Today as we left the Pentwater channel, the lake was destitute of wind or wave: limpid. Had we not motored to Manistee, we would have been "as idle as a painted boat on a painted ocean. As it was, our reliable diesel engine propelled us northward although we traveled in a haze and could hardly see the shoreline. We even missed seeing Big Point Sable.
We changed from shorts and T-shirts to long trousers and long sleeved shirts to ward off the hundreds, maybe thousands of little gnats that covered the cockpit floor and seats. Mark's Buzz Off hat - impregnated with bug repellent - didn't bother them at all.
Sitting on the little elevated "perch," on the starboard stern, I marveled at what I saw. 360 degrees of water. The silvery, slowly rhymic waves emblazoned with crisscross patterns: undulant.