Sitting at this table in the study, looking out at the slim view of the lake, reminds me of all my summers in Oxford.

June 21
 The Solstice!

An almost a too-full day. After my morning chores, and a change into my best looking uniform, I heard a boat idling out front. When I saw a guy in the boat lugging a huge TV camera, I knew this was my morning “appointment:” a television crew from the Twin Cities. They were really nice guys, which made the long morning quite pleasant. They filmed me walking up and down every single step on the grounds! And, they’ve left a small camera for me to use to film little spots throughout the month. Which means, every evening, I talk into the camera, capture my day’s activities in the Michigan Island Log Book (volume IV, 1999 – 2006) and then scribble in my own journal. Lots of time and space for a variety of reflections. I continue to be amazed at the level of interest my sojourn here has provoked in others.

To view the television story, click here.

Then, after I watched the T.V. crew motor off in a still, calm sea, the drama started. Within an hour the winds rose to 8-10 knots: huge, crashing waves built, and a quick but powerful thunderstorm surged overhead. That is when I learned that the tall tower “sings” in a strong wind. The winds stayed strong and the traffic on the two-way radio bristled with NPS responses to two emergencies: kayakers who had capsized in the sudden waves en route to Sand Island, and two people lost in a canoe whose parents who were awaiting news at Little Sand. After a fraught couple of hours, everyone was reported safe. A reminder that we are in the wilderness and that we ignore nature at our peril.

                                June 22

Waiting for my porridge to finish cooking. I love how much time there is out here!

Later: after filming my day’s “spot,” I was writing in the Michigan Island log when I saw the bear lumber across the lawn, rise up on his hind legs, grab the distance marker with his front paws, and start to rub his cheeks on it! I grabbed the TV camera, as requested, and got them some footage. Then, good volunteer that I am, I opened the window to shoo him away. This before thinking to get my own picture of him, up close and personal! Oh well…

That was only the last glory in a day packed full of them. Surprised two juvenile eagles when I went to do the weather reading this morning. Got to stand underneath them, marveling at the strength of those vast wings as they lifted off, the proud and fierce look in their eyes.

It was a cooler day, so after the final visit at 4:30 pm, I ascended the tall tower, Northland College nalgene and book in hand.

Is there a sight to rival it in the world, as the sun setting the waters around Madeline and Hermit aflame with gold? Then, to top it off, an eagle soared over tree tops, barely flapping her wings at all. Except for not being able to see the Lake from the living quarter’s porch because the forest has grown too densely, this place has it all! 

                                    June 23

Four days here: so much enjoyment. I have been writing so much in the lighthouse logbook, that there are things I forget to report here. I’m a godmother: the Eastern Phoebe whom I share the porch with has given birth. I can hear the tiniest peeps and watch as mamma regurgitates the food for her new brood. Nature in so many manifestations! And, the always-present mosquitoes: as powerful in their way as bears and eagles.

June 24

I’ve learn to dread calm, warm mornings here. Can’t sit out because of the mosquitoes unless I am fully swathed in netting. What a shame. Had four visitors at 6:40 am.

This is the best thing I have every done. In a lifetime blessed with myriad travel and experiences, I have never felt anything like this. The view, the serenity, the privacy, the nature. Talk about “Balm to ease the wounded heart.”

June 25
Happy birthday to Karen!

Opened a wonderful, moving card from Mom and Dad: a nice way to span the miles and start the day. I was awake for several house last night (mosquitoes in the bedroom for the first time and a persistent, worrying nighttime hip ache, probably from all the steps) which gave me a chance to mentally review birthdays past.

This has been a birthday to remember always: hours and hours spend reading on top the lighthouse and drinking in the view. It’s particularly amazing in the afternoon, after the road of silver sets up from Madeleine. All too wonderful. It occurred to me today that beauty is not enough. One needs the time to get inside the beauty, which is why this sabbatical is proving so magical. Unlike the visitors who zip up the tower and leave after 15 minutes, I live here! 

                                June 26

For two nights in a row now, I have had a sort of dream which I have not had in a long time: that I have ended up going to sleep someplace very far from where I am supposed to be, and that I need to get back. I wonder if my sub-conscience is still resisting a month away from the office.

Mowed the lawn this morning seeing bits of the property for the first time. As careful as I tried to be about the local residents – even leaving a patch un-mowed in deference to a small frog who couldn’t jump out of the way of the machine – I did eviscerate a snake. I felt horrible.

Reading on the tower, morning and late afternoon, has become a peak pleasure. This afternoon, able to see that the “coast was clear” (literally) from the top of the tower, I pealed off the uniform to get some color. Since arrival, I have worn nothing but long pants and long shirts to combat the dreaded mosquitoes (which, blessedly, don’t accompany me to the top.) The total privacy is an unexpected blessing.

June 27

Being here brings back to me the ability to “Be still.” Stillness is one quality that the Presidency tends to submerge, as the need to keep moving is omnipresent.

June 28

Yesterday, two Park Service employees came to train me on using the big generator and tram, and to learn how to pump water up from the lake. It was hard, dirty, and noisy work, with lots of steps up and down to the lake.

When they said I could now train the soon-to-arrive painting crew on the procedures, I blurted out without thinking: “I don’t want that responsibility.” I’m sure they were looking at me thinking: “She can run a college but is scared of a machine.” The difference is, of course, that I have been trained to run a College, and feel confident in my abilities. I am totally out of my comfort zone when it comes to two–page, very detailed instructions to run expensive machines that are not my own.

Earlier that morning, I had donned my “nuclear technician garb” (netting, gloves, boots: everything dripping with DEET) to venture unto the Island’s trail. The forest was lovely; but, woe betide anyone who dared to pause to enjoy the view: mosquitoes would come swarming by the thousands.

A sight out of a horror movie. With their buzzing and zooming at my protective netting, I felt almost claustrophobic in the midst of a huge forest! My number “five--zero--two”” was called while I was checking the camp site. Of course my radio battery chose that moment to quit, so I was unable to respond.

Swearing softly, I hustled back along the beach, pausing to admire the bear tracks along the water. Then: up the stairs, change the battery, find out that they were coming out to do the training.

Enjoyed the most perfect morning: never to be forgotten. Sat topside from 7:30 to 10:40 a.m. finishing two books. Watched the overcast sky slowly clear from west to east, with a gentle sun now bathing all. After sweeping dead flies from the tower one last time, I stood in the front yard, listening to the bees, watching the butterflies, feelings such absolute peace. “The peace that surpasseth all understanding:” a phrase that has not had meaning for mind or soul for much too long.

I must say I am very glad at how all of this timed out. A week from now I will be ready to return to the mainland for our Alumni week-end to enjoy: 1) eggs, 2) a hot shower, and 3) no mosquitoes, particularly when I’m on the can. Then, when I return for the last week on the Island, I can focus on the bliss.

Followed up the perfect morning topside with an even better afternoon. It was so calm that I could see clouds reflecting off the water all the way from Michigan. Imagine that on such a big lake! I will remember the perspective and the panorama from on top for as long as I live: such blessed moments they are.

June 29

I called into work on my cell phone for the first time and learned that there is now no way we will hit our very ambitious targets for this year’s enrollment. Boy, am I low: it looked like we were poised to have a break-through year even as I prepared to leave for the Island.

I am reading Nathaniel Dexter’s History of Northland College through our first 75 years. It is some comfort to be reminded how important the school is to so many and how much we have always struggled. I wonder how long before the Island can exert its restorative magic on my ailing heart. If nothing else, this incident has shown me that the “glow” of the Island won’t last long under the press of hard reality. And, of course, I feel guilty that I am not there.

I think it all boils down to how much I love this College and how much I want her to thrive. It wouldn’t matter so much or hurt so bad if I didn’t care so much. First, last, and always, I am President of Northland College. That’s a reality that follows me even into the wilderness.

To continue reading Karen's journal, click here.

How would you rate the quality of this content?