Grand Traverse Bay, Michigan

The ice extends 100 yards or so from shore. I’ve seen the bay entirely frozen over, so it must not be as cold this year as in years past.

Several layers of snow cover the ice. For that, it doesn’t even look like ice. It is not smooth – not like the ice that sometimes forms on my driveway, and certainly not like the ice surface of a hockey rink. Rather, it has peaks and valleys, mounds and troughs, smooth areas and rough areas. Had I not seen this bay in the summer time, I would not know where the shore ended and the ice began.

The tell-tale sign that it is ice, and not beach, is at the edge, at what appears to be the shore line. In the summer, the waves roll over the beach. Now, the waves appear to roll under the beach. I cannot see the flow of the waves near the shore, where the ice is thick. But at the edge, the effect is dramatic. As the wave makes contact with the ice edge, the ice flow is lifted up and then lowered down, as the wave moves closer and closer to shore.

The bay is desolate. I cannot see a sole. Nor any other living creature for that matter, other than those birds who chose not to migrate to warmer climes. There are no boats in the water or planes in the sky. I know that four-legged animals come to the water’s edge. I’ve seen them in the past and they also leave their tracks. But a fresh layer of snow covers any traces which might have existed. It looks the way I imagine the polar regions would look – white, empty and cold.

The clear blue sky contrasts with the cold temperature. It deceives me while I am indoors. As I looked through the window on this bright sunny day, I went outside with a single layer of clothing. It wasn’t enough for the cold, bitter air that met me when I left my home. I went back in, added a few more layers, and ventured back outside. The gray days of winter depress me, but the cold doesn’t bother me at all. As long as it is sunny, and I am dressed with multiple layers head to toe, I am oblivious to the cold.

The water seems especially blue today. The shallow water, which is a greenish blue in the summer, and the sand bar, which is a brownish blue in summer, are both frozen over. All that is left is the deeper, bluer water. It is beautiful to look at. I imagine it would be painful to enter.

As the day ends, the water calms down and the ice ceases its ebb and flow. The sun still sets over the Leelanau Peninsula, but much further south in the sky than I’m used to in the summer. But it’s the same orange ball, illuminating the entire western sky along the horizon. Nothing says “good night” better than a sunset over the water.

This is Lake Michigan’s Grand Traverse Bay, which I call “My Bay”, in February.