Standing at the water's edge, gazing out onto the broad expanse of Lake Superior, my brother and I take in the sweeping vista of the bay. A light chop ruffles the lake, and small breakers spend themselves on the sand here at Miner's Beach.

But the wind is directly out of the north, and we know the water will be cold this late in the season. We haul the last of our gear down from the parking area, agree drytops and wetsuits are in order, and launch our kayaks onto the slate-gray surface of Superior. We swing eastward and cruise along the high, rocky headlands of Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, known by old-time Great Lakes sailors as the "Graveyard Coast".

One hundred and forty years ago, ship traffic on Superior was at an all-time high. The simultaneous discovery of copper deposits on the Keweenaw Peninsula and iron in the Marquette Range had sparked mining booms that continued for decades. The tools, equipment, and men necessary to fuel the burgeoning mining industry all arrived by Great Lakes sailing schooner. Hauling supplies in from ports to the east, and carrying raw ore and cast-iron 'pigs' back from the mines and blast furnaces of Houghton, Marquette, and nearby Munising, many schooners sailed along this rocky southern shore of Superior, heavy-laden with their cargoes. And so many of those ships were lost in fog, struck unseen reefs, or were thrown up here against the towering cliffs by violent north gales that this dangerous stretch of shoreline came to be known by its macabre moniker. My brother, James, and I are mindful of this reputation as we angle along the cliffs and make our way eastward.

About an hour after launching, the wind shifts to the northeast and gains strength. Though entranced by the namesake 'painted' cliffs and the numerous sea caves, we must admire them from afar today, as we find ourselves distracted and kept offshore by the conditions. The wind drives waves onto the sheer rock faces and into the caves, which boom and echo with the force. Clapotis—waves reflected back off the cliffs to form chaotic and spiky water—makes the paddling difficult near shore, so we angle out, tuck down, and make our way along beyond the surf zone.

By mid-afternoon we finally round Grand Portal Point and swing into a sandy bay with the idyllic name of Chapel Beach. We land the kayaks in dumping surf and pull up on the sand beach for a break, then begin lugging our camping gear up the dunes to our site in the woods.

It is remarkably sheltered here, with only the whispering treetops to remind us of the wind we struggled against all day on the lake. After rigging a clothesline to dry our wet paddling gear, we settle in and enjoy dinner as the sun sets behind the cliffs on Lake Superior.

Space is a bit limited, so I am glad to have my brand new, compact bivouac shelter; only $19.99 at Gander Mountain! As I pitch it, the thin fiberglass poles creaking under the strain, I realize just how compact it really is: there is barely room inside for my sleeping bag, and only a tiny vestibule for gear under the thin fly. That night, lying supine with my arms folded regally across my chest like a mummified pharoah reposed for eternity in his tomb, the nylon walls closing in on me from all sides, I wish I'd spent $24.99 for the larger model with enough room to roll over in ...

Daily Distance: 12 miles

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