One of northern Michigan’s greatest assets is its winter versatility. We can ski, snowshoe, snowmobile, ice fish, hike, hunt small game and chase steelhead. But after I’ve had my fun during the fall’s chaotic pursuit of everything from ducks to deer to salmon to grouse and woodcock, my outdoor urge changes to relaxation, especially once those seasons close and winter’s snow and cold squashes that drive to hunt and fish.
While all sportsmen and women achieve some form of serenity during their outings, a buck under the tree or a bird dog locked up tight on a grouse does the opposite to your blood pressure. And thankfully so — it’s one of the main reasons we endure exhaustion and frozen fingers and leaky waders. But there’s something to be said for approaching the outdoors without a gun or rod in hand, without the stress and anxieties of chasing game. And my favorite and most relaxing activity this time of year is winter canoeing, combined with photography.
My brother Jake had never braved the icy local waters before, but he suffers from cabin fever like the rest of us. It didn’t take much cajoling to convince him how peaceful a river in winter is from a canoe. So right before the deep freeze, we put my Mad River Explorer (the Duck Hunter model … I couldn’t resist the name) into the waters at Scheck’s Campground and headed to the takeout at the old Brown Bridge Dam. We had two goals in mind — enjoy some time gabbing with each other while not tipping over. I’m happy to say we accomplished both.
Compared to heavy paddling necessary to transport a few hundred pounds of gear and dog across a lake for a duck hunt, river paddling is more steering than anything, making it easier and quiet.
All the noises associated with life on a river, from the animals’ perspective, are revealed. We were joined the entire trip by the same half dozen mallards who weren’t smart enough to fly back upstream each time we got too close. Kingfishers were getting along quite well, it seemed, as were the resident blue jays and chickadees. Two snipe were the surprise of the morning, woodcock-looking fellows who prefer marshy areas where they probe long bills into mud and silt for worms, invertebrates, insects, and the like. Normally fall migrators, they seemed to be making a good living along the Boardman’s soft edges.
I picked the section of river with a little ulterior motive because it used to be Brown Bridge Pond, a place I’d visited often since my family moved up here in 1990. Though bummed when the dam was going to be removed in 2012, I understood why from a river biology perspective. So between 2012 and 2014, in an attempt to help raise money for the restoration efforts, I documented through art the many changes that occurred along the river and eventually hosted an exhibit where I gave a portion back to help fund trout structure and tree plantings along the new stretch.
Having spent a lot of time those few years wandering the new (old, depending how you look at it) banks, I was most curious what it would look like in 10 years. Skeptical as anyone if the trout would find their way to it, I was pleasantly surprised a few years ago when I began catching fish through there. Nothing huge, but I’d net a few small trout, indicative of what we catch on most stretches of the Boardman lately.
But the fishing was just a side note while I’d wade and observe. So strange to see the habitat from the perspective of what would have been underwater for so long. Places I’d bass fished or duck hunted were now a 10-year-old stand of aspens with deer and woodcock and beavers. One ecosystem replaced with another.
Some of my pieces for that art show were done in a winter landscape, so I was most curious to see how they looked now under the same blanket of snow.
Hopefully, my photos and art, either in the paper or online, will show similar vantage points so you can compare; the changes from the pond to the river to now are incredible.
I love visiting in the “off” season the places I hunted and fished just a short time prior. Without the stress and tunnel-vision focus of shooting or catching a critter, there is so much to see; an instant success just because you’re there. Which, frankly, is how all sporting pursuits should be viewed instead of success ranked by harvest.
Whether you’re an avid sportsman looking for a peaceful, non-sporting adventure, or a warm-water canoeing and kayaking enthusiast, get out there before the snow’s gone and see our local rivers from a fresh perspective. Be calm, be quiet, and enjoy.