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"Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong," - John Denver
I had just pulled out of the drive-through line and grabbed my container of French fries out of the paper bag. I hit the highway like a man possessed, and by that, I mean I felt like I was breaking down inside, becoming someone or some "thing" else. I had been pent up in the cage of my mind for an untold lifetime of days, as the news of the nation kept trying to break my heart, mind and soul into billions of pieces.
My skin felt like it was crawling. In my bathroom mirror, I had been reduced to an empty stare. My arms and legs were heavy to move. I needed to get outside, to breathe and recharge, but knowing that and doing that are two different things. I struggled to break out over several days. But today, I got fed up with everything and that pushed me out the door. I left without thinking of much to take with me. I grabbed my keys and my camera and that was it.
Now, here I was driving my Jeep up the highway, headed for the dirt road backwoods. The highway was packed with tourist traffic in both directions - trailers and campers and people driving too slow and too fast. It was 83 degrees outside.
I turned some music on to put my mind in a better frame. I heard "Denise" by Randy and the Rainbows come through the speakers. One minute and fifty-eight seconds of heaven.
Donny Brooks accomplished the same thing in two minutes and twenty-two seconds with "Mission Bell." I couldn't hear those songs without softening up at least a little. When I heard "The Angels Listened In," by the Crests, I might have even smiled.
The French fries were hot, salty and delicious. I'm glad I ordered the large. I was about 30 miles from home when I found the dirt road I was looking for. I turned off the highway and pulled over.
I stopped the Jeep to take a few deep breaths and eat my hamburger that was still in the paper bag, before starting my journey. I left the vehicle running to hear the radio.
After the first bite, I knew that if I didn't stand outside to eat, the guts of this sandwich might end up all over my chest. It was that kind of burger, good, but sloppy. I wound down the driver's side window and stepped outside.
I noticed choke cherries ripe and black on bushes alongside the road. The sand of the road felt good under my feet. I stood eating only a couple of hundred feet off the highway. The cars out there were still whizzing past. I turned to look down the dirt road in the opposite direction, taking a bite of my burger.
Just then, a brown, gray wolf came out of the woods to my left and just casually trotted across the road in front of me and into the woods. I called out, "Hey." He or she didn't even look at me. The wolf disappeared into the woods, down a narrow animal trail. Well, that was certainly cool.
Where was my camera? On the front seat of my Jeep as it often tends to be in moments like these. I didn't care a bit that I didn't get a photo. I'm happier that I didn't. I'd prefer to keep the memory of that instant in time between me and the wolf.
After I got back in the Jeep and started driving, it wasn't long before a truck approached from the opposite direction, one of only two vehicles I'd see on those backroads today. I stopped to take a couple of casts of my fishing line at creeks I'd cross over, but my heart wasn't into fishing today. The water was low and, in some places, warmer than it usually is - conditions that help identify summer's dog days for me.
I knew there were blackberries along this road. When I found a roadside bramble, I pulled my car over to the other side to get close to the berries. There were hundreds of them, but only a few had ripened. I was able to gather a handful to taste. Doing so reminded me why they are my favorites. My face didn't change, but inside, the taste helped me feel a little better. I put a few of the blackberries in a plastic bag to take home for my wife, Liana and Naomi, our Japanese house guest, to taste.
A few times during the day, I stopped the Jeep and got out to feel the warm summer breeze and take pictures of the wondrous natural bouquets of wildflowers blooming out there all over the place. I found thousands of black-eyed Susans, Queen Anne's lace, yellow daisies, purple field thistle, Canada goldenrod and blue vervain.
The were also small white flowers that looked like tiny daisies, but I don't know their proper identity. The same is true for purple cloverlike blossoms that hung from plant stalks that stood more than a foot high in a field. Orchard apples were already out by the thousands, many with an early pink blush. I found wild raspberries and ate a few of those too.
In a place where the road was moist from rain showers the previous evening, I could see from a good distance away there were tracks in the dirt. When I got close enough to see them, they were fawn tracks, followed by wolf tracks. The wolf tracks continued down the road. I didn't see the fawn tracks after it looked like they crossed the road.
The buzzing and clicking of grasshoppers were everywhere in the broad and open fields along the road. I saw countless grasshoppers of varying size and color throughout the day. In one of these open fields, small sparrows flitted between the trees.
I had failed to bring my binoculars with me during my exit from the house. Consequently, I couldn't identify them. I did see and identify a great-crested flycatcher and several northern flickers flying alongside the road in the hardwood areas. I saw more surprisingly low water levels in creeks and streams I crossed.
I found one pond in the backwoods that is typically very low at this time of year, often with a lot of mud showing. Instead, the pond was full. There must have been a good deal more rainfall here.
I saw a doe and a fawn that remained standing in the road as I approached. I drove almost right up to them before they jumped into the low brush at the side of the road. I paused at a few more wide-open spaces to take in as much fresh air, sunshine and open skies as I could. I spent the afternoon experiencing all the sights, sounds, tastes, feels and smells of the countryside.
The warmth of the day was helpful in breaking up and melting some of the bedrock and ice caverns I had inside. By the end of the day, I could still tell that I had plenty of rough ridges that still needed smoothing.
Heading toward home, I pulled from the dirt road onto the blacktop again, this time, finding construction zones where I sat waiting for the red light to change color.
I sagged behind the wheel. I could already feel the twinges of frustration and tension beginning to spark again. I wanted to turn around and head back into the woods. Just then the light changed. I was soon sitting at another one.
I got home to my messy office desk and phone messages that had accumulated while I was gone. "I've got to get that stuff cleaned up," I thought to myself. Later that night, I went out into the yard to watch for meteors with Naomi. She loves the dark, starry skies and relaxed lifestyle here that she doesn't have in Osaka. I found that to be interesting, ironic and perhaps instructive.
It was too cloudy for Naomi and me to find any Perseids meteors. We'd decided we'd try again tomorrow night. We saw a few great ones the night before. She has been a tremendous house guest. So far, I have resisted the temptation to ask her to teach me Japanese swear words.
The next day, as I drove to the office, I finally began sensing that the woods trip the previous day had been beneficial. My hands weren't clenching into pretzels, and I could feel some breathing space between my anxiety and my throat.
I think I need repeated applications of those multiple natural benefits found in nature's elixer to improve my outlook in a substantial way.
And so, I will soon return.
Outdoors North is a weekly column produced by the Michigan Department of Natural Resources on a wide range of topics important to those who enjoy and appreciate Michigan's world-class natural resources of the Upper Peninsula.