Meeting the Lake Superior Challenge

Some folks just can’t turn down a challenge – particularly when it comes to Lake Superior. I guess I’m one of them.

When my husband, Rich, suggested we bicycle the western half of the Big Lake, I was all in. No matter that I’d never done bicycle touring.

Four months later, buoyed by a new bike and some serious training, we set out to explore the lakeshore at 12 mph.

We hugged our favorite Great Lake through Wisconsin, tackled Michigan’s Porcupine Mountains and hopped ferries from Copper Harbor to Isle Royale to Grand Portage to return to Minnesota. We pedaled more than 500 miles and took in the flavor of local communities in a way you can’t from a car.

Our ceremonial finish line was Canal Park, fittingly the same place where we completed another shoreline test of wills – Grandma’s Marathon.

The nine-day adventure gave me a lifetime of understanding about myself. A self-supported trip reduces life to its simplest elements. We had room for only the very basics in our panniers – a change of clothes, a warm layer (we were by Lake Superior, after all), personal toiletries, a tablet, smartphone, camera and bike tools. With our route plotted, each day meant few, if any, decisions beyond where to eat and sleep. I loved that simplicity.

The journey added to my appreciation of Lake Superior and its vastly different shores. The expansive sandy beaches on Michigan’s Keweenaw Peninsula contrasted sharply to the familiar high cliffs and rocks on my Minnesota shore.

We set our own course, defined our own rules and completed our own Lake Superior challenge. Which got me to thinking: What would it be like to plot an adventure on the Big Lake itself? What kind of people would accept that summons?

I searched for such adventurers and discovered individuals of fortitude and fervor who set out on the water as a challenge and returned, as we had, better understanding themselves and our Sweetwater Sea.

Slow, Steady & Satisfying

As I’ve learned on the six bicycle tours Rich and I have done since that first one on western Lake Superior, a challenge doesn’t need to be a chest-pounding extreme sport.

When Justin Brewster and his girlfriend, Mariah Christensen, launched their kayaks to paddle the 1,200 miles around the Lake in early June 2013, they weren’t out to break any records. Others already have done solo or paired kayak circle tours of the Lake.

What Justin and Mariah wanted was to explore the edges of their abilities while exploring the shores. Adventures fit naturally for this couple; both are instructors, course directors and staff trainers with Voyageur Outward Bound School in Ely, Minnesota.

Having always lived within an hour of the Lake, Justin felt at ease on it, but knew it could be treacherous. He had guided kayakers as far as Rossport, Ontario. The chance to circle the Lake by water, to spend two months connecting with it daily, was his dream. “I felt that if I didn’t do it now, I may never get to it. And I don’t want to live my life that way. ”

The couple rose at 6 every morning to listen to the marine forecast and plan for the day. When they weren’t wind-bound, they tried to paddle at least 20 miles. “Sometimes we were done by mid-afternoon. Then we had more time to explore, swim and stay in camp. One day we were able to complete 50 miles.”

They carried about 15 days of food and arranged for family and friends to drop boxes at prearranged campgrounds along the way.

As a guide, Justin knows that the right equipment is significant, but the right attitude can be critical. “    Safety is a huge priority for us. We manage risk for a living, and know our limits. … Mental control is very important.”

On the trip, Justin buoyed his spirits with a Big Lake mantra for difficult passages: “I have a lot of skills. It is realistic to do this.”

That mantra came in handy as the couple paddled 17 miles across Whitefish Bay in the early morning hours, enveloped in darkness with growing swells. Justin trusted their skills, their kayaks and “I had to trust my compass.”

There were a couple of hairy moments – literally. “There were some thunderstorms later in the summer. One time when we were already on land we could feel that there was a very charged atmosphere and that we were close to a lightning strike area. Mariah told me that my hair was literally standing on end.”

When completion of their journey was within sight, Justin and Mariah agreed they didn’t want it to end. “We felt a trepidation about finishing, and almost turned back onto the Lake. Life on expedition is so simple. Reintegrating into society took a while.”

They actually grieved for their daily paddle and close interaction with the Lake. To them, it felt like losing a loved one.

Justin’s strong connection to Lake Superior reflects in his advice to other would-be explorers. “There is potential for epic adventure right in our own neck of the woods. We just need to take advantage of it.”

The journey gave Justin a life philosophy. “I gained an appreciation of the kind of achievements that can be realized with simple daily goals. I simply need to paddle 20 miles today. If I do that and stay safe and take care of my partner, then today is a successful day.”

Standup Solo

Some people do want to break ground when they set a Lake Superior challenge. That’s why, with any luck at all, as you read this, Jared Munch is maneuvering his standup paddleboard on Lake Superior. He hopes to be the first to circumnavigate the Lake on an SUP.

Always active in sports in his hometown of New Auburn, Wisconsin, Jared gravitated to studies in the Recreational Sports Outdoor program at the University of Minnesota Duluth. He quickly became enamored with adventure sports and found his niche on water, from whitewater canoeing to surfing the frigid Lake Superior waves.

Pondering what to do with the summer before his final semester, Jared decided to 1) do something challenging, 2) do something never done before, and 3) do something local that involves Lake Superior.

“The fact that no one has done it before, there are not many things left like that. It’s kind of special to me.”

Jared launched from Duluth in late May, returning briefly to teach whitewater canoeing at UMD, then headed back to the Lake. He has a three-month summer break to travel 1,200 miles. Jared intends to cut across small bays, but not if it means paddling in wind more than a mile from shore. If he averages 20 miles a day, he will return in two months, leaving a one-month cushion before classes.

“I can do 30 miles per day in good weather, so this factors in time for being wind-bound and not being able to travel.”

While he would have preferred to travel with someone, no candidate companion came forth. “I’m the only one stubborn enough to do this.” With little storage on a SUP, Jared will strap on gear bags with a week of food (he figures he’ll burn 4,000 calories a day) and will pick up supplies sent to points along the way. He packed three paddles, a tent, sleeping bag, spare clothes, first-aid kit, GPS, satellite phone, emergency flares, camera and other gear.

Jared looks forward to seeing fresh territory. “It is totally different to see it from the Lake level, and it’s much more satisfying to see it when you get there under your own power.”

The most formidable portion will be the remote 100-mile stretch on the northeastern corner of the Lake from Pic River to Michipicoten Harbour that includes Pukaskwa National Park. “In the back of my mind, there is untamed land and animals in Canada. It’s something to think about.”

Still, that stretch, exposed to the wind and waves, epitomizes what called Jared to the Lake. “That’s part of the adventure. If it was easy or predictable, I would not be doing this.”

Update: Jared finished his circumnavigation of the Lake on July 29, 2015, at the mouth of Duluth's Lester River, where he was greeted by family, friends and supporters. Jared paddled not only to challenge himself, but also to raise money for Neighborhood Youth Services, a local program "with the goal of keeping youth engaged in the outdoors and living a healthy lifestyle." As of this writing, he has raised more than $2,000.

Perseverance Pays

One of the more widely publicized personal Lake Superior challenges came from ultramarathon swimmer Jim “The Shark” Dreyer of Byron Center, Michigan.

Jim is far from your ordinary swimmer. After nearly drowning at age 3, he didn’t learn to swim until three decades later as an adult when he also discovered an unusual talent. Able to swim long distances without tiring, he set some audacious goals.

Just two years after his first swim lesson, he swam 65 miles across Lake Michigan. Not content with that, he birthed his Drive for Five challenge – swimming across all five of the Great Lakes, calling attention to both his own abilities and to the needs of the Big Brothers Big Sisters program.

By 2001, Jim had traversed a shore-to-shore swim on four Great Lakes. For good reason, he saved Lake Superior for last. “It is such a rugged Lake. You just look at the jagged shoreline and know it can get nasty. The sheer power of the waves. … Being the largest Lake, the waves are farther apart. They are larger and more powerful waves.”

Jim began his Lake Superior conquest in 2001; it took five years and six attempts before he successfully swam from shore to shore.

His initial route ran between Houghton, Michigan, and Grand Portage, Minnesota, a distance of 73 miles. Trying it both directions, he ended both before his goal. Once those Lake Superior waves pushed him 20 miles off course. Another setback came because the 37° F water caused hypothermia and temporary paralysis of his legs. He also had a kidney shutdown and one shoulder wouldn’t stay in joint because of a breakdown in muscle tissue.

He didn’t make one shore to another, but accumulated impressive numbers including a 47-mile swim in 35 hours, 57 minutes on his first attempt from Grand Portage to the Keweenaw (August 2001); 48 miles in 37 hours, 38 minutes from Hancock to Isle Royale (August 2002); and, in a swim-run ultramarathon ran 27 miles to Grand Portage then logged 35.5 miles of swimming, both in 43 hours, 22 minutes (August 2004). Jim later named Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore and Isle Royale as two of his five favorite places in Michigan for travelthemitten.com. (The others were Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore, the Straits of Mackinac and Tiger Stadium.)

Each swim taught Jim more about the Big Lake. “It better prepared me for what I might be in for – big waves, big storms, cold water and currents, being pushed backwards. That’s why strength training is so important.”

The defeats also taught him about himself. “If you’ve survived situations before, you can draw on that experience and faith.”

Two major changes in strategy delivered a successful swim for Jim.

First, he revised his course. Abandoning the western route, he set out to swim 54 miles from Whitefish Point in Michigan to Cape Gargantua in Ontario.

Second, Jim decided to swim alone, without a support team following in a boat. On the first five attempts, the crew kept tabs on his progress, provided food and navigated his course. But more people meant added responsibility if Jim chose to weather storms and dicey conditions. “With 10 crew on a boat, you are 10 times more likely to abort.”

In August 2005, with a dinghy holding 250 pounds of supplies and navigation equipment attached to his waist, Jim stepped into the Big Lake yet again.

Starting in a thick fog and crossing a busy marine channel, Jim could hear the huge freighters, but could not see them. He hoped they saw the radar target on his dinghy.

When night fell, Jim checked his GPS unit. It was dead. That left him with a $6.99 wrist compass – a chance purchase made on the trip there. Then nature intervened, and the northern lights appeared. Since his course was due north, Jim swam toward the aurora. “I truly felt like a pioneer. I knew I was the only one seeing them from the middle of the Lake, swimming and using them as a guide.”

Another touching moment came when Jim released into the water an urn with a poem of his own and messages from families of deceased mariners.

Jim survived difficulties. At one point, the dinghy became untethered, and he chased it for 30 minutes – in the wrong direction – to recover supplies. “Not to be melodramatic,” he later told Northern Express, “but the whole time I was chasing the Zodiac, all I could think of was, ‘you catch it, or you die.’ I mean, all the supplies were there, the lights, and the radio if I needed to call for help, and I was still over 25 miles from shore at that point.”

Later, just as shore came into sight, so did a huge thunderstorm kicking up 60-mph gusts and 15-foot waves. It swept him beyond his destination, but he reached a rocky cliffside. Tom Farnquist, then at the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum in Whitefish Point, had anchored his boat to await Jim’s arrival and went into the storm to rescue him at the cliffs.

But Jim had done it. Swimming nearly 60 miles in 60 hours, he became the first person to cross a Great Lake alone in a continuous swim and set the world distance record for a continuous self-sufficient swim.

Since completing this goal, Jim has done many other swims and raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for charities. He towed one ton of bricks 22 miles across Lake St. Clair to benefit Habitat for Humanity’s “Rebuild Michigan.” He earned the titles of “Superhuman” and “the Human Tug” on Marvel comics mogul Stan Lee’s TV program when he towed a 27-ton car ferry across Newport Beach Harbor. July Fourth weekend, he intended to tow a barge to Mackinac Island.

Among all these accomplishments, the Lake Superior swim remains significant. “This had been a quest I chased since 2001, and I had been through so many trials.”

Jim saw both the beauty and the beast that is Lake Superior – the final Great Lake to be crossed, but not conquered. “Lake Superior reconfirmed that humankind at its best cannot beat Mother Nature at her worst,” Jim says. “It felt so good to have it behind me.”

One Year to the Next

Jim’s Lake Superior challenge stretched across several years despite his best efforts; Casey Charles of Thunder Bay purposefully plans to spread his adventure over a number of years and to add a unique twist.

An avid reader of travel adventure books, Casey became fascinated by a story about pedal-power boats crossing the ocean. Seeing a way to merge three things he loves – Lake Superior, canoeing and cycling – he set out to build his own “pedal” canoe.

“I wasn’t sure when I started if it would be feasible. With help from friends, family and sponsors, it all began to come together last summer.”

Casey’s boat, Bonnie Scot II, is named for a Lake Superior cabin cruiser built by his grandfather. Starting with a Kevlar hull, he added outriggers and crafted the interior to allow for generous storage and the option to sleep onboard. His pedal power comes from an H2Pro-Ped unit custom fitted by Royland Industries, one of 15 expedition sponsors.

Final touches included a windshield and cover. After two years of work, the Bonnie Scot II was ready for its maiden voyage.

For Casey, this is strictly a personal challenge. “So many times people set out to conquer and set records. This is all about me and the Lake and doing what I love.”

Casey will complete his circle tour in stages. “Optimistically, I said five summers initially.”

But he and his sponsors are fine with extending that plan. After all, he’s not in a race against time.

Casey set out on his inaugural voyage July 1, 2014, casting off from Sleeping Giant Provincial Park and pedaling away from his supportive family. Though wind-bound for several days earlier and facing rough seas, he was still in high spirits.

“I’d never done a solo trip before. In the boat, the sounds and sights of Lake Superior kept me occupied, but in the campsite, I found myself bored. I learned what a social person I was.”

Meeting water travelers was a highlight. “They understood what I was doing.”

Despite having tested the Bonnie Scot in the waters of Black Bay, Casey soon learned the different temperament of Lake Superior. Large swells and big waves caused the drive unit hinge on his pedal mechanism to separate from the main housing, leaving him to face stiff headwinds and crosswinds with no steering. After several hours tossed about and after resorting to the paddle he carried, Casey pragmatically shifted to head downwind to a safe landing at Lighthouse 10 on Shaganash Island. There, all attempts to repair the unit were unsuccessful. After just two days on water, Casey’s inaugural journey abruptly ended.

His marine radio for monitoring weather reports – critical on the Big Lake – acquired a new purpose. Hearing the rumble of a passing boat, Casey radioed for help and got a tow back to Silver Islet, his departure point. He was disappointed, but not defeated.

“People keep asking me how I felt after I failed last summer. I don’t see it that way at all. To me it was three days in an amazing part of the country.”

Working with the manufacturer on the drive-unit hinge, Casey completed repairs and returned to Lake Superior in August, a little more than a month later. This time he traveled a triumphant 47 kilometres on the first day of a two-day test trip. He finished confident in the performance of his boat and its drive unit.

Eager to continue, Casey shared his plan for this summer. “Lake Superior is fickle. There is a nice weather window the first two weeks in July. I will wait until I get good weather.”

Starting where he left off at Lighthouse 10 on Shaganash Island, Casey hopes to make it to Rossport, or maybe even to Terrace Bay. “There is a big stage after that. It will take 10 to 11 days without any weather issues, so I want to get as close as possible this year.”

That tricky third stage is the northeastern corner of the Lake that also gives Jared pause – the section from Pic River around Pukaswka’s wilderness shore to Michipicoten Harbour. By 2016, though, Casey should be well seasoned for lake travel – even Big Lake travel.

“I have grown up around lakes my entire life, and everything with Superior is simply amplified … the cliffs are higher, the storms more intense, the waves larger, the horizon more distant. Everything about Superior dwarfs not only us, but our perceptions of what lake travel should be.”

Not surprising from an avid travel adventure reader, Casey has jotted down thoughts about his own Pedal Superior expedition. Already, he’s learned some lessons.

“The Lake has reinforced with me the need for humility and respect. Superior does not allow for mistakes, nor does it adhere to my schedules and timelines. I have learned to listen and understand Superior’s moods.”

On his expedition website, Casey explains the rationale for combining cycling, canoeing and Lake Superior into one great adventure … but ultimately admits to what I already knew, even before contacting these hardy souls about their Lake Superior challenges.

“To try and explain why Lake Superior has such a hold on me to someone who does not understand it would be an impossible task,” Casey writes. “Only those who have felt the tug of Superior’s inland sea will be able to comprehend it, and to them, no explanation is needed.”

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Duluth writer Molly Hoeg is a frequent contributor to this magazine. She has graduated from her Lake Superior Circle Tour to months-long bicycle journeys with her husband, Rich. Their favorite routes will always remain those that follow waterways.