Shared Words

 

Three of my cousins and I have headed into the woods and rivers of Northern Michigan to camp and fish for almost sixteen years now.  The outing has become the lifeblood of our adventurous spirit.  And while this yearly excursion lacks most frills, it works for us, and we like it that way.

We prepare by following a packing checklist.  We know that list by heart after nearly two decades of honing our skills, but it’s a tradition, so we at least look it over each year.  Lord knows you wouldn’t want to forget something.  You may never live it down with the ribbing you may take in camp!  Since we began in 2008, the list has been worked and reworked to the point that it’s been narrowed to one concise page.  At different times, in certain years, it’s carried a snarky comment or two due to a holdover joke or circumstance from the previous year; usually stated in jest, or to make a point, and then deleted the following summer.

As with most traditions that develop and morph, our packing list has gotten better with time.  After a year or two under our belts I began adding a quote or two at the top of the list; typically from books or articles that I’d read since our last outing.  I included quotes with meaning, purpose, and passion of what we commonly share; a love for the outdoors.  We were all raised to appreciate and protect Mother Earth.  That respect was equally seen between the smallest leopard frog or the greatest of white pines; ticks, deer flies, and mosquitoes notwithstanding!

The books, authors, and quotes added each year are meaningful to me, and once typed on the packing list, to my cousins as well.  Below are the colorful and fragrant sentences over the last sixteen years.  If any of these timeless words speak to you personally, this blog entry suddenly becomes a shared library you may want to check out and add to your “must reads.”  On the cusp of heading Up North again this summer, Enjoy!

See you along The Way…

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PACKING LIST QUOTES

THROUGH THE YEARS

 

2008

Yikes!  I’m almost afraid to type this out…after writing it in a spiral it seems like a lot, but I guess it’s not too bad when it all comes together.  In other words, I’m sure it’s not a big problem to get a semi-trailer down into the campground (insert semi truck sound here while pumping your fist up and down).  Dad says, (And this refers more to backpacking when you don’t have a truck to stash things in), ‘If you’re not sure you need it, leave it home’!” - Mike Rhines

 

2009

 

“Nothing in this world so enlivens my spirit and emotions as the rivers I know.  They are necessities.  In their clear, swift or slow, generous or coy waters, I regain my powers; I find again those parts of myself that have been lost in cities.  Stillness.  Patience.  Green thoughts.  Open eyes.  Attachment.  High drama.  Earthiness.  Wit.  The Huck Finn I once was.  Gentleness.  ‘The life of things.’  They are my perne within the whirling gyre.”

- Nick Lyons:  Full Creel

(For the Record I had to look these words up: perne=shining moments & gyre =circle)

 

2010

 

“I’ve noticed that many of the people I’ve really enjoyed fishing with over the years have turned out to be sturdy peasant stock from Michigan.  I don’t know what it is about the anglers from that state, but you can spot it: some kind of casual facility with difficulty, or the belief that suffering is the only promise life keeps, so that when things go even a little bit right, it’s like a gift.”

- John Gierach:  Standing in a River Waving a Stick

2011

 

“We ended up fishing a generous handful of small streams before we completed an uneven loop and started back.  I guess it did amount to an awful long way to go for a few trout, but trips like this have nonetheless become a kind of part-time life’s work.  The idea is to fish obscure headwater creeks in hopes of eventually sniffing out an underappreciated little trout creek down an unmarked dirt road.  “Why” is another question.  I suppose it’s partly for the fishing itself and partly to satisfy your curiosity, but mostly to sustain the belief that such things are still out there to find for those willing to look.”

“I like everything about fishing, but especially this walk in…You never know what to expect – but the goal of going fishing has already been accomplished, so the rest is the aimless, doglike happiness of being outside and off your leash.”

- John Gierach:  No Shortage of Good Days

 

2012

 

“Needing Supplies, we stopped at an old, unpainted crossroads store.  There was everything imaginable for sale in that store: snowshoes, shotguns and deer rifles, and even a yoke for oxen.  You could buy groceries as well as brightly colored yard goods, snow packs, and bear traps.  There was also merchandise more fascinating to me, such as excellent split fly rods and hand-tied trout flies which I viewed with longing.

The stream came winding toward us over and under mossy logs.  It tumbled through the remains of an abandoned beaver dam, and ran like quicksilver across the beaver meadow where the meadow larks added their music to that of the water.

Other fish can fight, but there is nothing quite like a big trout for style and grace and courage – as though they drew strength from the whole wilderness.”

- Sterling North:  Rascal

2013

 

“Outside it’s easy to abandon every convention and prejudice and get down to the messy business of being an animal, alive.  When you’re rooting around in the water or the woods, miles from the nearest strip mall and office complex, nobody is likely to judge you by your clothing or your skin color or your political orientation, and if they do you don’t give a damn anyway.  Fishing – or hunting or photographing birds or cutting firewood – frees you of such nonsense.  If you want society, convention, comfort, and safety, stay home.  If you want your life to be a joyous romp, get outside.”

- Jerry Dennis:  The River Home

 

As the years go by we have become campers & fisherman with great equipment (or at least the equipment that gets us by) but are still minimalists to a certain extent (knowing that the experiences are what we’re after…and that we’ve pretty much gone in every type of weather over the years and have been able to enjoy it). -Mike Rhines

 

2014

 

“Everyone needs such quiet times, some solitude to recoup his sense of perspective.  One does not have to be in a canoe or in some remote wilderness.  I find such times at night when I do much of my reading, but to me when solitude is part of wilderness it comes more surely and with greater meaning.  Since the time when man often traveled alone, hunting and foraging, all this became part of him.  It is easy to slip back into the ancient grooves of experience…When I am fly-fishing for brook trout, alone on some favorite stream, the sense of hurry is gone and time seems endless…Trout fishing for me is not the taking of fish, but being at one with the stream and all the sights and sounds.  The great Leonardo da Vinci said in 1512, “The eye, which is called the window of the soul, is the chief means whereby the understanding may most fully and abundantly appreciate the infinite works of nature, and the ear is the second, inasmuch as it acquires its importance from the fact it hears the things which the eye has seen.”  I have often thought of that, and wondered if this most perspective of minds had ever stood in a quiet pool as I have.”

- Sigurd F. Olson:  Reflections from the North Country

“When they landed, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread.  Jesus said to them, ‘Bring some of the fish you have just caught’.”

- John 21: 9-10

2015

 

“Studying maps is a sure way to make yourself miserable.  Those two-dimensional representations of our multidimensional world have a way of igniting wanderlust and over exciting the imagination.  Follow the meandering blue line of a river into a sprawling blue maze of lakes and you can easily slip into an idealized version of the place.” 

- Jerry Dennis: “From a Wooden Canoe”

 

“I think we’ve finally given up on the idea of the fishing trip of a life time and now see each expedition as just part of a lifetime of fishing trips.”

- John Gierach: “Standing in a River Waving a Stick”

 

“Simon Peter…dragged the net ashore.  It was full of large fish…Jesus said to them, ‘Come and have breakfast’.”

- John 21:11-12a

 

2016

“The only conclusion I have ever reached is that I love all trees, but I am in love with pines.”

“The song of a river ordinarily means the tune that waters play on rock, root, and rapid.”

“The elemental simplicities of wilderness travel were thrills not only because of their novelty, but because they represented complete freedom to make mistakes.  The wilderness gave them their first taste of those rewards and penalties for wise and foolish acts which every woodsman faces daily, but against which civilization has built a thousand buffers.  These boys were ‘on their own’ in this particular sense.”

- Aldo Leopold:  A Sand County Almanac

2017

“Beyond the road and maples is the river, with its own movement and its own life.  Lakesides have their charm and personality, but after living with this river for ten years I know that my personal choice is flowing water.  A river comes from somewhere, flows past my wondering eyes, and goes on to some other place.  It has movement, change, and there is a sense of both time and eternity in it.  The river tells me that so long as there are heights and lowlands on earth, water will continue to flow and life will persist.  A river, flowing water, not only has its own life – it is life.  I am prejudiced about rivers, and I shall have more to say about them.”

- Hal Borland:  Beyond The Doorstep

2018

“There’s a rhythm on the inside to what you see on the outside...But if you get down on your belly, crawl through the weeds to the edge, and stare deep into the water; if you get on the inside and slow down and breathe it in, then you get to know it.”

- John Luthens: Taconite Creek

“Of course there are many of us, and I am now one of them, for whom a day on a trout river is so pleasant an event, such an amiable and engaging pastime, that it feels, both going and coming back, as comfortable as an old shoe.  We go for the sheer joy of it, not to put notches in our rods.  We go because no day on a trout stream lacks mystery, surprise, wonder, and suspense...I like to fish water I’ve fished a hundred times before, water that shares history with me, that I see in my head, going and coming back.”

- Nick Lyons: My Secret Fishing Life

2019

“Being in nature can restore our mood, give us back our energy and vitality, refresh and rejuvenate us.  We know this deep in our bones. It is like an intuition, or an instinct, a feeling that is sometimes hard to describe.” 

- Dr. Qing Li: Forest Bathing

“I would rather have a body of scars and a head full of memories than a life of regrets and perfect skin.”

- Atticus: Love Her Wild

“Not everything that counts can be counted, and not everything that can be counted counts.”

- A sign that used to hang over Albert Einstein’s office at Princeton University

2020

“The North grabs some people and never lets go.  It doesn’t care if you were once a carpenter or a bank president, and after a while, neither do you.” 

- Dennis Weidemann: This Water Goes North

“I got up and made my way upstream, stepping on wet stones and moss covered boulders, careful not to tear the moss with the rough soles of my boots.  A stream boulder, with moss and other small plants and fungi growing on it, is a world unto itself-a miniature planet Earth with a rock core, a soft crust, water, vegetation, and even animal life.”

- Jim Arnosky: Nearer Nature

“I like the wild, beautiful country where trout are often found, the solitude of walking along a river and being drawn more completely into the landscape, and how the sound of a fast-flowing stream could wash away my blues.” 

- Bill Barich: Crazy For Rivers

2021

“To the trout fisherman, who are always searching for the spring-fed headwaters of streams, they [logging roads] are a godsend.  What devotee of the elusive speckled trout but remembers long hikes through the dewy brush of old tote roads, and who hasn’t caught a good one beneath the fallen timbers of some long-unused bridge?”

- Sigurd F. Olson: Listening Point

“During times when we’re not in physical contact with the wilderness, just knowing it is here is a comforting thought, but actually being here is what we dream about, so we try to make the most of this experience.”

- John Highlen: “Painting the Boundary Waters” (The Boundary Waters Journal - Fall 2020)

“For me, I just know in my gut that I need the solitude of the wilderness with time to reflect, be silent, and listen to my Creator.  I need to exert my full body in heavy exercise and know the tiredness and sweat of true exertion.  Our six-day disconnect from modern society has begun.”

- Rollie Johnson: “Plan K” (The Boundary Waters Journal - Winter 2020)

2022

“It seems a good portion of my time in the woods is spent hunkered, propped or slouched in the glow of a good fire.  And it ought to be a good fire - not a raging, pep-rally bonfire, but a healthy, well conceived fire that burns with the right attitude.”

- Sam Cook: “Your Fire, My Fire.” Up North.

“But the place which you have selected for your camp, though never so rough and grim, begins at once to have its attractions, and becomes a very center of civilization to you: ‘Home is home, be it never so homely’.” 

- Henry David Thoreau: “Friday, July 31.” Canoeing In The Wilderness.

“If children do not attach to the land, they will not reap the psychological and spiritual benefits they can glean from nature, nor will they feel a long term commitment to the environment, to the place…Passion is lifted from the earth itself by the muddy hands of the young; it travels along grass-stained sleeves to the heart.  If we are going to save environmentalism and the environment, we must also save an endangered indicator species: the child in nature.” 

- Richard Louv: “The Best Of Intentions.” Last Child In The Woods.

(Yup, that’s how we were raised : )

2023

“Filled with ozone, our pulses bound, and are warmed and quickened into sympathy with everything, taken back into the heart of nature, whence we came.”

- John Muir: “The Alaska Trip.” Wilderness Essays.

“The river is often used in literature as a metaphor for life, and aren’t both made richer by sharing the stories that occur along the way and isn’t that what life is about; creating and sharing memories, telling stories?”

- Don Miller: “The John Day Escape.” Life Afloat.

“It is all woven together now - the bird sounds, the forest smells, the anticipations of the coming season.  Now we know to go no matter what the weather will be and that, likely as not, we’ll come across some small event worth remembering… 

The North is rich with the glories of life.  Sometimes you have to poke your nose in the dirt, and sometimes you have to muck around in the swamps and sometimes you have to get up with the geese.

But it’s there, awaiting discovery.”

- Sam Cook: “Moving Pictures.” Quiet Magic.

2024

But we are governed more than we know, and most when we are wildest.

- John Muir: “Wild Wool.” Wilderness Essays.

When I’m fishing I’m able to lose myself completely. I love to slowly and stealthily wade up the river, focusing completely on the current, casting without the trout seeing me or feeling vibrations caused by my footsteps. I wade carefully and quietly, making long casts - hopefully before the fish are aware of my presence. When absorbed in such a pursuit, it’s hard for any other thought to enter my mind. If I’m really lucky, just for a fleeting second I become part of the river, curling around the next bend, coursing through the rapids, alive, connected. - Michael J. Tougias: “Building A New Definition Of Home Improvement.” There’s A Porcupine In My Outhouse

Bushwacking isn’t for everyone, but it enhances our experience and heightens intangible values we get traveling this wonderful wilderness.

- Frelke & Donley: “A Devine Bushwack.” BWJ (Summer 2024)

2025

You slow down when you get to camp. You begin to notice the little things again - a shift in the wind, fresh tracks, the angle of the sun.  And when it’s time to leave, you come away with a new perspective. Humility is part of it. An appreciation for the simple life. And simply feeling right with the world again. - Sam Cook: (p.1) "Camp Sights." Camp Sights

In water that departs forever and forever returns, we experience eternity.

- Mary Oliver: (p.114) Upstream

The sense of belonging, of being at home in the wilderness, is profound.  There is no place I’d rather be. - Leo Keane: (p.26) “The Geezer Brigade Rides Again.” BWJ (Fall 2024)

2026

It had been a hard trip. He was very tired. That was done. He had made his camp. He was settled. Nothing could touch him. It was a good place to camp. He was there, in a good place. He was in his home where he had made it. Now he was hungry. 

- Earnest Hemingway: (p.19)  Big Two-Hearted River

The trout, seldom over eight or nine inches in length, could grow no larger in such little waters, but they made up for lack of size with beauty and dash.

- Sigurd Olson: (p.17) Of Time And Place

Nailing down the definition of a summer trip is like nailing Jello to a tree—the complexities can change by the week. - Rob Kesselring: (p.34) “Drilling Down In The BWCAW.” BWJ (Summer 2025)

Unexpected Friends

 

It wasn’t your typical Spring Break trip; in that it wasn’t somewhere far away, with other family members, or located within walking distance of a beach.  Heck, it really wasn’t typical in any fashion or form, which is why it was perfect for me and helped to fill the void of wanting to do something adventurous over the couple of days that I had off from teaching.  Although I have enjoyed a warm weather getaway a time or two in the past, it would not be this year with future travels already planned for graduations in different parts of the country later that spring.  And so it was, that despite freezing cold temperatures predicted throughout the night, I decided to take to a wild river, in a relatively close vicinity, for an overnight camp out.

I gathered and prepared my gear without too much of an issue.  And although getting the hefty canoe up on top of my Jeep was difficult without any help, I didn’t strain any tendons or pull any muscles, so I counted that as a success.  At one point, however, while strapping down the Starcraft to my rooftop, I forgot that the darn thing hung down low on each end of the vehicle.  After attaching the hook for one of the cam buckle straps, I walked around the back end of the Jeep so I could tighten down the canoe and secure it from the other side.  Unfortunately I was looking down at another hook that I needed to attach to the trailer hitch and didn’t see the stern that was level with my noggin and ran headlong into it!  It rang my bell and hurt like the dickens of course, but I remained eerily calm about it until I went inside to explain to my wife Cindy what I had done.  Then I lost it for a few unsavory moments within the confines of my house.  Once the initial pain had somewhat subsided, and I had regained my wits about me, I finished my preparations; all the while silently scoffing at myself for the self inflicted blunder.

Cindy and I then took off towards the drop off point under sunny skies in the late afternoon.  I would have just enough time to paddle down the river and set up my camp before the sun set.  Upon our arrival at the launch, and with a quick goodbye, I shoved off with my gear piled high.

CLICK BELOW FOR A VIDEO OF

PADDLING ON THE RIVER:

To watch the video you may need to change the "view version"

at the bottom of the page.

Several hours later I pulled alongside the inside bank of a sharp bend.  There was little to no gradual incline of sand to run up upon due to the high water of the snow melt, so I found a cut in the shore where I could wedge the bow.  It was there that I unloaded the supplies and found a suitable site nestled back in under the bare branched trees of the surrounding forest.  I tried to work smart and efficiently because I could see my time was limited before darkness fell.

The Setting Sun Behind My Camp.

With the tent set-up I threw in my sleeping bags and wool blanket; other various items I stored under the fly of my tent.  Using some of my remaining energy, I dragged my canoe back into the woods using a semi-worn deer trail that ran just beyond the footprint of my camp.  Already my hands were getting cold and I periodically stopped to warm them after adding additional layers of clothing.

The Rising Moon.

Dinner was a brat and baked beans washed down with some hot chocolate.  The food was as welcoming as the warmth of the small fire while the last rays of the setting sun were replaced by its reflection off the rising moon.  The stars, in vivid clarity, were absolutely spectacular.  The distinction of “Orion the Hunter” was unlike anything I had ever seen.  Without a hint of light pollution, other than the surrounding celestial bodies, I could identify each of the key components of this well known constellation.  Typically people can locate Orion’s Belt, but to be able to clearly see each star that creates his outline and instruments for hunting, was downright memorable.  With that image burned into my mind, I cleaned off my dishes in the river, snuffed out the dying embers of the fire, and got ready for bed.

Planets To The West.

The Moon And The Stars.
Can You Locate All Of Orion The Hunter?

Since cold air sinks to the lowest elevation, and I was camped along the river’s edge, the temperatures dropped down into the high teens that evening.  With nothing more than a well ventilated nylon tent for my shelter, I doubled my two sleeping bags (one inside the other), wrapped them in a wool blanket, and laid it on top of a sleeping pad.  I myself wore wool socks and my running tights under a pair of flannel pants.  My upper body was insulated with a T-shirt, long sleeve shirt, and a hoodie sweatshirt.  The ensemble was completed wearing a stocking hat with my hoodie pulled up and over that to prevent any cold drafts down my back.  Despite having to bundle up, I slept soundly once my feet were warm, and only slightly stirred to the several times that I was serenaded by barred owls and coyotes off in the distance.

The following morning was cold!  It was hard to do anything for any length of time before I had to put something back on my hands and try to warm them up.  That limited my dexterity!  I cooked breakfast over a little burner stove that my Dad had given me a year or so ago.  The skillet I made consisted of my final brat, two small potatoes, and a couple of eggs.  It was just enough.  My tent was covered in a thin layer of frost; the result of frozen condensation, but I went ahead and packed it away knowing that I’d have to dry out my gear later that afternoon.  I ruffled the leaves and scattered some sticks to erase any signs of my camp.

Erasing The Footprint From My Tent.

Snow Was Still Evident Around
The Base Of Trees.

It was about that time that I saw a pair of pileated woodpeckers.  This species of bird is huge as woodpeckers go, and about the size of a crow, although they look more like a pterodactyl.  One of them flew further up the river.  Throughout the rest of the morning I often heard this one, although it was no longer visible.  The other remained close by my camp.  I quickly took a few distorted pictures from a distance with my phone.  Then I grabbed my camera that has a decent lens on it so I could try to get a more distinct profile snapshot.  The bird was so quick in its movements that I literally couldn’t react fast enough; even after trying to warm my frozen fingers.  I watched and marveled at the show it was putting on for me in full display.  Despite not hammering away at strong, fibrous wood that produces the loud jackhammer-like sounds, it was very interesting to observe how it was getting insects from within the rotting trunk of an old cottonwood tree that lay sprawled on the forest floor.  It worked methodically, as a seasoned woodsman was wont to do with an ax; in the lumbering days within the once great, pine forests of the North.  Chiseling first at one angle, it would then reposition and chip away from an equal but opposite angle that slanted away from the imaginary and perpendicular line that descended down from where its mighty branches once extended into the canopy and sky.  The result was huge chunks of soft wood that were quietly and easily removed to get to where tender morsels of arthropomorphic food were lying in wait.

CLICK BELOW FOR A VIDEO OF

THE PILEATED WOODPECKER AT WORK:

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at the bottom of the page.

After some time, I slowly backed away and began carrying my supplies down to the river’s edge.  As I readied my canoe, and prepared to load the gear, I saw the pileated woodpecker continuing in its quest for food; working on the same log.  I glanced at the clock on my phone and figured that I still had a few extra minutes to spare.  I again grabbed my camera, took a breath, and slowly advanced towards the bird.  I already had taken a gazillion pictures prior; one or two that looked sort of okay.  This time I was relaxed and figured anything gained now was extra.  I progressed with purpose by taking a picture and then taking a step closer.  Following each step, my finger clicked the button of the camera as I tried to guess the instant it would raise its head.  Every once in a while I was able to do just that!  The experience turned into one of those once in a lifetime moments.  The woodpecker remained undisturbed by my presence, and I was able to walk and stand within 12-15 feet of it while it worked to eat.  Perhaps I could have gotten even closer, but I didn’t want to push the limits and betray its trust by getting any nearer than what I did!  It's a moment I’ll never forget, and one now preserved in a picture.  It’s a picture I was fortunate to capture at the right moment and at such a close range. Within it I can easily see into the pupil of the woodpecker's eye and detect the texture on the tip of its feathers.  In the end I merely put the camera down and watched.  The bird was vibrant and spectacular.  For all I know it’s still there chipping away with precision while extracting delicious ants, termites, and grubs.  After a respectful amount of time I stepped quietly away and left without distraction.

THE TWO (BELOW) ARE MY FAVORITES!

Following a couple of hours worth of paddling, I met Cindy at my take out point.  I was tired, but I was fulfilled.  While I had started out on a solo journey, it quickly turned into a shared adventure with unexpected friends.  Not only was I able to enjoy the overwhelming hospitality of the river, forest, and cold, but I was also afforded the opportunity to revel in the company of both Orion the Hunter and a pileated woodpecker.  It’s an experience that I aim to keep lodged deep in my noggin (beyond the bruise from the canoe), because as outings tend to go, it really wasn’t typical in any fashion or form; which is why it was perfect for me.

See you along The Way…

A Plug Of Cedar Left Behind As A
Thank You For My Time Spent
With "Unexpected Friends."