Cleaning out the old kayaks was always a bitch. The white-lettered “Old Town Loon” on either side was partially missing, with the starboard on one reading more of a “Uld T wn Loun” and the other just a combination of tattered stickers. The two green kayaks lay slumped against each other in the Michigan summer sun, only dragged to the shore once or twice per season to be flipped over and filled with water for cleaning. Each time, I dreaded combing the vessels over by hand to get all the spider webs out, before dumping the water and grabbing a wooden paddle to shunt off. For several years I tried to make it to the island at least once per summer, but it had been a while since then. Quite a while, really. Even though it had been years I still felt like the island was familiar, since it never really changed over the countless times that I’d been. Power Island was always a backdrop in my childhood, a place where on a hot July Saturday it would be speckled with boats and a few yachts that looked more expensive than an average ten-year salary, and in the winter was barren and lonely. I always preferred its view during the winter, imagining it was an untouched biome that sat in complete isolation from the lives that we all concern ourselves with. But right now, I was part of the great summer disturbance. I’d cleaned out one of the heavy green Old Town Loons, and packed a cold-cut turkey and cheddar sandwich for my arrival upon its imposing shore.
Paddling out past the drop off and further on was always a pleasantly mind-numbing experience, as my arms became methodical and the drops from the paddle pelted my arms and occasionally my armpits. I thought less about time and became consumed with my journey. Early on I tried moving the rubber rings on each side of my paddle closer to its edges to prevent getting dripped on, but the choppy waves prevailed, and it felt as though I was getting rained on with each stroke despite the day’s sunniness. I kept on, and started muttering the Mario Kart star power-up jingle to myself: DOT duh duh, duh duh duh-duh duh… Again, mind-numbing.
Eventually the cool drops from the paddle became refreshing as I started to sweat, and I contemplated whether I’d be even cooler or hotter if I took off my sun hat. The island grew larger, and a couple of boats passed, resulting in a temporary engagement with their wakes. Soon enough, I was in the final stretch. My excitement grew, as did each of my slashes into the water with my paddle. It’s an unwritten rule in the book of kayaking that you have to go fast at the end to arrive on the beach in style! So I did, and with a great wave of scratching sound from sand against the hull, I came to a halt on Power Island.
My first thought after unceremoniously jumping out of my kayak: I’m hungry as fuck. Enter cold-cut turkey and cheddar sandwich– it was gone in 90 seconds. Should’ve packed two! For dessert? A plastic sandwich bag full of Dot’s Homestyle Original-Seasoned Pretzel Twists. I was eating like a king.
Once my food-fervor was satisfied it was time to hike to the notable eagle’s nest lookout on the island. For as many boats that arrive on a hot July day, probably less than a small handful of people actually decide to go for a hike on the island’s trails. Today, I was one of the lucky few.
As I walked up, I noticed a massive fire pit smoldering by the trailhead. Perhaps ten feet in diameter, with embers whispering wisps of smoke to the sky, the pit was strewn with countless empty green glass bottles. Partying wasn’t uncommon on the island, but the size of this aftermath seemed excessive, even for mid-July. I stood for a moment at its edge, imagining the huge flames and drunken yells that must have accompanied this spot late into the previous night. If only they’d picked up after themselves.
Starting my trek into the forest, it became even more apparent that not many make their way back here. I found myself tangled in spider webs and surrounded by mostly pines. The trail became increasingly narrow as I made my way up, and the sign postage at each junction started lacking. I worried some about ticks as the edges of the trails started to brush on my legs, but figured I’d be fine so long as I checked myself over once I made it back to shore. Despite all of this, the hike to the top only took about 25 minutes, and with a sweaty back and pinched breath I found myself at the highest point of the island.
Looking out, the view was both wonderful and somewhat limited compared to how I’d remembered it from years earlier. Tree limbs had enclosed the view, but I was still able to see out of the oval-frame of leaves across the bay towards the Leelanau Peninsula. Given the spot’s name, I naturally looked for birds of prey in the treetops, but saw none as the waves shimmered a brilliant white into my retinas. It was at this point that I saw a woman standing in the shallows of the shore.
Adorned in a blue sundress, dotted with white, perhaps forty feet below and fifty feet ahead of the peak where I stood, was a white woman looking about my age. Even more curious than the sight of a stranger, she seemed to be holding a fifth of liquor in a green glass bottle. She’d been chugging it from when I first spotted her, all the way until what had felt like an eternity passed and she brought it back down by her side. Holy shit. Still feeling hidden from my vantage point, I watched her continue to stand there and stare out toward the same peninsula that had emerged to me upon my arrival. With a slow and complete turn, she looked up directly at me without a change in her face.
Fuck, I’m stupid. Sitting there like a duck, I gave a sheepish wave. Not reciprocated. Even from this distance, I could tell her eyes were filled with a darkness I could not understand. Awkwardly, I gave another wave and turned to head back towards the trail from which I’d emerged, only to hear her yell up to me with desperation, “Can I use your phone?”
Taken aback, I looked again at her standing in the water far below me. “My boyfriend abandoned me here last night while we were camping, and must’ve taken my fucking phone with him. I really need to get a hold of someone, like now.”
Now that she’d pointed it out through some of the leaves I could see an unnatural orange in the shape of what could only be a tent along the shoreline. It certainly didn’t look like anyone else was down there. My voice echoed down the hill, “Uhh… yeah! I’m not positive but I think my service should be strong enough to make a call from out here.” Overall, I just felt relieved she hadn’t asked for a ride. Calling back up to me, she said, “That would be great. I’ll call my mom and see if she can come out here.”
Before I could respond, she turned around again to face out from the shore with her arms stretched out, as if to embrace the sky, with the glass bottle still in-hand. “Alright, coming down!” I hollered, looking at the scraggly path that hugged the ridge. With ferns and other related foliage brushing my legs, I angled my body parallel to the trail to ease myself down.
The sun fluttered through the leaves of birch trees as I emerged on the shoreline, with thoughts of curiosity and trepidation about this unknown woman’s circumstance. The term “beach” would be a bit of a stretch, as the forest seemed to come right up to the water, imposing on Lake Michigan and leaving nothing but a few feet of rocks between them. Interestingly, the orange and green tent was set up right on all of the stones, rectangular in footprint and appearing much larger than necessary for just two people.
She stood facing me now, with defined eyebrows, a nose ring, and the same straight face I’d seen from my vantage point above. Dark hair, prominent cheekbones. I took my phone and held it out as I walked up to her. Without knowing much about what to say, I bullshitted something to fill up the silence, “I’m sorry you were abandoned here, that must really suck.” Wow, that sounded stupid. Say more you fucking moron. “Take as long as you need to call your mom and let her know what’s up.” As I arrived close enough to hand her the phone and stopped walking, she took an extra few seconds to stare at me before reaching out to grab it, “Thanks, and for the record I’m really sorry about this, Theo.”
At the moment she said my name, a pit dropped in my stomach. Paralyzed with confusion, I watched her take my phone to the far side of the tent nearly out of view. With her back to me I stood maybe thirty feet away, unsure of what to do with my arms and wishing I had a second phone to pull out and look at as I tried to appear more comfortable than I actually was.
After a couple minutes, she put the phone down and walked back over to hand it to me, feet crunching on the rocks. “All situated – my mom should be arriving on a jet ski in a short while to come get me. Not sure what I’m gonna do with all this camping shit but it’s my boyfriend’s anyway so I’ll probably just leave it.” With my phone in-hand again I immediately felt better, but still concerned. “How did you know my name?”
For the slightest moment her face flashed in anger, but just as quickly returned to a neutral expression, “Oh, I thought you’d recognize me. We all live here together, you know.” Okay lady, that’s freaky. Doing my best to appear unphased, I responded “Haha, well I hope your mom arrives soon! I need to get going before it gets too late, so I should probably head back to the dock area to kayak home.”
Before waiting to see if the weirdo lady had anything more to say, I found myself marching back up the path towards the eagle’s nest, this time with a concern more for haste rather than avoidance of foliage bugs. What the hell was she talking about “we live here together?” I looked down at my shirt wondering if somehow a nametag was on it or I’d grabbed that one shirt my friend made for me that said ‘Party at Theo’s House.’ Neither was true. With frequent looks behind me I marched along the path that cut through the island from which I’d come. Had she really called her mom? What if it was all some sort of scheme to rob me and now someone will be waiting for me back at the docks? Suddenly, I realized my right hand was tingling, clutching my phone, as my mind buzzed with more questions and conspiracies. Approaching the main beach, I noticed my sweat and shortness of breath but did not allow for any break in my stride. I could feel my mind closing in on itself, tunneling towards the singular purpose of making it to my kayak and escaping the dread that poisoned my veins.
Once emerging, the sight of the kayak alone was enough to completely reinvigorate a sense of adrenaline. With fervor, I pushed the kayak into where just the tip of the hull remained on the dry sand, and ripped out the wooden paddle so I could lower myself in. I pushed my paddle against the sand and rocks to shove off, only to hear an enormous “CRACK!!” Looking down, I’d broken off the entire blade on the left side of the paddle. Doing my best to avoid complete panic, I grabbed the broken piece, and took the other side of the paddle to more gently send off. Using the broken paddle as an oar now, I switched which side I was paddling on every few strokes, pulling hard into the bigger waves that had now accumulated since I’d pulled inearlier. The hull turned into a great drum as the thuds of each new wave matched my beating heart, growing with conviction to overrun my willpower and push me back to shore. For some reason, the spray in each wave felt prickly. Blasting me with cold, fresh energy, I looked towards the horizon to see everything as if it were through a beautiful sepia filter. The ridgeline of each wave pulsated with red fractals, and a low, steady note rang in my ears from a ship’s horn just out of sight. My right arm, now drenched in freshwater, began to burn with pain.
In a slight moment of coming to my senses, I noticed a sizable volume of water had started to accumulate in my seat. I looked down to see water fountaining up through a hole in the polyethylene hull, seeming too circular and perfect to be created by anything other than a deliberate drill bit. That’s it. My body flooded in goosebumps, and with mouth open and eyes alert, I craned my neck to look back at shore. Some few hundred yards away, she stood there with her bottle, embracing the golden sky. Welcoming me home.