Its name notwithstanding, Agate Harbor would make a poor harbor. With its waters littered with rocky outcroppings stabbing up out of the depths and its shore dominated by a series of large conglomerate ridges rising high out of the water – ships would find little refuge here. But what it lacks in function is easily makes up with beauty as the quintessential Lake Superior landscape one comes to expect in the Copper Country.
Along one of those high ridges sits a small rustic gazebo constructed nearly a century ago during the Great Depression. Its brown-lathered logs looked like something a troop of Boy Scouts would have built for fun on a weekend, but was in fact built by unemployed mine-workers as part of the government work program.
Today it is heavily overgrown, its sagging hulk almost invisible within the trees and bushes. Once inside you are treated to an overabundance of spider webs and initials carved into its wood skeleton, but most importantly you are provided with a sweeping view out over the harbor.
It is a view that is all yours and your alone as you sit down on one of the built-in benches found along the gazebo’s outer edges. The brush hiding it from view hides you from view as well, making you feel like a child in their own secret fort – safe and sound from the rest of the outside world. Its the way I always feel each time I take refuge inside it as well.