“Pounced with fire on flaming roads, using ideas as my maps,” – Bob Dylan

The territory I was set to explore was imprinted in relatively dark lines on the back pages of my mind. I had it filed away, up there in the dusty old reference section. These recollections I stored there were borne of study of even dustier topographic maps and aerial photographic imagery that showed the landscape from a satellite’s view, with leaves on and off.

I had hoped to arrive today before the leaves were out in full, making it harder to discern the skeletal components of the forest. I was looking to walk down along a trail until I needed to cut off to go cross-country to find a serpentine little trout stream that showed up blue and sparkly on the photos and as a thin aqua-colored line on the map.

These ground-truthing types of exercises have always been fun to me.

First, there’s the enjoyment of reading the maps themselves, which is where I believe the adventure begins. All kinds of images start forming in my mind as I wonder what it will be like to explore a given place in person. Knowing the symbols on topographic maps and what the lines for elevation mean lets me know how hilly a place is expected to be. Elevation lines closer together mean steeper terrain. More precisely, the space between lines is usually 25 feet on most topographic maps, so you can measure how much change in elevation you will encounter over a specific distance.

You can also often see other things depicted on maps that offer clues of what a place is likely to be like when you get there. Various symbols indicate wetlands, trails, mines, campgrounds, graveyards, bridges and more. These things are like breadcrumbs offering clues to the detective. They also inspire feelings of excitement and anticipation about the area, especially for the seasoned map reader-ground truther.

Satellite photos available online only deepen the excitement level when you can zoom in close enough to see the terrain, the dirt roads, the green trees, the blue water of lakes and streams and even the exact ways the roads bend. The best map programs allow you to switch back and forth between map views, with labeled features, and colored satellite imagery. Reviewing these maps and photos can really pump up the excitement level.

There have been many nights, in the depths of winter, when I have been so excited to get out to see what I found on maps and satellite photos that my skin was virtually crawling with anticipation. But I would sometimes then have to wait three or four months to get out because everything was under a few feet of snow. That just makes the winter seem longer.

Today I was definitely getting out there. This was one of those days I had been waiting for since the wintertime. After following a couple of two-track logging roads over more than a few bumps and dips, the Queen of Shebis and I reached a place where we backed my Jeep up into a makeshift parking space. From here we could follow the map in my head and a visualization of the place we wanted to reach from a satellite photo I had printed out in black and white.

The sun was shining warmly. We left the vehicle to walk in our fishing waders, carrying our fishing poles, with our creel bag straps over our shoulders. The queen said it was the bluest sky she had seen in a while. Yellow and chesnut-sided warblers were singing from the trees around us. The incredibly beautiful and intricate song of a wood thrush was there too.

The sounds of birds are miraculous, both in their performance and their ability to soothe and inspire a human being. We walked through a grassy field, on the low side of a hill. Our way forward became muddy as water from the hillside ran across the grass and mud we walked through. It was great to be outside, breathing in the fresh air and feeling the sunshine.

The Shebis pointed out deer tracks in the mud. The winds of winter and perhaps spring had brought down a significant number of trees in this area. This would make our ground truthing a bit tougher than the map and photos had shown. This is where boots on the ground reveal themselves to be the most important indicator of what you will find in these kinds of explorations.

Everything from “no trespassing” signs to fences, gates, fire and storm damage, flooding and many other things are not always discernable on maps or satellite imagery. We stepped over a big poplar tree that was down on the ground in front of us. Past the muddy places, we looked into the woods for a place to cut in to find the stream. I did see one animal trail that certainly would have been sufficient to walk, but we decided to look for a place where the trees weren’t growing so closely together.

We found one and walked into the woods, looking at the surrounding tree types to decide if we were getting closer to the river. We did see spruce trees and some tag alders. I felt we were close, but the underbrush was so thick, it wouldn’t let us pass easily. We tried to use a cellphone to check our location on a maps application, but we only had one bar of service available. We had brought the phone with us on this trip solely for that purpose and it proved ineffective.

The way the terrain looked, we began to doubt whether we could reach the creek without encountering a deep mud bog or choking tag alders that would not allow for casting fishing lines. We decided to turn around and employ a different strategy for our fishing. The afternoon was already waning. Time had gone by so fast. We found our way to the water through a more familiar route. I fished several holes and caught a limit of brook trout.

The Shebis spent a good deal of time resting in the vehicle after our earlier bushwacking. However, when she emerged, she didn’t play around. She went to a hole I had suggested to her and on her very first cast she caught the biggest brook trout of her life. It was a beautiful 14-incher. With that, she was ready to retire her fishing arm for the day.

What a pro. It was as though she came off the bench, late in the fourth quarter, to throw the game winning touchdown.

Then she calmly turned around and went back to the sideline to sit down on the bench by the heater, grabbing a cold Gatorade on her way, wrapping a soft towel around her neck.

All hail the Queen of Shebis.

By the time we began heading home, the sun was going down and was shining in our faces through the windshield. We agreed that we will return to our plans to find a way to reach the creek we were looking for. The maps provided several alternative routes. From the simple things like an ice-cold pop, chips and a candy bar, to some fine company, a sunny day and some fun exploration, fish to take home to cook and eat and good memories to savor and share, this had been a great day.

Passing along the state highway on the way home, I pulled over to turn around when I saw the silhouette of a great-horned owl staring at me from the top of a telephone pole that stood just off the road. We both grabbed a pair of binoculars we each had in the car. I made some mouse noises, but the owl never looked in our direction. A few owl calls into the night later, it was clear to us that this owl was not moving.

It was about this time that I noticed another owl sitting on the top of another telephone poll across the highway. This one didn’t look in my direction either. I got a spotlight out of the Jeep and shone the beam at each of the owls. Nothing happened. I was able to finally notice that there was a small base attached that the owls were standing upon.

This confirmed once and for all that they were fakes – good fakes, but fakes, nonetheless. At home, we got into the sauna to melt away the aches and pains of the day. The Shebis volunteered to clean the fish. I was already looking forward to revisiting my maps and satellite photos to find a more definitive route to the stream. Even that small awareness ignited my eagerness for another day afield, full of excitement, wonder, learning and understanding.

Oh yeah, and hopefully more fish for supper too.

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