Editorial: Love the Lakes, but Know Their Strength

Beautiful – yet, sinister.

That’s how I remember my resident advisor describing Lake Superior during the first week of school at Northern Michigan University. NMU is a wonderful school in Marquette that sits at the foot of Lake Superior in the Upper Peninsula. Warning students about the perils of the lake was and likely still is standard introductory practice.

While I shy away from attributing intentional wickedness to one of the country’s most interesting and arrestingly beautiful bodies of water, Lake Superior does seem to have a reputation for being occasionally unfriendly. All of the Great Lakes, in fact, can be a bit moody given the right conditions.

As students, we were educated about some lake hazards. Posters were hung around campus and in dorms, warning students to stay off breakwalls when wind and waves were high. And we were warned to stay out of the water when lightning or quick storms were moving in. The guidance was somewhat common sense.

There was a general understanding that currents could be dangerous, but there wasn’t much in the way of how to respond should you find yourself in the clutches of a moving current. For most of us at school that year, our education on currents came at the expense of a young man.

On Labor Day, a group of Olympic-class boxers had been swimming at a beach in Marquette called Picnic Rocks. They were struggling to get back to the mainland from the small, rocky island. One of them was swept off the sandbar – or tombolo – that connects the mainland to the outcropped island. I later learned his name was Mike Nunnally, age 23. The local newspaper reported that he had exhausted his strength against the current and eventually drowned in 9-10 feet of water.

It stuck with me. If an Olympic-level athlete couldn’t fight the current and successfully make it to safety, then it definitely wasn’t a matter of muscle. Beautiful, yet sinister indeed.

Putting together this issue of Upwellings shed some light on these particular memories. In the past eight years, Michigan Sea Grant, teaming up with the National Weather Service and other partner agencies, has worked hard to educate swimmers about rip currents.

Weather and water specialists have recently recognized a different kind of coastal hazard – something referred to as channeling. It’s not what is traditionally thought of as a rip current, but does form as the result of a longshore current. At least 11 deaths have been attributed to channeling since the 1960s at Picnic Rocks alone; one of them was Mike Nunnally.

The message I received as a student, not unlike the message we’re sending with this issue of Upwellings, was enjoy the lake, appreciate its beauty, but also know what the hazards look like. I would hate to think this would discourage anyone from creating wonderful memories along our lakeshores. But it’s just like anything else – a little education can go a long way in enhancing the enjoyment.

If there is one thing you take away from this issue, let it be this: swim perpendicular to the current. Don’t fight it. Don’t panic. Dream about those lazy days splashing around in one of our Great Lakes, but think about how you would respond to an emergency situation before you go in the water.

- Stephanie Ariganello
Editor, Upwellings

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