My new place of residence was in another campground located in Hiawatha National Forest. My view was of Grand Island on Lake Superior. I was here because the Painted Rocks National Lakeshore was just up the coast. After spending time in visitor centers and scenic overlooks the reality of the Rangers words prompted me to deal with the fact that “to see the painted rocks you really have to see them from the water. There is a Painted Rocks Cruise company that takes folks eleven miles up the shoreline. It’s well worth it.”
So with a great mind shift, at 3 o’clock I found myself with fifty other travelers on the top deck of a boat heading down coast for the main show. I was a taken back at the beauty that I saw. The walls of the slot canyons and sandstone patina of the canyon lands flooded into to my need to compare. I found myself overwhelmed to photography almost to the stage of being obsessed. I could not sit down. Hundreds of photos poured into the memory card. It was an enchanting and a bitter mix of an experience. While being piloted along this beholding palette of colors and light, the boat’s captain hidden below kept up a constant chatter that flowed from the speaker mounted on the forward rail. The man felt compelled to tell stupid corny jokes in a hangdog voice. His attempt at sophomoric humor was sickening and embarrassing to those on board. My follow passengers looked at each other and just shook their heads. It was a major distraction from the techincolor walls before us. He should have been keel hauled.
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