For People Who Love Up North
Rhythms of Leelanau
A walkabout from Suttons Bay to Glen Arbor helps our protagonist find new direction in life. A short story.
(page 2 of 4)
The sound that woke me wasn’t in a dream; rather it was outside the tent. The sun was already up, and the air felt cool and dry. I raised myself up on one elbow and listened carefully. Nothing … then a scratching noise. I was surprised to find my mind discounting the presence of bears, coyotes and bobcats in the area and feeling completely calm. I listened again, and periodic scratching sounds were definitely just outside my tent door. I slowly unzipped the door cover and noticed a large shadow on the backside of the tent, which faced the rising sun. The image moved slowly and appeared to come closer. Still I felt no fear and crawled on hands and knees to open the screen and stuck my head outside. Looking to the right I saw nothing but the familiar rows of tall pines surrounding my campsite. I turned to the left and was staring into the face of a huge porcupine not four feet away. We both froze, glaring at each other and dead silent. Normally I would have expected to jump and scream from such an encounter, yet I remained calm and after a few long seconds the big boy relaxed his seven inch long quills, sniffed the air and wandered away to a nearby pine and climbed to the top. I made a breakfast of ham and toast in my Frisbee skillet, heated the last of the prior night’s coffee again and reflected on the encounter. It struck me that a wild animal had no fear and accepted my presence without any concern.
The day was unfolding beautifully with a bright sun, low humidity, no wind and a temperature reported to approach 73. By 9:30 a.m. I was packed up and heading to the area north of Leland. My route took me back to the asphalt roads for a bit, and I managed to get some lunch in Lake Leelanau near the narrow connection joining the north and south ends. I gathered a few more supplies and pedaled to Leland where I dropped off my bike. It was exclusively a hike from here on out. I hiked north on M-22 to Gills Pier. By two o’clock I reached the high dune bluffs above the stone-laden shore. The rugged terrain leading down to the shore was steep and covered with fallen timber. By the I reached the shore the temperature had risen to 72 degrees, and I was exhausted. The mild breeze coming off the water made it very easy to stretch out on my backpack and catch a few winks. The sun was warming the sand, and as I dozed in and out of a half dozen catnaps I felt more relaxed than I had remembered in years. The lost job, the financial stress, the family strain all seemed to mellow as if I was told … Those issues are in the past. I had a clear mind ready to find and move into a new period of my life … I just didn’t know what that life would be like.
By 4:00 p.m. I was back on my feet with my pack in place and moving southwest along the shoreline. White swans by the dozens followed my movements from the water for an hour as I walked several feet off the shoreline. As I crossed over the dam at Leland where Lake Leelanau empties into Lake Michigan I headed back into the dense cedar and pine dune areas protecting the beach from the road. I finally arrived near the center of Good Harbor Bay about 10 miles south of Leland. I was very isolated and could sense the raw, natural and seductive essence of the bay. A small river known as Shalda Creek boiled with clear, fast water splashing over windfalls and rocks lying in the stream. The sound was a steady roar, which became part of the music created by screeching seagulls and a mild wind directing small waves to the shore. The creek entered the bay and headed north paralleling a dry sand bar peninsula for three hundred yards. The water flowing around the sand barrier was only a foot deep and warmed by the sun before it joined the cooler waters of the bay. I removed my shoes and walked in the creek for while when I saw a small collection of round stones jammed into a tiny jetty. They were exactly what I needed to make a fire and pitch my tent on the peninsula. The Manitous were visible from my camp, one to the south and one to the north. The day grew cloudy, and the sun withdrew from sight. The wind increased from the northwest as the waves crashed hard against the sand peninsula. The islands, dark and imposing, were stark reminders of the hazards sailors and ore carriers knew all too well. The buoy marker guiding one through the shipping channel between the mainland and the islands together with the South Manitou light house beacon were the only lights on the water. My little tent was fluttering like a frightened hummingbird. Without a sunset to enjoy I lit my lantern, settled into my novel and tried to rest. Despite the sudden change in weather for the worst my mood remained upbeat and relaxed. I read my novel for hours it seemed, occasionally nodding off for a few minutes and forgetting what I had just read. Finally I gave in and fell asleep.
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Reader Comments:
Hey Jeff:
Wonderful job on presentation..thanks so much. I've linked to my FB page and sent a blast email to about thirty of my closest friends aware I'm doing this writing thing.
Nice job!!
Tom Eurich