First Look: Apostle Islands & Bayfield, WI

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Visiting a location not explored
before can be a bit frustrating.

That's one reason this site exists - to pull together the sites that will justify a decision to visit a very special place.

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Welcome aboard. Enjoy your stay. And come back real soon!


Navigating this site is intended to be something of an adventure.
Sometimes one may click on an image and find themselves in a whole
different site - or another portion of this site - or at a larger version
of the image suitable to set as computer "wallpaper."  
Have fun!

The comfortably small city of Bayfield is both a jumping off point for the Apostle Islands and a destination for those who in no way intend to venture out upon Lake Superior.

Some come to sail - others to shop. Most come to relax - to be tourists.

There are events an attractions.

And sights to see.

Bayfield from above

The most common seasonal guests are the sailors, for the sailing is Superior and each marina a unique community.

Most visitors move on, in search of something else somewhere else.

A few linger, return a few times.

And a few are lucky enough to eventually call the
Best Little Town in the Midwest our home.

Madeline Island
Photos above by Faystrom photo

Remember what I said about clicking on images? Go ahead. Try the three above.



For thousands of years people have been coming to, and living within, the place now known as the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore.

The Chippewa knew this island as gegawewamingo miniss (Burnt Wood).

To the French it was Presque Isle. Now called Stockton, this is Julian Bay.
Stockton Island
Photo by Mark Fay

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An image supplies information to only one of the senses.

For the rest you must be there.

On a August day, the sand edging Julian Bay is so hot it can raise blisters on shoeless feet.

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But step knee deep into the water for a wake-up message - Lake Superior is not only big, it is also numb-to-the-bone cold.

Black flies buzz and bite. Birds gossip in the lagoon and overhead. Black bears claw at insect infested fallen trees in search of lunch.

There is a aroma of campfire smoke from Presque Isle Bay.

And the bog smells boggy.

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Anchor in that bay in a sail boat.

Watch last rays of sunlight swallowed by darkness rushing Westward.

The stars then. You point and name the constellations you know and are humbled by the endless numbers of bright dots unknown.

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Far to the West, high above unseen storm clouds, are pulsing flickers of lightning.

The storm will go North, or maybe East, or roar over the greatest of the Great Lakes in the pre-dawn.

A crew member breaks the silence with a whisper.

"There is no other place I would rather be."

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Photos above by Faystrom photo



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Image copy granted for personal use. Please credit source.

Updated Saturday, April 06, 2013 02:02 PM

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