Crisp Point Misadventure

It took me two years to find the Crisp Point Light and what I found there was more than I expected. If you want to visit Crisp Point you have to realize it's not on the way to anywhere. To find it you have to travel on poorly marked tiny, curvy, seasonal and at times two-track roads that may or may not end up in the backyard of a remote hunter's cabin, or on a dead end road blocked by a fallen tree. So why did I want to find Crisp Point? Because once the Detroit Free Press described the lighthouse as "the loneliness place in America" and that's reason enough for me.

After getting lost in the boonies for two years in a row, I finally reached my destination...a carefully restored 1903 light on a remote, sandy Lake Superior beach. It was beautiful and pretty much what I had expected. This story, however, is about the unexpected.

When I arrived at the light, after my long, bouncy, rough road adventure, I headed straight to the visitors center where I met one of the Crisp Point volunteers, Nancy Cornwell and her two little dogs Micky and Minnie. We talked about the light and I looked at the exhibits, including one on agates. I remembered a rock I had found which I thought might be an agate, so went back to Van to look for it. There I discovered that the "evil" Van had lock me out!

Now, you have to understand how remote Crisp Point is---no cell phone service, no land lines, no way to contact AAA or a locksmith, even if they would consider coming to my rescue. There was no way I could walk out, without my hiking gear, which was locked in the van.

I kept circling Van, trying to discover some sort of magical, secret entrance. Finally, I decided I'd try to remove one of my rear side windows. Once in a cave down south, I'd squeezed through a hole the size of a watermelon and that little window looked at least that large. Of course all of my tools were inside Van. I swear I could hear an evil chuckle and the jingling of car keys coming from inside my vehicle.

Luckily, Joe Cornwell, Nancy's husband, had tools I could borrow to remove the glass and part of the window frame. With his help, I was soon ready to squeeze through my little window. Both Joe and Nancy promised not to laugh or take pictures, as I stripped down to the bare minimum I could wear and still remain decent, then I stuck my head and shoulders through the tiny opening. Well, the hole was bigger than a watermelon, but even standing on two milk crates, I couldn't shift myself into the right position to squeeze through.

About the time I was considering breaking a window to unlock the door, a car with a family of young kids (skinny, young kids) drove up. I asked the father if I could borrow one of his children to help me out. His daughter volunteered and he picked her up and slid her through the window, as easily as a sliver of soap slipping through wet fingers. She landed gently on my bed, found and handed me my keys and I let her out through the door.

I never learned the girl's name but I'm sure this was the kind of adventure she'll write about in her "What I Did During Summer Vacation" essay when she returns to school. At least, that's what I'm doing. Thank you to all the volunteers who helped save my day!