Final Score:16 to 4-A Win Win Situation

     Coming off a week where my fifth grade team of teachers prepared for and held our annual "Creek Walk Day," I hadn't slept much.  The carrot in front of me, however, was an end of the season, trout fishing run to one of my favorite creeks north of here on the following day.  Not that I needed much of a carrot, since I really do love our day teaching outside, down along the creek, near our school.  Looking back, teaching by the creek was probably more like a booster rocket propelling me upwards and outwards to a space of water that few have a desire to tread.  I awoke at 5:00 and was on the road by 5:20.  Although stretches were thick with fog, I reached my destination by 6:20.  I smiled to myself at the humor behind that.  One hour.  As a math and science guy, I love the intricacies of numbers.

     I got my stuff ready, put my waders on, and started to hike in.  It was still fairly dark and the morning was supposed to start with cloud cover, but there was enough to see without the use of my headlamp.  Along the way I passed a marshy area surrounded by cattails.  It was alive with the sounds of a familiar friend of small creeks I've fished before.  The brilliantly marked wood duck, in the form of a large flock, was getting edgy and preparing to alight for the day's journey south to some unknown destination.  I guessed at over a hundred of them.  

I had heard them when I had first gotten out of my Jeep and now I was right beside the shallow pond; unbeknownst to them.  I decided to video tape them, to capture some of what I was witnessing.  I'm not going to lie.  It turned out pretty cool.  After several squadrons took off, I continued down the lane, through the field, prepped my pole, and entered the water. 

I immediately realized that I had incorrectly guessed where some of the holes were in my waders the night before; when I had applied some neoprene patch.  I could feel a cold trickle in my left boot.  

     No matter, I made my way around a few bends and finally caught a 9 and a half inch brown trout.  I quickly unhooked it and released it.  After that, it was "slim pickin's" for quite a while, as they say, until I had fished for well over an hour.  Slowly, the tide turned then and I started catching fish.  At the same time, the sun began to appear intermittently between the clouds.  Over a decent stretch I caught sixteen total brook trout.  I loved looking at their beautiful colors and markings.  I had thought of keeping a few if I had caught any around ten inches but all of them were in the eight to nine inch range.  I released them all back into the creek from whence they came.  I finally did stop long enough to take a picture of one of them.

 In one hole alone I caught about five or six brook trout.  It was really fun.  There is nothing quite like a little action from a native fish to keep you going.

     Soon after that, a brown trout just shy of fifteen inches, shot out from under the bank at my spinner.  I was suddenly busy with my ultra light pole bent over, as I stood in a knee deep bend of the creek.  I decided to keep this one fish and save it for a meal back home later this fall.  It's always entertaining to have a big brown explode out from under a bank when you least expect it; especially in the bright light. 

Typically they hang tight until the darkness between dusk and dawn, but occasionally they surprise you, and after catching the lovely little brookies, it can be downright shocking to see a torpedo of yellowish-brown come shooting out at your lure.  Humorously I caught two more browns after that on the next couple of bends.  Both were small in size and released.  The first of those two was so small, in fact, that I actually measured it.  It was four inches long.  The humor was that it hit a number two Mepps.  The lure was almost as long as it was.  It's a testament to the feistiness of these fish.

     Finally I stopped and decided it had been enough.  It was close to noon, so I sat on the bank and had my lunch of a peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich, on rye bread, with a side of raisins and corn chips.  I washed it down with some water and started hiking out.

     I eventually hit the remnant of a path, not much bigger than an old deer trail.  It ran through a small grove of poplar trees.  As I said in the beginning, I had been tired coming into today, and with the drive home coming up, I knew what would happen.  I'd get sleepy and struggle to keep my eyes open on hilly, curvy, country roads.  Today, luckily enough, I had thrown in my net-like hammock.  

I decided to string it up and watch the clouds go by while listening to the sand hill cranes in the field off in the distance and a flock of blue jays in the trees nearby.  I took several pictures to try to capture the moment, and then a video of the wind in the poplar leaves above me, before nodding off.  

I only slept about fifteen minutes but it was just enough time to take the edge off and allow the water to drain down the leg of my waders and soak into my shorts.

     As I hiked the last of the way out to my Jeep, I took a picture of the autumn air hanging over the prairie, and a video to capture the sound of the crickets in the mid-day heat.  What a great way to wrap up the final days of Wisconsin's Trout Season.

See you along The Way...

End of Summer Outings

    

Lake of the Clouds in the Porcupine Mountains, Michigan - 2006

Jodi - 2004

     When our kids were little and we took them on our family camping trip, the week or so before school started, we experienced some great adventures together.  They were the kind of adventures that produced fond memories and monumental photo albums.  Ask me about them sometime.  I can easily sit down and go through the pictures with you; with the same amount of enthusiasm that my sisters and I expressed on evenings when Mom and Dad pulled out, and set up, either our slide projector or 8 mm reel to reel movie projector. Contrary to the stereotyped yawns of boredom often portrayed for such an endeavor, we loved it!  It was an evening of laughter and emotions as memories of past feats were conjured up.  Intermissions were complete with images depicted on the white screen by our hands and fingers in front of the lamp bulb  

Todd - 2004

     While on those family camping adventures, Cindy and I quite often did something individually with each of the kids as well.  If I took Todd one afternoon to do something, she would do something with Jodi and then the following day we would "switch it up".  I've taken them kayaking, fishing, rock stacking in a creek (to create pools) and exploring on islands; just to name a few of the excursions. 

     For the last few years, due to family schedules, I've taken the kids on their own overnight camp-out.  The premise is still the same as Cindy does something back home with one of our kids while I've got the other kid out in the woods.  Typically I try to center our camping around something each of my children enjoys.  With Jodi I usually go somewhere where we can swim.  This may or may not happen as much as we would like depending on the weather.  In addition, we'll catch up on sleep (hard to beat fresh air through a tent screen) and read and/or journal.  With Todd we usually go somewhere where we can play disc golf in route to a campground.  Each of the kids, because of their love for cross country, likes to run the trails of the park we are at.  It's a change from the monotony of running the same roads or routes back home.  Both Todd and Jodi also enjoy the campfire as a centerpiece for cooking and talking.  So even on an overnight trip, where we're hardly gone for 24 hours, we are immersed into a complete, camping experience.

     This summer I took the kids up to Blue Mound State Park in Wisconsin.  As a family we had camped there back in 2008.  It's also been a destination for past individual father-kid outings.  I brought Jodi on a Friday through Saturday trip and Todd on the following day, Sunday through Monday.  It was none too soon as Jodi was starting high school practice for fall sports that week and by the following weekend we were taking Todd to college.

     Both trips were unique and yet both were the same in that I got to spend time with them.  We stopped by our local Aldi's grocery store, shared a packet of beef jerky on the way up while riding in the old Jeep, set up camp, cooked brats and beans for dinner, read/journaled around the campfire, got a good night's sleep, had breakfast, relaxed and then packed up.  

Jodi and I on the East Tower at Blue Mound

     With Jodi we went to the redesigned pool (since this area has no natural lakes, it's the only State Park in Wisconsin with a pool).  It was fun (not deep enough to dive in like the old one) but it was also a bit chilly.  We visited the lookout towers after dinner and then took an evening drive through the hills and hollows; seeing several deer and raccoons while enjoying the beautiful sunset.  

Sunset over the Mound

In the morning we got up early to watch the sunrise; a surprising and ironic twist for a girl who likes her sleep.  She was able to return to her sleeping bag for a few hours afterwards while I journaled and read.  Before our breakfast of pancakes we also jumped on the trails around the base of the mound and ran

Sunrise from the Mound

between four and four and a half miles.  Our trip concluded with a bang when I was pulled over for speeding south of Mount Horeb.  I knew the area had a speed zone where I had to slow down, and was in the process of doing so, but not soon enough as she blinked her headlights at me and then quickly did a U-turn with all of the lights flashing.  I apparently needed to start slowing down at the soccer fields outside of the little town, not at the high school.

 Fortunately the officer actually wanted to hear my explanation and story of what we were doing.  Perhaps it was Jodi sitting cross-legged in the front seat reading, or the smell of wood smoke coming from the camping supplies piled in the back of our Jeep, but she let us go with a warning.  I couldn't believe it and had a hard time not shouting out with joy.  It was a warning I heeded, however, as the penalty would have been severe, and so I stored that in my memory bank for the next time I traveled through so that I could remember to slow down in time.

Todd and I with a sweat soaked trail map after ten miles

     After setting up camp with Todd a day later, we prepared for our long run.  Since early that morning we had been drinking water and preparing mentally for the longest

run we had had all summer.  Using the park's trail map we elected to run the outside edges, which meant we would be following the mountain bike paths.  The hills were so steep in parts that they were designed as switchbacks just to get up them.  At times I'm sure that our pace while running uphill was slower than what we could walk on a level surface.  Yet, it was fast enough that we actually caught mountain bikers who were attempting to pedal the incline...not once, but with two different groups.  It was a blast running and jumping over rocks, roots and ruts.  By the time we had finished running for an hour and twenty minutes (about 10 miles), I had

slipped on some gravel once, and tripped once, sprawling out onto the trail but with no adverse effects.  We were done by that time, mentally and physically.  We vowed to return next summer, however, and complete the entire system; but also decided it would be important to begin in the morning when we would have more daylight and energy to begin with.  We cleaned up, ate dinner, and sat around the fire reading by the combined light of the flames and Coleman lantern to the company of a family of raccoons.  

In the morning, after a breakfast of eggs and potatoes, we packed and headed south to Monroe and Twining Park where we played 18 holes of disc golf.  Todd loves this sport and can explain all of the discs, throws and technicalities.  I used two discs throughout the course and was happy if I could get to the basket in 4 throws.  Todd and his friends always play every hole of a course as a par 3 regardless of what it says it is.  According to our abilities we both played the front 9 holes well, but fatigue from our run the night before crept in, and we struggled down the back 9.  It was still a lot of fun though.  I've never actually golfed with clubs and a ball, and don't really plan to, but I'm guessing the feelings are similar.  You have good drives and putts as well as some near misses, or major screw ups.  Still, it's time in a great environ.

     I could camp out almost any night, anywhere, at any time (with the right equipment).  I love it.  Taking that love and sharing it with my kids on a "Dad-Outing"; and then combining that experience with activities they really enjoy, makes for good times and memories.  It was a good way to finish up Summer Break with Todd and Jodi.

     See you along The Way...

Bogged Down

     It was our 8th year heading to this "Up North", Michigan destination.  Of course what requires many hours of driving to get to now, used to only be a step out the back door growing up.  My sisters and I were raised there, playing in the rivers and lakes of Northern Lower Michigan, and driving the two track roads of the nearby state forest with my parents often led to out of the way places where adventures started.  I love my sisters, but the cousins from my Dad's side of the family are the closest thing I have to brothers.  Friends from high school, friends from college, guys I hang out with from church, or that I teach with are all connections I can or have related to in one way or another over the years; great guys and great relationships that could easily start up from where we left off from no matter how much time has gone by.  I have grown up with my cousins, however, and since we were young kids we have always gone "all out" when we've gotten together.  Along with my sisters, we would race along the lake shore where they and my Grandma lived, ice skate, sled, ski, swim, run, bike, throw apples in the orchard, shoot old bottles with BB guns or wrist-rocket sling shots, play with the animals in the barn, fish, sail and a host of other adventures.  A good visit was an exhausting visit, whether we came south to the lake or they came north to the farm and woods; either way it was the best of both worlds.
     The "Twins", Brad and Brian, were the cousins we hung out with when we were younger, but in my mid teens Chad and Sean were born and joined the ranks. 

The Seven Cousins - 1982

My Dad's side of the family was small; just he and his sister Cherie and their Mom; my Grandma.  Now, two generations since, we've exploded in numbers.  The cousins number seven between my sisters, Becky and Karen, and I and then the four boys.  By the time you add the spouses, the seventeen kids and then the dogs it's become quite a crew when we get together every few years.  Traditionally my own family has been able to carry on with our visits to the lake each winter and summer, only occasionally missing out when life's schedules get in the way.  In addition to that is this trip "Up North".  It involves Brad, Brian, Sean and I at this point; four guys for five days.  It's a lot of fun.  It's a lot of work.
     Yes!  It's finally here.  I do what I do all year...slowly wearing down until I get back here...  Here is where I rejuvenate and recharge.  Like scales from a blind man's eyes, the to-do lists and pressures fall away and leave vision. (From my 2014 journal)
     To describe what we do wouldn't make much sense to most people.  When the five days are complete, we're pretty much exhausted, but ironically refreshed at the same time.  It starts with the planning (See blog-post "Prepping for an Adventure"-February 1st, 2015) and then the packing before moving towards the drive. 

Once we arrive back in my boyhood town, we do a majority of our shopping at our favorite little "Save a Lot" grocery store owned by a high school friend and his brothers.  Usually our trip also involves a quick stop at "Jay's Sporting Goods" for fishing spinners and any other last minute, outdoor necessity and "Glen's Market" for "real" maple syrup and Bush's Baked Beans. 

These are the details that you may or may not be interested in.
     I'd love to describe what we do and how we do it from there on out; like how we drive the gravel and two-track roads to where we set up camp.  Once that's complete it's all about the cooking, cleaning, wading while fishing, hiking, running the trails and swimming to cool off and bathe.  I want to write on those things but quite simply I get bogged down in trying to even start.  It's been a week since we returned and yet this is all I've managed to crank out.
     The way this entry started, and how it's ending, may remind you of some junior high kid.  The kind of kid who has to write a 500 word essay; realizes that he's suddenly at 475 and then scraps his creative ideas and wraps it all up in two run-on sentences.  It was not my intention to mimic such an endeavor.  Partially because I've struggled, at least at this point, to put everything we do into words; partially because I think it would be better to break the whole into parts that could be written about throughout the year until we meet again; partially because some of it must remain secret.  Not secrets that remain unmentionable and hidden in silence to anyone outside of our family, although that's some of it.  It's more of a secret due to this idea of giddiness from exhaustion.  How do you explain what we do? Who would understand?  You can try in generalities without revelation I suppose.
     Take Sunday, July 19th for example.  It was Sean's birthday.  We started early.  After 5 1/2 to 6 hours of sleep (our average) we were up and getting at it.  I mention this not to be heroic, it's just what we do...and what the sun, red squirrels, chipmunks and birds allow.  Brad made coffee for himself and his brothers on a cool little "Emberlit Camp Stove" you feed little sticks into that fuel a flame.  With waders and vests on, and a pole in hand, we headed out on a trail that rides the river downstream so we could fish back.  It's about a 3 mile hike in. 

The Twins & I - Pushing Water

In addition to our regular gear, Sean was hauling eggs, sausage, cheese and potatoes (all prepared and ready to go) in a backpack.  I also had a backpack on that was filled with plates, frying pans, utensils and my flint and steel to make a fire.  Each of us carried our own fresh water from base camp's artesian spring. 

Once we found an ideal site under a canopy of large white cedars, the rest of the crew hiked down and fished up to me.  In the meantime, I had collected wood, started a fire, and started cooking breakfast.  I've dreamed about doing this for the last couple of years and it finally came into fruition.  I was able to cook out like I do all winter and combine it with trout fishing with the brothers of cousins.  These are two of my favorite things to do.

      Once fed, we fished.  To say we fished sounds easy and slightly boring.  We don't keep track of time much when we're in the bush, but as near as we can figure we were "out there" for at least 9 hours.  I run marathons.  I love running and doing strenuous activity over long periods of time.  I enjoy the feeling you get from that and then having nothing left afterwards.  When we returned that afternoon, however, I had moved beyond that frame of reference. 

Talk about being bogged down!  While fishing the river that day and even reflecting back a day later, I was elated.  There were some moments though, I must admit, that were touch and go that last hour or so as we were hiking back.  Not just for me; for all of us.  It was a warm day, our energy was depleted, and camp was still a ways away when we broke down our poles and started trudging back.  I say trudging because we still had on our waders and boots.  This is part of why our waders only last a few years. 

Sean, Brad & I - Resting in the River

When the top section of Brian's pole came up missing, I think it was Sean who voiced, "If it was me, I'd want someone to help."  We back-tracked as best we could; and retraced our trail through the goldenrod, bee balm, and bracken fern.  It was, unfortunately, to no avail; and so it was in this condition that we collapsed back into camp.  The good thing was that it was only in the afternoon; and in the far North, on the far western edge of the Eastern Time Zone, that means it would be light for quite some time yet.  I sat for a while before I could muster the energy necessary to reach down and take my boots off.  Brad and Brian jumped in a vehicle to run to a nearby store for fresh ice we needed for our coolers and to get a new pole.  I fell asleep face down for about a half hour, woke slightly discombobulated, but regained my wits enough to start a fire and begin preparing food with Sean as the boys rejoined us.  We jumped into the refreshingly cold river, behind our camp, to rinse off and revive the body.  For supper that evening we made tinfoil dinners.  I've made these a lot over the years with family and friends, but I think that time was perhaps one of the best.  Inside the double wrapped foil we added potatoes, sausage, onions, sauerkraut, mushrooms and zucchini.  Writing about it makes my mouth drool.  Our emotions warranted flashbacks of Bill Murray eating at his psychiatrist's house in the movie, "What About Bob?”  To top it off, we had a little strawberry cheesecake the Twins had picked up for Sean's birthday while they were in town.  It was heavenly.  It was what we needed.  Isn't it amazing how good food can taste when you've been outside all day and you're tired?  That meal was great regardless!

     As darkness fell, we lit our Coleman Lantern that hung from the branch of a nearby white pine.  We still had to clean up and repack things in our vehicles before going to bed.  The following day was going to be another big day, in another favorite spot; high on a ridge overlooking another snaking river.  Were we exhausted?  Yes indeed; but we've been doing this type of thing, as a pack of cousins, since we were old enough to run around.  Reflecting back on this year's trip and the past 8 years, it's rather mind boggling to think of the time honored tradition of running ourselves ragged until we're simply bogged down with permanent grins etched on our faces.
     See you along The Way...

The Great Lake

"The Greatest of the big lakes, Superior astounded the men who visited it in those early years.  The lake is known for its coldness year round, as well as its clarity.  When Laman visited Superior he watched as boulders passed slowly beneath his canoe.  Curious as to how far down they were, he tied a rag to a line and lowered it into the water.  After reeling out a hundred feet he finally hit bottom, while noting he could still make out 'every fold' in his marker.  Even today, despite all of man's efforts to pollute it, Superior's crystalline waters still surprise visitors."
(Michigan's Columbus: The Life of Douglass Houghton by Steve Lehto, 
Momentum Books-Royal Oak, Mi. 2009)

**This entry is retro...from a family vacation we took exactly two years ago today when we traveled to my Aunt Cherie & Uncle Bob's cabin in Canada, on Lake Superior's North Shore.

     I swam in the water with eyes wide open.  I looked down into the depths as if with a mask, but instead with my naked eyes.  I saw the rocks with their contours. 

Some had distinct, sharp edges at random and unique lengths and angles.  Others were worn smooth by the lapping waves and grinding ice of a year forgotten.  I can see these underwater.  Some are within toes reach.  Some are beyond the touch of my deepest dive.  Some are seen at, or below, that scary zone that exists more in my consciousness than the water itself.  My vision of the rocks beneath me in the water are made more vibrant by the bands of white, red and pink veins running through the speckled gray and white

granite.

The stripes act as beacons or soundings, leading to mysteries yet unknown underwater, underground or beyond the murkiness. 

The temperatures exhilarate in a refreshing way that heightens the senses.  It's cold, oh yes it's cold, especially when you push deep.  Yet, with the warm air and pulsating sun, the water beckons me over and over.  Surprisingly I obey.  It is not surprising that I would obey, but rather that I can, or that the water allows me to.  Typically it shocks the system and freezes your muscles and body into apathy, submission, and forgetfulness.  For some reason at this moment in time there is a chink in the armor of this mighty warrior.  Submersion is by invitation only it seems, but apparently the sword has been lowered, and it is waving me in.  I expect to have to tip-toe, inch by inch over the rocky or sandy bottom, but amazingly I can slip into the embalming liquid with hardly a gasp.  In fact, I run and jump off the rock island "launch pads" to cannonball and dive.  I laugh.  I can't help myself, and find myself partaking again and again.  My son and daughter join me and express the same wonderment and realization.  I yearn, indulge, and love a good baptism in to the Great Lake Superior.
See you along The Way...