On Lake Detroit, August 2005

Introduction: No big deal here, just a simple excerpt from my Fun Journal to keep alive a few good memories of times gone by. Hope you the reader, whoever you might be will find some humor in this old mans adventures and also gain some insight to a partially sighted(near blind) mans challenges. Please have a fun read and know that I left out all the really good stuff.

Note: A week prior to this challenging canoe jaunt I had just returned from a one week trip to Montana and Canada Glacier National Park with my old friend John. We were suppose to head into Canada and maybe up into Alaska for at least 3 weeks but due to the high cost of gas, our being caught unprepared (John forgot his money and I didn’t have any) and our inauspicious disorganization (departed in a haste, forgot to take our camping gear) we returned home. This was rather disappointing to me because I had planned to be gone for those three weeks and my family had made plans around my absence and suddenly I’m back; oh no, this was not good!

Ok, through this time of shock for my wife and daughters I tried to stay calm but was rather restless, full of unspent energy and had to get away.  This had nothing to do with the fact that my wife kept on asking me why I had come home and why don’t you go out back and cut those fifty acres of wild berries down?  I really wanted to do something with my lovely wife but due to her ill health and getting ready for school she had no time for me so I borrowed my fishing buddy’s 16 foot canoe (don’t want to give his name here, due to events in this story) threw my stuff together and had my wife drive me and the canoe up to Lake Detroit. It was simple enough, no real planning or testing or gas or disorganization, I just unloaded the boat, dragged it into the lake, packed it up, said goodbye to my wife, jumped in and off I went.

About all the photos you won’t see in this journal; well, had a brand new camera, one that I just bought for this trip and just as I was finishing up my first roll, I had the misfortune of getting to close to a speeding boat, it just missed me and a splash washed over my boat and thus the camera got its first soaking. After about an hour of beating it on the edge of the canoe I was able to get most of the water out of it and it seemed to work fine after that. But then in all my brilliance the next day out I tied it onto the cross bar of the canoe and once again, while involved in a lake fiasco and in some hard and heavy paddling, the camera must of come undone and slid to the back of the canoe, just where all the inside water happens to collect and there the camera set for the day and it was finished for sure this time.

           

Therefore, each picture that I wanted to place herein will thus be a descriptive overview of a once beautiful photo that is now lost in bubbles and moss!

Photo #1: That white guy you see sitting there in the canoe who looks like a white chicken waving is me. This is the sole planner and expedition guide waving goodbye to everyone. The day is blue and hot, I’m loaded down good, got on my outdoor broad rimmed hat and the island is off in the distance. The photo was taken by my wife. I look a little irritated  because my wife is making this great big scene, right there in front of all the boaters and beach folks. Hey, I just wanted to get in and go; oh no, she’s suddenly Mrs. Photographer, and she has got to make sure the distant island is in the picture. This means that she can’t move two feet over, but tells me to paddle over to the left, then right, and then back again,  and line myself up just right. I paddle, everyone is now looking, now she says this is not good, “hey, just take the stinking picture,” I say, but she tells me not to get huffy now.

By now there’s a few other folks standing around and watching the possible catastrophe that just might be arriving soon. For its been about 8 years since I’ve been in a canoe and this one is not only huge, its really loaded down with tons of my vital camping stuffs, and water is lapping at the gunnals. 

Finally, she makes the shot and everyone gives their applause, and now I got to get out of the canoe and retrieve the camera from my most  considerate wife who can’t possibly get her feet wet, and besides she wants me to kiss her goodbye in front of the curious crowd. So with the photo and kiss shoot accomplished, I get into my rocky boat and head out across the lake. Of course, just as I’m feeling balanced and got my bearings (finally going in a straight line) about 20 good strokes out, my wife cups her hands and in all her loving voice  she yells, “can you see the island Dear? Are you sure you can find it alone? Do you want me to call the coast guard to help you with this trip?” I know she does this just to make me really mad and not come home for at least a day and it worked just great. The thing is that no one really knows that I’m blind and this is a challenge for me, but does she have to tell the world?

Without looking back, it won’t do any good anyhow, I can’t see but about 5 feet in any direction so I lift my paddle, wave and head for deep waters.

The south end of the island is only about a quarter mile off to my left but I got to cross the main ski and speed racing channel. This normally wouldn’t be any big deal but I’m a little nervous about being so loaded down and besides my wife is still yelling out directions to me. “Can’t she just leave me alone and go away?”

A few ski boats flash by and roll a good sized wake at me but with all my canoe skills I think to turn into it but over compensate and it slams me up the side and woe, I almost flip, or so it seems.

The sun is really hot and I’m a little over dressed for the long paddle and begin my search for my camp. In fact I’m a little disturbed because I forgot my bathing suit and got to wear these really hot jogging pants and wow  am I ever Sweating.

Here comes a second boat, this time its full of punk blue harried freaks who scream by me and swish a huge wake that nearly rolls me but again everything works out ok, except that all my camping gear is now sopping wet but hey, this is getting exciting!

The island looms near  (I’m sure) and I can no longer hear that overly concerned but irritating voice behind me, off in the distance but I’m sure that is her honking the horn as one final warning not to call her for at least three days. Now the worst time of day for my eyes is from about sunrise to sunset and around noonish is the worst of that time. The sun is brilliant and due to my balancing act and near three swampings, I’ve already lost my sun glasses and the sun is glaring really bad but so what, I know the island is out there somewhere, I hope?

About three quarters the way to the south point I realize that I’m an old man and this paddling stuff just might give me a heart attack and start to worry and so much for a peaceful get away.

The early afternoon wind begins to pick up and I’m blown off course down the west side of the island. This is not where I want to go and got to really work hard to stay on course. If anyone is watching me, they must think that I’m some sort of zig zag freak, going for a record in zigging and zaggin in the record books  because I’m going left and right and back and forth like a sail boat tacking but I’m only a canoe. And a canoe is built to go straight and straight I ain’t going.

I decide, well really the wind decided for me, but I arrive at the wrong side of the island and need to paddle back against the wind to the south point.

This south point used to offer a pretty nice camping site. You could tie up your boat right there, and you got some forest to put your tent in and it was a nice spot at one time. Well I finally get around to the point and there is someone anchored off shore fishing right where I wanted to be, can you imagine that?

Ok, I’m trying to squint my way around the stumps and logs, don’t know if anyone is on shore fishing and sort of paddle along playing Mr. Cool and dumb at the same time. Can’t see if anyone is looking at me from the boat, but I’m sure they are, it’s only thirty feet away and I nod just in case their wondering.

I suddenly hit the island, take my bearings and with all the grace of an experience  outdoorsman I pull up to a huge old stump and think to step out of the canoe.

But, being so long seated in the near impossible canoe paddling position , now stiff legged and hunched back my legs won’t move. I begin to cramp up and ah sheet, this hurts! Oh please this hurts but got to be cool now, so I sort of flip out of the canoe into about two foot of cool refreshing water. My legs go num and I got to rub my cramps away and as I’m doing this, I fail to hold onto the canoe and it drifts into the peoples nearby fishing lines. I now got to wade out into deeper waters and grab the dang thing and pull it back. I hear someone cussing a little but say my sorriest excuses and work boat back to rocky shore, and stumble out of water in soaking jogging pants but I’m still a smiling, just in case my wife is looking with my binoculars, the ones I forgot.

I pull the canoe a little onto shore, tie it up and take a look. Hey now, what happened to the shore? This is not how I remembered it to be but of course I haven’t been here for 10 years and the lake is down about 25 feet. I stumble around the  bolder covered shore and head up to the tree line. I go behind bushes to see if there might be a camping site but nada.  The boat load of fishermen are right down below me now, and I realize that it looks like I‘ve stopped off here to go to the toilet because I’m searching out the bushes right in front of them. Forget this place, I stumble back down the cliff and with all grace, get into my canoe and pull myself along the shore lined stumps, trying not to disturb the family so peacefully fishing. I nod my goodbyes and think, so what, I’ll never see them again, wrong, but will meet these people along the way in a few days and they’ll learn more about my very odd visit to their fishing area.

I decide to go around the east side of the island and slowly begin my long paddle to the east end of the lake. I remember that there once were camping sites there and maybe I’ll find one.

Now shadows don’t work well for my eyes. But if you add brilliant afternoon sun flashing through tall trees an then suddenly finding yourself in deep shadow, well that is something that causes my eyes much trouble. Sure the paddle down the east side was much better but had to weave along the shadowy cliffs and coves with blasting sunbeams piercing my views and each time my eyes had to readjust. This normally wouldn’t be much trouble but if a blind man is in a canoe and he has water skiers blasting by on his right and fishermen casting from off shore on his left; and well, you can’t see them, this is a cause for some concern.

There are some things that are hard for a sighted person to understand, like why would a strange bearded man paddling along a shore in a near sunken canoe be rubbing his eyes and talking to stumps along the shore? Yes, this might sound a little stupid and believe me, it really is but yes it does happen. The best way to prevent such events of stupidity, is for a blind man to just stay home and lock himself into  his room and die! But oh no, this Mr. Blind  Outdoorsmen wants to live and also keep his wife happy by disappearing for a week at a time…but back to stump conversations?

There are tons of old stumps along the shoreline of this island. They stand tall and are in all forms, shapes and sizes. And unless you got some good eyes in your head, you as Mr. Outdoor Magoo could very easily mistake any one of these stumps as a quiet fisherman just waiting for you to go by…honest.

Every so often small splashes would hit the water near me, so naturally I assumed (assuming is not good for a blind person) that this was someone casting their lines out into the water. Therefore I would slowly turn away from shore or head out for the little cove and make my apology known to the “Stump.

” hey I’m a considerate man, its best to at least udder some sort of apology as you try to avoid ruining someone’s day, even if it was only a stump or an odd shaped rock. Those little splashes turned out to be fish jumping. Oh well, I bet I both entertained and amused a lot of people on this trip and gave them something to talk about around the camp fire at night.

“Hey George are you still wondering why that odd ball bearded guy in the canoe was talking with the trees and stumps? Do you think he is one of those escaped weirdoes from the State institution everyone is looking for? Do you think we should turn him into the forest rangers?”

“I don’t know Marge but you better keep the gun loaded and lock up the tent tonight.”

Photo #2: This is a picture of one of those stumps. Now look close and sort of squint a little and you’ll see that from about 30 feet away it could resemble a man casting a pole, right? Got to admit though, this guy would be rather big, sporting a massive head about 3 foot across and totally bald with at least six legs and hey, use your imagination please? One more equation, let someone shine a flashlight into your eyes while your trying to figure this out and make sure your dodging jet ski’s in all this.

Finally got out of the shadows and sun flares and came to the east end of the island where the shore line drops down into a lower area.  Paddled into shore, found a little niche, tied up and walked up the rocky hill and came onto a flat and there was this unbelievable camp site. The thing was that there was no one around, and I mean no one. This was in the middle of the week but still, this had to be one of the nicest camp sites on the whole lake. I soon searched out the area and found several ‘Welcome’ signs, couldn’t read the rest of the two inch lettering and made the choice to set up camp. Began unloading the gear from the over laden canoe and when  it was lightened up, pulled it up onto a pebble beach. I couldn’t believe it, this was a perfect spot, a 180 degree view of three different sections of the lake with a sand beach behind me and plenty of bushes to use as a toilet facility. I did notice sort of a swampy area behind the bushes but hey, this was a great place.     There of course was no toilets or running water on the island and  all campers had to make do and so I did.

After about two hours of setting up my tent, first time I ever set up this tent and glad no one was around to watch this flapping circus in the wind or at least I thought there was no one to see. Now just a few days earlier, my daughter Lubov set this tent up in two minutes, it took me that long to just untie the first knot, and another hour to get it up but then had to undo the whole thing because I put the rods in wrong, but hey, not bad for an old timer. Anyhow, got all set up and went for a very refreshing swim. Man was that nice. After all this, dried off, sat down on my burrito filled ice chest and absolutely had nothing to do and got bored, thinking that this desert island thing might not be so cool after all.

Within three minutes of pure  boredom, I thought it to be a good idea to clear a way down to my boat and thus began moving 14 tons of rocks from my camp site down to the canoe. I actually spent a half day creating a clear smooth path down the rocky bolder strewn shore. But now, due to smaller rounded pebbles laying on this descending path, it became as if an icy slide, each and every time I put my foot onto the path. I solved my arm waving back stroke falls by tying the extra long bow rope from the canoe to a tree in my camp. Thereafter each time I descended to the water some 30 feet down below.

I would hold the rope with one hand, and and walk with a walking stick in my other hand and I thought it might help a bit. Hey it did work ok as long as you crawled,  and I only fell or did a odd twisting dance when a boat load of people came along, and I’m sure they went away laughing, or awed at this lake side acrobatical show.

This rock and bolder removal project was my first geological experience of the trip that I managed. The path worked out pretty good for me but by the days end, my fingernails were all busted, my white back was totally blood red and I had hundreds of odd bumps all over my body; this turned out to be mosquito bites and this was day time. However, all my problems went away when I dove into the clear refreshing lake water and swam out and just floated there in silence and let the fish nibble on my toes.

Things were going great until I tried laying down that night. I must have wrenched my back and could lay down ok but trying to get up again, well that was a problem. I got a little panicky the first night, thinking that maybe I screwed up my back so bad I wouldn’t be able to even get up in the morning, and who would be there to help? Hey no problem, remembered that I had a cell phone and thought to dial my wife and see if it worked. I waited, it rang and my daughter Lubov answered and put me on hold as my batteries drained down. She said she was holding for a clerk to give her a price on peanut butter. Finally my wife came onto the phone and had sort of a pleading sound in her hello, as if saying, “Please, not already, don’t ask me to come and get you?”

I immediately assured her, and put her little heart to rest that I was having a great time with all these really neat female fisher people, and there was a girls school camping out right next door; and she got a good chuckle out of this one saying, “I know, you must have screwed up your back and your calling for reassurance, aren’t you?”

“No dear, just letting you know I’m still alive and plan on staying at least three weeks.”

“That’s fantastic, and by the way, did you make sure your life insurance is paid up in full, just checking Dear?”

“Yeah, all is taken care of and,” at this point she puts me on hold for the price of peanut butter and I get really upset and disconnect!

Ok, my lovely little island is about a mile long and a quarter mile across. The area I’m in, offers a few camp sites with a large sand beach and further around to the west there is a good sized swamp where billions of bugs, nats and monstrous mosquitoes await their hunt for blood on my desert island. It so happens that I got the entire island to myself.     Thus, after only three days, my name and location had to be broadcasted to every flying creature that existed for three miles in all directions. This seems a little out of the ordinary to me but, wow was I ever having fun?

This wouldn’t have been so bad if I could have built a camp fire, but due to the fire season restrictions I’m not allowed to built one. I could have built a smoldering smoky fire that would have at least kept the bigger three pound flying teeth away from me but couldn’t break the law now, could I?

My first evening alone on my desert island arrived and the distant noise from the ski boats went down a few decimals and the lake began to lay flat and calm. My first evening swim was wonderful until a drunken boat load of screaming freaks came roaring down my side of the shore and just missed me as I swam for my life, but this was fun stuff, right?

After figuring out that my little tent actually had mosquito netting and that a cool evening sent the monster biters back to the swamps things got much better. I figured out that they don’t count mosquitoes around here but measure them in density. I’m sure it was something like One Million per cubic foot! 

The night wore on and I took out my daughters smaller guitar, oh yes, had to bring a guitar along for some entertainment, after all, it wasn’t safe for me to be alone with my own mind for too long. I sat there under the trees looking out over the lake just meditating while plucking a few soft sounds. This went on for an hour or so when a boat came along and stopped a short distance off my beach.

I thought they were maybe enjoying the soft strings of my nights ponderings but apparently they were thinking if it was worth while to come ashore and mug me for beer? I say beer because during one of my better tunes, at least I thought so, one gutteral voice yelled out, “Hey you stinkin jerk, do you got any beer for us?”

At first I was shocked, realizing that this drunken rap boat gang was serious and then I was insulted that they didn’t really stop to hear my peaceful tunes of the night. Then I could hear them arguing about who might go to shore and check my ice chest out and I decided to fight back, and no way was I going to allow them to know I had burritos!

“Don’t even think of it dudes, for don’t think that I’d be stupid enough to camp out alone without my Doberman, Brutus and not to think of bringing along my 45?” At this I gave forth a low growl and softly said, “Now Brutus, I know your not feeling all that well about not getting your normal five pounds of steak but maybe one of those idiots might oblige your hungry rage by stepping ashore, what you think there Brutus?” Then a louder growl and hey, this seemed to work until a beam of light that would blind a man on the moon came sweeping across my  camp site and alighted on me.

I was really blind now but just looked over at my tent and said calmly, “Now brutus, I know it’s tough on your pride but you stay there in your tent and obey me and keep me away from that gun, you know what my psychiatric therapist said about me and guns, be good now Brutus.”

This  seemed to work, for a roar of laughter came from the boat and I heard one guy say, “This was really great entertainment, let’s go get the rest of the gang  and hit another camp and come back here and convert this jerk to Rap music.” And with this they started their engine, punched out and roared away with a two million watt sound system blaring out gutter rap and violent rape music!

Shortly thereafter while plucking out another tune, only this one being a little more nervous in its rhythm, I spied what seemed to be the beginning of a fire on the mountain across from me. Oh no, hope its not a fire and I’ll have to evacuate in the middle of the night. However, soon the flames or what I thought to be bright flames began to rise up. Sitting there a bit worried, listening for distant alarms, I soon saw a brilliant moon rise up over the mountain. Wow was all I could say!

No kidding, that moon was like a massive light so bright  I just became mesmerized, and to tell you the truth, this was a total surprise; and just because of that beautiful moon, I decided to spend the night, no matter even if the rapper boat gang decided to return, but they never showed…Cowards!

I sat there in this near full moon light, watching its light glistening down over the water and shining directly into my camp. This was so awesome that I actually began to enjoy this serendipity moment, and finally thought to crawl into my sleeping bag.

It took about an hour to get comfortable on what came to be an immoveable rock under my tent. But I finally twisted my body around a few times and fell asleep for about twenty minutes when my bladder began to stretch out like one of those tubes behind a 90 mile an hour jet boat on the lake. So got undone, undid the tent flap, allowing herds of hungry blood thirsty mosquitoes to have their rights of blood exercised on me and cracked my tow on one of those larger rocks, and finally found a tree to water.  Made a big mistake here, for when I leaned my hand on the tree for balance it became stuck to what was a years supply of tree sap that was now flowing out in the hot summer days. This was really bad because I had no way of getting it off, not even with dirt, rocks or peanut butter.

After deciding that a sticky hand didn’t really matter for real outdoorsmen, I gave up and got back to my tent safely, tucked back in and fought off the buzzing bombers and must have dozed off. Somewhere in here between a dream of my daughter buying $300 worth of peanut butter and my wife taking out more life insurance on me, I was startled by a light shining in my face and thought for sure that those rap boat gangers had come to get me. That billion watt light which was now melting my eyebrows off my face, turned out to be the rising sun!

This couldn’t be true, for how could I the blind man have aligned my tent door, perfectly to the east to greet the rising sun. I thought that maybe I had some ancient Egyptian blood in me, for they seemed to line everything up with the rising sun too.  The only thing was, I didn’t come hear to meet the rising sun with my face. It had to be about 5:30 am and not a peep could be heard anywhere. I rolled over and tried to get back to sleep but again my bladder started screaming at me but I told it to go to where old stretched bladders go to!

Eventually I rolled out of my blazing tent into a brilliant burning day,  scorching my white body to a dark brown within minutes. And of course I had lost my sun glasses in one of those super balancing canoe tricks. And so there I was and began my first full day with a terrible headache and my sappy and very sticky hand over my eyes, trying to protect them from a lazar operation, that I didn’t really want.

I stumbled down to my canoe to see if it was still there. Only fell twice and banged up my knee because the rope had slackened due to the drop in the lake. The canoe was there and so  decided while the water was still nice and calm I would go in for a morning swim, wash off the blazing burn on my face and maybe quench the fiery bites now numbering at least ten thousand, and oh was that water cold, and I had to remind myself that I was having fun!