Confessions of a rock-loving litterbug
Warning: The following contains a description of an illegal act that took place on a Keweenaw beach. True rockhounds will probably understand. But those who don’t get the whole rock thing may be offended, or bored. But there is also a handy list of easy access north Keweenaw Peninsula beaches.
Confession
I littered. I did it on one of the most beautiful rock beaches in the state of Michigan. I didn’t mean to do it. I simply forgot to pick everything up as the mosquito horde descended and I scrambled for the steps and the car. But after we drove away, and I realized I had left my wrist brace on the rocks, I did not have my husband turn the car around. I knowingly let the transgression go uncorrected. And I’m not sorry.
I didn’t need the brace, which protected my broken wrist, anymore. It was fitting to leave it exactly where it was — lying unloved and unwanted on the rocks. Rocks had brought it into my life. On the rocks was the perfect place to say “bye-bye.”
Shattered Wrist on the Rocks
I shattered my right wrist in March when I fell face-first onto a spread of Michigan beach rocks located just off our back porch. I had to have surgery, and they put in a metal plate. As I type this almost 3 months later, my hand is still swollen and hurts every time I reach for the delete key. Ouch!
Truly Traumatic
I had no idea how much a broken bone hurts. No wonder Harry Potter was screaming his bloody head off. So was I.
I think it was the level of the pain, and the fact that it lasted so long, that left me pretty freaked out. I was scared to let anyone anywhere near my hand. I was scared to get in and out of the shower. And I was extra-scared to go anywhere near the dogs’ potty place.
I walked out there once, felt slightly dizzy at the memory of crashing onto those rocks, and thought to myself “I’ll never be able to wander a rocky beach again.”
Family Vacation in the Keweenaw
A few weeks after my wrist surgery, while still on the good painkillers, I got it in my head we should do another June Keweenaw trip — at our favorite cabin on Lac LaBelle. The fishing is killer. So are the mosquitos, but that’s the UP. The guys hunt for walleye, and I take photos and hunt for rocks. (The guys hunt for rocks too. See agate photo.)
I thought I’d be well healed by then. But I wasn’t. It still hurt like heck far too often. I was as scared as ever, and I could not imagine climbing over rocks looking for agates. “No way,” I told my husband. “You guys go up without me.”
But they refused to listen so off we all went.
The Power of the Rocks
I lasted 24 hours. I stayed on safe ground when we hit Eagle Harbor for the sunset. But the next day, after being sorely disappointed at the small bag of random rocks my husband had scooped up to let me sort through while I sat in the car, I could resist no longer. Out I toddled to the oh-so-rocky beach in Eagle River. It was … awesome. I didn’t feel dizzy at all. But I did soon have a headache from all the rock scanning.
Over the course of the trip, I hit most of the beaches that didn’t involve a steep climb down. With the use of only one hand, I needed easy access. Thankfully, the northern stretch of the Keweenaw has several beaches that were relatively easy to get to.
Easy Access Keweenaw Rock Beaches:
Eagle River Beach
Calumet Waterworks Park
Gratiot River Park
Hunter’s Point Park (where the crime occurred)
I kept my brace on at all the stops we made. It just felt safer, more secure, to have it on. But the evening out at Hunter’s Point in Copper Harbor was a little nippy, so I had to take the brace off to pull on my wool sweater.
Once I was warm, my attention was immediately diverted to the insane wealth of banded rhyolite at my feet. I forgot all about the brace. No one else noticed either. My son Andy was way down the shore, in the water, finding an agate of a lifetime.
There was simply far too much awesome rockness going on to remember my fears. So when I finally realized I had left it on the rocks, I decided to let it stay there, in full violation of public littering laws. I saw its abandonment as some sort of metaphorical statement on the freedom that comes with letting go of fears (or some such nonsense).
But let’s face it. There is something about a rock-strewn beach on the shores of one of Michigan’s great lakes that is more powerful than good painkillers. True rockhounds know this. It’s the power of the rocks. They get in your head and drive everything else out.