Monday was windy and sunny. It even turned into a shorts and tee shirt day in the afternoon, but it was one of those fall days where when you’re in the sun you’re hot, and when you’re in the shade you’re chilled.

Early in the morning I did some exploring in my truck to the north of where I’m camped. Lake Superior Provincial Park is up there and although I’ll be heading that way when I move on, I know I won’t have a lot of time for stopping and the weather is supposed to turn back to rain again anyway. This part of the east side of the lake seems to be the area where the shoreline is transitioning from sand and pebble beaches to rocky and rugged.

Here is the requisite picture of the lake, but I’m not inclined to shoot the lake, or the many waterfalls I see, because everyone has seen pictures of Lake Superior and waterfalls. Don’t get me wrong, I love both, and this lake projects a power that has drawn me my whole life.

Back at camp I switched to the bike for a couple of hours. I have to say I find riding in remote areas both exhilarating and unnerving. You’re moving along at a decent clip and not making much noise. A tailor made situation for surprising a critter. I am hyper alert, even more than riding in traffic in the city. When I don’t see much of the road ahead I ring my bell. Yes, my bike has a little bell, doesn’t everyone’s?

I ended this fine day by plunking myself in my camp chair on the beach to soak up the last of the day’s sunshine. I passed the time watching the tapered end of a contrail disappear behind a jetliner so high it was just a spot. And I tried to decide which is more mesmerizing, waves or staring into a campfire. Oh, and why, no matter where you are on the shore of a lake, do the waves come toward the shore. I mean where on the lake do they decide to go in different directions?

I am well, (can’t you tell?) and hope you are too.