Tales of Three Peninsulas and an Island

By Drew Swagart and Gary Swagart

In Tales of Three Peninsulas and an Island, Gary Swagart relates some stories about "characters" he has crossed paths with in "the good old days." The setting of these tales is Isle Royale and three of Michigan's peninsulas: the Lower Peninsula, the Upper Peninsula, and the Keweenaw Peninsula, though most of them could have taken place wherever real "characters" are found which is basically anywhere there are people.

His love of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, Lake Superior, and Isle Royale, despite incidents that easily could have resulted in catastrophy, shows though. That love of this harsh, beautiful part of the world was shared by Yoopers like Old Drifter, who narrowly escaped the icy fingers of death, and the awesome Mr. S, a totally blind man, whose unique abilities and achievements were beyond belief.

The Lower Peninsula of Michigan is beautiful in its own right with its rolling hills, farms and woodlands. Gary spent many pleasant hours hunting the wily rooster pheasant, deer, and 'coon there. Though, in general, Lower Peninsula residents (Trolls) have a slightly different perspective on many things than Yoopers, many "characters" reside there as well. The State Motto is "If you seek a pleasant peninsula, look about you." The part about the pleasant peninsula could be replaced with "some real characters" and it would be just as true.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 7, 2000
• ISBN: 9781469729220

Drew Swagart

Gary Swagart is a Professional Engineer currently residing in Florida. He spent nearly a half-century living in one or the other of Michigan's Peninsulas.

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Tales of Three Peninsulas and an Island

All Rights Reserved © 2000 by Gary F. Swagart

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.

Writers Club Press

an imprint of iUniverse.com, Inc.

For information address:

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Although these stories are based on the Author’s memories of people who lived and events that actually occurred, the stories herein are fictional. If the names of people in these stories bear any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, the resemblance is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 0-595-14671-6

ISBN: 978-1-4697-2922-0 (ebook)

Contents

List of Illustrations

Preface

Ol’ Drifter

Fish for Breakfast

Mr. S

Chuck and the Puppy

Appendix

Fireworks

Eighth Grade Trip

What Goes ‘Round Comes ‘Round

Daniel Jackson

Cemetery Island

Grandpas’ Booze

Jack’s Outboard

Just the Way I like ‘Em

Fred-Fred

Don’t Move!

Better Take It Easy

Best of Intentions

Stuck

John

Will Power

Billy

About the Author

This book is dedicated to my lovely wife, Clara, whose input to it has been invaluable.

List of Illustrations

Bull Thistle in the Path of Communication Frontispiece A nice mess of fish 2 We were standing on the dock 3 Communal campfire at Caribou Island 4 Middle Passage lighthouse 11 Sam was drifting toward the rock cliffs 12 View from fire tower 15 Canoe Rocks 17 Mr.S 25 Clara and Mr. S preparing for smorgasbord 27 Re-enactment at the fort 45 Tim’s Duck 51 Fred-Fred 67 My fun toy 82 I made a respectable size pond 83 Selective logging 90 Some real beauties waiting to get loaded 90 Author and Spouse, Clara 99

Preface

This is a collection of short stories about people I have known or known about throughout the years and have a substantial basis in incidents as the author believes they occurred to the best of his recollection. The stories are not about the rich and famous, but rather, about the poor, perhaps ignorant, downtrodden folks that lived out in the sticks of Michigan. Several of the stories are about the lives of people who had some harsh circumstances to overcome. The names of the people involved and the locales have been changed to protect the innocent (the guilty too).

If you, as a reader, think you recognize someone in these tales, the resemblance is purely coincidental. There is a multitude of real characters out there, if one just pays a little attention. These characters seem to surface when conditions make a person’s environment one of an adverse nature. The author has been fortunate enough to know more than his share of such folks through the years in which he lived in Michigan’s Upper and Lower Peninsulas. Thinking about those people brings back fond memories of another place and another time. Hopefully, these stories will help others bring back similar memories.

Ol’ Drifter

The third time Clara and I went to Isle Royale, we had an uneventful crossing, which makes it a successful one. However, a couple of days after we arrived, the weather turned nasty. A bank of thick fog was rolling around on the lake. Fog is supposed to be accompanied by nearly calm winds, but the Big Lake doesn’t necessarily play by the rules. This fifteen-mile wide band of pea soup was sent up the Big Lake and back down by shifting, twenty-mile-an-hour winds, which created three-to-four foot waves to complement the heavy fog.

These are not elements of good fishing conditions. The fish don’t care, but control of the boat was difficult and disorientation becomes a real problem in that swirling fog. After three days of waiting, when the fog cleared, even though the waves were a little high, we decided to give the Big Lake a try. Clara was getting hungry for some trout.

Five miles out on the Lake from the Middle Passage is an area called The Flats. The Flats cover an area about a mile wide by two and a half long. The lake bottom there is like a gently sloping hill with the water depth as shallow as 130 feet. Lake trout were in abundance all over The Flats to a depth of about 240 feet. A person could catch as many lake trout there as his (or her) arms could pull up.

It took a while for us to get out there because of the rough conditions, but our boat was well-built and kept in top condition so we were not concerned about that. When we reached the Flats, we threw out the sea anchor and drifted to troll. A sea anchor is a simple device. It is basically an open ended heavy canvas cone with the big end attached to a heavy steel ring. When dragged behind a boat, it creates an effect much like a brake.

We were having a great time catching those lake trout, sometimes having four on at a time, when Clara noticed the fog bank on the horizon. In fifteen minutes, it was quite obvious that it was moving toward us. Not wanting to be caught out there in waves and fog, we pulled up the fishing lines and headed back toward the Middle Passage. Halfway there, the fog headed us off at the pass. It took another two hours of slow going to navigate through that swirling mass of moisture-laden air. It required that we go a little ways and stop. Turn the engine off and listen for the bell on the buoy. When we could finally see the red bell buoy, with a light on it, that marked the Middle Passage, it was less than forty feet away. That swirling fog was thick! We had to go by compass bearing from marker to marker along the channel to get back to camp. It was worth it though, because we had a nice mess of fish.

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A nice mess of fish

The weather had been bad for three days so it was reasonable to assume that it would be good for the next three days. But the Big Lake doesn’t play by the rules. That night, the wind picked up. The next morning, we awoke to the sight of ten to twelve foot waves out on the lake. They crashed against the rocks and little islands sending big plumes of spray into the rushing air. The fog bank still hadn’t broken up. It just swirled more as it scooted down the lake. Late in the afternoon, it calmed down for a while. Then the wind blew from the other direction and back came the fog bank with criss-crossing ten to twelve foot waves on the lake. It was a good time to do some hiking and exploring on the Island. Certainly no time to be out on the angry Big Lake in a small boat.

On the evening of the fifth day of the wind, waves and fog, it finally cleared up and calmed down, somewhat. Another boater and I were standing on the dock on Caribou Island discussing the possibilities of getting in some fishing the next day. I happened to look out into the channel of the Middle Passage and could see some guy on his boat waving at us. I started to wave back and then realized that the guy was frantically waving at us. His boat was going backwards. He obviously was having some kind of problem.

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We were standing on the dock

The boater on the dock with me had a smaller boat with a big engine on it. We hopped on it and took off to see what the guy’s problem was. When we pulled up beside the other boat, the operator of it was nearly incoherent. He was soaked to the skin with that cold Lake Superior water which didn’t feel any warmer with the stiff wind that was still blowing. He was shivering and shaking like a dog passing bones. His engine was not running so, using a dock hook, I snagged his sea anchor that was attached to the front ring of his boat and, using the rope as a tow rope, we towed him into the dock at Caribou.

When his boat was secured, the guy got his wife out of the boat and he kissed the dock when he got on to it. They were both shivering and shaking and it was quite obvious that they needed to get warmed up. The sooner, the better. The communal campfire was going and Clara had hot coffee and cocoa for them. It didn’t take her long to rustle up some hot food and blankets, too.

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Communal campfire at Caribou Island

When they got warmed up and