Gravel Roads

 Gravel Roads

It was a bittersweet drive up north.  Because our calendar over the next month includes a 10-day overseas pilgrimage, and multiple commitments I had decided that the only practical thing to do was to winterize my fishing boat and get it in storage before we leave on our trip.  That meant that despite much more ambitious plans even as of just a few weeks ago, this was my last fishing trip of the year – unless I figure out a way to stream fish for trout.

I didn’t have to drive very far north to see that the leaves have made a lot of progress in the last week in turning color.  Just one week ago Michelle and I had gone to the Lakewood area – about an hour and a half north for a kayak paddle.  The leaves were obviously beginning to turn color but I would have estimated full color at only about 10 percent.  Today, I would have amended that estimate to about 60 percent.  There was very little green foliage. 

The nights have begun cooling off for the last couple of weeks already.  The mornings have been drenched in dew.  Actually, yesterday morning I had the living room curtains pulled open so I could enjoy the sunrise as I prayed the Divine Office and Morning Prayer.  The dew was so heavy that every time the breeze stirred enough dewdrops fell from the fluttering leaves that you would have thought it was raining.  The sun had just cleared the eastern horizon, and the rays were slanting though the same linden tree, so I was not misled.

The night had been five degrees or more chillier in the northwoods, so I wasn’t surprised when after about an hour or so of driving that I drove into a thick blanket of ground fog.  I switched my headlights on and eased up on the gas a bit.  The fog lasted for about twenty miles and then, just as suddenly as it appeared, I rounded the next bend and drove back into a clear morning.

I crossed the bridge over the Pine River.  I noticed that no one was parked there.  This is a good spot for late season trout fishing as the likelihood of hooking a good-sized brown trout increases as the fall spawn comes on.  The brook trout also spawn at this time of year; their colors which are always stunning, are even more brilliant.  I resolve to study the calendar a little diligently to see if even a partial day of pursuit can be had.

Just a few miles from the Upper Michigan border I flip the directional on and turn off the highway on a Forest Road.  Like most Forest Roads it is gravel and just barely wide enough to allow two vehicles to pass each other – if you carefully inch over to the edge.  This is how you get to all of the adventure in the northwoods.  All of the best lakes, streams, and campsites are at the end of a gravel road.  

It’s only about four miles to Steven’s Lake now, but I don’t hurry.  For one thing, those who hurry down narrow gravel roads can quickly have the road slide out from underneath them.  But my slower pace has more to do with the view.  Gravel Forest Roads are like trout rivers in these parts; they constantly twist and turn.  Each bend holds the promise of possible discovery.  And there are many hills, small and larger not unlike the rapids and riffles of the rivers.  

I also know that the road attracts wildlife.  Sure enough, just around the next curve a doe munches her breakfast as I drive by.  Then over a series of hills and I have to break for a pair of ruffed grouse who are piking gravel to help digest the roadside clover that they have probably been picking at the morning. 

As I top the next hill I ease to a stop.  The view ahead is quintessential northern Wisconsin  gravel road in autumn.  I swing the truck door open and grab my phone to take a picture.  It’s only after I am out of the truck that I realize that there is a cabin just beyond the trees on the left side.  I can see a man peering through the brush at me.  He sees me see him and he pulls back. 

“Good morning!” I offer. 

“Good morning,”.  His reply has noticeably less gusto than my greeting. 

“Just taking a quick picture.” 

“A picture of what?”

“A picture of the gravel road.”

“It’s just a gravel road,” he says as he turns and walks away.  I see that he is shaking his head.

I smile.  Yep, I agree.  It's just a gravel road.

 

His Peace <><

Deacon Dan