Frozen Waves in Grand Rapids, Michigan

Taylor was our local guide, and though he did his best to describe the how the waves freeze and build up as the water tries to push itself onto shore, we were not prepared for the other-worldly landscape we drove up to.

Before us was white. Mounds of what looked like hills of snow and ice “Those are waves?” I think each of us took our turn asking that same question in disbelief.

Though Taylor assured us the ice was solid, occasionally a boot would sink and we could see a bit of water below the foot print. At first I assumed the lake still moving a few feet below us since we could hear moving water, but as we crawled up the last white-wave I saw a sea of broken glass floating on top of clear-blue water. Waves were still rolling underneath the jagged ice; relentless despite the winter’s efforts to make the lake stand still.

Us girls marveled at the horizon. The boys ran to the nearest wave-mountain and pretended to be Arctic explorers.

Nearby was a pier that went out to a small lighthouse. We had all grown confident on the ice and were playfully picking up snowballs and seeing how deep our ankles would sink into piles of snow. But as we got to the lighthouse Taylor turned around and said “Everyone needs to be serious and careful on this. See the water? If you slip in, you will die. There is no saving you.” Then he continued on.
I took hold of Ian’s arm, “Love, don’t let me slip!”

“You’ll be okay. We will be careful.” He squeezed my hand assuringly.
Ahead I saw Amanda and Malisa take hold of their boys too. The group had paired off now.

The men took their respective roles offering guiding hands on slippery steps, hovering arms at our sides to make us feel protected, while the women took caution and discouraged the brave boys from punching icicles and peering off the side of the pier. We performed well with our gender roles.

The end of our journey was worth it. The harsh biting wind that had been blowing into our watery eyes had created ice formations on the front of the house at the end of the pier. The house was encased in what looked like a frozen ghost ship, looming on the edge of an ocean of broken glass. It felt less like Michigan and more like a fairy-tale.

Later that night we warmed up at a brewery and admired our adventure.