Northern Michigan is blessed with a natural resource that the people of Detroit, Chicago, and New York City don’t have and probably will never enjoy. In fact, most densely populated areas of the world are lacking in this resource all together. That beautiful, free, eternal resource is starlight.
In my youth, we often vacationed in the north woods. When the sun went down and the twilight no longer glowed in the western sky, it got dark, very dark. I can remember thinking it was a little scary the first time I realized on a moonless, cloudy night that I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. We enjoyed many a campfire that brought a cheery glow to our surroundings and created spooky shadows dancing on the trees that surrounded us. I kept a flashlight close by my sleeping bag just in case one of those monsters of the night roamed into our campsite after we turned in.
On clear nights however, we were treated to a show like none other. It didn’t matter if we were camping in northern Wisconsin; Ontario; near the Boundary Waters of northern Minnesota or in the Porcupine Mountains of the U.P. The sky was dotted with billions of brilliantly shining stars. Some portions of the sky were so thick with stars that they created our galaxy commonly known as The Milky Way. On bright nights we would spread out a blanket on the grass and lay on our backs watching the light show above. We would keep score on how many “falling stars” we spotted as the meteors streaked across the sky and then suddenly disappeared from view. With the use of a sky chart, we easily located the Big and Little Dipper and a few other constellations.
In February, our friends hosted a Super Bowl party. They live in a cozy cottage, off the beaten path, on the Manistee River. Upon leaving for home, we drove several miles through the forest before arriving at the paved road. There were no lights to be seen anywhere. The sky was clear and full of stars and it brought back memories of my childhood days. Once on the blacktop and heading west, my wife commented on a glow in the western sky. She knew it wasn’t the Northern Lights or the Milky Way. Regretfully, I had to inform her that it was the glow of the yard lights at Pugsley Correctional Facility.
During the summer, I like to spend time on our lake fishing for the elusive walleye that always seem to outwit me. Frequently, I am out until nightfall still trying to bring home that big one. In the western sky, I can see the night glow of Kingsley. To the northwest I can see the lights of Traverse City. To the northeast I can detect the lights of Kalkaska. Even the little village of Fife Lake, with its new streetlights, contributes to the light pollution of the sky. Our local light pollution is minimal compared with the more highly populated areas of the county. But when talking to long time residents of our village, I have confirmed that fifty years ago the glow from many of the surrounding towns was not detectable and the sky was brilliant with stars.
Recently, I stumbled upon an article on the Internet about a town called Tekapo, New Zealand that is on a mission to protect their night sky. It is estimated that half of the world is already light polluted and the figure is growing. This forward thinking community of 830 people is already reaping the economic benefits of their efforts through an increase in local tourism. They refer to their enthusiastic visitors as “astro tourists” and they travel to the remote South Island of New Zealand from all over the world. Similar efforts are taking place even closer to home. Maine’s Bar Harbor recently passed a “dark sky” ordinance requiring that lights installed since December be shielded from the sky so they only light what is below them. Some communities now only allow low-energy sodium streetlights, which project their light downward. This not only lessens the light pollution, it also saves energy and tax dollars.
Northern Michigan depends on tourism as one of its primary industries. The stars are always there and free for the enjoyment of all. We could better capitalize on this natural resource through improved design and planning of our municipal and residential outdoor lighting. Think of the marketing possibilities enabling us to draw more visitors if we could only darken our night sky: “Come to Northern Michigan, the land of ten billion stars.” Local wineries could offer nighttime wine tasting parties while gathered under the stars. There could be stargazing dinner cruises on East and West Bay. Sleeping Bear Dunes could sponsor ranger-led star identification hikes. Interlochen could offer jazz by starlight. The possibilities and opportunities are endless. If you haven’t witnessed the incredible beauty of a starry night lately, take a drive out into the country on a clear moonless night, stop your vehicle in a safe spot, and turn out your lights. It truly is a sight to behold.
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A Poet I'm not but I wrote this just for fun one night:
I Met a Man from Michigan
I met a man from Michigan
While wandering on our lake.
I asked about his fishing
He returned a double take
I’ve caught but one walleye
He said with a grin
But then he showed his catch
And it was I who appeared chagrin
Upon my stringer I had, but pity few
A perch, a bluegill and a bass or two
The perch and bluegill were both legal
But alas the bass were not
I tried to stretch their tails, I said
But it appears they both forgot
That’s ok said the stranger
I’ve seen that all before
You see I’m the game warden
Now please pull your boat to shore
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Last September my favorite sister and brother-in-law came to spend a week with us. They live in South Carolina and often tease us about living in the Arctic. With their 105-degree temperatures and 98% humidity, they found the cool dry air of Northern Michigan rather refreshing. I don’t think they are quite ready to pack up their furniture and head North yet but they definitely enjoy visiting the area.
Each time they visit us, they enjoy exploring new places and going on some type of an adventure. In planning for their visit, I asked if they had ever been canoeing. My sister had never participated and my brother-in-law confessed that his experience was somewhat limited.
Whenever my wife and I camped at the Sleeping Bear Dunes, we took the Platte River canoe trip that begins at Riverside Canoe Trips on M-22 and ends up where the river empties into Lake Michigan. We had enjoyed the same float trip on multiple visits to the area and always found it to be a relaxing way to spend an afternoon. We both agreed that our guests would enjoy the experience so reservations were made.
Our outing began with a hearty home-cooked breakfast before our drive to the Dunes area. We packed a few snacks and drinks for our adventure along with boat cushions, life jackets and cameras to record the events of the day. It was a chilly morning and a bit on the breezy side so we took our time getting there hoping the rising sun would warm things up.
Our plan was to canoe the lower portion of the Platte River, which normally takes about two hours. The journey takes you through pristine hardwood forests, gliding along on crystal clear waters, until you reach Loon Lake. Once there, you must paddle across the lake, re-enter the river and continue on to where it empties into Lake Michigan. As we left the dock to begin our journey, the rental manager cautioned us to wear our lifejackets, something that I don’t recall hearing on previous trips.
Gazing over at my dear sister, I could sense some tension in their canoe. I assured them that it was an easy paddle and mentioned something about how it was “a piece of cake.” As we continued, I observed the calming effect of my words and they seemed to be enjoying themselves and were taking in all that nature had to offer.
All went well until we reached Loon Lake. The winds had picked up and as we attempted to paddle into the lake we were greeted with white-capped waves and near gale-force winds. Undaunted by risk to life and limb we pressed on, not even considering turning back. I had all of the confidence of my Viking heritage knowing that once we crossed the lake, we would glide back into the gentle waters of the river. We took the lead so we could show our guests the way across. Not more than fifty yards into the grips of the lake, my wife and I were hit broadside by a wave from the movie, “The Perfect Storm” and over we went. It happened so fast! One minute we were in the canoe and the next we were floundering around in the water trying to grab paddles, boat cushions and camera bags. I’m sure it would have been quite comical to the casual observer but neither of us was laughing.
Our guests, who had been following behind us, rounded the point and spotted us. My sister uttered the much-remembered quote of the day. “Look Charles, they’re not in their canoe!” They rushed to our assistance and helped us get back to a sandbar where we successfully dumped the water from our submerged craft. Soaking wet, cold and minus one boat cushion and a jacket, we paddled upstream to the nearest landing, beached the canoes and walked back to Riverside Canoe Rentals where the kind folks there congratulated us on our survival and sold us some dry duds from the gift shop. Having enjoyed enough excitement, we decided to call it a day and head for the safety and warmth of Dinghy’s Restaurant & Bar in Frankfort. We had many a laugh about the great adventure and I have sworn to never again utter the phrase, “it’s a piece of cake.”
It was all a great time and if you have never tried a canoe trip on the lower Platte River, give it a try with the whole family.
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Living in Northern Michigan and being almost 63 years old, I have been in my share of boats and canoes. In all these years, I have never plopped my backside in a kayak. As a kid, I can remember that kayaks were something that Eskimos (now properly called Inuit) used. They were constructed of wood and sealskins. I don’t know when they started becoming popular. I suppose it was when someone discovered how much easier it was to make them out of fiberglass. I’m sure the seals appreciated that immensely.
The word “kayak” means “man’s boat” or “hunter’s boat” but they are no longer limited to just the male species. There are almost as many different styles of kayaks out there as there are tennis shoes, but that’s the topic of a future column. They have been designed for white water, surf, ocean, racing, recreational…the list goes on and on.
I have a good friend named Dave who lives his wife in a beautiful cottage along the Manistee River. Recently, I got a call from Dave reminding me about a previous plan we hatched to do a day trip down the Manistee River, in kayaks! I had always wanted to try one but thought that a nice calm lake would be a better place to attempt my maiden voyage.
The big day arrived and Dave picked me up in his truck with our craft hanging over the tailgate. Life jacket in hand, my wallet and cell phone in zip lock bags, and a half-melted Snickers in my pocket, we took off on our adventure. We drove South on M-66 past Taffeltown and put in below the bridge in the old campground. I must admit I was a bit nervous thinking that I would dunked just getting in the thing. Dave said that “if” I made it all the way without getting wet, I should be proud. I didn’t like the “if” part.
At first I felt like I was sitting on eggs in that I was hesitant to make any sudden moves. After a few minutes, I became more confident until the current grabbed me and before I knew it, I was proceeding downstream backward thinking that the end was near. Soon I figured the whole thing out, relaxed and took in the beauty of the nature that surrounded us. There were few cottages and even fewer people along our 8-mile float. It was totally quiet except for the sounds of our paddles dipping in the river, the birds, and our conversation. If you’ve never experienced it, I encourage you to give kayaking a try. It’s another great way to enjoy outdoor Michigan.
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