09/06/2026
Thereâs a side of owning this little kayak business that nobody really sees.
People see the pictures, the clear water, the caves, the eagles, the smiling families coming back to shore. And Iâm grateful for every bit of that.
What you donât see is 2:30 in the morning, staring at your phone after getting a message that makes you question whether everything youâve spent years building is good enough.
I started Apostle Islands Rustic Makwa Den without somebody standing beside me showing me every little nuance of how to build a kayak company. There wasnât a handbook handed to me. There wasnât somebody explaining which boats to buy, how to deal with booking companies, how to fight through website problems, how to advertise, how to understand every certification, how to manage employees, customers, weather, equipment, taxes and a family at the same time.
A lot of it has been learned the hard way.
Sometimes very hard.
I have three kids. One of my daughters is heading off to school. Iâm trying to be a dad and take care of my family while answering phones, managing bookings, dealing with website companies and booking agencies, creating ads, watching Lake Superior, taking care of equipment, and trying to figure out where every dollar went at the end of the month.
And yeahâsometimes an old kayak has a scar on it that I wish wasnât there.
Sometimes I wish I could walk outside tomorrow morning and replace every boat with a beautiful brand-new fleet.
I canât.
Not yet.
There have been times when the only reason I could keep pushing this business forward was because of the VA compensation I earned from my time in the Army. Thatâs not something I say looking for sympathy. Itâs simply part of the truth of what it has taken to keep this dream alive.
This business hasnât made us rich.
Some years it has barely let us breathe.
Iâve changed advertising, changed booking systems, fought with websites, questioned prices, looked at expenses over and over and wondered, âWhere is the money going, and how do I finally get this right?â
And somewhere in the middle of all that, youâre still supposed to be a husband, a dad, a boss, a guide, a mechanic, a marketer, an accountant and the person who tells everybody else that everything is going to be okay.
Then sometimes somebody comes along who knows more about something than you do.
You think youâre talking to a fellow paddler. You open up a little. You admit there are things youâre still learning. You ask for some guidance because you genuinely want to get better.
And sometimes what comes back isnât quite what you hoped for.
That can hurt.
Iâm learning that asking somebody for help isnât weakness.
Admitting that everything we own isnât perfect isnât weakness.
Saying âIâm still learningâ isnât weakness either.
In fact, maybe those are some of the hardest things a person who has spent his whole life figuring things out himself can say.
I have learned more building this company than I ever expected. Some lessons have been beautiful. Some have cost me thousands of dollars. Some have embarrassed me. Some have made me furious. And some have left me sitting alone when everybody else is asleep, wondering whether all this work is actually leading somewhere.
But then morning comes.
Lake Superior is still there.
The boats still need to go down to the beach.
Somebody is going to show up excited because today might be the first time they ever sit in a kayak.
My family still needs me.
And I realize maybe success isnât always the pile of money you thought would be waiting at the end of the season.
Maybe sometimes success is surviving long enough to learn the lesson you needed for the next chapter.
Maybe all the mistakes, battles, setbacks and sleepless nights are part of learning how to finally build the company Iâve been able to see in my head all these years.
Weâre still here.
Weâre still learning.
Weâre still trying to get better.
And maybe there really is something beautiful waiting at the end of all this.
Miigwech to everyone who has supported our family and Apostle Islands Rustic Makwa Den while we figure this thing out. You probably mean more to us than you realize.
And Iâll leave this with something I felt tonight:
Sometimes I sit there with tears in my eyes and donât let one drop. Not because it doesnât hurt. It does. Not because Iâm always strong. Iâm not.
Itâs because morning is still coming.
And even when it sucks⌠I still gotta go.
