Life between the lakes, part 30
It’s actually part 31, as I realized I messed up sometime in February. So the “semi milestone” of 30 parts in 3 months came and went without anybody knowing.
Now, back to our regularly scheduled program, already in progress.
It was so quiet on Thursday night that while walking the dogs I heard a rush of wind from my right cross the road inches behind me. I stopped to listen and heard the tunneled, wind pattern, zigzag its way through the trees and out to the lake where it was gone. Jack and Needa were not particularly impressed by this simple occurrence and Jack lifted his leg in the wake of the wind.
Deer Park is still stuck in a freeze, but we have temps in the 40s beginning on Monday so the great melt of 2021 will begin.
Muskallonge Lake is still a solid mass of ice but that will change this week. I am bummed that the ice has been snow covered since I got here because one of my goals was to skate around the lake. It would be about a six mile trip but I know I could have done it.
Muskallonge is about 2 miles wide and 1 mile across. Several years ago my brother and I were visiting family in Crystal Falls (western UP) in the early part of winter with other family members. We made a trip to Deer Park on a whim. There was no snow on the ground, and we were able to drive back to the cabin.
A few of us decided to stay overnight while the others rented a place at Deer Park Lodge. We stoked the wood stove for several hours, hung blankets from the rafters of the room we were staying in and started to get the temps up to a semi-comfortable level if you kept your coat on.
Of course in the morning it was colder than a witch’s thorax. We walked out onto the lake and my brother drove a golf ball farther than I’ve ever seen one hit before. He got the club member bounce on the frozen lake and he had to have hit it 500-1000 yards or more.
There was a rumor in the spring that a young boy from Port Huron found the Titleist over a mile away at Muskallonge Lake State Park and tapped it in the hole for a quintuple-eagle. Since this was the day before cell phones and cameras, we have to take his word.
But did he really hit it that far? I mean, come on Steve. If you really hit it to the campground you had to have shanked the hell out of it.
The fake thaw we had last weekend turned County Road 407 into a bumpy, four- inch- deep- ice road between the house and Cranberry Lake where the grade is lower. The paved roads are clear of any snow or ice. Luckily, my brother Steve gave me a pair of grippers which have helped tremendously these past two weeks.
I heard a new bird call today and expect to hear more tomorrow when the temperatures rise. The coyote is nervously pacing, the fox I’ve been trying to photograph is acting sly. The ravens are as loud and the bears are about to wake up from their frigid, north woods slumber.
Muskallonge has been screeching all day with late season snowmobiles, having what may be their final, Adrenalin charged race across around the lake. I think the end of the season is really sinking in for people. I know it is for me.
The night sky remains clear and bright and the AM radio stations I have been pulling in continues to bring both mystery and suspense from those faraway places with strange sounding names are beckoning me to be adventuresome and spend more time outside.