APOSTLES MEA CULPAGreat Chicago Fire of 1871, the call went out for a more dura-
ble building material, and the sandstone of the Apostles (dubbed
brownstone at the time) seemed the perfect solution. Boat-
load after boatload of Apostle Island sandstone went down to
Chicago to help rebuild the ravaged city.
We beat in light air farther east to remote Michigan Island,
where the Park Service had just reopened the 1857 lighthouse after
a million-dollar restoration. It’s a short walk from the dock up to
the lighthouse grounds, where volunteer keepers interrupted their
dinner to give us a tour. Then we huffed and puffed our way up 127
steps to the top of the “new” 1929 tower, where the Coast Guard
still maintains a light. The 360-degree view was stunning.
When it was time to pump Catamount’s holding tank and get
more beer, it was off to Bayfield, Wisconsin, the epicenter of
Apostle Island sailing and dubbed the “Best Little Village in
the Midwest” by the Chicago Tribune. Bayfield is a crunchy spot
with great 19th-century architecture, locally roasted coffee and
Leinenkugel’s on tap. Tucked into the town marina, we were a
block from the ferry terminal out to bustling Madeline Island
(the only Apostle not in the national lakeshore) and within easy
walking distance of supplies, including freshly caught whitefish
off a fishing boat run by two local women.
Locals suggested breakfast at Greunke’s, which has been host-
ing travelers since 1866. Its ceilings are low and plastered withLife magazine covers, and its walls are covered with memorabilia
and photos dating back to the ’20s. Although I passed on the
house specialty of sauteed whitefish livers, I did justice to the
biscuits and gravy. The biscuits were the size of saucers and the
gravy tough on my coronaries, but I am proud to say I didn’t
need a doggy bag. Jennifer had oatmeal and grinned at my excess.We
discovered we had arrived at the start of the annual
Bayfield Race Week. Everything from 27-foot family
cruisers to a 50-foot Nelson/Marek was on the water in seven
classes. The kickoff event is the Around the Islands Race, a clock-
wise race of about 80 miles that can take 36 hours to complete,
though this year the race was shortened due to anticipated light air.
Hoping to catch some of the opening-day action, we motored
out to Devil’s Island, the farthest north of the Apostles. Know-
ing the huge race fleet would take a while to get there, we let
Catamount float on the flat waters while we rowed our dinghy the
length of the island’s sea caves. Even without wind, there was
enough motion in the caves to give a quiet glooping sound to
add to the eeriness. The caves here lack the subtlety and grace
of their smaller Sand Island cousins, but they extend for nearly a
mile and are simply awe-inspiring. Watched over by an 1891 light
tower, the Devil’s Island caves are the signature image of the
MARIANNE G. LEE Apostles’ storm-battered coast.