My first pike. Just kidding. I'm not that old (Photo by Wystan) |
There was one television in our
cabin with a built-in antenna that picked up a lot of static but very few
stations. Other than a radio that could receive local stations and Ernie
Harwell calling Tigers games on WJR from Detroit, we were cut off from the
outside world. No handheld video games. No internet. No smartphones.
When we needed civilization, we
might take a quick car ride to the bakery in Hessel for some amazing donuts or
to the Red Owl grocery store. My dad also would load all of us into our rented
boat and take us to the Bon Air shop in Cedarville where we would eat ice cream
and I would supply myself with comic books and candy.
Other than these brief flirtations
with civilization, my siblings and I were forced to entertain ourselves by
fishing, swimming, water skiing, catching crayfish near the dock, taking a
rowboat out into the marshes, running through the woods and playing hide and
seek while swimming under the docks. At night we would eat the fish we caught during
the day, pop some Jiffy Pop on the stove, and play card games, or we would have
a bonfire and roast marshmallows and hotdogs.
Before I was old enough to waterski
or fish for pike, the most thrilling moment was when my dad would steer our
boat through a channel that he called Danger Pass. As we approached Danger
Pass, sometimes he would let me steer. I never understood why it was dangerous,
but the name alone caused me to grasp the wheel with such force that my
knuckles turned white. I do not know if my dad drove slowly because of wake
restrictions or to make the ride more dramatic, but I always was on the lookout
for crocodiles, swamp monsters, pirates and unknown threats that I was too
afraid to imagine. Even when I was too old to be scared of Danger Pass, I would
still ask my dad to let me slowly pilot the boat to safety, knowing that he
enjoyed these moments as much as, if not more than, I did.
I never have loved fishing as much
as I did in the U.P. My earliest memories of fishing were at private dock we
called Doc Diamond's. I still am not sure if we had permission to use this
property, but my dad would take us across the bay and tie our boat to Doc
Diamond’s dock.
The dock had a boathouse attached
with several windows that let sunbeams pierce the dark water inside. We would
fish from the dock, but my favorite spot was inside the boathouse. The rock
bass inside the boathouse were the easiest prey for a young fisherman. The
sunbeams coming through the windows acted as spotlights on the schools of tiny rock
bass swimming below the surface. My dad would hook a worm onto a line connected
to an old bamboo fishing pole, and I would watch the fish swimming in the
sunbeam until I found the one I desired. I then would drop the worm in front of
the fish and watch it quickly latch onto the hook. In one swift motion, I would
yank the poor fish up onto the dock, proudly displaying my catch to my parents
and siblings.
When I was old enough, I was allowed
to go on the early morning pike-fishing excursions with my parents. I thought
trolling for pike in the cool early morning mist was boring, until the first
pike hit my line and the struggle to reel in the fish began. The first time I
caught a pike, I did not believe a fish could fight that hard. The rock bass at
Doc Diamond's should have been ashamed by the ease in which they were caught.
This pike was not going to surrender that quickly. I felt that for every inch I
took, the pike took two. That first pike was testing my will, but after our
game of tug-o-war was over, I proudly pulled the pike into the boat. Even
though I have not done any serious fishing in years, I still treasure the one
year that I had the honor of pulling in the biggest fish of our summer trip, a
38-inch pike. My parents and brothers caught bigger pike over the years, but
that summer will always be mine.
It has been years since I have been
to the U.P. I miss driving over the Mackinac Bridge, the cool waters of Lake
Huron, and the tree-shrouded shorelines of the Les Cheneaux Islands. I hear the
Bon Air is gone, and I’m sure most rental houses and cabins have cable or
satellite television now, but the woods are still there. The water is still
there.
(Photo by abarndweller) |
[To read part I of Summers in the U.P., click here]
I can't speak to the rental cabins but our cottage still has no cable or satellite. Of course, we only got electricity for the first time in 1996 so we're happily a bit more primitive than most.
ReplyDeleteThe area has indeed changed some but you should go back. It's still heaven up there.
Kristen, thank you for the comment. I hope to get back up there soon. A friend of mine recently posted pictures of her summer trip to the Les Cheneaux Islands on her Facebook page. It still looks beautiful.
ReplyDeleteReally nice article, and nice pic looking out across Hessel Bay...thanks!
ReplyDeleteThank you for the kind words. I cannot take credit for the photo though. Last time I was there, we did not have digital cameras. I was thinking of scanning some family pics, but this photo was stunning.
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