Ahh, beautiful Lake Superior. Home of the Edmund Fitzgerald and numerous other shipwrecks.
Love that lake, it's the Midwest's version of the ocean, only freshwater and black in color...or a deep dark blue. On windy days, it's the most tranquil yet eeriest feeling to sit at Duluth Point listening to the waves crashing into the rocks.
But to get me to swim in that lake is a whole other story! I'm sure I've touched on this Lake in other posts and my supersticious fear of it. Pat and his good friend Tom cannot figure out what the deal is with me and that lake. Just something about it gives me the creeps. They both wonder how it is that I don't mind Pat owning a motorcycle yet if he even mentions jet skiing on that lake I freak out on him.
Frankly, it doesn't make much sense to me either...perhaps it's because that lake has swallowed many lives with the shifting of the wind. Or the color. It just howls at me whenever we visit...but I have a deep love and respect for it. Kind of creepy.
Anyway, imagine my 'non' surprise at this story. The only thing that does surprise me is how close it is to a place that we visit frequently. Interesting discovery. I hope to learn more about it in the future.
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