*Written a week ago - on Saturday morning, July 23rd, 2016*
I’m not sure what happened, but somehow over the course of the last several weeks, the amount of time that I sleep throughout any given night has slipped away like sand through an hour glass. As the summer goes along, a person tends to stay up a bit longer anyways, but with my family’s schedule involving work and practices, we continue to get up early. That, coupled with some health issues and surgery that my wife has bravely battled through, and you have the ingredients for some short nights and long days. None of the issues involving time mattered now though, as I was once again back North with my cousins; in the heart of Northern Lower Michigan. We travel to camp in one of Michigan’s beautiful state forests once a year, next to where I grew up as a young lad. I slept last night (Friday night) for just shy of four hours, or maybe it was five; we don’t keep track of time much, but I also get mixed up between reading my watch that I have laying next to me, seeing it’s time, but also moving it ahead one hour for the eastern time zone. The point is that I got some sleep and it took the edge off. When nature began to call, as I lay within my new tent, I knew it was time to get up. After slipping in and out of the tent under the declining light of the waning gibbous moon, and the gentle glow of a rising sun an hour or so off from breaking the horizon, I turned on my lantern, tucked back down into my sleeping bag, and began to write.
I had begun thinking about
last night, and I had to get it out onto paper.
I would have documented it in my daily journal, but after two full
years, and the aforementioned schedule lately, I’m like two or three weeks
behind. It presents itself as a bit of a
problem. My wife says I simply need to
draw a line and start afresh. I’m kind
of under the notion though, that I’d like to at least briefly document each day’s
events for the last few weeks; in brief snippets of facts for all that’s
happened recently. Regardless, I pulled
out my writing journal instead. After
only sleeping two and a half hours on Thursday night, I got up and put the last
few things into my Jeep, said goodbye to my wife, and left the driveway and
Northern Illinois at 3:00 a.m. I wanted
to beat the heat, as my Jeep doesn’t have air conditioning and it was suppose
to be “up there” with the temperature and humidity. I made great time traveling through Illinois, Indiana, and into Michigan; rolling into town after
about seven and a half hours of driving.
I stopped at the familiar State Park for a vehicle sticker, now known as
a recreation pass, which I needed for camping out in the state forest. Together with my cousin Brad, we then met my high school friend Tim for lunch. Afterwards, Brad and I picked up my fishing
license, bought enough food for one meal, and headed out to the woods. We would complete our grocery shopping for the
trip in the morning when we came back out to meet my cousin Brian; as he was
coming up a day later. Brad and I found
a familiar site along the river that we’ve had twice before over the years. After determining who could set up camp
where, we began to start the process of unloading our gear. Cousin Sean joined us at that point, as he had
had to put in a couple of hours of work before driving up to meet us. Brad and Sean hung their newly made hammocks
to sleep in, and I pitched my tent. After
jumping in the river to rinse off and refresh, following a hot afternoon, we
cooked up a dinner of beans, brats and sauerkraut. It hit the spot, although as Brad and Sean
said, “The only thing missing is the feeling you have that’s close to exhaustion;
when you’ve worked hard all day and then eat that kind of food.” It wasn’t as though we hadn’t worked to
drive and then set up camp, it’s just
not as much work as when we hike and fish all day (See “Bogged Down”).
Following our meal and
clean up, we got out our waders, and boots, and gear. All of us had invested in new boots and
waders for this trip, as time and use had ravaged our old ones. And so there was the usual reprieve from
rushing around to get our suspenders adjusted, and the feel just right. Not much daylight was left, but we walked
downstream a ways so we could fish back.
The efforts were relaxed and we talked as we walked. Upon entering the waters we thanked God for
the tradition we’ve been able to continue now for nine full years, released a
plug of sacred cedar, and then stated fishing.
Of course Sean hooked a fish on his first cast. That’s a bit of a tradition too. Not that he catches fish on the first cast
every outing, but that he catches fish fairly consistently with some obscure
spinner that he’s simply picked out and uses as his “spinner of the week”. Luckily it was just a small little trout; a
brook trout; and it fell off the hook before he could bring it to his
hand. Brad and I smiled, shook our heads
while mumbling something about how he does that, and then started casting as
well.
We continued on in the dwindling light for several bends
without anything to speak of, other than little hits from trout that wouldn’t
fully hook on; that is until Sean remarked that he thought the copper colored
spinner I was using should start working for the brown trout who would be
coming out to feed in the growing darkness.
No sooner had the air for those words left his lungs, when my lure
suddenly hit a snag; a snag that was moving!
It was a load. It was a
slab. It was big. It was beautiful. It was the first monster brown trout of our
trip.
As
the male ruffed grouse drummed its wings off in the distance, and a whip-poor-will
started its distinctive call that mimics the sound of its name, we all knew at
that moment why it is that we do this trip.
This was going to be refreshing.
See you along The Way… |
| Caught, Photographed, Revived and Released |
No comments:
Post a Comment