|
By: Jim Fitzpatrick |
|
Email: jim@nunica.com |
|
Local Farmer in Polkton Township writes for the Coopersville Observer. |
|
Along Brandy Creek By Jim Fitzpatrick
The Coopersville Observer January 31, 2011- - No. 104 |
|
Brandy Creek was ice covered, the quietness of winter had settled over the farm. The New Year arrived with little snow on the ground. The boy on the farm is eighteen years old. His thoughts are filled with doing many things and venturing off to distant places. His college classes wouldn’t resume for more than two weeks. He suggested that he and his dad pack up the pickup truck with all the winter gear and groceries that they could imagine being needed for a week long trip into the Upper Peninsula. They would go up there and rough it for a few days, in a cabin that his dad was familiar with back when he was a boy.
After staying up past mid-night in celebration of the New Year, sleeping in and eating a late breakfast; heading north didn’t happen till early afternoon. Would they make the straights before sundown? Maybe. The dad drove for a time, then Will took over the wheel. Wasn’t long and the boy said, “Dad, were pull’n over, it’s time to eat!” So they did and the Grayling Restaurant served up some very nice fried White Fish. Off they went again, the wind blow’n northwest; snow in the air made it hard to see the road. The sky was getting dark, a storm was in the making as they came upon “the bridge” in semi-darkness. A man in a yellow coat on the approach said, “not in this blow, you’ll have to park it til the wind settles down”. So they did and waited and wondered in the darkness for a time. Wasn’t long and the air settled some; the man said “it’ll be alright now but drive slowly and watch yourself up there as you cross over to the other side.
The cabin was dark and cold at the late night hour. A thermometer on the wall registered slightly above zero. Only a few scraps of fire wood were left in the wood shed, enough to fire the stove and bank it up for the night. Two down sleeping bags each would make it just right. Tomorrow there would be time to cut wood.
Will and his dad put the place in order, kept the fire going day and night; they settled in for their stay in the wilderness. Snow cover was light so they wouldn’t need the snowshoes they had brought along. The temperature went down near zero every night. A big green hand pump outside was their water supply, oil lamps and gas lights lit up the interior when the sun went down. There is an outhouse just out the back door.
The days passed all too quickly. An ancient basswood tree was cut and split into firewood; walks along the two track investigating other deer hunting camps took up most of a day. Hours of adventure through the forest to the east and south took them through cedar swamps, across lake-sized beaver ponds, into hard wood high country and down along small streams and rivers seldom visited outside of the fall deer hunting season. A day trip in the pick-up truck with Tom, of Tom and Kathy over on Sandtown Road, took them to Tahquamenon Falls on one late afternoon.
Packing up on the last day wasn’t at all what Will and his dad wanted to do. Will thought spending the rest of the winter in the UP wouldn’t be a bad idea; forget about books, classes, work - all that seemingly, for the moment at least, unnecessary stuff. |
