No-Wake Zone: Where 310 Horsepower Goes to Nap

Picture this: Torch River, the scenic connector between Torch Lake and Lake Skegemog. Crystal-clear water. Gentle summer breeze. Birds singing. And me… on my Kawasaki Ultra 310, a jet ski so powerful it could probably pull Michigan into Canada if you let it. The only problem? Torch River is a strict no-wake zone. Translation: my 310 horsepower beast is about to spend the next mile moving slower than a confused turtle.

I’m with the Great Lakes Ski Rider group—an elite squad of watercraft enthusiasts known for tearing across open water at blistering speeds. But here? We’re all idling along in a single-file aquatic parade, looking like the world’s most overpowered retirement cruise. My Ultra 310 is basically growling under me like, “Let me run!”, while I’m whispering back, “Not here, buddy, not here.”

The vibe is surreal. On Torch Lake, we’re used to rooster tails and adrenaline rushes. On Torch River, it’s “wave politely to pontoon boats” and “don’t splash the fisherman who looks like he hasn’t smiled since 1998.” The Great Lakes Ski Riders are reduced to slow-motion hand gestures and awkward conversations shouted across the water. It’s like going to a rock concert and then being told everyone has to whisper the lyrics.

At idle speed, you notice every detail—the sunlight dancing off the turquoise water, the cottages that look like they belong on a postcard, and the occasional duck who gives you a look like, “Yeah, keep it down.” I try to make it exciting by steering side-to-side (within legal limits, of course), but the Ultra 310 still feels like a racehorse stuck in a petting zoo.

Halfway through, I realize I’ve gone from “high-speed water adventurer” to “floating tour guide.”
• “And on your left, a fisherman ignoring us completely.”
• “On your right, another fisherman ignoring us completely.”
• “And straight ahead… more river.”

By the time we reach the end of the no-wake zone, I’m ready to squeeze the throttle like it owes me money. The Great Lakes Ski Riders regroup, the river widens, and suddenly the Ultra 310 roars back to life. It’s like watching a pack of greyhounds finally released from their starting gates—except with more spray and way fewer rules.

Torch River might not be the place for speed, but it is the place for laughs, scenery, and that delicious moment of anticipation before the throttle opens up again. Join me and the Great Lakes Ski Riders for the slowest, most scenic horsepower parade you’ve ever seen.