Alexandria Bournonville

Fifteen miles off the shores of Marquette lies a 2.5-acre island with just one building: the Granite Island Lighthouse.

I spent four nights on the privately owned Granite Island for my EN495 Special Topics class at Northern Michigan University. Our class focuses on learning how to analyze the world around us, take inspiration from the places we visit and then express thoughts, feelings and/or ideas in written form.

Every day — every hour, it seemed — I was writing in my island journal about a new story idea or thoughts I had about my surroundings.

During my short time on Granite Island, my classmates and I were able to experience a life similar to a literary hermit. No required wake-up time. No pesky 9-5 job to get in the way of your writing. No interaction with the outside world. The closest city was 15 miles out over the fierce currents of Lake Superior.

The building itself, the Granite Island Lighthouse, is a structure to behold. Its front door leads into a beautiful wood kitchen with modern, dark green, stone countertops and a nice sink. The history of the place really comes through in the oven. It’s a vintage-looking gas oven with curves and legs that look like they belong on a fainting couch. Tucked away in a small room coming on the kitchen is the pantry, where the fridge and microwave are stored.

I had the pleasure of staying in the captain’s quarters. It’s a large room with a desk and typewriter (which unfortunately didn’t work), a bed, closet, built-in drawers and two end tables. The view looked out onto what I believe may have been the NASA data-gathering station as well as the wooden platform leading down to the dock and utilities. It gave a great view of the lake and just how vast the water spans.

Inspiration was abound in the island’s environment itself. The rocks, covered in bright orange lichen, provided elevation and further seeing-distance but, unfortunately, separated us from any contact with a beach or lakeshore.

The entry point to the water was a small area that resembled a mermaid cove: the North Slip. When not writing, reading or doing chores, we were free to take a dip in the lake. The high walls of the slip only go so far until the right one ends and the left curves, making a small basin shape safe from the currents.

Despite the breeze and low temperature of the water, the sun beat down on us just the same. The tallest vegetation were large lilac bushes overgrown due to a lack of maintenance. No shade could be provided by them due to the areas thick brush and vines. Shade was best found within the safety of the lighthouse.

Every day we would have plenty of time to write and read. Our assigned book is “Moby-Dick” by Herman Melville. When the black flies were too bad outside, the kind of swarm about 20-strong that crowd on your legs and cover you in bites, we would retreat to the lighthouse’s living room and read silently but together. Other times, we had a lively discussion about the novel and how pleasantly surprised we were by it. At one point, I recited a couple of Melville’s letters addressed to Nathaniel Hawthorne.

We had loose prompts and concepts to guide our writing, courtesy of Professor Billman. Some of these concerned our arrival, the landscape or the feeling of “island fever.” Besides each other, our partners in crime were our island journals — a single journal dedicated to the thoughts, feelings and sights of the Granite Island class. We filled the pages with story ideas, feverish writings and drawings of our surroundings.

Perhaps the best part of the trip was the fact that I had like-minded friends there. My two classmates and I equally enjoyed the adventure, the history, the creative discussions and our downtime. What’s even better is that I’ll be going back on Thursday with two more classmates. Two fresh perspectives to the island, which will be wonderful to see.

It was great enough to experience Granite Island myself for the first time — the sensation of watching it grow on the horizon as you approach, the tranquility and the intense connection to its history — but watching someone else experience that same feeling may just top it.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Alexandria Bournonville is a fourth-year senior at Northern Michigan University pursuing a degree in English Literature. She is also a full-time staff writer at The Mining Journal and has two pet cats.