Fog on the Frog
The warnings are all over my weather app, that funny cloud symbol with the three lines beneath it like the stairway to heaven. “Dense fog locally” exclaims the robotic voice of the near-shore forecaster on the weather radio, “Limited Visibility on Lake Superior’s south shore and Apostle Islands.” So I can’t pretend I am unaware of the potential for fog. I am, in fact, very aware and even anxious for it. I steer the Little Dipper up the West Channel to round Red Cliff Point toward Frog Bay. Why would someone willingly steer toward a Lake Superior fogbank? Good question.
Being in the fog this morning aboard the Little Dipper seems more like a revelation than a terror. It is a victory of sorts, a milestone in my quest for developing a sense of place in these islands. You see, I knew the fog would be here even before the Little Dipper left the dock. I knew that the warm waters of Frog Creek flowing into Frog Bay would keep the shallow bay warmer than the deep blue depths of the surrounding lake. I knew the delicate dance of air temperature and water temperature and dew point, if they were going to weave any fogbanks, would weave them first in the protected, shallow, warm waters of Frog Bay.
There are few objective measurements you can look for in the quest for a sense of place, no light that comes on when you have achieved it, but this fog is a sort of wispy proof that I am making progress. I want to know what beach the northern lights might be visible from, where there might be bear tracks on the bog, where the lake ice shoves and the fog first rises. I want to put myself in the path of the forces that march across this lake and weave the tapestry of these islands. One thread of that tapestry, on this morning at least, is woven in these gray threads of fog weaving the rising dawn over Frog Bay.
— Jeff Rennicke (all photographs by the author unless otherwise noted)
These Apostle Islands postcards every Sunday are an offshoot of the “Little Dipper” blog. Paid subscribers to the blog also receive an original, full-length illustrated essay delivered right to their inbox every Wednesday. Subscribe. Come along for the ride aboard the “Little Dipper.”
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