Riverwatch Winter 2017

WINTER 2017 NUMBER 77

THE RIVERWATCH THE QUARTERLY NEWSLETTER OF THE ANGLERS OF THE AU SABLE

• FISH FARM FIGHT GOES LOCAL • AQUACULTURE • RIVER WORDS • ANNUAL AWARDS

FROM THE EDITOR… IT NEVER ENDS

By Josh Greenberg, Editor

They were irate. Those that I knew paused on their way out the door to whisper, what a bunch of BS. Referring I think to not only the chemicals, but also their feeling that there was a bit of a song and dance going on. Was there? I don’t know.

Further downstream on the Au Sable, another plume has resulted in “Do Not Eat” advisory for all non-migratory fish in the Au Sable and nearby waterbodies. Google “Oscoda groundwater.” It’s not good.

I hope that all clean-water fisheries aren’t doomed by the accumulation of the unintended consequences of human development. When the downside is possible water contamination the answer by default should be no. I doubt it’s always this easy to see the big picture when you have a foam that effectively puts out fires. Such foams are only now receiving worldwide attention and banning.

Right now I’m more concerned for the people that may be affected by these plumes than I am the trout, but at some point the trout are the ones that are going to tell you that something is going, or has already gone, really wrong. Most environmental problems begin where all things tend to end, which is in the water. As Dan Vogler of the Grayling Fish Farm declared, we have to decide what water is for. Disposal of waste – intended or not – probably shouldn’t be in water’s common job description.

A fly-caught Lake Margrethe smallmouth.

As some of you know, toxic chemicals (PFOs = Per –and polyfluorakyl substances) have been found in Lake Margrethe, as well as in some ground water in Grayling township. The chemicals in Lake Margrethe are Present as a “white sudsy foam.”

They are piling up at the outflow of Lake Margrethe, which is what us trout anglers call Portage Creek. Portage Creek will – or probably has – transported these chemicals into the Manistee. The source of these chemicals is apparently a firefighting foam used by the military both at the Graying Air Field and on the National Guard Base by Margrethe. I do not know how bad it is. I don’t think anyone does. I know that swimmers and dogs are advised to not touch the foam. I also know that it’s likely been there for years, and that it may be -- and forever remain -- diluted beyond any sort of imminent threat.

Governor Snyder’s office has created a response team to investigate. This fall attended a town hall meeting at the Grayling High School. Grayling residents were there in the hundreds.

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I intended to have this issue done a few months ago and I apologize for its tardiness, but a lot happened this year on the Au Sable, as you’ll see in this issue, and I kept trying to fit it all in. I understand why Rusty said “it never ends.” I’m sure at the time he meant everything from a barrage of phone calls to some new threat to the Au Sable. But the river doesn’t either...

And neither do the folks stepping up to help the river. Recently Tom Buhr finalized his $50,000 Matching Grant, and folks are stepping up to match, and you should too. This year Jim and Julie Gibbs took the river cleanup and made it better by adding a recycling station and removing the need for a dumpster.

There are more and more cedars along both the Manistee and the Au Sable. There are more and more trout in the rehabilitated feeder streams.

When the river is threatened, people step up. Some give money.

Some donate expertise. Some pick up trash. The river needs it all. The bad necessitates the good, and not always is blame easily assigned, but responsibility for remediation, often provided pro bono, is the assumed burden of many anglers. Does it feel like swimming upstream? Yes it does. But it’s the only way to know for sure that it’s not going to end.

Editor Letter

A LETTER FROM OUR NEW PRESIDENT

By Joe Hemming

As the newly-elected president of Anglers of the Au Sable, I certainly have big shoes (waders?) to fill…most recently those of our immediate past president Tom Baird. Tom in serving as president was seemingly everywhere 24/7 on behalf of Anglers. Not surprisingly, Tom received our treasured Riverkeeper Award this year (more on that in this issue).

So thank you, Tom, for everything you have done on behalf of Anglers.

You so deserved the award.

2017 has been a full and busy year for this organization. As members, you all have much to be proud of. Others are also proud of our efforts.

In fact, this year Anglers was awarded the 2017 Fly Fisher’s International Conservation Award. High praise indeed! One of the distinct honors in heading Anglers of the Au Sable is giving out much-deserved awards. Aside from Tom receiving the Riverkeeper Award, President Awards were given to Gerry Lake, Dr. Mark Luttenton and Steve Sendek this year. These individuals serve as models of what volunteerism is all about. And our organization is all about volunteerism.

Obviously so much of our efforts are devoted to hours spent in the Au Sable River itself. Whether it’s habitat restoration, mapping, structure repair, temperature monitoring, planting cedars, conducting fish surveys, the opportunities are many. We also honor our obligation to prepare our youth of today who will be our leaders of tomorrow in the area of conservation and preserving and protecting our beloved river. To that end, we provide opportunity for youth to get involved in the river and the sport of fly fishing — whether it’s youth trout camp, scholarships, writing contests, our One Fly (Box) Challenge, as well as with helping clean our river.

The opportunities are many for people to get involved. And involvement is key and critical to the health of a volunteer organization.

We have many challenges ahead of us. Obviously, front and center is our fish farm case. But there are, and seemingly will always be, threats which we as an organization will have to deal with for the good of our river. Since the founding of our organization, we have always been there for whatever is threatening the river, whether it is establishing needed catch and release regulations on the Holy Waters, heading off mineral leases and fracking in the headwaters, undoing plans to drill for natural gas in the Mason Track, or using our river as a sewer for a commercial fish farm.

As your new president, I am heading up an incredibly devoted and talented board of directors all of whom are so passionate about our river.

I am truly honored to serve this board and serve all of you, over onethousand strong. As I often tell people, when I stand on the banks of the Au Sable River, my soul sings. This river is a precious jewel in all of our lives. As your president, I am ready and raring to go! After all, it’s all about the river.

President’s Letter

THE RIVERWATCH The RIVERWATCH is a quarterly publication of The Anglers of the Au Sable, a non-profit corporation dedicate d to the protection of the Au Sable River, its watershed and surrounding environs. Dues are $25 per year. For membership please contact: The Anglers of the Au Sable P.O. Box 200 Grayling, MI 49738 www.ausableanglers.org

PRESIDENT Joe Hemming, Beverly Hills, MI

VICE PRESIDENT John Bebow, Ann Arbor, MI

TREASURER Bruce Pregler, Rochester Hills, MI

SECRETARY Tess Nelkie, Tawas City, MI

DIRECTORS Thomas Buhr, Luzerne, MI (Emeritus) Tom Baird, Dimondale, MI Eric Clark, Sault Ste. Marie, MI Dick Daane, Ann Arbor, MI (Emeritus) John Dallas, Troy, MI Dan Drislane, Emigrant, MT (Emeritus) Pat Dwyer, Rochester, MI Dave Eberly, Bloomfield Hills, MI Jay Gleason, Huntersville, NC (Emeritus) Josh Greenberg, Grayling, MI Terry Lyons, Perry, MI John Novak, Grayling, MI Greg Noviski, Toledo, OH John O’Neil, Toledo, OH Andy Richards, Kalamazoo, MI Jacque Rose, Whittemore, MI John Russell, Traverse City, MI Don Sawyer, Okemos, MI Jim Schramm, Pentwater, MI Jim Shiflett, Lovells, MI David Smith, Grayling, MI John Walters, Vanderbilt, MI Nicole Watson, Dundee, MI David Waymire, Charlotte, MI 3

FISH FARM UPDATE

By Joe Hemming

There have been some new developments in our opposition to Harrietta Hills operating a fish farm at the old Grayling Fish Hatchery via Department of Environmental Quality (DEQ) issued permit.

Two different proceedings are currently taking place in which Anglers is contesting the operation of the fish farm. First, as you will recall, an 18-day hearing took place in Lansing before an Administrative Law Judge, Daniel Pulter, in which Anglers of the Au Sable contested the permit as issued by the DEQ. The Judge in that hearing issued a Proposal for Final Decision (PfD) on February 1, 2017 following this hearing. This PfD was sent to DEQ Director Heidi Grether for a final decision. Director Grether can modify the permit that was issued by the DEQ, leave the permit unchanged or throw out the permit in its entirety. It’s entirely up to Director Grether.

When the PfD was sent to Director Grether however, Judge Pulter had indicated in his PfD that he had no authority to require as a condition in the permit that Harrietta Hills monitor for whirling disease. In an order dated June 27, 2017 Director Grether sent the matter back to Judge Pulter indicating that the Judge did in fact have the authority to require the fish farm to monitor for whirling disease as a condition of the permit. Judge Pulter then supplemented his PfD to require Harrietta Hills to monitor for whirling disease not only within the hatchery, but outside of the hatchery in the sediment of the East Branch. Having Harrietta Hills test downstream from the fish farm in the East Branch was a big step. This marked the first time that the permit would include a provision for testing outside of the fish farm’s boundaries. In addition, Judge Pulter indicated that in the event that there is whirling disease present in the hatchery, all fish within the hatchery will be removed and disposed of.

As this article is being written, the par4

ties are in the process of filing what are called exceptions (objections) to Judge Pulter’s proposal in regard to monitoring for whirling disease. Thereafter the matter will once again rest with Director Grether for a final decision on the permit.

In regard to the other court action involving the fish farm, Anglers filed a complaint in Crawford County Circuit Court against Harrietta Hills. This was a two-count complaint. Count I related to the violation of the statutory and deed restrictions regarding the Grayling Fish Hatchery and Count II related to violation of the Michigan Environmental Protection Act. When the State of Michigan conveyed the Grayling Fish Hatchery to Crawford County, it was conditioned on the hatchery property only being used for public recreation or museum purposes. In addition, the public would have a right of ingress and egress for fishing purposes.

Anglers argued that the operation of a commercial fish farm at the hatchery was not in keeping with the hatchery being used for public recreation or museum purposes nor was the fish farm owner allowing the public to fish from the property except during very restricted hours.

This was the basis of our Count I. As to Count II, Anglers alleged a violation of the Michigan Environmental Protection Act (MEPA). This Act authorizes people to bring suit in circuit court in order to protect our natural resources and environment. Anglers argued that the operation of the fish farm at the Grayling Hatchery pollutes and impairs the river and will likely continue to pollute and impair the river, contrary to MEPA. We argued that the fish farm through its discharge of phosphorus and other chemicals, as well as fish feces and uneaten fish food, would cause or contribute to a violation of the water quality standards in Michigan as well as increasing the risk of whirling disease in the river.

Harrietta Hills’ response to our circuit court complaint was to file a motion before the court to delay any action until a final administrative decision was issued by the Director Grether in regards to the permit. The court did deny this request and the lawsuit is going forward.

The Judge’s order also stated that Anglers had a right to enter the fish farm in order to monitor water quality on the property, a request by Anglers that was previously denied by Harrietta Hills.

Harrietta’s next response was to file a motion for summary disposition asking Circuit Court Judge Mertz to dismiss Anglers’ complaint on certain legal grounds.

In a ruling that was dated October 13, Judge Mertz denied Harrietta Hills’ motion as to Anglers Count II alleging that MEPA is being violated. Judge Mertz ruled that even under a state pollution discharge permit, Anglers alleged a valid reason for the case to go forward.

As such, Anglers under Count II will be allowed to prove its case that Harrietta Hills is violating MEPA in that the fish farm is and will continue to pollute the Au Sable River. In regard to Count I, the deed restrictions, Judge Mertz ruled that the Anglers was not the proper party to argue the violation of any deed restrictions at the hatchery, but rather the state would be the proper party. What is truly noteworthy in that regard is that Judge Mertz ruled that Harrietta Hills in operating its commercial fish farm in the Grayling Fish Hatchery “clearly violates the statute and the deed restrictions” on the property. Judge Mertz further indicated, “…it is clear that the intent of the state in granting the property to the county was that it remain open to and used for the benefit of the general public for recreation, fishing and historic purposes.”

Anglers now has an opportunity under the MEPA to submit our evidence, which will clearly show how Harrietta Hills is violating this Act. Part of our case will Fish Farm

be that the DEQ permit allows Harrietta Hills to discharge massive amounts of fish feces and partially decomposed fish food into the East Branch near its confluence with the Main Branch. We will be allowed to show that the pollution is already decreasing water quality, encouraging algae growth and could result in the spread of diseases including whirling disease.

As the case will now unfold in Crawford County Circuit Court, discovery will take place, subpoenas issued, interrogatories sent, records obtained, depositions taken as this case proceeds to a full hearing before Judge Mertz. In the meantime,

we will await a ruling from DEQ Director Heidi Grether in regard to the pollution permit which we contested in the administrative process. It is still our hope that Director Grether will recognize that discharging pollutants into the Au Sable is not acceptable under state law when technology does exist to allow the hatchery to operate without polluting the river.

So, the fight continues on two different fronts. The Au Sable River is truly one of the crown jewels of Michigan, attracting fly fishermen from around the world to fish its clear and unpolluted waters. Rest assured that Anglers, as part of its mission to preserve and protect the Au Sable

River, will do everything in its power to fulfill that mission.

As you can see however, this fight does not come without a cost. Anglers is a volunteer organization. This is truly a time when Anglers needs its members to give in order to help fund this fight. Please know that any and all contributions given to Anglers will help in one of the biggest threats the Au Sable has ever seen.

Preserve and protect. That’s what we are all about.

RIVERKEEPER AWARD

By Joe Hemming, President

The Riverkeeper Award, the highest recognition that our organization can bestow on an individual, is not given every year. This year, we had the perfect candidate to receive this award: our immediate past president, Tom Baird. Tom has served as our president since September 2014. During these three years, Tom was seemingly everywhere. Every board member can attest to having received either a phone call or an email late in the evening or early in the morning (and we are talking five in the morning!)

Tom got involved with Anglers shortly after it was organized, providing legal support for keeping catch and release regulations on the Holy Waters. Tom’s involvement in Anglers reads like a “who’s-who” of projects and fights including the National Guard threat, Lake St. Helen’s dam, Kolka Creek, mineral leases and fracking in the headwaters, oil drilling efforts in the Mason Tract and of course, the Grayling Fish Hatchery. As you may or may not be aware, Anglers is run on a committee structure. Anglers consists of the following committees: Executive Committee, Finance Committee, Fundraising Committee, Habitat Committee, Lower Au Sable Committee, Communications and Education Committee, Legal Committee, Resource Committee,

Government Affairs Committee, and last, but not least, Membership and Events Committee.

These committees are filled with hard-working members and each of these committees have Tom’s paw prints all over them.

On a personal note however, I have had the privilege of working with Tom closely on the fish farm case since Harrietta Hills first received its permit to pollute the Au Sable on July 1, 2014. Tom has been intimately involved in every detail of these proceedings since day one. This has included strategy sessions, reviewing hundreds of documents, interacting with various witnesses and people involved in the case, being the spokesperson for the fish farm case with media outlets as well as even testifying as a witness during the administrative law proceedings in Lansing. Every step of the way, Tom has been an integral and essential part of this case.

So, thank you Tom! Thank you for all your years of service in helping preserve and protect our river. Tom, if you somehow think this is a curtain call, forget it. In your case, we cannot practice catch and release. Anglers has its hook in you and we won’t let go.

Baird 5

LEGISLATION TO REGULATE AQUACULTURE INTRODUCED AT STATE AND FEDERAL LEVEL

By Tom Baird, Board Member

Since the 2016 election there has been quite a bit of activity on the legislative front related to aquaculture. This includes regulatory legislation introduced in the state legislature and in Congress, and rumors of bills to deregulate aquaculture which are in the works right now—all at a time when we are struggling

with the problem of Asian carp in the Great Lakes, and right after a major catastrophe in Washington state, in which an open water fish farm collapsed and released thousands of Atlantic Salmon into the state’s coastal waters.

CONGRESSIONAL BRIEFING ON THE RISKS OF AQUACULTURE IN THE GREAT LAKES REGION A number of conservation groups, including Anglers of the Au Sable, hosted a Congressional staff briefing in Washington, D.C. in September about the dangers of aquaculture in the Great Lakes area. We also visited numerous legislators’ offices for one-on-one meetings with legislators or their staff. Representatives from Anglers of the Au Sable, Michigan United Conservation Clubs, National Wildlife Federation, Trout Unlimited and the Michigan Steelhead and Salmon Fishermen’s Association participated.

The “main event” was a two hour briefing by all of us on various topics: types of aquaculture, the Canadian experience with net pens, the Grayling fish farm, problems associated with fish

farming, and legislation which is now pending at the state and national level. We also visited the offices of Senator Stabenow and Congressmen Amash, Walberg, Bergman, Huizenga, Trott, Bishop, Moolenaar and Mitchell. Thanks are especially due to the NWF and the office of Congressman Dan Kildee for organizing the entire event.

Many of the attendees were unaware of the issues, and especially the dangers of aquaculture from pollution, disease, and escapement. So we have provided them with information and questions should deregulation of aquaculture be suggested in Congress.

BILLS IN CONGRESS – KILDEE Congressman Dan Kildee has introduced two bills to control aquaculture in the Great Lakes region. We have reported on these before. Here’s a summary: HR 961 would ban aquaculture facilities in the Great Lakes, ending the current patchwork of state laws that attempt to regu-

late such activities.

H.R. 962 would ban aquaculture facilities on Wild and Scenic Rivers and their tributaries, such as the Au Sable River, unless those facilities can be shown not to discharge pollutants into the water.

BILLS IN THE MICHIGAN LEGISLATURE – JONES AND HOWELL Bipartisan bills have also been introduced in the Michigan Senate and House of Representatives to regulate aquaculture. They are:

HB 4884, introduced by Representative Gary Howell and a bipartisan group of cosponsors (McCready, Crawford, Cochran, Sabo, Canfield, Elder, Bellino, Sowerby and Chang), and

6 Aquaculture

SB 423, introduced by Senator Rick Jones, also supported by bipartisan cosponsors (Hertel, Knezek, Bieda, Hopgood, Warren, Knollenberg, Conyers and Schmidt).

Currently it is rumored that the House Bill will be brought up for a hearing in the House Natural Resources Committee, which is chaired by Rep. Howell.

THE FARM LOBBY As of this writing we are unaware of any aquaculture deregulation bills in the hopper. But it is rumored that the Michigan Farm Bureau, Michigan Aquaculture Association and others

friendly to the industry are working behind the scenes to prepare such legislation for consideration later in the term.

WHAT CAN WE DO? Assuming you agree that aquaculture poses a serious threat to the Au Sable and the Great Lakes, pick up the phone or write to you state representative and senator in support of the Howell and Jones bills. And contact your representative in Congress,

and our senators, to support the Kildee bills. You would be amazed – really – what a few dozen contacts on an issue will do.

PRESIDENT AWARD RECIPIENTS

By Joe Hemming

Each year the president of our organization has the opportunity to recognize special individuals who have made significant contributions to our organization and the Au Sable. This

year, President’s Awards were given to three very special and deserving individuals.

GERRY LAKE Gerry Lake has been an extraordinary volunteer for Anglers for years. In fact, Gerry’s contribution to the health of the Au Sable River goes back even before the founding of our organization.

Since the 1960s, Gerry has been volunteering his time for the good of our river. Gerry has contributed hundreds of hours toward river monitoring, redd surveys, river mapping, planning,

and habitat restoration. He is also exceedingly generous, often picking up the tab for the tools needed to do the job. Just as important, Gerry has also devoted much time and energy to the education and supervision of our newer volunteers, something that is necessary to the health of an organization as we look to the future.

MARK LUTTENTON Mark Luttenton is a professor at Grand Valley University specializing in aquatic sciences. Mark has been at Grand Valley for 27 years. For many of these years Mark has served as a science advisor to the Anglers, oftentimes doing this at his own expense. Mark is frequently called on by board members to provide scientific insight and basis for much of our conservation and advocacy activities. These efforts included a two-year telemetry study tracking the movement of brown trout in the

Au Sable. Mark’s efforts most recently on behalf of our organization have been devoted to the fish farm case. Mark has been extraordinarily gracious in giving (often at no cost) his time and expertise to the cause. This has included conducting important macroinvertebrate and algae studies on behalf of the litigation as well as testifying as an expert. These efforts continue to be ongoing. Our advocacy in the fish farm case has been outstanding with much thanks owed to Mark.

STEVE SENDEK Steve served as a fisheries biologist for the DNR for over twenty years. Throughout his long and honorable career with the DNR, Steve’s responsibility was the health of the Au Sable River. Following Steve’s retirement from the DNR, he became the owner of Northpoint Fisheries Management. This company (no surprise) finds Steve working in the Au Sable River system.

Needless to say, Steve has devoted a lifetime to the Au Sable River and its health. Steve has been an incredibly valuable

source of information for Anglers, serving as a conservation and science advisor for its various activities as well as Anglers’ stream restoration efforts. This has been often done at Steve’s own expense. This included his contributions to the fish farm case in devoting hours at no cost to this litigation. It was clear from Steve’s testimony as an expert in this litigation that Steve is literally a walking encyclopedia about the history and conservation efforts devoted to this river.

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NORTHERN WHITE-CEDAR WORK PROJECT WITHIN THE MASON TRACT Contributor: Howard N. Johnson: Founder and Chairman, Cedars for the Au Sable

During this year’s Anglers of the Au Sable River Cleanup, twenty volunteers preformed maintenance work on the northern white cedars growing within the Mason Tract on the South Branch of the Au Sable River. This work included replanting seedlings, replacing damaged cedar cages, and installing larger exclosures around maturing cedars that were planted at the river’s edge a few years ago.

During this year’s work project, volunteers replaced eighteen larger cages around maturing cedars at the Hanger Site to continue to protect them from deer browse. These exclosures will protect the growing cedar until the tree reaches a height of twelve feet.

At that time, the exclosure will be removed.

Founding member, Director Emeritus and co-founder of the RIVERWATCH, Ed McGlinn died on October 22, 2017 after a long illness. The Spring edition of the RIVERWATCH will feature a memorial profile of Ed and his many accomplishments with the Anglers.

Helping with this year’s project where: Bob Andrus, Tad Randolph, Justine Jahr, Bob Sherwin, David Sherwin, Judy Verhoeks, Katy, Holden, and Aaron Greenberg, Carson Murphy, Neil Wallace, Emma Murphy, Peter Link, Sue Shiflett, Don Baty, Tony Molis, Ben Pinti, and Steve Loudon. The project was organized by Anglers of the Au Sable board member Jim Shiflett and Howard N. Johnson, chairman of the Cedars for the Au Sable project.

A total of 925 northern white cedars are growing and protected within the Mason Tract. Anglers of the Au Sable is one of the five planting partners that participated in the project from 2003 – 2008. This initiative is part of the Cedars for the Au Sable project which is administrated by the Au Sable River Property Owners Association. Additional partners in this project include Michigan Department of Natural Resources, Forest management Unit and Huron Pines RC&D.

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ANGLERS OF THE AU SABLE

RECEIVES

FLY FISHERS INTERNATIONAL

NATIONAL

CONSERVATION

AWARD

By Joe Hemming

The Anglers of the Au Sable was selected by Fly Fishers International to receive its prestigious National Conservation Award “in recognition of the Anglers extensive, ongoing contributions to conservation of the Au Sable watershed and ecosystem.”

and federal governmental levels, and our ongoing efforts to fight the Grayling fish farm case. Regarding the fish farm, the entire IFF is watching very closely. As one representative said, “if they can do it in the Au Sable, they can do it anywhere.”

We received this award due to our Habitat Committee’s extraordinary work on the river, our advocacy efforts at the state

The award was presented on Wednesday, August 2nd, during IFF’s International Fly Fishing Fair in Livingston, Montana.

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Jim Schramm, an Anglers board member and former chair of the Great Lakes Chapter of FFI, received the award on our behalf.

Frankly, I can’t believe all the work we’re getting done. This would not be possible without our volunteers and partners, and your memberships, contributions and support. Thank you!

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NIGHT TIME BROWN

By David Batchelor

It was the time of year when the hatches are on the wane, the crowds are gone, days are getting shorter and fish are on the move. I have been fishing the South Branch of the Au Sable River for over thirty years and have waded almost every inch many times in the dark. The river holds so many favorite stretches and memories that it can be hard to decide where to go, especially on the spur of the moment. I was running late and time was short to get on the river. A decision had to be made. Where to fish? A stretch of the Mason Tract came to mind but I hadn’t fished it for several years and it would be dark soon. I have made the mistake of wading unfamiliar waters after dark only once. It was a lesson well learned and never to be repeated. Although there are well marked paths along the most of the river, not knowing where to get out in the dark can lead to a long tromp through dense cedar swamps, blowdowns and thick cover. Fishing alone at night isn’t for the faint of heart or those unfamiliar with the forest and streams of northern Michigan.

I decided to check out the stretch I hadn’t fished for a long time. After parking the car and a short hike upriver along the Mason Tract Trail, I came to the path leading down to the river. The sunlight was still playing in the trees and bouncing off the river as I stepped in.

The night before I had been rewarded by a very nice brown just above where I got in. I had encountered a nice fish in the same spot a week earlier but missed his take. Last night was different. I remembered working downstream and wondering if “that fish” would be in the same spot looking for a meal. Excitement and anticipation ran through my veins as I silently approached where the fish had previously been. Several well placed casts and slow drifts imitating a tired water-logged mouse took me past where the fish was before. Then, a subtle take, the fly stopped, I paused and then raised the rod tip. There he was. After five or ten minutes I was able to bring the fish 10

to hand and gently remove the fly without taking the fish out of water. As it slid back into the inky darkness, I was filled with appreciation for a man named Mason and grateful for the trout being there.

The next night was warm and still for that time of year. The plan was to fish the stretch downstream during daylight and then go back after dark. It was after 8 pm as I started fishing a streamer down and across. The water looked very promising as I remembered it to be. It was low but still deep enough to hold nice-sized trout.

There were many cedar sweeps and log jams along the banks with a four or fivefoot channel mid-river. Several fish were rising but there weren’t any flies coming off the water. “A good sign” I thought, the fish are active and a front was just a few hours from moving through. It was just before 9 pm when I came to the place to exit the river. After changing to a mouse pattern I tied, I got out and walked the path back upstream and re-entered the river.

ness. It was magical.

Suddenly a large splash broke the silence and there was a heavy weight on my rod.

A fish, a really nice fish! It was boring down and thrashing violently. Reality quickly set in and I wondered if my custom built 7’3” 4 wt. Thomas and Thomas rod was up for the task at hand. Several minutes later everything seemed to stop.

Nothing was moving, not me or the fish -- even the river and time stood still.

The feeling of weight on the rod with no movement reminded me of times when large fish have traded my fly with a log or become wedged in structure. It was a “moment of truth” when moves are made that determine the outcome of the battle.

I relaxed tension just a little to see if the

This time, I started “mousing” my way downstream, very slowly and deliberately so as not to push a wake or crunch gravel under my boots. It was easy to work both sides of the river from the middle. Backhanded casting across and slightly upstream made for a natural looking presentation. I was totally focused on being silent and making a perfect first cast tight to the structure and in slack water close to the bank. The feeling of being totally at one with, and at peace in, the river after dark is hard to describe.

It is spiritual, it is timeless and it is intoxicating.

I rounded a bend just above the landing where I would exit the river. A full moon shimmered on liquid gold water and reflections danced hypnotically across. I had not raised a fish but instead had fallen prey to the electric spell of the river.

The silhouettes of cedars and white pines stood tall above the river like sentinels keeping guard of a treasure known only to those who venture forth in the darkPage Title

fish was still there. The fish made a run downstream -- this was nowhere near to being over.

The fish was strong and still holding its own in the current ten minutes later.

It was time to bring the fish to hand or break it off trying so it wouldn’t succumb after being released. When the loop of the nine-foot leader came to the rod tip, I shined a light on the fish. It’s funny what goes through one’s mind at a time like this. The leader reminded me of the late Ann and Jack Schweigert of Roscommon. Ann was an extremely gifted fly tier and is credited with creating several flies unique to the Au Sable River. Jack formulated his own fly floatant, processed monofilament and hand-tied the best leaders of the day. I was fortunate to know them well. Ann taught me how to tie many patterns including the

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Houghton Lake Special and her deer hair emerger, my go-to fly during the hex. Before Jack joined those who went before him on the river, I was able to purchase all his leader material and a lifetime supply of his hand-tied leaders. Seeing this beautiful wild brown on Jack’s leader reminded me of all they taught me about fishing and respect for the river.

It would be an understatement to say that battling a large trout is challenging. They have gotten big because they are wary, smart and likely survived a number of previous encounters. They know from experience that freedom lies in the rocks and logs in their territory, that a quick run can break their tether and that one wrong move of their adversary will turn the tide to their favor. As the battle continued, I wondered how many times before this veteran had escaped and from whom. It

was a good decision to end the battle and the fish finally accepted its fate. I moved to shallow water, knelt down and gently removed the hook. The fish looked me in the eye as I moved it back in forth in the current. Then it swam off into the darkness as quickly as it had come into my life.

As the saying goes, “A rich man counts his money but a wise man counts his blessings.” This was one of many that the river has given me. There have been times of solitude and rejuvenation, times with friends old and new, and times of abundance among times without a rise.

Through it all, the river has always been there, a refuge, a chapel and source of inspiration. We hold the future of the river and the wild trout living there in our hands. Hopefully we will always be there for the river as it has been for us.

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ON BAMBOO These days bamboo fly rods are no more about bamboo than fly fishing is about the fish. Science has given us lighter, quicker, more durable rods that can be replaced if broken, no questions asked.

So why bamboo?

It could be nostalgia for a simpler time when bamboo was all there was, before fiberglass, graphite, boron, or whatever miracle material will be touted next for the must-have rod. Certainly there are collectors who find fly rods something more to study and stockpile. Others may venture in when their casting is good enough and they have tried their hand at tying flies, perhaps even the impossible Tricos (you know who you are). For others it may be they are buying a rod they don’t really need, so why not bamboo?

My journey started years ago, so this is a flashback of sorts to a winter just after the “Landis all winter fishing challenge” (a tale for another time) when thumbing an Orvis catalog I lingered over the page of bamboo rods and spun into a daydream casting it while wading the South Branch on a June morning.

A couple grand for a rod seemed too steep for the tartan blood coursing through my veins, but I was bitten, so I put myself off with the excuse that I had to learn more to make a smart decision. I read, asked questions and studied rods at fly shows.

It was soon apparent that bamboo is a different world with values determined not so much by “fishability” as by tube labels, original rod socks, the number and length of tips, the famous makers, and the tapers. I realized I wanted a rod to actually fish, not just to hang on the wall for appreciation and appreciation.

That led me to Ebay for the first time for anything. There I found a range of rods from hardware store specials to bank-account-draining collectibles. For weeks I lost auction after auction until with the right bidding rhythm I bought eight rods in just six days ending when I bought a 12

By Neil Wallace, Member second Heddon 125 for no better reason than the price was too low.

Collectively the Ebay rods cost me less than that Orvis that started it all. All were long, strong, three-piece nine footers equivalent to six and seven-weight rods, including ironically an antique Orvis.

They cast well enough for heavy rods, one has become my go-to Hex rod. Yet they were ’54 Buicks that made me realize I wanted a sports car.

Spring had not yet sprung when I was in the fly shop along the river likely buy-

ing flies I didn’t need or just to get inspired, when I saw a rack of bamboo rods I hadn’t noticed before. Now that I thought I knew bamboo I examined each one, all were new and impossibly thinner than any in my instant Ebay collection.

One beauty stood out, a blond 6 ½ foot, 4 weight, not by Payne or Dickerson or even Summers...it was from what I much later learned was a local rod maker.

As gorgeous as it was to look at, I had to hold it so I lifted it from the rack gingerly. In hand it was light, yet as I moved it through the usual paces it was somehow stronger than I imagined it could be, a three-weight with the backbone and snap of a five, it felt like an extension of my arm. I was hooked until I saw the price, although half that of the Orvis catalog rod, that set off the familiar warning of bagpipes in my head.

So I bargained with myself, that I would not buy it until I sold enough of my too many Ebay rods, but it turns out buying on is magnitudes easier than selling on Ebay. So I enlisted a neighbor who regularly sold garage sale finds on Ebay. When I became impatient I had

him post the remaining three all at once even though they would compete against each other lowering my take. They sold, yielding enough to buy my prize and a reel worthy of it.

My months-long longing ended when I strolled back into the fly shop, plunked down my credit card, pointed to the rack of bamboo and announced to the clerk, I’d take the that model 6611. From his perch at the phone, the owner stopped in mid-sentence saying “I’ll call you back” into the receiver and to me, “you’re going to try it first, right?”

As I mumbled that wasn’t necessary he was already headed to the rack, reel in hand and then out the door, saying over his shoulder, “let’s go,” stringing up the rod as he headed to the river, where he began casting it over the water explaining without missing a stroke that the fellow who built this rod is a true oldworld craftsman, meticulous with every detail and passionate about quality. Then he just as quickly went quiet, lost in river thoughts, casting in ways I had never seen before or since.

When I finally mustered the courage to interrupt saying, “is it ok?” he turned to me smiled and said that, “each one he makes is better than the last.” Now with this renowned fisherman watching I had to cast this bit of magic well enough to be allowed to purchase it. He was as forgiving as bamboo is to casting flaws; I had passed what was more likely a test of me not the rod.

An hour later at Cameron Bridge with a sulfur dun on 6x tippet I marveled at the gentle firm flex of my prize as I threw false casts. Then I let one fall gently onto a seam across the river, mended to drift it under a cedar bough where a 10-inch brookie hit it with a starved vigor that surprised both of us, giving the rod its first true bend, first real fight. It felt like I was touching that trout and I smiled with my answer to why bamboo.

On Bamboo

AU SABLE RIVER FEATURED AT THE MICHIGAN HISTORY MUSEUM

In 1959, sixteen fishermen, united by their love of trout and the Au Sable River, gathered at George Griffith’s home east of Grayling, in Michigan’s northern Lower Peninsula. The sportsmen were concerned about the need for longterm conservation of Michigan’s coldwater streams. They were convinced that better and more scientific habitat care would help the state’s trout population thrive, creating not only better fishing, but also a better environment. Nearly sixty years later, Trout Unlimited, the organization founded by those fishermen, has become a national champion of fish habitat conservation.

Trout Unlimited’s founding on the Au Sable is showcased in the Michigan History Museum’s newest exhibition, The River that Changed the World, which opened Saturday, Sept. 30.

“The Au Sable River has influenced – and continues to influence – people around the world,” said Mark Harvey, Michigan’s state archivist and the exhibition’s curator. “The stories in the exhibition demonstrate the innovative and unprecedented ways private citizens and state government worked together to conserve and protect the river and sustainably manage its fish populations.”

The exhibition features George Griffith’s 24-foot-long Au Sable river boat, surrounded by river scenes. A re-creation of the Wanigas Rod Shop introduces visitors to Art Neumann, fly-fisherman and rodmaker, and another founding member of Trout Unlimited. Nearby, visitors of all ages can learn how to tie a fly and compare tied flies to real insects under a microscope.

The exhibition also introduces the relationship between the Anishinaabe (Odawa and Ojibwe people) and the Au Sable River. It highlights how their use of the river changed with the seasons and includes tools and fish bones from an archaeological site along the river.

The late 19th-century work of state conservationists and private citizens who tried to save the Arctic grayling – the iconic native coldwater fish that once dominated northern Michigan streams – is represented by a “battery” of glass beakers from the Grayling Fish Hatchery. Each beaker held thousands of eggs. Arctic grayling were native only to Michigan and Montana in the lower 48 states.

Original paneling and artifacts from the Wolverine fish car, which carried millions of fish by rail across Michigan, tell

the story of subsequent efforts to plant trout in the Au Sable. Fred Westerman, former fisheries chief in the Michigan Department of Conservation (the forerunner to the Michigan Department of Natural Resources) and one of the first employees of the Wolverine, once reported: “Frequently … thirty cans of fish would be dropped off at some spooky junction - like in the jack pine at Au Sable-Oscoda with the cemetery across the tracks and the depot a mile from town – on the night run of the Detroit & MackiHistory Museum continued on page 14.

Museum 13

History Museum continued from page 13.

nac, to await the morning train going up the river branch.”

The exhibit’s final section presents the Au Sable as a destination for fishing and tourism since the mid19th century. Lodges, liveries and resorts tell the story of the competing interests and different perspectives on the future of the river, with an appreciation of the river’s recreational draw and the role of ardent conservationists like the Anglers of the Au Sable. In this section, visitors can sit in a kayak or long boat and experience a 360-degree, virtual reality float down the Au Sable, either by using an Oculus Rift headset or their own smart devices and cardboard viewers. At the end of the exhibition, visitors are invited share their stories about the rivers that they love and how they might work to protect them.

Current DNR Fisheries Chief Jim Dexter agrees that the Au Sable is a premier outdoor fishing destination, and he applauds the vision and passion of the people who early on recognized that potential.

“As the name of the exhibit implies, the Au Sable is a world-class fishery resource attracting anglers from every corner of the earth. It’s one of the most stable groundwater-influenced watersheds in North America, and produces exceptional trout fishing,” Dexter said. “It wasn’t always that way, though. Without the creation of Trout Unlimited at the Au Sable River, by those who understood the potential of our coldwater resources, Michigan might not be home to one of the world’s greatest trout fisheries.”

The exhibition will run through next summer, and is included with regular museum admission. The Michigan History Museum is a nationally accredited museum located in the east wing of the Michigan Library and Historical Center, on the north side of Kalamazoo Street, two blocks east of M. L. King Jr. Boulevard. The museum is open year-round, seven days a week. For more information, call 517-3733559 or visit www.michigan.gov/museum.

The Michigan History Center is part of the Michigan Department of Natural Resources. Its museum and archival programs foster curiosity, enjoyment, and inspiration rooted in Michigan’s stories. It includes the Michigan History Museum, ten regional museums, and the Archives of Michigan. Learn more at www.michigan.gov/michiganhistory.

The Michigan Department of Natural Resources is committed to the conservation, protection, management, use and enjoyment of the state’s natural and cultural resources for current and future generations.

For more information, go to www.michigan.gov/dnr.

14 Museum

THE EVENING RISE

By Alex Cerveniak

I’m sitting among tag alders on the bank of a dark, tea-colored, northern Michigan river, killing time by writing this on a smart phone while chewing and spitting sunflower seeds in-between cigarettes. Its easy to get in the river and just start fishing, but the trick is to get there too early and then just sit and wait. Sit until you’ve been sitting there so long your legs fall asleep and you become part of the landscape. Its like being in a cartoon as the fauna forget you’re there and start coming out of the woodwork, talking to each other like people, wearing clothes and playing pranks on each other. The best part is the small band of birds and chipmunks playing Grateful Dead covers with tiny guitars and flutes.

Except the sky has darkened, and while you think you heard him once or twice, you aren’t quite sure of his location as you keep getting distracted by how the air is so clear that the crescent moon hanging over the alpine tree line seems so close you could reach out and touch it. So you sit and wait, alone but not lonely, captivatedly bored, patiently watching the river give up her secrets as the sky is now filled with bugs.

One more cigarette to keep the mosquitoes and no-see-ums at bay. One more cruise through your Facebook and Instagram news feeds. The river should castle any time, but the pawns go silent. The middle-sized trout are neglected once more. Those enticing fish in the high teens all went home with dudes their Waiting out the evening rise is like high chess. You wait and own age, and the castle never came. You consider waiting a bit wait and wait, letting the fish get happy, and pretty soon you’re for it to get darker and try mousing, but its been a long winter seeing things 17 moves ahead. First the pawns start eating. and you really just want to play chess, not go pumping cheat Whatever you do, don’t let the pawns draw your queen out, codes into your Xbox. they’re only there to set things up for the forgotten, middleIt never dawns on you that you drove 45 minutes each way to sized fish. Those gorgeous trout in the high teens come next sit on driftwood and watch trout rise without ever making a and as tempting as it is to get up and make that first cast, you cast. It won’t be the first time or the last. The time was well know that if you wait just a little bit longer-- usually when the spent despite the expectations being contradicted. The game pawns have fallen-- the river will castle and expose its king. took an unexpected turn, and perhaps that’s the whole point.

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MOTHER NATURE – A CLOSE PAL OF THE RIVER

By Betsy Hemming, Member

A couple of summers ago, I found myself all alone – pleasantly so, I might add – on the deck on a summer evening. I watched the river flow by, book and wine by my side. Yes, it was one of those magical evenings on the Au Sable.

Suddenly I heard a splash of enormous proportions – so large that I was forced to get out of the camp rocking chair and go study the situation. It was an osprey, diving from the top of a white pine to get dinner from the river. I arrived on the dock to watch it do it again, as if on stage. This huge majestic bird dove straight down, entering the water at enormous speed. This time was the jackpot; the osprey emerged with a fine fish entree and headed upstream.

Settling back down in my chair, I read for a while, and then looked up to see

what was new. Movement caught my eye directly across the river in the national forest. A very large dirty-yellow catlike animal emerged from the woods and walked slowly toward the river. I nearly dropped my wine, as I lunged for my phone to grab a picture. I managed a couple of grainy shots before the cat disappeared. A quick search on Google revealed a strong similarity to a cougar. I shared the photo with a couple of locals who confirmed their very strong suspicions that it was indeed a cougar, even though state officials strongly emphasize that there are no cougars in this area.

That was just one night on our river. Oh that Mother Nature!

We all have our favorite “nature and the river” stories. Here are a few more of mine, and I am hoping that readers may

wish to share theirs. More on that in a minute.

Just this week, I headed down the twotrack for a short weekend at the river house, moving slowly as I anticipated deer fleeing the noise of the car. Sure enough, ten deer of all sizes zipped into the woods, followed by a sole turkey. That turkey was really moving but looked like the caboose of a fast-moving train.

Speaking of turkeys, a favorite winter sighting is a long single line of about forty of these fascinating birds, marching along the river in front of our cabin, heads nodding in unison, in search of seed offered by our kind neighbors. This daily event is greatly anticipated. On occasion, our dog unintentionally interrupts this march, and these huge birds

16 Nature

scatter up and out in an amazing hurry.

Talk about noise.

One Christmas, Mother Nature provided a special gift of not one but two pileated woodpeckers, up close in a tree right outside the door. We marveled at these beauties for some time.

Another Christmas gift was the sighting of two young eagles, who were after their own holiday dinner in the form of a small mink on the river bank. Sadly or not so sadly, they were not successful.

But what beauties.

I happen to be very fond of owls. I’ve seen a few in my lifetime and find them to be magical creatures. Just hearing their calls sends shivers down my arms and I constantly find myself listening for them. On a kayak ride one Saturday with a cousin, he mentioned how lovely it was to hear the owls. “I can’t hear them!” I exclaimed. He smiled at me and said, “It’s easy! All you have to do is listen.”

Such wise counsel.

My husband has seen bear though I have not. But bear leave their calling card regularly. Last year, a particularly social bear visited us regularly. It cheerfully helped itself to the garbage and tore down our bird feeders. I was not thrilled

with this guest as I picked up the remnants of the previous night’s excellent dinner throughout the woods, and hope it finds even better accommodations this year.

I gave my husband a trail cam for his birthday a couple of years ago, and we have been amazed at the output of this little device. We set it up in the woods behind our cabin, in a small grove. We expected lots of great nature pictures and we got them – coyote, turkey, deer, birds, racoons. What we didn’t expect was the magic of this one scene and how it changed constantly and dramatically – night to day, day to night, sunny to stormy to foggy, winter to spring, summer to fall. We enjoyed the regular visitors: The mother deer and her fawn and how that fawn grew up over the summer and the blue jay who came and perched on the very same branch every morning, right in front of the camera, as if to say good morning.

In March, our family had the opportunity to visit Costa Rica, a beautiful country with incredible nature – and rivers for that matter. We even took two river tours, one in kayaks and one in larger tourist boats – which was a strategic move given the enormous crocodiles in that river. On

one of those tours, the guide pointed out a large osprey, mentioning that they come to Costa Rica for the winter and soon would be migrating north. I couldn’t help but wonder if it could have been one of our very own osprey, perhaps even my diving friend. We saw all sorts of exotic creatures – monkeys, toucans, the justmentioned crocodiles. Damn they were big. But I realized that this lovely country and its rivers had nothing on our Au Sable River and its amazing nature companions. Perhaps we should consider arranging nature tours on our river, though it might make more sense for people to arrange their own.

What fascinates me is that nature is constantly around us, much like the river constantly flowing through, whether we see it or not. As my sage cousin said, all we have to do is listen. My goal is to do a lot more listening and see what new nature stories emerge.

Back to the fact that we all have good Au Sable nature stories. If you have a story of an amazing nature sighting along the river, feel free to send it to me at betsy@ thehemmings.org. I will pick my favorite stories and weave them into another column so we can all enjoy the magic.

A team of Grayling teenagers cleaned the river and received new fly rod and reel outfits!

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RIVER CLEANUP This year’s addition of recycling to the Annual River Clean-up surpassed all our expectations for success!

Instead of tossing their bags of trash in a dumpster, volunteers returning to Gates Au Sable Lodge dropped them at a recycling station run by Anglers members Jim and Julie Gibbs. The bags

were weighed as they came in and then sorted into metal, glass, plastic and trash. Of the 300 pounds of trash that were collected, 57 pounds of glass, 70 pounds of plastic and 105 pounds of metal (mostly beer cans) were recycled—that’s 77% of this year’s trash haul! Among all the usual debris were multiple crayfish and a beautiful 2” hellgrammite that were carefully

AOTA TEAMS WITH FOREST SERVICE TO PUT IN STEPS AT TRAILS END

by Thomas Buhr, Member It’s not easy to find, but now, thanks to mystery to fishers now than it was a desome hard work by Anglers and the US cade ago, but the river below McKinley Forest Service, access to the river at one has remained foreboding. The stream of its most remote spots is far less prob- downriver from McKinley Bridge runs lematic. through some of the wildest parts of the Lower Peninsula. The forest is thick The Big Water of the Au Sable is less a with only a couple of two-track roads 18

River Work

RECYCLING returned to the river, and one pickled mouse who ended it all in a bottle of beer.

River volunteers were generous in offering their thanks and enthusiasm for the new program as they came through the recycling station throughout the day. Many made a point of keeping materials separate even as they were being collected on the

by Julie Gibbs

river. Next year, we hope to expand our efforts by including everything from the day’s lunch service. We are also researching a reusable bag for trash collection—85 trash bags came in to the recycling station, many only partially used. Nonetheless, we were thrilled with the results. With so much of the trash collected being recycled, there will be no need for a dumpster at all next year!

and a handful of access points, many of which open on high bluffs with long sandy drops to the river below. Over the years these paths have become almost dune-like thanks to the footsteps of intrepid souls looking for peace and quiet plus a few big trout. As a result, sand has poured into the Au Sable at an alarming rate. In addition, footing can be treacherous, and help is miles away.

Thankfully, the second day brought friendlier conditions, low seventies, clouds, and a pleasing breeze from the north. The team was energized! Old John Henry himself, that steel driving man, would have been proud of the way those sledges swung with the tap, tap cadence of a flush hit. By 4 pm, it was time to celebrate with a PowerAid, or, perhaps, something a bit stronger.

Thanks to Forest Service Supervisor, Bob Magon, Anglers’ Lower River Chair, Tess Nelkie, and Habitat Chair, Terry Lyons, a plan was hatched to put in steps at Trails End, a place twenty miles east of Mio.

This marks the second habitat improvement project for AOTA since it absorbed the Au Sable Big Water Preservation Association. Last year, much-needed steps were installed at Perry Creek flat – a popular wading spot on the Mio to Comins stretch. Next year there are plans to work at Meadow Springs, just down from Perry Creek, to redo a pair of steps in another much-used access. In 2019, we just might return below McKinley to another unknown area in need of care.

The two-day project involved fifteen volunteers and Forest Service staff. It was hard work! The first day took place in ninetydegree temperatures with a beating sun.

Clearing out space, moving huge railroad ties, wheelbarrows of gravel, and pounding rebar with twelve-pound sledgehammers is no one’s idea of fun. Day One’s progress was s-l-o-w.

River Work

How to get to Trails End will require some adventure – Rusty always said that half the fun is finding a place – but there will be some mighty fine stairs waiting to lead the way to The River.

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20

Buhr Match

WINGS

The following was lifted, with permission, from an email written by Spencer Vanderhoof in the spring of 2017.

Going to be a bit weird on the Au Sable this spring! It will be the first time in 25 years I’ll be up and no Red Wings on the tube in the playoffs?!

No dilemma between clouds of Henny spinners overhead and whether I need to head back to catch the last period.

I remember one year, not sure which, other than it was pre back surgery, where I had hiked down from Thendara Rd to the shop. I had just made it to that last bend near Edgewater and I was concerned I was running late. I could see the bridge.

I looked up and there was a massive cloud of spinners overhead. I shook it off and slowly fished out the fall...Missing the game, but they won anyway.

2002 against Carolina. Watched game four of the Finals at the Two Track. Remember Craig and Jimmy showing up for the last period.

“Be careful walking down the drive and pleasant dreams dear...”

The night, at the Two Track with Jim and Craig, after game four, I tried to drag some intel out of Craiger about fishing below Mio. He told me to get off my lazy ass and do my own exploring.

When I set up my room and float with Jim for the following year I told Rusty to book me with the old man sometime during my week under a made-up name.

Next year I’m sitting on the dock at Gates’ and Perry came walking around the corner of the shop looking around for his client. Rusty told him your client is waiting for you out back on the dock.

I yelled out, “What you know old man?” He was grinning and replied, “I know I have an angler in my boat!”

That win left the series 3-1 Wings. I watched the Cup clinching game at the Riverside in Lovell’s.

We had a great day. I caught one of his pet 20” fish and he took a pic with a throwaway camera.

Left my fishing wagon in front of the cabin at Buds and walked over. Staggered home after. Made a, “love ya babe” phone call home in the old booth in front of Buds.

I had forgot to book my week for the following year and emailed Rusty from my office. I remember writing, “Don’t forget to tell the old man to remember my picture!”

“Sweetie. I’m on the river and my Wings won the Cup!!! Can it get any better than this?” She asked, “You didn’t drive tonight did you?”

Rusty’s reply was that Craig had passed away the day before!

“No. I walked over.”

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Somehow Rusty found that camera, had the pics developed, and sent them to me in a card. Inside Rusty wrote, “Nice fish Spence. We’re going to miss him!”

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AU SABLE RIVER WORDS 2017 Every year Anglers of the Au Sable sponsors a writing contest for local high school students to share their relationship to the river through poetry, essay and prose. Here are this year’s winners:

POETRY 1st Place: Bird of Freedom - Andrew J. Hager, Mio - Au Sable HS 2nd Place: You, My River - Connor Beard, Grayling HS 3rd Place: A Paddler’s Thoughts - Paige Scheer, Grayling HS

NONFICTION 1st Place: Summers on the Au Sable - Molly Leslie, Grayling HS 2nd Place: The Majesty of the Au Sable River - Jennifer Sheehan, Grayling HS 3rd Place: Another Day on the Au Sable - Brianna Shear, Grayling HS

FICTION 1st Place: Undercurrent - Easton Farrell, Grayling HS 2nd Place: Miss Beauais - Madison Jones, Grayling HS 3rd Place: Maybelle’s Journal - Lacey Morse, Grayling HS

BIRD OF FREEDOM

By Andrew J. Hager, Mio-Au Sable High School

As I soar swiftly through the sky, freedom pulses through my veins.

I think to myself, what a wonderful place to call home, the Au Sable River Valley.

The river runs rapidly through the valley.

Steep, sandy slopes surround parts of the long serpent.

Fish flutter out of the water to feast on flies.

Tall trees tower, taunting the river’s edge.

My brown underbelly is hidden by the river’s hue.

Canoes carve through the crisp current.

Green weeds graze the golden surface, when it is enlightened by the sharp shine of the sun.

My home is like no other’s, It is a jewel that brings me joy, and others jealousy.

There is not a location more liberating for a bird of freedom like me.

YOU, MY RIVER

By Connor Beard, Grayling High School

You, My river.

Mighty and swift runs through the landscape With elegance and grace.

Your cold waters wash and wave towards me.

And only you, my river, understand me.

You are my home, my escape, my passion.

For without you I am nothing But with you I am everything.

I thrive on you.

As you wander through the land: Past the deer, the bear, the elk; Home of the fish, the frog, the flea; 22

You offer everything to me.

As grateful as I can be We do not treat you the same.

We pollute; We take; And we pollute more.

Forgive us for they do not know; They do not care.

But you are stronger and mightier than them.

You, My river Must go on, meander along your way, Blaze through the landscape, And never stop flowing.

River Words

A PADDLER’S THOUGHTS

By Paige Scheer, Grayling High School We stand together, competitors and friends Our boats glide with the Au Sable stream Nothing but respect, Ready to paddle until the very end We’re all devoted to the same dream As the gunshot sounds And soon, Our hearts begin to pound soothing gurgles of the river are silenced by an increasing roar The cool water splashes upon my face My partner yells, “It’s time to pick up the pace!”

As we pass Stephans, the crowd cheers for all those they adore.

HUP!!!

And in that moment, the pain was all worth it I knew we would make it through the night Dreaming of that checkered flag, and the glory of daylight.

My adrenaline conjures both excitement and fear The cheers of the crowd begin to fade and disappear

SUMMERS ON THE AU SABLE

By Molly Leslie, Grayling High School As natives to Grayling who spent many summers as rain started. Before long, it was raining so hard that river guides, my father and grandfather have always my father could hardly see the banks of the river. had great stories to share about their experiences on the As the rain continued, the false bottoms in the river mighty Au Sable. boat began to float. The group had to stop to empty the rain water from the boat many times throughout My father’s river adventure began in 1975 when he the day. When it came time to stop for lunch, it was was just thirteen years old. The managers at Rippling raining too hard to build a campfire. My father and Waters Lodge, where my grandfather was a river guide, grandfather used their rain jackets to shelter the area were in need of an additional guide. The young, ambiwhere they were to build the fire. They eventually tious Tod Leslie took on the challenge. To begin his got a small fire going, however it did not last long career of guiding on the river, my father was given an in the pouring rain. They continued on downriver old, run-down riverboat to rebuild. After taking my grandfather without catching any fish and being forced to stop and empty on a trip from Chase Bridge to Smith Bridge in his new riverthe boat throughout the trip. My father has often shared this boat, my father was hired to start guiding down-staters down story with me when I complain abut things being inconvenient. the legendary trout haven.

On this guide trip, my father was unable to give up just because After the summer of 1980, my father and grandfather decided of the weather. He had to continue down river and work hard to it was time for new riverboats. Unsatisfied with existing mod- make it to the end point of this trip. el choices for building these hardy boats, they modified three different designs to make the most efficient vessel for taking Another one of my favorite stories is about my dad’s first day people down the river. Throughout the winter, my father and on the river in his new river boat. My father was taking one of grandfather spent over 300 hours hand cutting, sanding, and his regular customers down the river for the first time that sumfitting each piece together to make their riverboats. They still mer. At this point, the river was very high and fast moving. As use the boats today and always get comments and compliments my father was steering, the boat began to rush around a bend into a sweeper on the edge of the river. My dad tried to warn his from other river anglers. customer and told him to hold on. Unsure of what to hold onto, My father and grandfather finished their new riverboats just in the man grabbed onto a limb above the boat and was tossed time for the summer of 1981. They led countless groups down from his seat in the boat. He fell onto the left gunnel, allowing the mighty Au Sable, teaching them the best tricks of fly fishing. water from the river to rush into the boat. My father jumped River guiding was a great career for my father and grandfather into the river and held the boat above the water before it would where they were able to spread their extensive knowledge about fill enough to completely sink it. In the future, my dad learned the Au Sable River and fly fishing to others. My father contin- to give more specific instructions about what to hold on to, and ued to take people down the river until 1998. In these twenty- this accident never happened again. three years, he had many exciting adventures.

My father has told me an endless number of these stories about One of my favorite stories about my father’s river trips illustrates his days as a riverboat guide on the Au Sable River. Some of the demanding conditions of river guiding. On this specific trip these stories are fun and exciting while others are scary. My fadown river, my father and his customer experienced very heavy ther had some amazing experiences as a river guide and greatly rain. On the morning of the trip, my father had expected rain, enjoyed sharing his love for the river with so many customers. however, this was not uncommon and he had guided through His years spent on the river are extremely important to him, and the rain on many occasions. Shortly into the group’s trip, the I love hearing all about the adventures he had.

River Words

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THE MAJESTY OF THE AU SABLE RIVER

By Jennifer Sheehan, Grayling High School

The water’s steady flow downstream produced a sound of utmost serenity as we waded through the cool, crystal water toward the shore, emitting small whirlpools in our wake. Our favorite time to fly fish was the fall due to the familiar scent of the autumn colored leaves which would perform such an elegant dance as they slowly descended into the river, then soundlessly follow the current out of sight. The river this time of year was magnificent to behold. We stared in awe at the majestic, multicolored trees which completely surrounded us as we casted our lines, listening to the echoing songs of migrating birds overhead. We stood in the water, silent, for hours, allowing the tranquility of the setting to imbue us with the most serene feeling of peace. Suddenly, an unexpected tug awoke me from my trance. A powerful rush of excitement swelled over me as I carefully reeled in my line close enough to see the beautiful colors of a trout which seemed to reflect the pigment of the great forest surrounding us. Luke energetically unclipped the net from his vest and speedily waded toward me, he then waited in ready anticipation as I slowly pulled the fish closer and closer. When the trout finally was near enough, Luke forcefully pushed the net through the water’s surface and returned to the air only moments later, revealing the forceful splashing of a stunning trout. We rejoiced over our exhilarating capture as we stared at the elegant red and green colors on the fish before us. With astonished curiosity, I reached inside the net and

picked up the floundering creature. Its glossy skin felt slick yet scaly in my outstretched hands. A feeling of awe struck me yet again as the beauty of the river seemed to increase exponentially. While I held the trout tightly in my hands, the majesty of this beautiful critter seemed to give life to the forest which encompassed us. Abruptly, the power of the beast combined with its slimy scales overwhelmed me as the trout freed itself from my grasp and fell into the shining water with a splash. All I could do was watch the trout as it swiftly headed downstream, leaving only the fading ripples where it had fallen back into the vast waterway. Initially, I felt a prevailing feeling of annoyance and infuriation. However, as I watched the creature leave my sight, I realized how similar the fish was to myself. Captured by the trivialities of the world outside of my comprehension, I look for a way to escape the bores of my provincial life. To do this, I slip away from the city lights and find myself absorbed in the majesty of the river which seems to follow me throughout the community where I have lived for years now. I smiled at the thought of our similarities as I walked onto the leaf-ridden shore. Crunching them under me with each step, we left small indents in the earth which would soon disappear as we headed back to reality. Such an untamed environment possessing both power and tranquility can only be found here, the Au Sable River, and that is why we must treasure and preserve what little of this natural masterpiece we have left.

ANOTHER DAY ON THE AU SABLE

By Brianna Shear, Grayling High School

Golden was the sky, summer gold as the sun rose above the green cedars. A new day was starting on the Au Sable River, and it was marked by the swarming hatch of tricos and bluewinged olives. It was a great feast for the trout below, and the cedar waxwings above. It was a golden day on the Au Sable.

The river swirled around the bend, carrying the helpless bugs down the river. They floated down around branches and log jams and around my boots. Swish and flick, ten o’clock and two o’clock, and flick. Fly fishing is not only a sport but an art, swish and flick the line lands gracefully upon the water in the riffle, also known as the feeding ground for trout. My motivation that morning was not catch anything, but to just stand in the crystal water and feel its ever flowing current and absorb the atmosphere around.

A blue heron stalked its way downstream, catching unknowing minnows. It was oblivious to the swish and flick or my Redington rod. Its beady yellow eyes watched the calm water 24

intently, waiting for the right moment to strike. I watched as it cautiously aimed at its prey, then struck its prize with speed, gulping it down with pleasure. Then back to the hunt it was.

Further upstream, a small muskrat waded its way across the stream then disappeared under the surface only to reappear moments later by the opposite river bank.

Swish and flick, ten and two, the line unfurled and landed on the water where it was almost immediately hit by a small trout. With a small lift of my rod, it was hooked. The small fish fought hard, but was soon worn out and was easily pulled in.

I scooped the little brookie up in my net and unhooked it from the mock trico fly. Then I placed it back in the cold Au Sable water to catch another day.

The tricos and olives slowly died down, and the cedar waxwings disappeared into the trees. The heron continued to stalk the water as the sun rose higher in the sky. Flat, green cedars slowly waved at the river as a nice, cool summer breeze drifted River Words

by. Swish and flick, ten and two. The river grew quiet, and then there was a soft, hollow thunk, then another. Chatty voices soon followed and then some excited yelling. Yahoos, that’s what we called them.

on!” the mother yelled from the front of the canoe. After sitting back down, the boy grumbled and whined about how his parents weren’t any fun and splashed the boy in the other kayak.

The water battle began.

Why do we call them yahoos? My grandfather’s explanation when I was little was, “What do you hear them yell as they go down the river?” No sooner would he say it, and you could hear one of them whooping and hollering down the river. Hence, we call them yahoos.

“Do not make me come back there, boys!” the dad yelled, unamused. Then they both began to grumble and whine, still softly splashing the water with their paddles.

The thunking and voices grew louder as they got closer, and soon the group came around the bend. The blue heron looked up from its hunting, cocking its head sideways, it eyed the yahoos unsure of their next move. It decided not to take its chances and extended its great wings taking off elegantly with years of experience. Only the yahoos didn’t notice.

“Daddy, look! It’s a beaver!” A little girl in pony-tails and a pink life-jacket shouted and pointed at the water. The muskrat, with its curiosity, decided to investigate the canoe but soon plunged back under the water away from the group.

The father nodded and said something along the lines of, “That’s nice.” and continued paddling to avoid logs.

“Watch me!” yelled one of the two over-enthusiastic boys in kayaks, as he stood up in the small red watercraft.

The father made eye contact with me, “Catch anything?” he asked. It was the same polite phrase every person asked when they passed by. It was kind of humorous.

“A couple,” I responded with a nice smile, and they continued down the river. The hollow thunk of the canoe faded in the distance, and soon it was just the soft breeze in the cedar trees. Swish and flick, ten and two. the trico hatch was over, I should’ve changed flies, but I didn’t really want to. I just wanted to enjoy the river. So I continued on, painting the sky with my fly rod.

Eventually, the muskrat revealed itself again. The fish ceased to rise in the heat of the day. The heron moved its hunting ground upstream. It would eventually make its way down to where it was originally. I could feel the cold water rushing around my boots, making them tight around my ankles. It was just another beautiful day on the Au Sable River.

“Sit your butt back down in that kayak and put your life jacket

UNDERCURRENT Easton Farrell, Grayling High School

“Call me Au.” That’s my first name, some idiot a handful of decades ago made a mistake in pronouncing my full name: Au Sable River. Said idiot decided to stretch the ‘a’ sound in Sable wider than the Grand Canyon to make it sound like the word awe. Not that I’m not full of awe, but it should be pronounced with the ‘a’ sounding like it does in the word stable. Since you humans can’t seem to say my full name correctly, just stick with my first name. Oh well, my fault for having an unpronounceable conglomeration of characters as a name, Now, the mistaken name I can handle, after all, I suppose you humans are prone to making mistakes. However, what I cannot tolerate is all of the other annoyances you produce: stealing my fish friends from me with your special rods, force-feeding me your garbage, splashing around in me. Come on! Just because you can’t make friends, doesn’t mean you can take mine from me, and I did not ask to come into contact with your unclothed bodies.

Undoubtedly, the worst of the abuse comes annually around River Words

the end of July when the little town of Grayling becomes laden with swarms of spectators who come to cheer at me repeatedly being pummeled by wooden paddles all night long. I swear, if I have to endure one more night of the neurotic: “Hup! Hup!” chant, my water is going to break, and you will all be considerably unhappy about the ensuing flood. I just want some appreciation here, people! I’m more than just a cash flow, you know! I provide you with water and food and beauty, and you pay me back with beatings; that’s just uncouth…

Frankly, I’m done.

Which, coincidentally, is why I have decided to forget all of you freeloaders and drain completely into Lake Huron, where I can finally be valued and freed from the curse of your ever-sopersistent paddles.

“Now where do you think you’re off to? Ribbit,” R’Flango the frog demanded as I gathered all of my beloved flotsam and my favorite loose sediments in my current for my departure.

“I’m off to live in Lake Huron, if you must know,” I gurgled.

Undercurrent continued on page 26.

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Undercurrent continued from page 25.

“Where I can finally be appreciated!”

R’Flango stared at me blankly, two bulbous yellow eyes reflecting the sheen of the late summer’s moon. After an uncomfortably long pause, he croaked, “Ribbit! Excuse me?”

“You heard me!” I sputtered.

“But…don’t you understand…but you mean so much to these people!” R’Flango retaliated.

“Well they certainly have a peculiar way of showing it! They steal my fish right from me! Who does that?!” Now I was roiling my azure waters steaming and evaporating with my fury.

Rest in peace, boiled water…you will be ‘mist’.

R’Flango emitted a low “Croak!” and continued his assault on me, “Oh, cry me a river! You can’t keep feeling so bad for yourself, you know!”

“I can and I will! Also, don’t preach to me about feeling bad for myself! You’re only happy because you eat what bugs you!”

I left R’Flango, savoring the superiority of my puns and continued flowing, my body an array of liquid starlight.

For about a week, my journey went unobstructed. That is, until about Mio, which is where I discovered the only creature in existence more ponderously annoying than you humans: flies.

The black devils hovered noisily above my waters for hours, until I finally gushed, “Hey! Why do you guys gotta tickle my face? I’m tired, and I’m trying to give my stream of consciousness some rest, but I can’t do that with you nimrods constantly buzzing around! I thought I told you that this is a no-fly zone!”

“Bzzrt! Sorry mate,” the cloud of flies hummed. “We’ve got a memory of like four seconds. We’ll leave you be.

The swarm flew away…approximately four seconds later they returned and resumed buzzing.

“Where is R’Flango when you need him?” I sighed. “This is going to be a long night.”

Suddenly, the dull drone of the flies was replaced by a cacophony of cracking branches and hooves stamping on dried leaves.

An intensely smoky smell hung heavily in the brisk air. A host of deer burst through the forest and sped across my shallows, generating a parade of splashing water.

“Hey!” I called to the herd of whitetails, “What’s the rush? I thought you guys weren’t afraid of anything; I mean, you jump in front of cars just for the heck of it, so…”

One of the bucks turned sharply, his impressive rack cutting through the chilled air. “Fire,” he panted. “Some camper… huff…campfire left…phew…coming fast…gonna burn the nearby town down! Hey…huff huff….you’re made of water, ain’t ya?”

“An excellent observation.”

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“Well, can you maybe…phew…put this fire out?” he continued. “Uggh! I need to lay off those hibernation rations. I’m getting out of shape!”

Oh, the irony! Humans are so exceedingly selfish, taking their environment for granted, ruining everything all the time, and then having the audacity to hope I’ll fix their own problems for them!

Suddenly, the blaze permeated through the foliage, crowning the creaking trees with a ring of crimson. “Aggghh!” the buck exclaimed. “I’m getting out of here!” The deer sprinted away, the party creating a racket as they stampeded through the forest.

“Oh, whatever,” I burbled. “I guess I’m not that mean.”

I let the inferno grow closer and dance across my body. Water and fire intermingled, a pillar of steam shooting into the air. I spilled some water into the surrounding forest, flooding the land and quelling the hungry flames. After a few especially foggy moments, the fire was halted and the night returned to its tranquil state.

“You humans just don’t know how lucky you are to have me!”

The rest of the night passed without anything else notable happening, aside from a very confused rooster cooing a few hours earlier than necessary. I had flowed through Oscoda and had approached Lake Huron, where I prepared to empty myself.

The dawn was breaking, brushstrokes of vermillion and violet forming a vivid pastel painting in the sky, the sun a piercing beacon of gold beckoning the world to awaken. I let myself dribble up to the bluff, a small waterfall cascading serenely into the lake.

But then I stopped.

Something held me back.

I could feel a strange object tumbling unceremoniously along my silty floor, stirring the sands. I discovered that it was a picture frame, slightly singed on the sides.

“Seriously?” I purred. “I saved you all from a fire, and you’re still dumping your trash in me?” My exclamation wasn’t addressed to anyone in particular, but someone responded.

“My picture!”

It was a little girl’s voice pealing through the daybreak, a chime cutting the quiet sound of the gurgles of water spilling over the precipice into the lake. The girl looked haggard, her orange dress torn in various places by the forest’s sharp brambles and her hair rendered an amorphous tangle of blonde. Despite her ashen appearance, the girl seemed hopeful and content. She scampered up to my banks and reached out for the picture frame. I willed my current to tempt the picture frame closer to the girl, and she fished it out.

The girl hugged the dripping picture frame tight to her chest.

River Words

Then, she said something that I haven’t heard in a long time.

“Thank you!”

I’m not usually at a loss for words, but the little girl’s gratitude had a mysterious hold on me. “Umm…er…”

I guess since you people can’t understand me, the girl must have heard my sputtering as some sort of splashing noise.

“Thanks for stopping that fire for us,” she said. “I was going camping with my family and we were at a campfire and… and…we fell asleep and left it burning, and…oh, I’m so sorry we hurt your forest! You’re such a nice river for stopping the fire and for saving my picture for me! Oh! Let me show you!

The little girl sat down in the grass and turned the picture frame so that I could see it. It was a photo of the little girl sitting on a decrepit wooden dock with an old man, beaming with a brilliant smile. “That’s my grandpa! He used to take me down to the dock every evening and read to me, and…oh, it was so nice! he…he died last summer, and I thought that I had lost this picture when there was all that water that stopped the fire, but you….oh, you saved it for me! Thank you Mr. Au Sable!”

Well, she pronounced my name wrong (like everyone else), but I suppose that can’t be helped. Besides that, this little girl’s affection was the most sincere thing I had heard in a very long time. I felt my current speed up just a tiny bit.

“Emelia!” Two people (who I assume must have been the girl’s parents) walked up to the little girl and helped her stand up.

“Oh, you’re so dirty, young lady!” They started fishing twigs out of the girl’s—Emelia’s—hair.

“Mommy! Dad! The river held onto my picture for me!”

“Aww, how sweet of him,” Emelia’s parents said. “Come on now, Uncle Ron’s come to pick us up and take us back to town…”

The family strode away, Emelia sandwiched between her par-

ents and laughing happily. I looked back at Lake Huron, and then allowed my mind to wander back to Grayling and all the other towns straddling my shores.

“Well,” I sighed, “I’m gonna have to do the right thing here, aren’t I?” R’Flango told me the headlines that had topped the Avalanche Newspaper since I left: Water Levels Reach All-Time Low! River Drying Up Near Grayling! Nearby Forest Fire Stopped

by Au Sable!

The day after I returned to Grayling, some new headlines sprung up in the newspaper: Mighty Au Sable Returns! Everyone Celebrates! Conservation Directives Enacted!

“Aww, that’s sweet of them. Nice to be appreciated!” I bubbled. “I think I’ll still campaign to stop the paddling in July, but that’s a nice start.”

“You know,” R’Flango scolded, “They all had a hard time getting along without you. If you stayed away for long all these towns wouldn’t be able to stay here. You mean more to them than you know.”

“I know,” I admitted.

“You should really stop d…wait, ribbit, did you say “I know!”

“Yep.” “Oh…well, that’s good, I suppose. I’m glad you know how much you’re truly appreciated.” R’Flango looked genuinely shocked.

“I do. I know they ‘Mississippi’d’ me, I guess I was just wallowing in my own ‘Missouri’. I won’t live in ‘de Nile’ anymore. I forgive them for paddling me all the time.”

“Yknow, I didn’t miss the puns, Au,” R’Flango croaked.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I said, “but I missed all of you!”

MISS BEAUAIS

By Madison Jones, Grayling High School

“Hey have heard the legend of the woman who lives near the river?”

The boy followed the can down the babbling river, walking at a leisurely pace as he waited for the river to become more narrow. He could hear the gurgle of the river, the songs of birds deep in the forest, insects that were deafeningly loud in the summer heat. He whistled to add his human touch to the songs of Mother Nature, taking up the melody with his natural gait.

There! He scooped the can up out of the river and placed it in a grocery sack. Budweiser. The young boy wrinkled his nose in distaste at the dented label of the can, but he noticed something flicker out of the corner of his eye.

“Hello?’ he called to the woman up the river a bit. He wondered why he hadn’t seen her before. Her silvery, white dress flowed River Words

down her slender figure and billowed around her feet with the light gust of wind that was carrying the humidity across the city; her hair was as dark as the deepest parts of the river, but it gleamed in the sunlight. She stared into the water, her emerald eyes dulled by a wistfulness that seemed to carry the weight of centuries.

Her head turned ever so slightly as she repeated, “Hello,” and the boy found himself entranced by the musicality of her voice, strong as it was. She stared unwaveringly into his eyes before peering into his bag and taking notice of the damp cans that he had fished from the river. He sheepishly held his bag closer to him, and peeked up at her to see the hint of a smile playing upon her lips.

Miss Beauais continued on page 28.

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Miss Beauais continued from page 27.

“My momma told me to pull them out so I could make money,” he muttered embarrassedly, and her smile grew as she proceeded to sit on a rock near the edge of the river. Her bare feet gracefully skimmed over the top of the water, dipping and tracing patterns on the surface, sending fish scurrying. The boy drew closer while she played, crouching next to her while gleams of scales flashed in the sun.

“Do you like this river?” She didn’t look away from the tranquil water as she questioned him. He idly wondered why he wouldn’t.

“Yeah,” his response was simple, just like she expected.

“Me, too.”

The boy waited for her voice patiently. It was a sound he had come to love in the short period of time.

“Do you want to hear a story about this river?” She had hesitated to ask, her hushed voice reflecting her fear of rejection.

However, the boy nodded almost immediately.

“Well, let’s start with over 100 years ago. Long before you were born, before your parents were born, and even before your grandparents as well.” Her list caught the boy’s attention as he wondered how she could tell these stories. He decided he should read more books. “This river was the foundation for many cities in the north. It was so beautiful and full of life.”

Her eyes closed as she seemed to be looking at a picture in her head. The boy closed his eyes as well, trying to picture the Au Sable of a time before his grandparents. He couldn’t see something so far gone! His eyes opened again just to be stunned by the sun. He winced against the harsh light.

“But people were greedy,” her tone changed. The boy looked over in alarm. Her pale lips turned down in a scowl. “Do you know what this town is named after?”

“Grayling?” He asked before shaking his head.

“A species of fish inhabited this river before man came. They were plentiful, and it is rumored that their scales would light up the water as though it were filled with silver.” Her wistful smile replaced the scowl, “They were called Grayling. That is, before logging and fishing overtook this town. From then on, the fish were hunted all the way through this river until we had nothing left. The water was filled with their blood. All trees were reduced to pathetic stumps.” Her voice cracked, and she became more visibly upset by the second.

“But why?” He tilted his head inquisitively.

“They didn’t expect their actions to carry repercussions for nearly a century,” a single tear dripped down her face, the pristine droplet carrying down to her chin, “they had been blinded by greed and ignorance, but enough of that,” she added decidedly.

“Did the river ever get better?” His question seemed to soothe her, and she nodded sincerely.

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“This river is on the mend. It has been after the incident in the late 80’s,” she paused before adding, “the 1880’s, that is.”

“It happened that long ago?” He thought of his birthday: August 8th, 2007. He would turn nine soon. Exactly how many years ago was 1880? He’d do the problem later.

“Yes, it has been a very long time; however, the actions of our ancestors still impact us. That’s why many men afterward have tried to help the river.” The babbling of the river seemed to become more quiet, soothing.

“How?” “Well, they planted more trees. It didn’t take them long to realize that the environment surrounding the river was nearly as important as the river itself. That helped to recreate the once beautiful forests that had surrounded the river and kept it secluded from the folly of man.” The boy thought she used a lot of complicated words. “They also put in laws to protect the river and its inhabitants. There’s not much attraction to a river without life.” The boy’s eyes were drawn to the gleaming fish.

He silently agreed. “Do you know the canoe marathon?”

“Of course!” He cried, rather loudly. this was about the only thing she said that he could comment on. He surprised her, but she smiled nonetheless. “That’s what my family is here for, after all. We live in Chicago.” He wondered if he shouldn’t have told her where he lived, but he decided that there was some kind of permanence about her that suggested she would not leave her home.

“Wonderful!” She smiled at him, her lips pulled over her teeth more widely than before, “The race was established in 1947, and it has gained a wide following since then. I believe it’s a wonderful night when all spectators demonstrate their love for this river.” He frowned.

“But some people throw their trash in the river, that doesn’t show they love it.” Her smile receded some.

“Yes, that is unfortunate; however, even more people care enough to remove,” her eyes drifted to his bag of cans that he had carefully retrieved from the river, “even if they don’t think so highly of their actions.” Her playful grin made his ears burn.

“Jack!” His mother’s voice from above called. The boy and woman alike looked up the hill to the silhouette of a woman.

“Well, I should be going home then,” he spluttered embarrassedly. She smiled warmly at him.

“I hope we can meet each other again, perhaps when you come to visit.” She invited him back, and he smiled at her hopefully.

“Thanks for telling me about the river! Miss, uh, miss….”

“Please call me Miss Beauais.” Bow ay? Weird, he thought.

“Sure, bye, Miss Bow-Ay!!!” He called behind him as he ran up the hill, his bag of cans clanging against each other. His feet reached the top of the hill, and he grinned up at his mother River Words

whose eyes were clouded with anxiety.

“Who were you talking to?” He could sense the panic in her voice.

“Miss Bow-ay,” he reassured her.

“Beauais?”

“Well, I suppose that’s just fine. It’s time for lunch, come on now.” Her gaze went down to the river, and Jack’s eyes followed. His eyes went to the spot where the beautiful woman had sat not minutes ago, and his jaw dropped. The rock that she had lounged on for most of the stiflingly hot morning was slick with water that should have been dry.

“Hey, have you heard the legend of the woman who lives near the river? Some say she is the embodiment of the river itself.”

“What’s the difference?”

MAYBELLE’S JOURNAL Dear Journal, 22 June 1976

By Lacey Morse, Grayling High School Dear Journal, 6 July 1976

I’ve decided that I was going to start a journal this summer.

Today Kelly, Evelyn, Mariel, Sharon, and I met at the Au Sable River and talked about our plans for next year. Evelyn and Kelly are going to college in a few months, and Mariel is getting married to the playboy quarterback, Jack Lyncach. Sharon’s baby is due next month, so she plans on getting a job to support her baby after that no good Kenny knocked her up and then left. Then, Evelyn turned to me and asked what I was going to do, and I didn’t have an answer. It was silent for a few seconds before the conversation quickly changed to Kelly’s new boyfriend and Mariel’s parents’ divorce. The sun slowly started to fall, illuminating the tops of the trees and reflecting shades of pink and orange on the dark river as if it was a mirror, and we all walked home. When I got home, I laid in bed thinking about my future just as confused as before. Yours, Maybelle Dear Journal, 25 June 1976 I sat by the river today, it was sparking in the sun, letting off a cool breeze and a fresh smell. I stared at the fish thinking about life and my desire to help. I recently saw something about this Peace Corps thing. I didn’t have a chance to read it, but I remember Evelyn talking about it and how they help people and my dream is to help. Yours, Maybelle Dear Journal, 30 June 1976 I called a meeting today with Kelly, Evelyn, Mariel, and Sharon to see what they thought about me going into the Peace Corps. Sharon and Evelyn liked the idea I presented them, however, Kelly was against it. Mariel was on the fence because I would be gone for three years, and Kelly tried to convince me that I was going to get all kinds of diseases or get murdered or kidnapped. We tried to convince Kelly it would be safe, but she was set in her ways because she knew someone who contracted a disease when they went and then died a few years later. Sharon reassured me that the disease was an unknown illness the person had from birth, and they didn’t contract it from South America. I was never concerned about catching any diseases but it is a long time to be away from my family and friends. I guess I have a lot more thinking to do. I really need to decide.

Yours, Maybelle River Words

I went to the library yesterday and read a lot about the Peace Corps, and I’m becoming more and more intrigued. I’m seriously considering joining. I’m afraid, though, there is always the possibility of danger but isn’t it worth the risk when you’re changing the lives of people helping them better their lives?

I know it’s too much to ask for a world that’s full of love and peace but the only way to get close to world peace is to start somewhere, and I want to be part of that star. Yours, Maybelle Dear Journal, 12 July 1976 I found clarity in the river today. The beauty of life reinforced my decision to join helping this beautiful world. I’m going to sign up tomorrow. I found a place where you sign, and they talk to you and give you all kinds of information to answer your questions. I still need to break the news to mother and father. I don’t think they will be as thrilled as I am. They have become extremely protective of me since I’m the last child left. Hopefully they understand that this is what I want to do, and they will support me. Yours, Maybelle Dear Journal, 13 July 1976 Mother and father didn’t take my news very well. They told me I couldn’t join and that I wouldn’t be cut out for it. I ran off crying. I was too hurt by their words to stand there and hear them spewing out irrational garbage. They don’t understand that I will be safe. I went to the river again. I always found comfort in the serenity that the river provided; the calmness of the trees, and the noise of the flowing water. They just don’t see me as an adult yet. In their eyes, I’m still in diapers crying because I heard a loud noise. I am an adult, though, and this is what I want to do. I love my parents, but if they can’t support me then there is no use trying to convince them about the great things I will be doing. I really hope they change their mind.

Yours, Maybelle Dear Journal, 16 July 1976 I ended up staying the night at Evelyn’s house the past three days because I couldn’t face my parents yet. They called today, though, asking me to come home because they had something Maybelle’s Journey continued on page 30.

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Maybelle’s Journey continued from page 29.

important they wanted to talk to me about. I’m nervous to see what they say, because they are probably going to try and talk me out of going, and I don’t want to hear it. A little part of me hopes that they changed their minds, but my faith that it will happen slowly dwindles as each minute passes. I have decided that I’m not going tonight. I need to prepare myself for the disappointment that is sure to come. Yours, Maybelle Dear Journal, 17 July 1976 I feel like such a cretin for my ignorant rambling I did yesterday. I went this morning to see what my parents had to say, and it was nothing but support. They spent hours at the library looking up what the Peace Corps does and doing all kinds of research. After I left they realized how passionate I was about this and how upset they had made me that they did research to understand better. When I came home, they apologized for their rudeness and sat me down to talk. They had come up with a plan of what I would need and how much to pack. I was so happy to hear they changed their minds because I really needed their support. Yours, Maybelle

Dear Journal, 31 July 1976 I’ve been busy the past two weeks, getting packed and preparing for my new journey. As the days count down, I’m getting more and more excited, but also nervous about what could happen while I’m gone. What if something happens to my family or my friends? I will be almost 2,000 miles away. I can’t think of that though. I need to stay positive. It’s going to be great.

I’m going to help people and help the environment. I’m just so excited. I’m being sent to the Dominican Republic, and I can’t wait. I’ve been studying Spanish for the past few weeks. I’m not very good, but it’s a start. Yours, Maybelle Dear Journal, 10 August 1976 I’m leaving today!!! I’m so excited to be going to the Dominican Republic. I’m going to stop my journals because I will be too busy to write. I’m meeting up with my friends at the river today before I leave, to say good bye, and then I will be off on a three-year adventure. Wish me luck. Yours, Maybelle.

A big thanks to all our River Words 2017 entrants, and congratulations to the winners.

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River Words

The 30th Anniversary Banquet brought everyone together to raise money for the Au Sable.

The Kids One Fly (Box) Challenge improved the casting of over 40 kids from around the state and beyond!

Events 31

RIVER VERITIES

By C. Catbird Quilty

Come out to view the truth of flowers blooming in poverty

Basho The waxwings were flying short sorties overhead, springing from their perches, taking mayfly duns in midair as they came within range, then alighting on the tree branches again. Their trilling soprano calls floated over the river, providing the perfect counterpoint to the bass notes of the water rushing around my thighs. The mayflies the trout hadn’t taken had one more gauntlet yet to survive before they could rest and molt in the trees. Given the obstacles, it’s little wonder they hatch in such large numbers. Any less and their kind may not make it to the next generation. But a superabundance gives a measure to all – trout, waxwings and next year’s brood. You’d almost think that was Nature’s plan all along, if you credit anthropologic motives to the indifferent and unthinking system we call Nature.

And yet, on some level even hardened realists have to admit Nature possesses every aspect necessary to a plan: organization, evaluation, preparation, reaction, contingency, adaptation, improvisation, iteration, and – in what appears to the casual observer as the agency that is implied in the word – selection.

Maybe that’s what’s so hard for the literal minded to grasp about evolution, that natural selection occurs without agency, without some living thing [or deity] making the choice. But 32

Nature isn’t a thing; it isn’t alive. It’s a collection of living things interacting with the environment. It is process not product, paradoxically making possible all the life in which it can’t actually inhere.

In much the same way, the river is not a thing. Sure, it has physical shape and properties, but it’s more than that. More accurately, a river is not just one thing. It’s a movement; it’s a system; it’s a collection of beings in a web we can only dimly perceive; it’s always traveling and never arriving; it’s a stage, a platform, a context, a biome; it’s becoming and unfolding, never static; it reacts; it iterates; it adapts.

It flows.

But when you wade the river, seeing birds overhead and fish below, feeling the current around your legs, the algae covered rocks and slick spots under your boots, the weeds just below the surface swaying in the current, the ever-changing glint of the sun off its surface, knowing the past moods of the river – high, cold, dark and angry at winter’s end, languorous, light and low in the summer – it’s hard to resist thinking of it as if it’s alive in a literal sense. So don’t – resist, that is. After all, calling it a living river is just mental shorthand for all the life forms that live in and around the river, depend on it greatly or just casually, taking sustenance and pleasure from it, contributing to its course and evolution. The river can occupy the same mental space as other living things, if you let it. And I do.

River Verities

When you think of it as a living thing it’s harder to also call it a resource. Resources don’t have interests, living things do.

Resources are there to be exploited; living things call on us to be regarded. So many of our self-inflicted wounds come from seeing too many things as resources and too few things as ends in themselves with interests and needs unconnected to our desires. Nature needs to be nurtured. As members of the Anglers of the Au Sable we get that. We recognize the river has a claim to exist and thrive that must be weighed against other interests and in some cases nurtured for our past wrongs, mitigating past harms, defending against present and future threats. It’s not there merely to be exploited and consumed. It’s not a means to our ends, but an end in itself.

Thinking of the river as a thing, you risk missing the forest for the trees. Just as the world is more than the sum of its parts, so too the river. Thinking of it as a resource, you risk destroying the web of life that depends on it. If states and nations can have collective interests, then so can the collection of all the life we see as the river. It falls to us, with our unique ability to perceive those interests and needs, to act not solely in furtherance of our own interests, but as stewards of the river’s needs.

Alone among all the living things of Earth we have understood the nature of Nature on this floating blue orb and with that perception we can’t escape our crimes against it and our duties to atone for them.

Is the result of our ministrations “natural”? I leave it to others like my friend Humbird to argue over the finer points of that question. For me, as I wade and float the river, there’s nature enough. The wood sorrel and turtlehead still bloom along its banks, tag alders and cedars still cast cooling shade. Trout

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still feed on mayflies, caddis and stoneflies, while eagles, mergansers and osprey in turn feed on the fish. Mosquitos buzz and bite; bats and nighthawks still dart and feed midair. Minks scramble along the shore, muskrat and beaver still swim silently and pop up unexpectedly; deer cross and turkeys roost.

Sun shines, clouds coalesce, wind blows, rain falls, snow gathers, water flows, the world turns, seasons change. It goes ever on. Naturally.

Yes, mankind has scarred and warped some of it, but Nature persists. Nature has a way of sorting things out, often not on a timescale humans can grasp easily, but eventually the web adjusts, new equilibria are reached. As John Muir noted in Our Natural Parks in 1901 “Nature is ever at work building and pulling down, creating and destroying, keeping everything whirling and flowing, allowing no rest but in rhythmic motion, chasing everything in endless song out of one beautiful form into another.” Nothing about the last century has altered that truth.

We can focus on the purported purity of the river experience or we can embrace it in all its contradiction and myriad expression. We can lose our way, see ourselves as separate from nature and condone all the damage an attitude of isolation and exploitation engenders or alter our perspective to understand our part in the web in which we’re embedded, we can nurture and promote the many aspects of the river and celebrate the undeniable truth: The river is not just one thing.

Go discover something different about it to appreciate, to cherish and to nurture and enjoy today.

River Verities 33

RIVER APOCRYPHA

By Humbird Humbird

And with any attempts here to play Frankenstein, Come with plenty of chances for changing your mind.

When you’re building your own creation, Nothing’s better than real Than a real imitation I won’t find it fantastic or think it absurd When the gun in the first act goes off in the third, ‘Cause it’s rare that you ever know what to expect From a guy made of corpses with bolts in his neck.

If the creature is limping, the parts are in place, With a mind of its own and a fist for a face.

Say hello to your new creation.

Now it’s better than real, It’s a real imitation.

Lyric from Frankenstein by Aimee Mann Ah, nature. The river flowing through pristine forests of loden and jade; great blue herons wading along its banks, belted kingfishers in the branches above, both hunting the same prey as the anglers who wade & float through; marigolds and iris blooming along the bank; cedars overhanging above Dobsons and Damsels who flit about; beaver & mink frolicking, ducks, geese and mergansers noisily going about their business; the cerulean sky over all, with the sun careening off the rippled surface of the water highlighting its crests with electric blue sparkles; mayflies emerging and trout feeding. What could be more natural?

Well, if you’re talking about the Au Sable, pretty much anything. If you’re in the market for an environment untainted by the hand of man, you better get in the truck and look elsewhere, cuz you ain’t finding it here, man. Maybe long ago, but it’s the middle of the Anthropocene. At least I hope it’s the middle and not the end. The best estimates by climatologists may cast serious doubt on that hope, but regardless of whether it’s middle or end, man’s greasy palms have been all over everything you can see around here for as long as any of us has been sucking air, even geezers like Humbird Humbird. No, you say? The list is endless. Where do I start?

Let’s begin with those iconic cedars. Everyone’s familiar with Cedric the Cedar’s comic antics on the banks of the Au Sable as he cheers on the Au Sable Trout in their epic series with the Outstate Anglers, right? Okay, I’ll admit I hallucinated that one on a recent afternoon. Flashbacks are a bitch, but that’s the price you pay for living through the Psychedelic, 60s. Anyway, back to the cedars. Cedars that used to line the river in untold numbers, but now have to be planted and caged and fretted over cuz the deer overgraze them. How did that happen? Oh, yeah, man removed all the wolves and bobcats and other top predators, then planted corn and grasses and other wonderful 34

feed for deer so the herd ballooned and overgrazed the entire state so that the natural tree progression shifted, that’s how.

Poor, poor Cedric Cedar.

And speaking of trees. The Jack Pine. Nature figured out a neat way to ensure both the nesting habitat of Kirtland Warblers and the generation of new stands of Jack Pine. It’s called Wild Fires. Okay, maybe it was the other way round, but let’s not squabble over minor details. Regardless, does that system work now? No way, Dude. We suppress every spark and ember and whiff of smoke. Am I chanting “Burn Baby Burn”? Not on your flippin’ life! I got a major investment in the CatBird Nest and Smokey The Bear better be stamping down every flame he finds or I’m gonna be storming the offices of my state representatives. But that means we gotta do clear cuts on hundreds of acres and plantings to maintain the Kirtland’s habitat … or controlled burns. Don’t get me started on “controlled burns.”

I’m in enough trouble with the DEQ or DNR or whatever they’re calling that disaster of a bureaucratic sinkhole. Regardless, now the Jack Pine and the warblers are where we want them to be, not where natural fire and regrowth would have them. Nothing natural about that.

Okay, you say, to all that, but what about the river? Surely that’s a pristine force of nature – water flowing from the swamps and the watershed into the river valley and onwards to the big lakes. Simple and clean. Yeah, well … not so much. The Au Sable (the Manistee to a lesser degree) is more engineered and manicured than any golf course you’ll ever visit. Ignore the six dams on the Au Sable from Mio to Oscoda (although the anadromous fish can’t do so). There’s all the other alterations we’ve made. We’ve nearly extirpated the beavers that used to regularly dam up miles of river. Agricultural runoff, municipal overflow waste and (unless we can stop it) aquacultural waste course into the river with unnatural regularity. And every River Apocrypha

deadfall that blocks the navigation of canoes and drift boats magically disappears in the dead of night. River Pixies with chainsaws is my guess. It certainly couldn’t be the canoe liveries or river guides. They would never do anything like that, right? Right.

tion of I-75. Before that the logging practices silted up much of the river, covering the cobbles and pebbles and spawning ground for the fish. Ergo the need for sand traps we have to regularly create and dredge and manage or the life within the river will be choked off. Again, needed but unnatural remediation.

What about those cute little islands that dot the Holy Waters?

Surely, those are … Oh, give it up, man. You can see the dang twelve-inch spikes and baling wire holding those logs in place.

They’re great trout cover, for sure, and I’m all for them. After all, if we’re going to remove all the deadfalls and beaver dams, we have to mitigate that somehow to give back some of the cover to the fish. But natural? Not a chance.

The fish? Lemme see. I can’t recall the last time I caught a grayling around here. Oh, that’s right: I’ve NEVER caught a grayling! Even geezers like me came on the scene way after those poor bastards had been extirpated from overfishing and habitat destruction. The brown and rainbow trout are transplants. Only the noble brook trout remains as a Michigan native. Colorful, feisty, resilient little brookies - the gems of the Au Sable - are the only species you might have seen 200 years ago in these parts, though the current inhabitants owe their residence in the Au Sable watershed to restocking. The rest are man planted and maintained. Rainbows and Browns are fun and wary, hard to catch, beautiful to behold, reproducing on their own in the Holy Waters stretch, but not quite what nature intended. At least not hereabouts. Nope, down to the smallest fry, it’s all a sham. A fake. A recreation for our recreation.

You can still make out the scars of logging that forever changed the river in the 18th and early 19th centuries. The families that pioneered the area took down old growth forests to supply the nation’s lust for lumber, creating a new place in their wake.

Names remain that point to that past, no longer connected to their origins. Dam Four. Camp Ten. Deward. Sharon. And we haven’t stopped that process right up to the present. Bridges span its course, docks and grassy yards run down to its banks, homes and cottages litter the riverside. Fences, signs, structures, ornamentation. We inhabit, less a part of the natural web and more a conquering force. Even things far away find their way to the river. Like sand.

This lovely Au Sable, literally the River of Sand, got a heck of a lot sandier when prevailing winds blew tons of sand in it from the repeated dumping of sand from the west during construc-

River Apocrypha

It’s all just a simulacrum of nature. Our own sprawling, magnificent, serene and unpredictable Frankenstein made up of parts from here and others from elsewhere, brought back to life by our hands and kept alive by our constant administration.

I love it but I’m not confused about its true nature. Unnatural and yet so close to natural you’d hardly notice.

Better than real, it’s a real imitation.

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Anglers of the Au Sable P.O. Box 200 Grayling, MI 49738

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CONTRIBUTORS

Our organization is officially affiliated with Fly Fishers International (FFI).

We strongly encourage you to join the FFI. Since 1965, FFI and its Councils have been and continue to be the only organized national and regional advocates for fly fishing.

Five dollars of your FFI dues are returned to the FFI Great Lakes Council (GLC) to be used for local efforts.

Tom Baird, Member David Batchelor, Member Connor Beard, Student Thomas Buhr, Member Alex Cerveniak, Member Easton Farrell, Student Julie Gibbs, Member Josh Greenberg, Editor Andrew J. Hager, Student Mark Harvey, Member Joe Hemming, President Betsy Hemming, Member Humbird Humbird, Member Howard Johnson, Member Madison Jones, Student Molly Leslie, Student Lacey Morse, Student C. Catbird Quilty, Member Paige Scheer, Student Brianna Shear, Student Jennifer Sheehan, Student Spencer Vanderhoof, Member Neil Wallace, Member