[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]It\u2019s silent, aside from the swollen raindrops pinging on the metal roof of the cabin, like dimes being dropped on the floor, and the steady hiss of the old gas lantern that envelopes the small space in its warm light. Soothing.\u00a0 Peaceful.\u00a0 A cool October evening in Northern Michigan. My only company comes in the form of Harrison in hard cover, Jameson in a tin cup and thoughts of tomorrow\u2019s float down one of my favorite rivers with a friend. I finish my drink and my chapter, extinguish the lantern and turn in for the evening. The rain\u2019s staccato storytelling and the tangy smell of cut pine boards on the walls my last cogent memories.[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image=”2771″ img_size=”medium” alignment=”center”][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]As the morning yawns itself awake I can hear that the rain has let up.\u00a0 Shaking myself loose from the sleeping bag I get some coffee started in the camp percolator \u2013 the one that always reminds me of my grandparent\u2019s house during the holidays.\u00a0 I\u2019ll fill the trusty red thermos, throw on an old flannel and hit the road.\u00a0 Even in the dampness the day holds promise.\u00a0 The promise of escape.\u00a0 The promise of the river.\u00a0 And perhaps, if luck holds, the promise of a Fall Brown Trout on the fly.<\/p>\n
My radio is tuned to a local country station and the lyrics to a Dierks Bentley song feel especially poignant in the moment – like a short sermon delivered to a notoriously delinquent parishioner: \u201cThis morning I got up at 6:01. I walked out and saw the rising sun.\u00a0 And drank it in like Whiskey.\u00a0 I saw a tree I\u2019ve seen a thousand times.\u00a0 A bird on a branch and I watched it fly away in the wind.\u00a0 And it hit me.\u00a0 It\u2019s a beautiful world sometimes I don\u2019t see so clear\u201d. <\/em>\u00a0The tires hum along the worn blacktop. I sip my coffee and observe the passing landscape with a newfound appreciation \u2013 the message having found its mark.<\/p>\n Pulling into the vacant boat launch cold gravel crunches under the tires. I see Geoff, already in his waders, looking out over the tannic ribbon of water. \u00a0Colored leaves rattle quietly in the trees. It\u2019s a scene that is distinctly Michigan in the Fall.\u00a0 The breeze carries a hint of decay as one season begins its transition to the next: from birth to death from death to birth.\u00a0 I walk up beside him and pass the thermos as we observe the river.<\/p>\n Eventually we meld into the rhythm of the stream and, out of habit, I adjust the weathered camo hat on my head hoping to coax a small measure of the luck I know it holds.\u00a0 Pulling back gently on the oars, already fighting the inevitable end, I move into position.\u00a0 Geoff\u2019s cast finds a promising undercut bank on the left, seasons of practice displayed in a precise tight loop.\u00a0 A slow twitch followed by a watery explosion and the hat has done its job.\u00a0 I smile knowingly to myself and grab the net.[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image=”2763″ img_size=”large” alignment=”center”][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Another sip from the thermos and we continue down the winding waterway like time itself. My tired soul rejuvenated by the incomparable beauty of the feisty spotted fish, the light gurgle and bubble that gently eases us along and the heavy scent of wet leaves hanging like unapologetically-gaudy ornaments in the trees. I\u2019m buoyed by the friendship, powerful in its quiet way, and the knowledge that escape is only ever as far as a river running through the big woods of Northern Michigan.[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" [vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]It\u2019s silent, aside from the swollen raindrops pinging on the metal roof of the cabin, like dimes being dropped on the floor, and the steady hiss of the old gas lantern that envelopes the small space in its warm light.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":10,"featured_media":2775,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[9,11],"tags":[],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n