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   After a quiet and uneventful ride, I arrived at the Zipp cabin around 11am to find Don and his dad Dave, working on a poplar tree that had been slowly dieing over the last 3 or 4 years. Poplars only have a life expectancy of 20 years and this one was 19 and it showed. Most of the limbs on top were dead with its bark slowly peeling away and it was getting to the point where it was dangerous to sleep under. I took Annie and hooked her up to her lead that I’d screwed into the ground, back under a spruce tree, and then lent a hand at picking it all up. The green vegetation was stacked in one pile and the burnable, and I use the term loosely, was stacked over by the fire pit. Don had already started a fire and there were a couple pieces smoldering in the pit. Apple wood smells wonderful as it burns, Maple heats your soul, Plum is beautiful to watch and Poplar stinks like hell. Don had already got a face full and was eagerly awaiting the arrival of three other guys who’d help him gather some hardwood to help burn the crap.

  After that chore was accomplished, Dave showed me where I could place my belongings in his 5^th wheel trailer. Last year, I berthed in a tent and Doug and I froze our butts off doing it, but not this year. This year, I was going to sleep in a nice warm comfortable bed, with a TV. running water and a solid roof over my head. I don’t know at what age camping becomes a torturous experience rather than an adventure, but I think I passed it a few years ago. Originally, my brother Butch and Doug were going to use it with me, and they had to back out, but Dave was going to stay a couple days. I’d been hoping Dave would come to one of these for years and I was grateful that he finally could.

   We were sitting by the fire when I looked over to where Annie was tethered and she looked a little forlorn, like she wanted to hunt and couldn’t. I was a little apprehensive about letting her run free, but thought of all that land across the highway where she could. I had taken her over there when Butch, Mark and I were here around the opening day of Trout season, but she and I had been working together more, and decided to let her off her leash. At first she didn’t realize that she was free but it didn’t take long and she was off like a hound on a scent. She didn’t go far at first, or for very long but as she gained confidence that I wasn’t going to hook her right back up, she got into the hunting better. We’d traveled maybe a quarter mile down the two-track when she disappeared off to the right. Annie was gone about 5 minutes when I heard a yip/howl way back in the bush, and called to her figuring she was sounding me. I let her know where I was and a minute or two later, I heard her tag’s jingling as she moved towards me. I’d moved forward about 25’ from when I called and she came out right where I’d called from. Thing is, she didn’t come over to me, or even look to see where I was. Hell, she didn’t even turn around when I called to her, she just ran, hard and fast. I remembered the yip she’d made, and after a chill ran up my back, I headed back to the camp too. I looked down at the sand she was running on, and could see her nail marks dug in and they were 4’ apart. This dog was running as fast as I’ve ever seen a dog move, and I picked up my pace a little too. Every once in a while, I’d check my 6 to see if there was anything following, but luckily nothing was. A few minutes after that, Dave Crandall along with Dave Zipp came riding up on Crandall’s 4 runner to see if I was still alive, and whole. I could tell from the look on Zipp’s face that he was a little surprised, and grateful that I was. Annie was still running just as fast and as hard as when she deserted me as she jumped into Don’s lap back at the fire. They hadn’t thought for a second that I’d let her off her leash. Who in his right mind would let loose a dog where Coyote, Bear, and Wolves had been seen not days before. Annie and I learned a lot on that little excursion, and it’s made us both smarter hunters.

   When I returned to camp, I saw that Jamie Crandall and Wade Belford had come up with Dave, and not long after, they took off for ‘Firewood is us’ to gather the hardwoods. Dave C. and Wade are both lumberjacks and the chainsaws they brought were large enough to drop redwoods. I was a little surprised when they showed up with buzz wood. It was a good idea; we didn’t have to split the stuff before we could burn it in the woodstove. After stacking all we could in the cabin, the rest we mixed in with the poplar to help burn that stuff in the campfire.

   After the three of them took off on a bike ride around 4, Don started cooking up some beans and bacon and I headed around back to help Dave work on the cabin. He’d been working on the fascia and it was coming along pretty good. Dave handles retirement the same way I do; he never lets work get in the way of the more important things in life. As I helped him attach some trim, we got to talking about our times in the service. He was in the Marine Corps the same time I was in the Navy, and as it turns out, we were in the same fleet at the same time. Dave was a Forward Observer and so during a couple NATO exercises, we fought the same war. More importantly, we shared a few liberty ports so we were able to compare notes on those too. When he asked me if I’d ever been to Barcelona, I looked at him with a huge smile and we both started laughing. He was married then so he wasn’t able to enjoy some of the same benifits that city had to offer, but there were pleanty of others. After putting up another piece or two, we headed over to his fifth wheel where he was gracious enough to share with me. From what he said, it was not in the best of shape when they bought it, but he and Sharon have been doing some remodeling and it came out better than new. Factories don’t install things that can make one of those feel like a home, but Dave and Sharon sure have.

   As soon as Don had finished preparing the bacon and beans, he started putting the ingredients together for a venison stew and by the time the guys got back from their ride, everything was ready to eat. It had started to drizzle by then, but we all still sat by the fire and enjoyed all of it. We talked about how much it had rained on these yearly events and we all figured we should have been soaked by then. Off to the North, we could see and hear a thunderstorm raging but it never did get over our way. Around 8:30 that night we heard a family of coyotes and Annie got as close to me as she possibly could, so maybe that was what got her out of the bush that day.

   I got up the next morning at 5 and after putting the coffee on, and stoking the fire; I made an entry in the cabin’s journal and got Don up. We went over to High banks to see if we could catch something for breakfast, or better yet, mount something on the wall. Don’s hopes to have either been quickly dashed with the loud resounding SNAP as he set the hook on his first fish. Don uses a 9’ Steelhead rod when he fish’s there because of its ability to cast a long distance and absorb some of the shock when one hits. He uses 6# test line, but it wasn’t enough to handle whatever hit it. With a look of disbelief and then disappointment, he reeled in what was left of his line, and set it up for another try. In my normal fashion and luck, I caught one 9”er and we headed back for breakfast.

   Dave Crandall made breakfast of bacon and eggs, plus some leftover beans and bacon before we headed out on our days adventures. The guys were taking their machines West towards Hulbert, using railroad grades and two tracks to get there. Wades machine is street legal, but the other two aren’t. Don and Dave were going to go with me to run Annie. After our little excursion the day before, I wanted to run her in a more open area, so Don took us up to North road. It didn’t have the concentration of Oak I’d hoped to see, but it was a hellava lot better than across the street, back at the cabin. I’d kept her on her lead until we came to a gate that’s across the trail, and let her go there. I’d figured she’d stay on the trail a little while longer, but she immediately bolted for the brush. She immediately started baying and we could hear her moving off to our left and ahead. Don was walking up ahead of us when from around a corner, a partridge comes running up the road and flushes right in front of him. Annie’s about 20’ behind with her ear’s flopping and her tongue hangin’ out one side. She was in heaven. After that, she worked the trail in front of us and would investigate scents that came across the trail. A couple times she disappeared with a few anxious moments, but we got to know each other a little better. We walked the trail for a mile or so and the only other thing of interest, was a set of Moose tracks that walked in the same direction we did for a hundred feet or so. When we got back to the truck, Annie was more than happy to jump into the cab, to fall sound asleep, almost immediately.

   Later that afternoon, while Dave prepared Pork loins and Rice, for lunch, Don and I went over to High banks with my boat. My boat works wonder’s when there isn’t any wind, but over 3.5 knots, it’s almost a joke. Anything over 6 is suicide, but it was around 2, so all it was, was a change in tactics. Instead of trolling for them we would motor down to the far end and then drift fish to the other. On the way back, which was directly up-wind, we’d troll straight into it. Don caught 7 and kept 4, and I caught 1, 10”, and let it go.

   After having dinner the night before, Don prepared some chicken for the dinner for this one. He marinated chicken breasts, which I have the recipe for but not divulging, and he started grilling them over the open fire about 4pm. We’d figured we’d eat about 6 and then Don could get to bed early; he was going back the next day to coach his football team. The chicken turned out great, but dinner wasn’t served until 11:30 that night. The wind kept blowing the heat away from the grill and it wasn’t until we stacked a bunch of chairs and wood upwind, did it finish. The only one that was complaining though was Don.

   September 15^th, the “Opening day” of the small game season started at 0401. Don had said he needed to get up at 4am so he could have breakfast and get back home in time for the game. I didn’t bring my alarm clock, so I used my naval one. There was a time when I could look at my watch, as I laid in bed, and tell myself when I wanted to wake up. I’d close my eyes and when they opened again, they were looking at the second hand pass over the 12. It’s been thirty something years since I’d tried it, so being one minute off ain’t too bad.

   After Don headed home I worked on my notes and waited for the guys to get up. It’s strange, now that I can sleep in whenever I want, I can’t and I envy those guys. I’ve been getting up at 5am for so long it’s almost genetic. Wade made breakfast of sausage and eggs for us, and after washing the dish’s, I started on dinner for that night. I’d made some meatballs the week before and froze ‘em, figuring on using them for days like this. I brought along the slow cooker and a couple bottles of gravy. Someday I’ll teach myself how to make gravy and get real creative with the whole ‘Bourbon meatball’s’ thing, but until then, store bought works just fine.

   Jamie, Dave, and Wade were going to go to the Tahquamenon river area and do some two trackin’. There’s a cabin on the river that we’ve stopped at a couple times and they knew how to get to it by land. There aren’t any roads back there, just a series of trails leading off to who knows where, and they knew where one of them was.

   With the meatballs on, I started putting stuff in the truck and Annie went ballistic. I’m still not sure how she knows the difference between just putting stuff in the truck, and loading it to go hunting, but she does.

   We went to a spot I’d seen a year or two before; when we fished Monocle Lake. All morning long I sat in that boat and listened to the squirrels up on that ridge, and had been dreaming about it ever since.

   Annie was fine when I first put her in the truck; she jumped around a bit until she knew it was going to be a ride and fell sound asleep. When I pulled off the highway, onto a trail, her ear’s perked up and she opened one eye at me. When I hit my first bump in the road she was sitting up, and when we started to climb, with the trees overhanging the road, she was on the dashboard, putting nose prints all over the windshield. On the county map book, it show’s a ‘scenic turnout’ and I’d planned on parking there and then hunting the area. When we arrived there, there were several people enjoying the view so I got out and had a look myself. You can see where Lake Superior narrows down to enter the St. Mary’s river, with the steel mill across the way in Canada. It’s quite a sight but there weren’t any squirrels there so Annie and I left. We went back down that trail to a two track leading off to the North and parked. We got out under a canopy of Oak, Beech, and Maple and I didn’t even bother to hook Annie up to her leash. I made her stay there though until I had my rifle loaded.

   The trail followed along the back side of that ridge at a much shallower angle than the front side. I looked down over the edge of that thing and it was 50’ before my foot would have touched ground again. Annie would work around me until everything was covered and then head off down the trail. About every five minutes she’d come back to make sure I was ok, and then head out again. After a couple of these, I heard her howling off to my right and walked in that direction. Soon I saw her there running between two trees trying to decide which one to climb. There was so much vegetation on those trees we didn’t stand a chance, but we kept on for a while. On one of her return visits, she brought back more than she saw, or she’s even better than I thought, come to think of it. As I watched her run up the grade, a red-tailed hawk followed her, from one vantage point to the next. Annie stopped about 20’ from me and sat down while I watched that hawk check her out. I had the crosshairs on it when it decided Annie was too big and flew off into the forest.

   The entire area was full of hawks too; all shapes, sizes, breeds and colors. In some spots there were as many hawks as we see seagulls in Charlevoix, mid summer. They use that ridge as a lift to get them back to an elevation where they can coast to the next one, and it’s quite a sight to watch ‘em.

   There were a couple instances with Annie when I thought she was messing with my head too. She’d be gone for quite a while so I’d yell her name and wait to hear her jingling tag’s get closer. After a bit, I’d hear her or she’d give a howl to let me know where she was, but stay out of vision. I’d stand there on that spot and try a few minutes later with no results at all. “Fuck it” I thought, “I’ll head back and scare her”. When I’d turn around, I’d trip over her. She did that twice to me. I’m not training her, she’s training me. I saw one red squirrel that day and could have had a shot at a hawk but didn’t have to, and that was it. We had a great walk, an episode of “Michigan-out-of-doors” and a good training lesson for us both.

   The ride back with Annie was the exact reverse of the ride there. When we broke into open land, she got off the dashboard, when the road smoothed, she laid down, and when we pulled onto the highway, she was snoring.

   After hooking Annie back up to her lead at the cabin, Dave came out of his trailer and I told him how it went and the phone call I got. I was up on that hill, back in the middle of nowhere, and my phone rings. One moment you’re in 19^th Century America, and the next you’re in 21^st Century Chippewa County. When he asked me where I was I laughed and told him “In the woods”. When I told him I could see the steel mill, he knew exactly where I was. Don’s team won 24-Zipp.

   Dave and I went over to High banks without the boat, and wouldn’t you know it, it was a sheet of glass. We sat there on the beach and watched those sumbitch’s rise all the way down the lake, in an area 50’ wide. Dave caught a couple undersized ones using a bobber and I enjoyed watching it happen.

   Dinner was ready when we returned and the meatballs were as good as I’d hoped they’d be. I’d made a chocolate cake the day before I left so we had that for desert. I’d thought about a chocolate cake the year before when I was hunting through the goodies lookin’ for something to munch on. That worked out pretty good.

   The trip the guys took to the Tahquamenon River went well, but they became a little disoriented when they went through some country where it had been logged off. Almost all of their landmarks were on a truck heading for the mill. They eventually found where they were heading but it took them an extra 5 hours to do it.

   About 8pm while we were sitting around the fire, we heard a single shot ring out from across the street. The guys from next door had been there for a couple days prior, some of them were fishing and a couple was hunting bear. We knew they’d been baiting up because we’d seen them go back and forth with their ATV’s, but didn’t know which one was hunting. A few minutes later two ATV’s went roaring by with the guys laughing and waving as they went, and a little while after that, three ATV’s came out. One with a large black creature lying in the back. Then the guys really started whooping it up next door and we new a party had just started. We all went over to congratulate whoever got lucky and it turned out to be Travis Braman. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. Travis and his family has been neighbors of the Zipp’s for a long time and there’s been many a night when they’ve enjoyed the company of each other, and this was another one. He said that this was his second bear, that he’d shot a smaller one the first time, but when that size came to the bait, he let it go. He could tell from the way it moved the logs off the pile, that it wasn’t the one that had created havoc with it, the week before. About 15 minutes after the first walked off, he heard another bear coming, and it was coming from his rear. He walked right by Travis on its way to the bait and just before it started to eat; it turned and saw him sitting there. That’s when he decided to shoot it, and I asked him if he was sure the bear was looking at him? His bear weighed 170# and he didn’t mind at all when I scratched him behind his ears. The thought of having that pelt lying in front of my fireplace was very tempting, but then I remembered the feel of that limb under my ass last year, so I let the other go right out the other side of my head. It was fun and I’m glad I tried, but I’m not going to spend the next 4 years making applications, in the hopes of doing it again.

   We got to bed late that night and evidently a little too late for Annie. When Dave had shown me the trailer and offered me a place to sleep, Annie and I picked the same piece of furniture. When we walked in, Annie was sprawled out over that couch like it had been built with her in mind. She was quite comfortable, (I had unrolled my sleeping bag to give her something to shed on rather than his couch) but she wasn’t all that willing to share it with me. Honest to God, she didn’t move one muscle, didn’t twitch one hair, or even open an eye, she just let we find a way to move around her and not be bothered. I think she thought she was being very accommodating in just letting me sleep with her.

   It was 29º with every star in the Milky Way helping me find my way to the outhouse and I’d like to once again plead with the owners of that fine structure to install thermal heating in the toilet seat? The setting and the view are splendid, as is the structure itself, the hole below is deep and the seat at just the right height. The magazines are thought provoking, and the butt wipe divine, but my nad’s are a freezin’ like grapes on a vine.

   At 9 that morning, my AICD alarm started sounding and it beeped for 15 seconds, letting me know the battery was running out. I knew I still had 3 months battery left so I made a note of it, to call when I got back. (It went off every 6 hours until I had it disabled in Ann Arbor, later) Once again I went from 19^th Century to the 21^st in about as long as it did the first time 24 hours before.

   Jamie, Dave, and Wade left around 11:30 and then Don and I went over to High banks for some more fishing. The wind hadn’t died much but it had changed direction so we fished the same method as before. I had taken my sonar unit along to see how well the population was doing since the spring, when I was there. Around the first of May, Butch, Mark and I were there fishing and I observed millions of fingerlings being shepherded around by some nice sized trout. The sonar showed that the population has been fed upon very well but there was still 25% remaining. Next year, and the year after that, that lake’s going to be a gold mine if no one nets it out. Don caught 2, 13” rainbows and I enjoyed the boat ride. Dave stopped by on his way home and left me a note thanking me for coming, and I want to thank Dave that it should be me thanking you!

   Mike McDuffy was at the cabin when we drove in at 5. Mike works for Site Planning, with Don in the landscape division. From what these guys tell me, he’s a veritable Tarzan when it comes to tree removal. He has a cabin not far from here and the guys had been over his way trying to find their way in. Mike’s cabin is waaaay beyond where Jesus lost his shoes. It’s even been said that Mike lives where Men fu@# Men, but I’ve never seen it, so I can’t honestly say.

   B.B. came in around 8:30 that night and had a meal of left-overs; Venison stew, beans and bacon, Bourbon meat-balls, a half of a grilled chicken breast, and a piece of cake. It sure was nice to see him again and one of these trips wouldn’t be complete without him.

    We were sitting there eating when I decided to let Annie off her leash with the door wide open. The wood stove works very well in that cabin and it could probably heat twice the volume. The first two times I spoke to Annie telling her no, she turned around and came back from that opened door. The third time she didn’t care, it was just too much to bare I guess and she bolted. I followed her out the door but when she saw me following, it encouraged her. “Screw this” I thought, “It’s time to have faith” and went back inside. 10 minutes later she came running in and skidded to a stop right at my feet, with a pleading look on her face. I leaned over and scratched her behind her ears, telling her what a good girl she was. That was the last time I hooked her up. From then until we came home, the place was hers and she never ventured away for very long and always running up to see if everything was all right.

   Don left about 1 the next day and for the first time ever, I didn’t take a photo of what he’d left behind: “Pucker and Whey”, and I ain’t gonna get all philosophical or nothin’, other than to say; Don’s a good man.

   B.B. and I went across the street not long after Don left to check out how much progress Pat’s made this year. He’s building something on his property that I’m sure will be both functional and appealing to the senses, but right now looks like a deck. It overlooks a scene one might envision being painted on canvas, over a fireplace. The Hemlock and Spruce silhouetted against a deep-ocean, blue sky. A river running from left to center and away, under fallen Poplar and uprooted Spruce. A fishing pole jammed into the bank, its line leading down into the reflection of that behind. We didn’t catch anything with that pole, but B.B. came up with a new tradition, (I’ll have to invoke the “What goes on across the bridge, stays across the bridge” rule, here) and I’m sure we’ll all benefit from it.

   That night we went over to do some trolling at High banks, as the wind had finally dropped off letting us try another tactic. We used everything in our tackle boxes and we both enjoyed the boat ride.

   The next morning, B.B. and I decided to head up into the area that was burning a month or so before called the Sleeper Lake fire, and have a look for ourselves. On the way there, B.B. could see on the map that there were several small lakes and some of them were designated for trout, so we figured those in too. Instead of heading directly to Pine Stump Junction, (which was mentioned repeatedly on the newscasts about the fire) we pulled off of H37 and onto 424W. It’s one hellava intersection there and we were lucky to be there during the week, instead of weekends when the traffic is horrendous. After a few more tight corners and the Grouse jumping out in front of us, we came to a bear camp set up near the lake. I’m not absolutely sure, but I think there was a mother-in-law sitting facing away from the trailer, with her arms crossed and a pissed off look on her face. There weren’t any vehicles there, nor any other sign of activity, just her staring off into the trees, and really pissed. I have no idea why I think it’s a mother-in-law, but the thought of a mother-in-law being in a deer camp, pissed, and staring off into the woods sounds about right. Now who in their right mind would bring their mother-in-law to a bear camp? I can understand why she was alone, I’da left her there too. Just don’t know why she was so pissed.

   After quickly checking out what we could from where we drove up on it, we headed back out, and back to Pine Stump Junction. I’ve been hearing about Pine Stump Junction since I moved up here (East Jordan, Michigan) in ’95. Pine Stump is always on the weather reports in the winter when they’re looking for places that get a lot of snow. I’ve read fishing reports from many sources that mention Pine Stump Junction, but when you look for it on the map, it ain’t there. I have a county map book now, and ever since I got it, I’ve wanted to drive over there and have my picture took. During this last fire, Pine Stump was mentioned many times, and a lot of it, not good news at all. Pine Stump Junction conjures up all kinds of scenario’s as to its looks, its personality, or even its landscape, and I wanted a look. I was impressed with all three. Pine Stump survived the fire with the same fortitude that their forefathers endured back in the day, and look none the worse. The fire didn’t get that far and we got on the wrong road. All the roads leading east from H37 were closed, so we had to return the way we came, all the way back to M123. We stopped long enough for B.B. to take my picture under the sign that says Pine Stump Junction, and I’d fulfilled a dream.

   On the way there though, we saw a two track leading off to our left and towards where Sleeper Lake lies. It wasn’t long before we met a local firefighter coming the other way. I pulled over and we talked about the fire, and the direction it took, and why I couldn’t get any farther on this road. The evidence there of the fire was pretty light, but there was a lot of track from equipment used, and they didn’t destroy nearly as much as they saved.

   After talking to the guy we decided to stop back at that lake and try the fishing, and then continue on to M123 and left towards the fire remains and Paradise. We backtracked again and when we pulled in to the lake, there was a car there, and the lady was gone. I didn’t want to ask and probably shouldn’t have told you all about it.

   Anyway, B.B. and I put the boat in at an earthen damn with the discharge 20’ down on the other side. The water was discharged into a standing 6’dia. Culvert with a screen welded onto the top. The lake there is only 50’ across and to the left it looked like it opened up after the corner, and to the right it stayed that narrow and swung off further to the right. When we’d left, I hadn’t figured on doing any fishing so I didn’t have the sonar with us, and therefore I have no official temperature to give you. I can say though, and B.B. will attest, it has absolutely, positively, the coldest water in North America. Bar none. Ask B.B., he’ll tell ya. The water doesn’t have any tannin acid in it either; it’s clear as a bell. We followed to the right because the wind wasn’t having much effect that way on the lake and it eventually widens with a lot of sunken tree trunks well below the surface.  We cast mepps and a few more lures along those lines and used crawlers fished under a bobber, and had no luck at all. After checking out that end of the lake we headed to what I thought was a more open area but it turned out to have less water and more blueberries. The weeds on this end of the lake eventually come to the surface but for the most part of it, it created a canopy. Without sonar, I had no idea if there was anything there, and with the wind blowing the way it was, it wouldn’t have done much good anyways.

   It didn’t take long after we made that left onto M123 that we started to see evidence of the fires, and it wasn’t what I expected. Although the fire covered a lot of ground, most of that ground was swamp land. There are islands of white pine growing in that quagmire, but mostly its brush. From what we could see, the fire went through there at 60 miles an hour and it burned off most of the under brush. All of the white pines and the hardwoods there were growing fine. Their lower branches were burned, or at least the leaves were, but they’ll grow better for it. I can see why they drew the lines where they did and it was easy to see why; the grasses were a foot tall by the time we showed up. We could see at points along 123 where the highway was used as a firebreak, but nothing on the other side was even singed. All of the swampy areas are bone dry and they all had a set of tracks leading to them from the highway.  We saw one instance where a single pine, which was surrounded by 6 or 8 others, lay in a pile with lines of white ash’s, to show where the limbs had been. The pines that surrounded this tree were unscathed.

   Annie was ten different kinds of pissed when we got back, but she didn’t show it at first. I let her out, without hooking her up, and she went over to where she usually goes, and went. From there she ran over to the truck and jumped up in the cab and gave me the shittiest look I’ve ever seen from a dog. She sat there for two hours, glaring out the window, before she finally felt she’d made her point and headed back to bed.

   When Dave left, I moved all my stuff in with Don, and when B.B. came, he moved into the bed Don used after he left. By then though, it was also the bed Annie used. At first I thought she was just a whore and didn’t care who she slept with, but now I know. It’s the bed, and she is a whore and don’t care who she sleeps with. But she sounds so good when she runs something through the brush that she can sleep with anybody that’ll have her.

   I got up on the last day at 7am, the latest I’d slept the entire time, and took my time in everything I did. I wasn’t in any particular hurry to leave and with only two of us there, it wouldn’t take long to clean everything up and put it away. B.B. and I were sitting by the fire thinking of ways to delay the inevitable, when we heard thunder and it started to sprinkle. Not long after that we were standing around the fire, with everything packed and Annie was already asleep on the seat. As soon as I’d opened the door, to pack the truck, she was in it and she wasn’t getting out.

   These Eckerman trips have been such a learning experience, that I’d probably go even if I was the only one there. Way back when, when Butch and Doug were coming, there were a lot ideas exchanged and plans made and none of that came to pass. We were able to enjoy however, the dreams of the others, and mostly these trips are about those dreams

    For the longest time, I’ve wanted to sit by the fire and shoot the shit with an ex-Mari…no, I mean a Marine, they’re always Marines, and talk of the old days. In particular, I wanted to sit with this Marine. Ever since the first Eckerman trip, I thought it would be neet to sit by the fire and listen to his side of some storie’s we’d heard from Don. It sounded to me like Dave had his hands full, and to have that kid turn out so good is a testament to his spirit. Dave and Sharon have two sons, and they’re both kids anyone would be proud of. Also during these excursions, we can invoke the “What goes on across the bridge, stays across the bridge” law and that lets us speak of things that no civilian would ever understand. He turned out to be everything his kids said he was, and he’s a good Marine too. When he wore green and I wore blue our allegiances were to different services, and we often ‘didn’t get along’. But when time is the dimension between a Marine and a Squid, the Marine’s still a Marine, and the Squid has learned why. It was a pleasure to share my memories and even more so to share his fire.

   Annie and I got back about 2pm yesterday and from the looks of her, she was happy to be back. The same dog that broke land speed records less than a week ago, is now sound asleep lookin’ like the hound she is. I’ll tell ya guys, she’s a winner. I got me a butt load of housework to do and I gotta get that done before I can start writing about all this. We all had a pretty good time and B.B.’s still up there, somewhere. Last night he was going to camp alongside a lake we found the day before. He had a dream that night of him standing alongside that lake with a broken rod in his hands and a disbelieving look on his face. From there he’s heading to Munising and a Crappie lake, full of pan sized fish.

   If Travis is reading this, I still need your email address. The pictures came out pretty good of you sittin’ on that bear.

   My bags are all packed, the batteries are charged, and the food’s ready to go in the coolers. There have been two changes, Doug’s not coming and I’m taking Annie with me. I don’t forsee any problems with Annie coming, but Doug not coming is really a bummer. He and I have been going to these together since our first and we’re really going to miss him; fishing, hunting, and bullshitting around the campfire. It just won’t be the same. I’ll be making copious amounts of notes and if I get the chance, I’ll stop up to Paradise library and see if I can make a couple entries.

   Being true to form, rain is predicted for the Eckerman area 7 days out of the next 10. As luck would have it, Saturday will be one of the days where it’s sunny. By then we should have enough fish cleaned to feed an army, and we can spend the day sitting under an Oak tree waiting for the squirrels to show up.

   Yesterday Mark and I went out to Doug’s and sighted in the .22’s. Mine for the squirrels and Mark’s magnum for the coyotes. Don’s been talking about bringing up his varmit calls and I’d love to have a pelt or two stretched out on the living room walls.

   A couple days ago, I made up the makin’s for some meatballs, Doug’s bringing along ground venison and a large bag of fish, and Don’s taking up the makings for bacon and beans. Mixed in with that will be some steaks and a variety of cold cuts. Finding something to eat has never been a problem, and it looks like it won’t be again this year. Wednesday, after I drop Mark off at his brother’s in Grand Rapids, I’ll make a chocolate cake for when we’re looking for something sweet.

   The last I heard, it’ll be Don, Doug, Jamie Crandall, Dave Crandall, Carl Johnson, Wade and myself. B.B. has a fishing tournament that weekend and may not make it this year. Don is a football coach again this year, and part of Saturday will be spent adding another win to his esteemed career, and I’m sure he’ll be back in pleanty enough time to help us celebrate another victory.

   I woke up at 4am this morning and the very first thing I thought about was what I’d be doing a week from now. Must be I’m getting ready for Eckerman again. Last year this malady started in June when I received my approval for a bear permit, and it got worse once I started baiting. By the time I got to this point on the calander I was a mess, and this year, it hasn’t been like that at all.

   Last night I looked over my list of what I’m taking and what I’ll need to get at the grocery store, and pared it down. My Brother Butch (sounds like a t.v. show) was going to go this year, but available finances just wouldn’t allow it. He was only two weeks away from a trip he’s waited years to go to, and got shut down. That would be like getting to within 25′ from an outhouse and have the building catch fire, or that whore house I went to once….ah, no, not that one, we got the girls out fast enough. Anyway, it sucks to be Butch. That cut the grocery list by half.

   The camping list got halved when Dave and Sharon offered us the use of their 5th wheel for Doug, Butch and I. I sincearly hope that Butch not coming hasn’t changed the offer, I’m almost as old as him, and Doug’s almost as old as me. Last years trip almost did us both in, sleeping in that tent. When I bought it, I thought I was getting a nice walled tent, good clearance, compartmentable, and nice looking windows. I didn’t see one of these set up, but it had pictures on the box. When I opened it up the first time, I saw to my amazement that there were great big window screen’s in the ceiling. Excellent venilation for those hot, muggy August nights. But, BUT, this was the last week of September, camping along M123, a little North of downtown Eckerman. We froze our ass’s off. Doug had a tarp that I thought would be large enough to envelop the entire tent, but it was 2′ short all the way around. And then on the second night, we had a bear walk by sounding his total disgust in homosapien’s, twice. It was still better than what was going on in the cabin though. I’ll tell ya what, those boys know how to party, but I ain’t up to it anymore. Come 10 o’clock, I’m ready for bed.

   This is a much more, laid back sort of experience, rather than the anticipational adrenalin pumping type of years past. Tomorrow I’ll do the laundry and pack the cloth’s, Monday I’ll put all my hunting and fishing gear together, and Tuesday I’ll go over it all again and add or subtract. Wednesday Mark goes to Grand Rapids for a week, and Thursday around 5am, I’ll be pulling out of here. That’s when the adrenalin will start to flow.

   I talked to Don this morning and he said the cabin is all cleaned up and ready to go. They’ve cut down a couple poplar and we’re going to get a cord or two of some nice maple to go with it. Butch has had some disapointing news and won’t be able to come this year so some of the competition for the squirrel hunt has lightened up, and we’ll have to find someone else for last place. Next year Butch, and we can use brother Jimi for last place.

   Don caught a 14″ brookie, so the fish are ready for us, and I’ve been saving apples for the rabbits. They are such a delight to watch hopping around the place and doing bunny rabbit things. Oh, and I’m taking Becky’s “Wildlife chef” receipe book with me.

   Three weeks from today, I’ll be taking Mark to Grand Rapids to spend some time there, and then to Jackson, to pick up Butch. From what I hear, Butch has been packed and re-packed a couple times now, and has driven Marge almost to the edge. It doesn’t seem to have effected me in the same way, I don’t know if it’s from being the 8th year, or the uncertainty of whether my device will allow it. With my luck, it’ll start beeping it’s warning on my way to Jackson to pick up Butch.

   There hasn’t been any definitive word yet on who’s going this year, but that’s always the case. We’re hoping that having the event a couple weeks earlier this year, allows a few more to attend than in years past. On the 15th, which is the opening day of small game, we’ll find ourselves atop an Oak forested ridge, just full of squirrels and another day upon a lake that’s full of trophy sized Crappie. At least one day will be spent on ATV’s, roaming the two tracks looking for another episode of Michigan-out-of-doors, and another fishing the smaller streams, fishing for Brookies.

   One things for certain though, we’ll be spending each night sitting next to the campfire talking of the years past and plans for the future. Butch asked me if the State’s burning ban will put a pallor on our evening’s festivities and I assured him that it would not. It’s not that we’re going to ignore the declaration, it just won’t be in effect. Anyone who’s ever been to one of these trips know’s, absolutly knows, that it’s going to rain, and usually by the bucket fulls. The best fishing we’ve ever had, happend when it was pouring and to even try it with the sun shining is almost ludicrous.

   One of my evening’s will be spent at the Bear Butt Bar and visiting with all of the friends I’ve made there. It’ll probably be on one of the first evenings too, so they’ll know what all the commotion is about down the road. With any luck, they’ll stop by later and we’ll hoist one to their good fortunes and join us in our celebrations.

   Hang in there Butch, just three more weeks.

   Butch and I were talking yesterday about the upcoming event and the hunting portion of it. He seems to have this idea in his head that he’s a better shot than I am and we were trying to come up with a way to prove it. He’d suggested we have a trick shot competition, but I think I’ve come up with something better. Since all this target shooting is in effect, practice for hunting, I thought we could keep it along those lines.

   On one or two of the days we’re there this year, will be spent squirrel hunting, I thought we could use that. We will be limited on how many animals we can harvest, by our state laws, so we can toughen up the bet a bit, by the amount of ammunition we use. It’s no big deal to return from a days hunt with five squirrels, but if you can do it only using 3 or 4 rounds, you’d have something to brag about.

   If all involved agree, we could have a friendly contest to see who could get the most game with the least amount of rounds fired. No shot will count that can’t be verified by another and winner take all. The kitty also would be agreed upon by everyone, but the higher the stakes, the higher the payoff. In case of a tie, we’ll stand around the fire and argue about it while the squirrels stew in the stew.

   I’m pretty sure some of those going read this, so please spread the word and find out who’s up for it.