Wondering Wilderness

Time-tested lyrics punctuate the mood in the truck. I'm with my buddy, Jason, rolling up I-75 towards Michigan's Upper Peninsula to chase woodcock and ruffed grouse on Drummond Island, a local recreational treasure and the second largest freshwater island in the states, covering 83,000 acres, and boasting over 140 miles of rugged shoreline, 133 square miles of forested landscape, and thirty-four inland lakes.

 

Well those drifter's days are past me now

I've got so much more to think about

Deadlines and commitments

What to leave in, what to leave out

Against the wind

I'm still runnin' against the wind

I'm older now but still runnin' against the wind

 

Brushing up close to the half century mark, we're both older now, but, like Seger, still running, at least sometimes, against the wind.

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It's been a tough summer for Jay, spending most days at his parent's house with his younger brother, Phillip, who has some severe disabilities, while Mom waited bedside with Dad in the hospital. Hopeful for a transplant and, frankly, running out of time. 110 days in and counting. But Dad finally has his new lungs and goes home next Tuesday. Everyone can breathe a little easier.

 

Jason never complained even though as a teacher summers are his only real respite. His chance to recharge, to gain back some of the sanity lost – most often in the river with a bamboo rod in hand, or behind the wheel of the red Tacoma blazing backroads and forgotten dirt lanes.

 

Though he was grateful for the time with his brother, the stress of Dad’s situation was getting to him. Like an old hunting shirt, he looked worn thin, threadbare, and a bit unraveled. I could see it in the lines of his face, and the tiredness in his eyes. I could hear it in the low timber of his normally commanding voice.

 

I've been wearing a mantle of heaviness too. A slower year with the business, coupled with a stressful real estate transaction, the requisite responsibilities of middle-aging, and not nearly enough nature therapy has left me worn to a nub.

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Image by Eric Shaeffer

 

We can count only a meager handful of outings together this season. Less fishing, less bird chasing, less pointless backroad joy riding, heated debates, and fireside bullshitting. Only the sporadic texts to check in on Dad or a quick phone call here and there to inquire about families and work. But the five-hour drive gives us a chance to set that right. In person, instead of blunted sentences typed on tiny, cursed electronic screens.

 

Nym, Jason's six-year-old Braque Francais, curls up in the back, feigning sleep. But there's a nervous excitement that's not easily tamped down when the gun cases get loaded, and she's not fooling anyone. I've taken to calling her "Brown Dog" after Harrison's beloved down-on-his-luck U.P. Native who goes on a road trip from Michigan to Montana in search of answers and a chance at redemption. It seems fitting.

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Image by Eric Shaeffer

 

The truth is we all need an escape – Jason, me, and even Brown Dog. A getaway. A walkabout. Some miles underfoot and fresh air in the face. And this trip, more than the hunt, is about that. No agenda, no schedule, no alarm clock. Just open spaces and time to wander. The double guns we carry are thin excuses; a way to dignify the outing. Give it purpose. Make it something more than just two aging friends walking around in the woods. But a tramp through young poplar groves, bumpy drives down unknown backroads, and the boundless joy of watching sporting dogs work, that's what we're really after.

 

It's 10:30 when we roll into Island View Resort in Cedarville, on the U.P. mainland and, like Motel 6, they've left the light on for us. Our buddy Eric and his English Setter, Cricket (soon to be dubbed White Dog), show up just a bit behind. After some quick catching up, we lay plans for the following day. Eric will be up early to hunt with another group in the area; Jason and I intend to take a more leisurely approach, sleeping in, catching up with friends in town, and then a quick hunt on the mainland before heading off to Drummond for the rest of the already abbreviated outing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The eastern sky begins to glow pink, then orange, and then yellow over the lake and through the blinds in my pine-paneled room. Jason and I busy ourselves with re-packing the truck. Brown Dog watches eagerly from the wrong side of the worn screen door. We load up and point the headlights toward Les Cheneaux Coffee – a small-batch roasting company that traces its start to a garage and a dream. Jason's friends Jen and David finally had enough of the claustrophobia of the city and took a leap of faith, moving their young family to Cedarville seven years ago to chase a simpler life closer to nature and further from people.

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About Me

​​I’m a husband and father of two adult sons who frequently out hunt, out hike, and out fish me. 

 

By day I run an advertising agency located in my home state of Michigan where I enjoy chasing whitetail, trout, and birds. Beyond Michigan you'll often find me roaming the backcountry of Montana, Colorado, Idaho, or Wyoming. 

 

I was a founding member and co-chair of the Michigan Chapter of Backcountry Hunters and Anglers and currently serve as Vice President for Pere Marquette Trout Unlimited. I am an active member of the Outdoor Writers Association of America, the Association of Great Lakes Outdoor Writers,  and the Michigan Outdoor Writers Association.

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I'm honored to be an Editor at Large and regular contributor to Strung Sporting Journal and pen a quarterly feature for Michigan Out-of-Doors Magazine. Additionally my writing has found its way into Gray's Sporting Journal, Fly Fisher, Fly Fusion, Upland Almanac, the Tom Beckbe Field Journal, Solace, and Backcountry Journal.  You can find my first book, Outside in Shorts – an award-winning collection of 29 short essays – here, and my newest book, For Everything There is a Season, here.

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I love great food, great beer, and great wine – sometimes in moderation, sometimes not. More than anything I love the outdoors. I love the smells, the sounds, the sights. Since I was a little boy fishing with my dad, pitching a pup tent in the backyard, and unwrapping pocketknives for Christmas I’ve been drawn to all things wild. 

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Allen Crater

Drop me a note at allen@stevensinc.com​

https://www.allenoutside.com/stories

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#birdhunting #uplandhunting #hunting #flyfishing #adventures #birddogs #gundogs