Upper Peninsula

Imagine floating in space, stars bursting all around you, surrounding you, enclosing you in a world of diamonds. Stars dusted across the sky, the name of our galaxy "Milky Way" finally making sense. That's exactly how I felt in the Upper Peninsula.

My cousins had a cabin that was on Grand Island and there was this dock that the whole family would sit on and gaze at the stars. They were magnificent. There was not one blank spot in the sky. It was lit up and like a whole galaxy had been made for us. Stars glittered and swooped across the sky, giving us wishes. And since we were right on the lake, the stars reflected in it and it looked like we were in a world of stars. A world of magic. I remember closing my eyes while laying on the dock and listening to my dad tell stories about the constellations. I would take in deep, slow breaths, letting the universe be breathed in and then out. The stars were so close, I felt like I could ride the Pegasus horse my dad talked about, or be whisked away by the heroic Orion. Life easily melted away in the sky. 

Nights were like explosions in the UP. But of the days we spent there, my favorite would have to be when we rented a Pontoon Boat. Lake Superior is cruel. The cold is unsympathetic to humankind. But considering who my family is, we could care less. We hurled ourselves off that Pontoon Boat and sank into the close to frozen water. Even though our teeth couldn't help but chatter, we wouldn't force ourselves back in the boat quite yet. That was mainly due to the fact that we were swimming over sunken ships. I could remember staring down at the eerie ships watching fish wriggle in and out of large gaping holes. I felt as if I were in a haunting movie, looking for something or someone in the darkest, dankest place on Earth. I forced breath into my numb lungs and dove down touching one of the ships and fought my way back to the warm sunny surface. 

Miners Castle is this incredible rock formation right on Lake Superior. As our Pontoon got closer to it, we decided to swim to it. However, we discovered a tunnel that curved into the heart of it. Curious, we swam through the cave marveling at the rock plunging above us on both sides. After a few minutes of swimming through the tunnel, we came to sunlight and found a gap on the end. The hole ended with a sort of rock ramp. Each of us took turns again and again dashing down the rock ramp and collapsing into the water. No amount of freezing cold water could've washed away the smiles glued to our faces.

One of the last places we went on our Pontoon cruise, was this sort of cove. It was a horse shaped piece of land. We swam near the right side of it and there was a small ledge where we could sit carefully. Looking down, the water was so crystal clear, it looked like glass. The bottom of the lake was probably a twenty feet down. So of course, my cousins and I challenged each other to reach the bottom. When it was my turn, I sat on the ledge, so numb that the cold had stopped bothering me a long time ago, I leaned forward and stared down. No fish, no seaweed, just sand and rock. I took a long deep breath and dove in moving my body like a mermaid to the bottom. I opened my eyes to see a blurry picture. As I neared the bottom, my head felt like it was being crushed by the pressure and my ears were screaming for release, popping every other second. I could feel my lungs crushing down and I could hear myself thinking I might not get back up. I touched the bottom of the lake and dug my feet into the ground, then propelled myself up, up, up. I threw my head back and let air be swallowed. I could feel my body trembling and even my lungs felt shaky, but all of us dove back down at least three more times, fearing we might suffocate, but coming out successful.