Outer Island, Apostles – August 23, 2012
I watched waves smash against the breakwall on Michigan Island’s dock for three hours. I watched from the very edge where the spray shoots past your face twenty feet into the sky. I watched from the far end, standing on wooden planks and looking down at the swirling water. I watched from the middle where the sun-soaked concrete made me sleepy.
I watched while I ate granola on spoonfuls of peanut butter. I watched while I wished I hadn’t eaten all my chocolate. I watched while I took pictures of the sun, the water, the island, the rocks, the dock, the boat, and myself. I watched while I stared at my map and thought I might still make to Cat Island. I watched when I knew there was no chance and I’d have to find someplace else to sleep.
I watched and watched and watched, then curled in a ball on the warm concrete and fell asleep in the sun. When I woke up, the waves had shrunk into playful one footers that smiled up at me.
“What are you doing sleeping up on that dock?” they asked as if it had been calm all day.
“Don’t play innocent,” I said, packing the boat and slipping into the water.