Tomas has been talking about his desire to make a portage trail from one creek to another for some time now. In essence, this would connect two separate river systems, one of which ends in Lake Michigan. The other, on the Gulf of Mexico. So one day, he went – and I came with him. I was hesitant because of my concern about being eaten alive by mosquitoes, and because I was reluctant to put all my ongoing projects on hold – the basket, the hide, the moccasins and the trap line.
As the morning chill gave way to bright sunshine, I decided to go for it. I know that doing things I am uncomfortable with often results in good stuff. I packed for an overnight journey and off we went in our little canoes. A couple of familiar creeks and a lake crossing brought us to the site of our former fish camp, where we netted many suckerfish. We portaged for a while into a little lake and continued. That’s when I got acquainted with the experience of a ferocious assault of deer flies and other biting and stinging flies, mosquitoes and ticks. We bravely put on a battle. There were many casualties (some of whom were eaten). Our hands and faces began to swell a little from the damage.
On the way up, we cut back some alder that was choking the creek in a few places. We chose to not portage over a certain stretch which gave us access to a few well-established nettle patches, yet required lots of wading, as the creek was too shallow for the canoes. Up and up we went. The creek began to meander through an open bog. With the sun beating down, the biting flies, and constant surprises that the creek presented us with on many a turn, I felt stressed, and was glad to have come to the end at last – a pond, where a white swan sat and looked warily at us. It was now mid-afternoon.
We walked through the bog and quickly found a campsite in a forest of young maples. The untiring Tomas, a veteran of many a river trip and scouting expedition, went off to explore the area and began to scout for the route. I got busy with setting up camp – tarp lean-to, mosquito netting, boughs, firewood. At dusk, Tomas came back and we ate – roasted nettles and cattails dipped in a jar of bear fat and cracklings. We ate inside the mosquito netting, as we were surrounded by a thick cloud of mosquitoes. What did people do on expeditions before such equipment?!
We slept well. At one point an upset deer snorted indignantly into the night – who are these intruders! We got up in the early morning and headed to a large abandoned beaver pond, about a third of the way there, cutting the trail in the process. Then Tomas went off to continue the scouting, calling back to me once in a while to verify the location of the pond. I waited, playing with trap designs and watching the pond-life. He came back, and we went together, opening the trail with our tomahawks. At one point we needed to do more scouting for the trail. That took a while, as the terrain was confusing – many small meadows intermingled with stands of balsam fir. We washed off in the creek that was our destination, wide due to a beaver pond (Tomas wisely picked that spot for that reason), yet soon our clothes were soaked again with sweat. Finally, the route was marked and cut. It weaved through a young maple forest, an older open maple forest, a bog, meadows, and at the end joined up with an old hunting trail. It often followed old logging roads and deer trails. We agreed that it’s not a perfect trail (could probably be more direct), but it definitely can be of service.
The sun was on his way down, and we were pretty tired, so we decided to skip the alder-clearing on the now-connected creek, and head back. It was a real pleasure, that trip back! There was a sense of accomplishment, and as for me – an opening of a new horizon – river trips! The challenge and hardship drew me to focus and draw on reserves I forgot I have. Cushy camp-life is nice, yet I can see how once in a while something like this can help me to liven up, to grow. As we followed the creek, I reflected on the beauty of the grasses, trees and big sky that were all around us. I am becoming more and more aware of the connectedness of all things, and of the longing that I have in me to recognize and honor their Spirits.
Before putting in to the creek en route to the big lake, we gathered tender Basswood leaves to share with our camp-mates. We paddled against strong head-on wind, whitecapped waves occasionally spraying us with water. It was a lot of fun! We got back in time to wash off before dinner, and then joined the others for a pleasant evening meal. I slept well that night.
Alex
P.S. Here is a tip: trying to backwards-limbo under a bridge in a canoe can result in much wetness… : )
Well written Alex. I feel like I am right there with you when I read your stories.
I want to give you a brief update on how we are doing and I know that this is one way to get a message to you. I just spent five days at a camp in Northern Michigan were we focused intensively on Earth Living Skills. I made a Bow Drill set with all natural materials for the first time. Cedar spindal, cedar fireboard, ash bow, rawhide string, and spruce handhold. I made a hand drum from a hollow cedar log. Made birch bark knife sheaths and napped arrow heads. We plucked skinned and roasted a porcupine on a spit, and killed and processed a huge snapping turtle. I thought of you all out there in Wisconsin because I too was in the North Woods. What a beautiful bioregion.
Now I’m back in the Oak Hickory land of SW Michigan preparing for another weeklong camp. I’ve been hired as a camp counselor by Ash’s tribe, the Pokagon Potawatomi, and so I’ll be teaching what I learned to the Anishanabe Children.
It has taken us two months of struggle and grief, but we are now feeling at home here.
I’ve been following your updates regularly, now you have an update from me. call me again next New Moon.