will hang around through October.
As the leaves of fall turn to snowflakes, you will see the number of board surfers dwindle as water temperatures drop. That is, all but one: the ever-famous local legend Surfer Dan. Amidst the blistering whiteouts throughout the northern winters, you’ll find a “yooper” with a tolerance for cold above the rest, carving up the lake’s violent waves with an eloquence akin to that of a ballerina; unwavering to the water he shares with miniature icebergs as he glides by. It was Dan who planted the seed in my mind: If he can be out there surfing waves on a board year-round, surely I can too.
As late fall progresses into winter, conditions only get better — and simultaneously more dangerous. Water temperatures are down to the 30s, fresh gale force winds are commonplace, slamming waves exceed 10 feet, and rip currents are near inescapable. Unlike the ocean, the time period between waves on Superior rarely exceeds 5 seconds. Combine that with marginally bearable headwinds, and paddling out past the break often means no forward progress at all, and you spend the majority of your energy barely inching forward. It is here that I have come to thrive. Years of exposure, failures and close calls hone judgment, anticipation and proficiency in these environments, no matter what your passion is. There is an understanding of limits, yet also an intrinsic necessity to test them. Anything can be taken to the extreme, but to survive here (let alone succeed), one must have:
• A bombproof kayak roll
• An ability to hold your breath in arctic waters (as long as a wave decides to keep you under)
• Mastery of high/low bracing
• Expert ruddering and edge control
• Potent forward AND reverse strokes
• Intelligent wave selection
• Keen situational awareness
• Marathon-like endurance
• Weatherproof physicality
• And above all: Intestinal fortitude
That is to name a few, and all to say it’s worth it. The moment I decide to paddle into a wave, and feel the propulsion as I drop down the face of it, I fade into the most present state of mind I can fathom. Unable to consider the past or envision the future, but only to exist in the exact moment that is each wave. All senses go wild —
• the sharpness of the ripping north wind in my nose
• the view of vibrant colors of fall leaves or fat snowflakes that highlight the shore
• the sting of water on my face as it turns to ice
• the taste of the purest water
All played to the tune of exploding waves that break over the top of me. A symphony of senses. There is no time to think — only to react and to be.
Sea kayaking has various subsections, most of which do not demand its most extreme form. This sport has the ability to take you places and offer experiences that no other recreational activity can. It grants access to some of the most ethereal places in this world, that maybe only you and a handful of other people will ever get to encounter. Remote islands where bears outnumber humans, landlocked cliffs that tell their ancient story in stone, sea caves filled with icicles gleaming like chandeliers. It is these areas, where man is but a visitor, that are so readily available to those who traverse its waters.
There’s more water than land on this strange little planet, and I figure paddling is a good way to see it all. It has taught me more about myself and facilitated a deeper reverence in me for wild things and places than anything else.
Over the years, this passion has evolved into a career. I’ve grown from assistant to head guide, head guide to senior lead, and eventually to trainer and manager. What started in a silly freshman class turned into a life path.
I also hold an ACA (American Canoe Association) Coastal Kayaking Instructor certification, and with it the privilege of mentoring not just skilled kayakers, but thoughtful, responsible outdoor professionals. Professionals who then go out and provide more experiences that connect people with the wild places of the natural world. Inspiring others to care about it, so that one day they may care for it. And nothing fulfills me more than that.
Only the best of everything — to everyone.