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“Good morning! What a beautiful day.” Lenore chats happily with them for a moment before we pick up our pace and move ahead.
Soon, waves crashing against the coast, wind in the trees, and our shoes crunching over the pine needles on the trail are the only things we hear. No cars, no people, no sounds of the city. Neither of us breaks the peaceful silence with conversation.
Quicker than I expected, we reach the sign welcoming us into the state park. It’s pockmarked with teenagers’ initials and doodles. Where the path splits, a spur leads out over a cliff with a clear view of the lake.
“Can we get closer to the water?” Lenore asks, gesturing to it.
“Sure.” I lead her down the embankment, helping her over a small fallen tree and across some looser rocks. The ground is uneven, and the wind and water have worn places so smooth that it's easy to slip. I grip her hand tightly and plant my feet, not wanting her to fall.
She stops and watches the horizon when we get past the tree line. At this time of day on a Sunday, there’s only one boat in sight, probably a fisherman, and thankfully none of the bobbing swarms of kayak tours struggling to paddle against the tide.
As much as the region relies on tourism, it’s nice to have a quiet space away from people to remind you of one of the reasons you live here—the sheer natural beauty.
“Some people would say this is the most beautiful place in the state,” I speak quietly, something about the moment not needing loud words.
She turns to look at me. “Isn’t it?”
“I’m a little biased, so I’d say yes. I think you’d like the Lake Superior shore too.”
“I’ve never been there. This is probably the farthest north in Wisconsin I’ve gotten.”
“I’ll take you up there sometime.”
We stand next to each other, and she leans close, laying her head against my upper arm. Breathing deeply, she relaxes into it, the tail of her shirt blowing against my side.
I glance at my watch and see it’s just past eleven. “Want to eat lunch here or keep going for a while?”
“So that’s what’s in the backpack. You brought food.” She smiles in triumph. “Let's keep walking.” There’s more energy in her steps now that she’s figured out the surprise.
I let her get a little ahead of me and pull out my phone to snap a quick picture, wanting to capture her carefree relaxation and beauty. The picture freezes the wind blowing her long hair out behind her and the moment she’s raised her hand to brush it back. You can see her side profile and the outline of her phone sticking out of her pocket.
“You coming?” she calls over her shoulder.
I hustle to catch up and recapture her hand. We reach the end of the exposed shoreline, and I help her up the rise and onto the trail again.
“How often do you come here?” It's even quieter where the trail turns slightly inland, away from the constant sound of the waves.
“Not often enough. Lately, only about once a year.” With work and the increased responsibilities of being a homeowner, I can’t even remember the last time I left Sturgeon Bay.
“I can’t imagine you getting much time away from the garage.”
“It seems like I can’t keep up with everything, that there are never enough hours in the day. Even with all the extra daylight in the summer, I think last night was the first time I’ve gotten the lawn mowed in almost three weeks.”
She bumps our shoulders together playfully. “I bet your neighbors love you.”
“One of them did.” I don’t elaborate, and she looks suspicious. “The kid a few houses up used to mow my lawn for me and rake in the fall, but he left for college at the beginning of the summer.”
“Ah. You were easy money.” She grins.
“It worked out well for both of us.”
We keep walking and don’t run into anyone else. There’re fewer people in this area since, technically, the state park requires an entrance fee. Most people come in through the county park, which also has free parking.
We chat companionably as we walk and soon find one of the wide, clear swaths of beach that make Whitefish Dunes State Park famous.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry now. And thirsty.” For someone who claims to need a slow pace, she’s kept us moving for almost an hour without a break.
“I could eat. Do you want help setting anything up?” She redoes her ponytail, and I get distracted by the dark, glossy strands.
“If you want to keep exploring, I’ll get everything set up.”
She nods and wanders up the beach, occasionally bending over to pick something up off the ground. I take the backpack off and set it on the grassy area so it doesn’t get full of sand. I pull out an old, thin quilt and spread it next to my pack. Next comes wrapped sandwiches and containers of snacks, and I arrange them in the middle of the blanket so we can share. Settling both of our water bottles on a rock, I see how far away she’s gotten.
Luckily, she sees me wave, and I notice her phone is in her hand. She must have been taking pictures. I straighten from my bent position and smile as she draws closer. “Lunch is served,” I say with a sweep of my arm.
“You’re incredible, you know that?” She blushes when she says it but smiles. I love these moments when her thoughts slip out unfiltered. A feeling of deep affection blends with my attraction for her, and I know that I would be a happy man if I could spend the rest of my life making her feel this way.
