Up North — The Trailer Has Landed!
Whew, life has been busy up north at the trailer these days. I finally got our Pere Marquette river lot tidy enough to put the trailer on, so I hauled it up and stashed it in a farmer’s field then our whole family went up on the weekend to install it on the lot. We got the job done and are now enjoying our $1000 stylish vintage cottage on our $1500 riverfront lot.
By crazy coincidence I checked the Net to see if our family friend Owen Saunders was going to be up in Michigan playing any bluegrass. And amazingly enough the band he’s in, David Davis and the Warrior River Boys, was playing a festival right in our little northern town the very day we were headed up! They were actually playing a ghost-town of Nirvana. So it was doubly weird finding their website and seeing the date listed for a town that nothing else has happened in that I’ve ever heard of. We were excited to go up and see the show.
We got up in time for the end of their first set. They were great to hear as always. We listen to their CDs all the time but the real thing is a treat. Totally pro and high end. The MC said they’re the best band he’d had at the fest in 30 years. (Check out their VERY COOL and classy website: these guys are the Chet Baker cool-set of bluegrass. Beautiful harmonies. And, man, those guys can tour: they drove up from way down south for this one day gig, then were driving to DC that very night for a gig the next day!) They’d be playing again in a few hours.
We chatted with Owen and the band behind the stage and told him we were going to install the trailer on the lot, do a little swimming then come to hear more music. Owen liked the sound of that. Actually, I was worried about that because I feared stranding the fiddler away from his band for whatever reason. This was our first try at putting our trailer down that narrow, sandy trail, after all. But Owen piled into the jam-packed car (we put the hound in the back seat with everyone else) and we took off. I get a little rattled when I have a new person along while I’m trying to do something tricky and new. But we got to the trailer. Then the jack wouldn’t work to put the tongue on the hitch. Wasted an hour in the hot sun fiddling with it—with Owen digging in and getting ideas for all kinds of possible fixes—then gave up. We headed to the lot for a swim anyway. Martha fixed up a little dinner on the camp stove. We had a great swim—our northern creek almost gave Owen a heart attack. We got back just in time for his second set. After that he mentioned to a bandmate that the hand of God must’ve been pressing down on that jack because when he saw how narrow the entrance was to our lot it was better off not attempting it at that particular moment. Ha! He mentioned that if we got the rig partway in and got stuck, the trailer would be blocking the big Town Car into the woods like a cork in a wine bottle and then we’d have some hasty chainsawing to do to get the car out. Ah yes. After more fine music, it was night so we just went and slept in the trailer in the storage field. In the morning, I took off the tricky rusted bolts holding the jack and manually got it hitched up. Then the power-steering blew! Hooeee! Then we drove with great fretfulness to attempt the install. Amazingly enough just as we parked the rig in front of the last-chance spot before we’d have to commit to the plunge, our neighbor showed up in a huge new 4WD truck. They hadn’t visited their lot across from ours in years. And eagerly offered the assistance of all their power if we got stuck. Cool. As Martha chatted with his wife and kids I decided to just go for it and came barreling down the 2-track trail in our rig. In a split second I had to cut into our entrance which had quite an uphill bank to it as it headed into the woods. A big oak leaned into the driveway to make things even more interesting. Vrrooom…then I was in! —Minus a small door stop that got peeled off the trailer by the oak on the way in. Hey, a quarter-inch to spare isn’t bad. In short order we had the trailer in place and I was off for a swim. Whew! Owen would be curious, and happy, to know we made it.
See if you can spot the entrance to our lot driveway in the image below. You’ve just come swooping down a narrow sandy hill. Quick, turn right! While steering a rig that’s like turning a tank—no power-steering! But miss the oak!
The next day we went canoeing with our other pals who’d recently bought land near us on the Pine River. Then, of all things, on a little stroll after dinner, Daisy got lost. What to do. Checking our phone messages a couple hours later on a lark we were shocked to find a message from folks who had found Daisy! They were staying nearby and would call again. We tried calling their cellphone and left messages. No call back. The next day we kept trying, no luck. We were baffled. Our friends were then leaving town. On their way out they decided to try the cell # again and amazingly the lady answered. She hadn’t been able to get any reception til then and didn’t know how to check her messages. Where was she? Well, on their way home to Grand Rapids (100+ miles from us) with Daisy but right then on their way into Baldwin. Well, that’s where our friends were! They made an instant pull over with the dog rescuers who were right there! In a couple minutes our pals came driving back into our trailer and said they had a present for us: and out hopped Daisy!
That crazy dog. A few weeks ago she got into her first porcupine. Last week it was her first skunk. Now her first run-away! And she’s almost 10 years old!
OK, while we packed up that morning and waited for the people to call, we needed to get lunchready. My brother had been talking bad about fishermen, calling them wasters of time, not really fishing but playing in the water with fish stuff, saying he’d tried everything but mostly had bad luck, that it’s not a good way to get food, that’s for sure. So I strolled down to our creek with my fishing pole and worms. I noticed a guy fishing on thru with a spinner. I didn’t see him get a bite. It’s rare to see someone down there but it happens. I waited a bit out of sight til he got out of sight then started fishing the other way. I immediately caught a nice foot-long Brown trout. Then a few minutes later in a hole 50 yards away I caught a foot-long rainbow. OK, that’s enough for lunch. That’s how ya do it!
But I do have a trick. I use light line, a small hook and small sinker and a big crawler that I hide the hook inside so no point sticks out. I flip the crawler into a deep hole. I can usually tell pretty soon when a small fingerling trout grabs the worm and starts wrestling with it. There are lame little fiesty tugs this way and that. I let the little one do his thing and drag the worm deep into the hole. I wait about 5 minutes. At some point I usually start to get a different feeling on the line, bigger, with longer, firmer motions in the water. A big fish will steal the crawler from the little one when the ruckus makes him angry enough. I set the hook and the fight begins. It’s good fun and lets you catch fish for food.
Henry didn’t want to watch me clean the fish, but Lucy did.
I’m thinking, though, that all this one-on-one catching of wild food is for the birds. I think trapping is the way to go. Hooking and shooting things actually probably results in quite a few inevitable woundings. But a proper trap set for the desired kind of critter will catch that critter and not let go and dispatch him or whatever is supposed to happen. Then all you do is not catch more than your limit, or whatever level the habitat will bear, which might be less than the limit. The prime directive of conservation—game laws be durned—is to keep the populations healthy. Otherwise, the critters don’t give a rip how they’re caught and even by conservation the method is immaterial. It’s only part of this one-sided ‘sport’ conceit. And I’m not about sport, I’m about dinner. So I’m thinking: fish trap, duck trap, turkey trap, rabbit trap, deer trap. No fooling around. Pelt prices aren’t very good, but if they were, then add in the furbearers. But for now the meatbearers will do for me. Just go out and set your trap, then do something else constructive, then go check it and bring the game on home. It’s something to consider anyway.
All the week I was home my hands were stiff and kinda numb—from driving without power, I think. That was tough!
So the next weekend I went up on my own and tidied up the lot even further, cutting up logs that were laying around off to the side of the clearing and hauling fresh cut brush into a pile out of sight. Man, you get sweaty and dirty doing that kind of thing. A quick cold swim is just the thing. Then if it’s lunch, a stop in at Jones Family Ice Cream Shop will set you right. In the morning I had fresh wild blueberries on my cereal and made coffee on a fire. On the drive up, I always stop at Mishler’s Drive-In in Evart at the two-hour point. It’s a great break, and a cute oldtime family/teenager place. It’s what summer is all about. None of this franchise minimall crapola. Gimme an oldstyle ramshackle cottage-style drive-in with frosty mugs any day.
The photo below would be embarrassing for most folks, but what the heck. It suggests a little of the sweat and dirt.
And here’s just a generally cute pic of the drive into the lot.
OK, I finally went and bought the ultimate coffee fire starter. At 10″ it’s the world’s littlest hatchet. My other regular hatchet actually was seeming too big for making small kindling. Then I found this one online. It’s Swedish. The Euro is way-strong right now but what the hey, they only last 100 years. I like how the ax-head is made to droop down along the handle. That’s so you can choke up on your grip and use it like a knife for slicing or rocker chopping. Dang it’s sweet. We’ve used it on cheese and venison chops so far but no fires. (Skywoods Canoe, where I got mine from a guy I know, if you want one and feel like splurging. Rutabaga might have one for less, but is a bigger store. I know those guys, too, so it was a toss-up. Scott at Skywoods will brand yours with initials: he’s going to do mine with “OYB”—maybe I’ll use it as a magazine contest prize someday!)
