Where the water meets the wild: Bay hopping on Lake Superior

Article content

The sun sets 35 minutes later on the western shore of Lake Superior than in the east. The majesty in between is incomparable. Each stop along the Lake Superior Coastal Drive from Sault Ste. Marie reveals the beauty that inspired the Group of Seven painters and, since long before then, the spirituality of Mother Earth that has fed its Indigenous peoples.

On a quite beach outside Sault Ste. Marie, we meet Brad Robinson and Amanda Cora of Thrive Tours who guide us on a paddle and share with us the tastes and stories of a people. Together, they customize tours via canoe, kayak, hiking, snowshoeing or camping. Thrive is their Indigenous-guided ecotourism program through which they create conversation and education, but leave zero carbon footprint.

The warmth and congeniality of Robinson and Cora, as we cook over a fire pit at the beach, is heartfelt. They are our interlocutors between the land, the history, and our curiosity; and they are our guides to the annual Ketegaunseebee (Garden River) powwow in Baawaating, the Ojibwe territory, meaning “Place of the Rapids.” Robinson reaches into his medicine bag and sprinkles sacred herbs into an abalone shell. Sage, for strength, wisdom and clarity; Cedar, for positive energy; sweetgrass for repelling negative energy; and Tobacco for giving thanks and connecting the Earth and Spirit worlds. He lights them into a smoky perfume that we cup in the palm of our hands to wash over our faces and hearts and say “miigwech.” We are now purified through this smudging ritual, and can enter the grounds.

The powwow is a celebration of Indigenous culture and a means to reconnect community. There are rules and etiquette that we observe with intrigue. Drums resonate like a chorus of heart beats. “The sun shines on everyone, whether you like it or not. Be like the sun, shine on everyone,” shares the Batchewana First Nation Chief.

Singers in high falsetto embody a collective voice that conveys the stories of a living history. And the dancers, made up of everyone, in shared rhythms of joy and reclamation, encircle the flags of communities they represent. It is multi-generational and inclusive.

We are invited to dance in the circle, and eagerly participate in the jubilation. Dancing up an appetite, we survey the vendors and sample a savory “Indian Taco” made with fried Bannock, ground beef, lettuce and tomato. The colours, everywhere I look, are hypnotic, as I admire the regalia of elders and children alike, all made at home by their families, passed on through generations. Each dance around the circle looks like the turn of a kaleidoscope.

As day turns to night, I think about the speeches I heard at the powwow, about connections and gratitude and spirit, the source of which I feel first-hand in the enveloping nature along Lake Superior. We set out for our first stop early.

Cleaved by force, the wide cascading path along which Chippewa Falls pours forth is an uproarious river rush on a mission. We jump to a table of rock on which to balance between swells. The tree-lined shore flexes with renewed heft after an early morning rainfall, and the fog paints ethereal brush strokes across the verdant green. We bask in the roar and lushness, breathe the mist that rises and wipe away the splash against our faces. Mother Nature doesn’t care that we’re here, but we do. We’re enchanted by her awesome power and organic beauty. Once a favourite en plein air painting spot for A.Y. Jackson, we feel exhilaration by osmosis.

Far across the water, the sun rises from the outstretched arms of Batchawana Bay. We sit on a log and trace circles in the sand with our toes — me, sipping my coffee; my son, his hot chocolate. I slide a massive fresh-out-of-the-oven apple fritter out of a bag from Voyageurs’ Lodge and Cookhouse. Our eyes widen with the big reveal, as the warm apple-cinnamon aroma foretells the gooey, crunchy, mélange of sweetness and tartness that we’re about to pull apart with incredulous delight. “Let’s stay here a bit,” we agree between bites. Our quiet moment knows no time.

Farther up the undulating coastal drive we reach Pancake Bay. From the woods, amid the smell of pine, a few short steps lead us to the beach. And oh, it’s exactly as I hoped it would be!

Flat as a pancake, and endless. A long soft curve of sand wraps around shallow warm water into which we run, splashing with each leap. Castles made of pancake batter (sand) occupy our imagination as we lob cannon balls of pancake at each other’s fortresses until they slip into Superior.

As we continue north, we meet bay-hoppers heading south. “Have you been to Agawa Bay yet?” They ask excitedly. “That’s next” I assure them.

The terrain changes so dramatically. Each bay is a completely different experience. We hike along a wooded path, teeter over broken boulders and cautiously descend thirty meters through a chasm of rock toward the shore.

Where the water meets a 15-storey-high wall of granite, there’s a rope. We hang onto it as waves creep up our legs, and walk along a slab of rock to the Agawa Bay Pictographs.

The couple before us has chosen to wear flip flops rather than proper shoes. As they slip and flip into the water, they provide the perfect slapstick example of what not to do. This is a sacred place. It’s not a beach at which to relax, it’s an observation deck on which to consider the cycles of nature and the passage of time. Right there on the rock face is the pictograph of a canoe and the spined-horned Great Lynx, called Mishipeshu, known as the spirit of the water who could calm the waters, or summon the wind by a mere thrash of his tail.

Venturing deeper into Lake Superior Provincial Park we stop at Katherine Cove. It has all the elements of a geological playground. The soft sand and shallow water are bookended by drift wood and rocks. There’s a path through the trees. On the other side, rocks fan out into the water like a gentle obstacle course. It’s so unusual and fun to wade in these waters. The big draw for us is to find Bathtub Island. It requires a hike, including through the water.

A trail bordered by trees and the Trans-Canada Highway leads us to a sandy path. We reach what looks like the Sahara, and slide down sand dunes along the back-shore toward the beach. We can now see the island. But how do we get there? “Look for the shallow point,” we’re told.

There are others following us as though we have a clue where were going. A family picnicking on the shore notices our confusion and points. We walk through the water. I’m anticipating the shelf. There is none. There’s no drop. Feeling biblical, we walk across the water. It’s surreal and beautiful.

Climbing the rim of the “bathtub”, we find a petrified oasis filled with water from waves that have splashed into it. We slip into the tub and swim. This place brings out the kid in me and amps up the kid in him. Outside the far side, the water is deep. We take turns jumping off the rock and pulling each other back in, until we lie on the smooth surface and chill.

Farther north, the mystique of this spiritual landscape looms even larger. The towering 200-metre cliffs of Old Woman Bay make us feel like we’re in a land of mythical giants. Her allure enchants us. Turquoise waters sweep across a horseshoe paradise. Pristine forests punctuated by colossal rock formations beckon us along the Coastal Hiking Trail through rich biodiversity and natural wonder. The show-stopping vistas are extraordinary. We sit on our perch and stare at the vast pastel canvas. It’s like we’re feeding our eyes this gorgeous horizon on which we’re simply awestruck.

The Algoma district that includes the coastal drive also boasts a rugged interior. Inland from Agawa Bay is Agawa Canyon, which we can only reach by train. The 10-hour Agawa Canyon Tour Train departs from Sault Ste. Marie early in the morning and brings us back by dinner. As the train snakes around rivers and lakes, we pass important points in history for the Ojibwe, fur traders, explorers and entrepreneurs that opened up this vast wilderness, and are alerted to it by a GPS-triggered commentary that shares their stories with us. The unspoiled scenery is spectacular, particularly as we cross bridges that tower over canyons. We look below with vertigo.

Agawa Canyon was created more than 1.2 billion years ago by faulting. We hop off the train and climb 300 steep steps to the Lookout Trail. I have to pinch myself, because this is such pristine back country that I’ve never seen before. We look out over the canyon and point to where we’d like to walk next. There are several trails here, and we’d like to see them all. Black Beaver Falls and Bridal Veil Falls shower the rocks, as we sit and watch with Zen-like peacefulness. It’s so quiet here.

The sounds I can count on one hand are the water cascading off the rocks, the occasional rustling of leaves, and the two of us enjoying our picnic in relative silence. While spectacular in summer, the Agawa Canyon Tour Train is a hot ticket in the fall, and it’s obvious why that would be. The soft lush green that billows from the mountains transforms into a technicolour dream coat that drapes across the land for miles. One can only gaze in awe and say, “miigwech.”