Boyne City — It doesn’t matter how big your hull is. Whether you built a small raft, rented a tritoon, or own a $4 million hand-built yacht.
Being on the lake in Michigan is a unique egalitarian society, centered around having fun in the beauty of nature. You don’t need much at all to take part.
On a family vacation near Lake Charlevoix, my in-laws rented a tritoon. We all set out on a windy day more suited for large sailboats than our pleasure craft. Water splashed my children, soaking them, and setting them on edge for the rest of the voyage.
Then we turned down the South Arm of the lake, where the wind wasn’t whipping the waves into whitecaps. We passed a big, green house with a red roof. It was like something out of a storybook.
It had a boat house with large, wooden doors that could accommodate a mast 80 to 100 feet high.
We went on and stopped for lunch and swam until the wind pushed our boat too close to shore. Our anchor was scraping the sand instead of catching anything, so we were more adrift than we thought.
Then we went down the rest of the South Arm and stopped just outside East Jordan, hoping to swim to a beach, but the water was frigid. There was no way the kids would jump in, but the cold shock was a welcome retreat from the sun.
As we rode back up to Lake Charlevoix, the boat house doors were open. Someone was skipping around on a jet ski.
With the sun still beating down on us, and the waves taking their toll, we stopped at a lakeside restaurant, where we parked near a very nice speedboat with a lower deck.
It doesn’t matter what you pull up to the dock in, the refreshments are still cold and the Bavarian-style soft pretzels are as large as a pizza. That’s the beauty of boating: In some ways, you’re the same as everyone else, no matter your top speed or hull size.
At another point in the vacation, we anchored near a large yacht with a dinghy on it. The kids jumping on the deck seemed to be around the same age as mine, and they were having the same aversion to the cold water mine were.
It was pretty obvious that they were spending the night on board the vessel. How much would such a ship cost?
But then two kayakers passed by the yacht, chatting and laughing the evening away, having the same fun on a vessel not even an eighth of the size.
It’s easy to see how you could spend a long time thinking wistfully about what you might one day be able to afford. Or—like so many often do—you could spiral into thinking about how unfair it is that some people can afford the yacht or boat house of your wildest dreams.
But that’s a waste of time.
The best parts of life are free. The family on the yacht is worth more than all of the pieces of metal or luxury items stowed inside it. And that family is worth the same as mine and those kayakers, at least in God’s eyes.
On the lake, the summer sun is a gift given freely to all. The views of shore are open to anyone with a boat, no matter how small or large. The water refreshes young and old alike. And the waves are free, depending on the day.
Brendan Clarey is deputy editor of Michigan Enjoyer.
