Lake Superior has turned out to be even moodier than I had imagined. The sleeping giant can wake up almost instantly and build itself into a fury that rivals that of much larger oceans. The weather has been extremely cold and wet, way below seasonal average, and I’ve managed to catch a nasty cold.
But the lake keeps calling me over and the camera rarely gets a break; it’s as if the inland sea was reminding me with her displays of alternating calm and violence, that water forever flows in my veins, and vain it is trying to deny it…
