Picking up where I left off from Part I of this series, the next morning after my 10-mile hike as part of my solo camping trip in Munising, Mich,, I was thankfully much warmer, and after a very deep sleep, I dragged myself up and dressed for the day’s adventure — a full-day kayaking tour.

I packed a lunch, filled my water bladder, and though I wore jean shorts, I threw on a long-sleeve shirt. The water was freezing, and the closer to it you were, the colder you felt.

I drove 15 minutes to the pickup spot, chatted with some fellow adventurers, then we piled onto a bus for the half-hour ride to our launch point. Each group got a name, and mine was christened the “Purple Cows.”

Yes, we had to “moo.” I’ve kayaked before, but I wasn’t prepared for the challenge of open water paddling. On a river, you have the current to help you along, but out here, it was all muscle. Thankfully, I’d been hitting the gym, and I was in a tandem kayak with a partner.

Every painful paddle was worth it. Seeing the sandstone cliffs I had stood on the day before, this time from the water — was magical. The lake looked even more vibrant, the cliffs streaked with amazing rust red and orange hues, and the air was calm and cool.

We maneuvered into caves and under towering cliffs. The icy water dripped on me and sprayed me in the face.

If I thought I felt small standing on top of those cliffs and looking out at the water the day before, it was more than matched that day, staring up at them from the water.

There was one cave we paddled into with the most beautiful rocks of every color. All of the rocks along the shore had come from that one spot. I stuck my paddle into the water and pulled up a beautiful blue stone and put it in my pocket.

Another cave was so tight you had to lean back to fit through. My partner and I had already confessed our fears: mine of water and caves, and hers of tight spaces.

We looked at each other and mutually decided we had been brave enough and didn’t need to go into that cave.

Later, I spotted a skinny passageway leading to a beautiful arch towering the water. I wanted to go over to it. Our guide warned me it would add thirty minutes to the trip, and the group would have to agree. Thankfully, they did, and we paddled through to Lover’s Leap Arch — by far my favorite part of the day.

I was proud I’d spoken up. I had figured, I’ve already come this far, and it looked so beautiful, I would have been sad to miss it.

We started to head back and ended up on a private beach for a late lunch. I was starving.

My kayaking partner and I hung out, walked around, ate and took lots of pictures. Near the end of our break, a guy slipped hard on the rocks. I thought I need to be extra careful; I mean, we all know how clumsy I am. But, my poor partner took the same tumble.

As I reached to stop her from going completely down, I somehow managed to elbow her square in the eye. I still feel bad about that.

She landed funny on her arm and couldn’t paddle much on the way back. We may have been the very last crew to make it back to shore, but we did. And, I pushed through every painful paddle to finish the challenge.

With victory screaming from my arms and back, and my legs still sore from the hike the day before, I went back to camp.

Returning exhausted and starving, I cooked up squash, zucchini and red potatoes with a little oil. It wasn’t anything fancy, but to my body, it was a five-star meal. I sat by the water in the warm air, journaling, watching the lake and declaring that tomorrow I would not leave my tent.

I didn’t. I lounged, scrolled through my photos and texted updates to friends. The day was gray and breezy, perfect for rest.

Then, my phone dinged with a message from Kyle’s friend back in Wisconsin. It was a radar screenshot — a storm was heading straight for me.

It wasn’t anything catastrophic, but absolutely enough to make me tie down my tent and sit with the anxiety of facing it alone.

TroutMom says: Adventure isn’t always dangerous and scary. Sometimes it’s taking the extra 30 minutes even though you’re exhausted or knowing when to admire the super tiny cave from afar.

Sometimes, adventure is just pushing through pain and fear — just to find out you’re probably more ready to take on that adventure, or storm, than you thought.

Jordan Troutman is the Owner and General Manager of the Cassville Democrat, president of the Ozark Press Association, a wife, a mother of two daughters and a graduate of Capella University with a Bachelor’s in General Psychology. She is pursuing a Master’s in Marriage and Family Therapy. She may be reached at jtroutman@cassville- democrat.com.