When last you heard from me, Russ, Garrett, and I were stuck in a houseboat in the dead of night, beached on rocks by an unexpected wind direction switch.

The next morning, we radioed the houseboat base and let them know about our predicament. They asked if we were comfortable trying to get the houseboat off the rocks with our little motorboat. Russ was speaking to them at the time and he said no, not with the wind still pummeling us with waves. They said they’d get someone out to tow us off the rocks.

It was an eventful morning. We weren’t the only ones having trouble. On the radio, we heard that a child fell on a houseboat near us and the family wanted to get her to a hospital, so there was that, plus others were having troubles with the wind.

It wasn’t until early afternoon before a motorboat arrived with several houseboating staff. In the meantime, we wandered around Oveson Island, rereading the Fish Camp signs and just getting antsy to leave. This was the low point of our adventure.

Our original plan was to leave early in the morning, but now that was shot since we had lost half a day. Plus, that lonely loon was hanging around again. Loons are supposed to symbolize tranquility, serenity, and the reawakening of old hopes, wishes, and dreams. But this loon was just depressing.

I looked up the type of wailing call he was making and it’s the kind loons make to locate their mates or their children. This poor loon had none of those. I felt so sorry for him. His wail has half-hearted, as if he didn’t have energy for a proper one. He must be the loneliest loon in America. Perhaps he lost his mate or maybe he was too young to breed. Loons breed between four and six years old.

In any event, it was time to move to a happier houseboat site!

The houseboat guys were able to get us off the rocks with no problem. Much to our relief, they said our hull was intact, so we could continue our trip. They drove us out to the main channel, and we were on our own once more. The wind had died down, so keeping the houseboat on course was a bit easier. We drove 9 miles, including a tricky stretch through the Brule Narrows. Garrett drove most of the time, including the narrows. It seems he had a hidden houseboating talent.

We moored in Saginaw Bay at the Duckfoot Islands site. Unlike our previous site, this one was an official houseboating site, complete with sign. We chose it because it had a nice sand beach. No more rocks for us!

We spent the rest of the day paddling around the islands. I was heartened to see that the loons here were a couple with a loonlet. No more lonely loons!

I enjoyed paddle boarding through millions of waterbugs who were scribbling their indecipherable words across the water. A gentle rain fell on and off, but the wind behaved.

Back on land, I became reacquainted with my old friend, “land sickness.” This is where you feel like you’re on the water even though you’re on land. (It’s the opposite of sea sickness.) I think it came more from all the paddle boarding I was doing rather than from the houseboat. The houseboat didn’t rock much on the waves.

A campfire provided our evening entertainment. The night was restful, and we awoke, bright-eyed, for the last day of our trip.