By John Pepin

Michigan DNR

MARQUETTE — “I got shot off my horse. So what? I’m up again playing in one of these big saloons on main,” – Mark Knopfler

I found a warm place to sit down where the sun covered the weathered face of a massive and granitic streamside boulder.

From here, I could see and hear the water moving from left to right in front of me.

Behind and above me, the branches of a thornapple bush protruded from a wall of greenery. The bush’s branches and thorns were coarse, weathered gray and sharp.

If I looked to my right, I could also watch the sun sinking quickly toward the horizon as my brother visiting from Canada cast his fishing line toward a current in the river that swirled toward a half-dozen rock islands downstream.

This wasn’t a position I would normally take when there was any kind of fishing to be done, but on this night, I was happy to be resting on this boulder that was bigger than a full-sized pickup truck.

I was supposed to be taking it easy. I had been airlifted to Wisconsin for emergency gall bladder surgery a few weeks back and I was still recovering.

This was the first night I had gotten back out into the woods after being confined largely to the house, or more precisely the couch or the chair or light-duty chores.

Earlier on this blessed evening, my brother and I took our fishing poles and headed out to a creek we fished last back when he was 8 and I was 12.

However, we found the stream conditions less than ideal with the water running low and lazy – no trout or any other fish chasing our bait offerings on the few casts we took.

So, we didn’t stay long before packing back into my vehicle and heading out of town for some hopefully better fishing. In less than a half hour, we found ourselves looking out on a beautiful stretch of stream that was flowing deep, quiet and slow.

The surface of the water was pierced in a few places by the mouths of small fish that were surfacing to feed. I took a few casts and then, after no strikes at my lure, I was content to watch my brother fish.

I surmised that our chances for hooking a big trout were slim after watching a dragonfly float past us downstream kicking its legs and vibrating its wings trying to free itself from the water.

If no fish was snatching that meal from the surface of the water, it was doubtful that a fish would be biting our baits. My brother did catch a chub using worms, but neither of us caught any trout.

We moved downstream about a mile or so to a place I had been coming to ever since I can remember. I parked my Jeep and when we got out, we could look down into the river valley and see the stream snaking between the tall pines and spruces.

At our feet in front of us, the river hooked sharply on a hairpin bend and then straightened out before turning to the right at the brink of a waterfall.

The root-beer-colored water roared down this confined gash through the black rocks before sharply turning left and then making a wide right turn. From there, a short sprint in the rapids brought the water to the head of an expansive, round pool.

We were headed to the pool but wanted to see the waterfall. To reach it, we had to take a makeshift trail down along the footings of a cement foundation that once supported a wooden walking bridge.

The bridge had been there since I was a kid but had been removed a couple years back. The rocks surrounding the waterfall were covered in rusty red, white pine needles.

When I was a boy, I slipped on the pine needles here and slid into the river. I was pulled out right away, quelling the fears of adults who certainly thought I would somehow be swept over the top of the waterfall.

We walked a narrow and muddy trail down along the river until we got to an angled bridge that was placed from the high side bank of dirt down to another concrete foundation that supported the foot of the bridge.

Standing on the little foot bridge provides an outstanding view of the waterfall – the shot you would want if you were to take a picture of the falls.

I didn’t have my camera on this night, but I have taken pictures from this spot in the past. I have a set in all four seasons, including a summer scene that shows the site before a harsh windstorm felled some of the trees a few years back.

From the bridge, we continued heading downstream. I was walking ahead of my brother when I misjudged the distance to the ground from a raised wooden plank section of the trail.

Hitting the ground off the far end of the planks, I fell to both knees, which must have looked a lot worse than it was to my brother. He was concerned, but I was just fine.

Reaching the big pool, we took several casts but got no bites.

We walked up the face of a massive rock outcropping that had been smoothed and cut into by the high waters of thousands and thousands of spring snow melts. There were pine needles here too, so we had to watch our step.

Working our way back up to where we had parked the car, I had to stop my ascent over the rocks and trail to lean against a few trees to catch my breath. By the time I got back to the Jeep, I was ready to sit down behind the wheel and drive.

We were on the blacktop and then back on another dirt road in no time.

In a jack pine cutover clearing, a wild turkey ran out into the road on the driver’s side causing me to swerve to avoid hitting it. We stopped to see seven more birds standing out in a clearing.

It was weird how this one bird had separated itself from the others and almost got killed by running out in front of us.

A mile or so down the road, I parked the Jeep along the shoulder of the road next to a bridge.

We got out and stood at the crossing looking first downstream and then upstream, judging the fishing prospects. I walked my brother over to the place where I would come to sit on the big boulder and watch him fish as the sun went down.

While I sat, I was treated to the sight of a pair of common nighthawks flying overhead, making their characteristic woodcock-like “beeping” noises. These birds are one of the species I hope to see every summer, or something is missing for me.

I watched the nighthawks swooping through the blue skies overhead and I even got to hear the booming sound one of them produced with its wings as it dove.

The experience of watching these birds and spending time with my brother on my first outdoors outing since my surgery made the whole evening for me.

I was acutely aware of how much being couped up in the house had stressed me out. I really needed to be out in nature. It was so tough not to be.

Even though it was a little rough to be back out walking and climbing the trails, it was no worse than I had expected. It was so wonderful to be back where I could smell the trees and hear the river and feel the warm sunshine on my face.

A few days later, on a hot and muggy afternoon, my brother and I headed to the woods one more time before his stay was over with. On that trip, we did catch some trout and had another great evening outside.

I look forward to more travels to more places over the coming weeks and months. It’s already past the Fourth of July. It seems like the year is flying past and I am way behind.

There’s still plenty of things to do before the summertime is through. I am happy and grateful to be able to get back outside to enjoy them.

Just a simple walk or a sit by a campfire or on a rock along the river, that’s all I need.

I am sure of it.

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Outdoors North is a weekly column produced by the Michigan Department of Natural Resources on a wide range of topics important to those who enjoy and appreciate Michigan’s world-class natural resources of the Upper Peninsula.