Bad winter days rattle my cage

A mellow day on Lake Michigan suits me to a T

Our house is structurally sound but some work needed to be done to make it look nicer on the inside and out.

Walls to be painted, carpet pulled up, all of this stuff leaves me cold. Some things got dinged up when my father was alive, and some things have just worn out.

Some changes were needed. I am living proof of a man who likes his home looking nice, but who gets a bit peeved when he can’t sit at the table to eat and must sleep in a different bed because new paint is stinking up our bedroom.

Such things I find very annoying. Change doesn’t come easy

It’s easy to get a bit peckish under such situations, but I go into my office and work. It keeps me out of the way, and I don’t have to look at the mess.

Watching people strip walls of old wallpaper leaves me cold. A new sink and other things are coming for the half-bath off our bedroom but only a toilet sets there now.

An old bed that belonged to my grandparents has been my bed for 30 years. Now there will be a new bed. I can accept the change because things will be nice when the job is done.

The question is when will it be done? Things move at a snail’s pace, and slow doesn’t match my mood. Order this or that, and wait two or three weeks. No one stocks inventory.

Things progress at the speed of maple syrup on a cold day

Some old carpeting has been pulled up, but the new carpeting won’t be laid until the rooms are painted, the new doors hung, and the trim work has been completed.

We schedule things, and it always takes longer than planned. We order things and it costs more than we planned. Bathroom sinks and toilets must be ordered, and once everything is done, we’ll have to order new carpeting. Who knows what color. We’ll know later.

My wife understands this stuff, and I do not. Want a story, call me up and you’ll have it tomorrow. Need a photo, it can be scanned and on your computer in 30 minutes. Want a shower pan for the shower, and it’s a three-week wait.

I don’t do well with house chores;  Never have, never will

I’ve never been a handyman. My knowledge of tools is pretty much confined to screw drivers and hammers. The more hammers and the larger, the better. I don’t understand home improvements, and the cost and work involved in making such wholesale changes is almost unacceptable.

My recliner served me well. It felt great, worked just fine, and is gone along with a sofa, end-tables, another recliner and some carpeting in a trade-off with the builder for doing some work. Cool.

The builder is a good friend, and we both think highly of him. I’d rather he take the stuff in exchange for saving us some labor fees. However, we’ll still have to buy a new sofa and some new chairs. I get confused about such things.

Steaming off wallpaper. Now there is a fine mess. It takes time, doesn’t smell very good, and steaming means shreds of wallpaper everywhere. One small piece was found sticking to the bottom of my shoe. At least it didn’t stink.

We’re replacing 13 inside doors. Is that a lucky number or what? We called to donate them to a local charitable organization. They would be out in a week. A week to come to pick up 13 free doors? They didn’t show up. Another appointment made for them to get them today. You got it, they didn’t show. We’re on again for tomorrow morning. I’m willing to take bets that they won’t come.

My wife, her sister and a grand-daughter are ram-rodding this project. Guess how many votes I get? There’s no place for me but away.

So I’m a bit tight-jawed. I try to keep my mouth shut to avoid hassles. I’m still not at the driving stage after eye surgery so I seek safe refuge in my office.

Don’t know how many consecutive days of office-sitting I can take, but I think we may be a third of the way done on this interior rejuvenation. I keep waiting for that silly television program to show up, and within 30 minutes they turn a house into something grand and wonderful.

I used to sit and wait for John Baresford Tipton from the 1960s to arrive from the television show The Millionaire, announce his presence and give me a million bucks. John hasn’t showed up in 40-some years, and it’s doubtful the home redecorating show will do a 30-minute job either.

So … it’s time to gut it up, tough it out, stay out of the way and keep my mouth shut. This may be a democratic nation, but when refurbishing the house rolls around, all facets of democracy and freedom of speech fly out the window.

If you need me, try my office. Knock three times on the door if you love me.

A Season of Book Reviews

My apologies to one and all. This book review feature was scheduled for two weeks ago, which would have provided readers with more time to order books as a Christmas gift. Sadly, computers being what they are, they often choose to take a vacation when we least expect. So my computer crashed and we just got it fixed.

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TITLE: The American Rowboat Motor

AUTHOR: Arlan Carter
PUBLISHER: Fall Creek Publishing Company
DISTRIBUTOR: Fall Creek Publishing Company

CONTACT: Fall Creek Publishing Company, PO Box 107, Fall Creek. WI 54742
PHONE: (800) 695-6017
COST $39.90
COMMENT Hardcover. 400 pages, 8 ½ X 11-inch format, patent drawings, period advertising, 80 pages on the Evinrude Company, and more than 40 manufacturers represented book description

This book by renowned author Arlan Carter covers the gamut of early outdoor motors from the beginning of gas-powered motors. Many photos and advertisements are in color, The first outboard motor isn’t one that is easily recognized today.

The  information says, the first outboard motor manufactured in the United States was patented in Nov. 22, 1902, originally from Chicago. It had a motor that was independent of the rudder. The complete outfit  weighed 35 pounds and ran off a battery. It was known as an engine that could be started by pushing a button.

The first internal combustion gasoline outboard was made by American Motor Company. This engine was produced from 1862 through April 2, 1924, and it’s believed that the company is thought to have produced 25 engines, and was capable of making speeds “six or eight miles per hour”.

The book thoroughly covers such early outboard engines as

• Arrow
• Caille
• Evinrude
• Motorow
• No-Ro-Imperial
• Cammpbell
• Cyclone
• Elto
• Gilmore
• A. L. Kriderm Lockwood-Ash
• Racine Burroughs
• St. Lawrence
• Viking
• Wright and many others

This is the most in-depth look at the early days of the outboard motor. This is a fascinating history of the outboard engine, and would serve any outboard motor collector well. It offers a wonderful look at the background of our marine engines.

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TITLE: Billy Barnstorm: The Birch Lake Bomber & Other Tales of Youthful Disaster

AUTHOR: Joel M. Vance
PUBLISHER: Cedar Glade Press
DISTRIBUTOR: Cedar Glade Press

CONTACT:  Cedar Glade Press, PO Bix 1664, Jefferson City, MO 65102. $18.99 postpaid.
WEBSITE: http://www.joelvance.com
COST $18.99 postpaid

The author is one of my favorite people. He can be funny without trying, and in this paperback book, his outlandish and sometimes weird sense of comedy comes jumping to the surface like one of the largemouth he caught as a lad.. This book speaks to Vance’s youth and the various mischief he and his collaborators got into while spending time near Birch Lake, Wisconsin, more than a half-century ago.

I dislike making comparisons because it’s usually not fair to one or both of those being compared, but reading Joel Vance’s newest book reminds me of reading early humor books written by Patrick McManus. ‘Course, being as I know both authors, I feel a fine and honest comparison can be made.

Vance’s humor could make a wooden cigar store Indian laugh. In this unique collection of humor about he and his youthful friends, you’ll meet some of his zany friends. There are 14 chapters, excellent b/w drawings by Bruce Cochran. This is guaranteed to please anyone jaded by holiday shopping, and makes a perfect Christmas gift.

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TITLE: The Windward Shore: A Winter On The Great Lakes

AUTHOR: Jerry Dennis
PUBLISHER: University of Michigan Press,
DISTRIBUTOR: University of Michigan Press

CONTACT: University of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor, MI
WEBSITE: http://www.press.umich.edu
COST $22.95 plus postage from the publisher
COMMENT: This hardcover book with dust jacket, also features the delightful work of artist Glenn Wolff, also of Traverse City, Michigan, whose drawings have graced the pages of other of Dennis’ work.

Jerry Dennis  is a natural treasure, and he keeps writing new and more wonderful books. Fitting him into a specific category can be a bit difficult because he is at once, an outdoor writer, a conservationist, a nature lover, a dreamer, who develops words of magic that capture the soul and spirit of those of us lucky enough to live near the Great Lakes.

A knee injury slowed him down, and in so doing, allowed him the time to “present a true picture of a complex region, part of my continuing project to learn one place on earth reasonably well ,” and this is what he’s accomplished with this book.

Winter around Lake Michigan may hardly seem a great topic for a book, but once Dennis sank his teeth into this tasty morsel that he and I both call home, and the result is the magic of this book about the area, the lives of nearby inhabitants, and stories painted by word pictures about this snow and ice-bound area. He teaches us about living in a log cabin along Lake Superior, more about desolate and wind-swept beaches, the power and the magnetic pull a winter storm has on those of us who stay here all winter rather than heading south with other snowbirds.

Dennis gracefully takes us along with him as we plod along frozen shorelines, listen as the surf pounds at shelves of ice, and we hear and feel the moan of an angry wind as it lashes the North County. We see, feel, hear, taste and touch winter along the Great Lakes, and we rejoice with the author as he examines everything about winter in this area.

It’s a book to be read, laid aside, and go back to read certain passages that stick in our mind as we indulge in becoming one with the winter wind, watch snow and ice in a swirl of sensory perceptions. A truly wonderful read by a favorite author.

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TITLE: Deer Hunting 4th edition

AUTHOR: Richard P. Smith
PUBLISHER: Stackpole Books
DISTRIBUTOR: Stackpole Books

CONTACT: Stackpole Books
WEBSITE: http://www.stackpolebooks.com
eMAIL: sales@stackpolebooks.com 
PHONE: (800) 732-3669
COST: $29.95
COMMENT: Paperbound, 448 pages, 297 color photos and 40 years of deer hunting experience from this writer

Richard P. Smith’s name is well known in Michigan and other states and Canadian provinces for his knowledge about bear and deer hunting. His books on deer hunting are many, and all are different. They give readers who own them all, everything the author knows about deer hunting.

Read closely and you’ll see that Smith acknowledges me, but not because I taught him anything mystical about bear and deer hunting. I helped him land his first book (also by Stackpole Books) many years ago and helped with a gentle shove into getting into outdoor writing. He deserves all the praise for this and his 20-odd books.

Smith’s ability to shoot quality photos has kept him very busy for the 30-some years he has been working at this trade. He is more knowledgable about many things that deer do, and many of his secrets are shared in this book.

It is chockfull of tips that can spell the difference between success and failure on a deer hunt, whether here in Michigan or across North America. On the ground, up a tree, stalking, still-hunting, or however you choose to hunt, Smith has most of the answers outlined in great detail in this book.

This is a heavy book, and rightfully so because it is filled to the gunwales with the superb color photos Smith uses to illustrate his books and magazine articles. This book is a keeper, and make no mistake about that. Read and learn. Smith makes it easy.

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TITLE: Brook Trout & The Writing Life

AUTHOR: Craig Nova
PUBLISHER: Eno Publishers
DISTRIBUTOR: Eno Publishers

CONTACT: Eno Publishers, Hillsborough, NC
WEBSITE: http://www.enopublishers.org
COST: $15.95

I’m a sucker for anything written about brook trout. I consider them the most beautiful and precious of all the trout, and I often wax poetic when writing about them. They make it easy because brookies and I share certain commonalities: we love cold water, wild places, and occasionally difficult places to fish. There are places where big brook trout live, but they are seldom common catches once they grow to lunker size.

I’ve caught brook trout throughout the East, Midwest, in some high mountain western lakes, and across much of Canada. They are found in three primary sizes: midgets, legal size and lunker. Regardless of size, the terrain and geography of where they are caught is part of the allure of this beaufitully spotted game fish.

Nova is a wonderful writer, one seemingly destined to write about these fish. The book tells of the intermingling of fishing and writing in a novelist’s life. This book is well written by a writer who knows brook trout, is excited by any opportunity angle for then, and truly knows brook trout and writing..

This memoir speaks to the uncertainty of writing for a living, which most writers experience early in the game, and writing with the singular notion of writing about just one fish species. He transitions well from fishing to writing about other matters in his life, and he makes it work with a bright and lively well-paced book that is filled with the beauty of the written word. An autobiography I found spellbinding.

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TITLE: Young Beginners Guide To Shooting & Archery: Tips For Gun & Bow

AUTHOR: W. H. (Chip) Gross
PUBLISHER: Creative Publishing International
DISTRIBUTOR: Creative Publishing International

CONTACT: Creative Publishing International, Minneapolis, MN
WEBSITE: http://www.creativepub.com
PHONE: (800) 328-3895
COST: $15.99

Most books written for children talk down to the kids, which can build resentment. The author worked for the Ohio Department of Natural Resources, and is responsible for having taught many children how to fish and hunt. Gross has a particular interest in safe hunting because he lost an eye in a hunting accident.

This book covers all the bases when it comes to hunting with a bow or firearm, and it is covered adequately and in sufficient depth to make it meaningful to children. It is liberally sprinkled with color photos.

I spent 20 years as the outdoor writer for The Detroit News, and one of my primary duties each fall was to put on Michigan’s largest Hunter Education program. Gross has done the same for the  Ohio DNR, and it’s impossible to work with a large number of kids without learning how to get along with them and to make their training something they will remember the rest of their lives.

Gross takes us step by step through the process of safely learning how to hunt with bow and firearm, how to achieve better accuracy, and most important of all, how to enjoy a safe hunting trip.

Literary riches from other writers

Men like Ben East & Gordie Charles worked to build deer herds.

Studying the history and high points of a person’s lengthy literary career can be an informing and a somewhat behind-the-scenes look into that person’s life.

It has been my great good fortune to obtain a great and wonderful gift from my longtime friend, Gordie Charles, of Traverse City after his death. This gentle and kind man was a rare breed; he gave more than he took from his outdoor life, and I’ve tried to emulate him.

A few years ago he told his wife, Dorothy, that he wanted me to have his files and papers from over 55 years of outdoor writing in Michigan and South Dakota. Years ago, my late friend Ben East of Holly, Michigan, made the same gracious gift to me after his death. The late Mark Dilts, also an outdoor writer, gave me some things.

Many years ago, my  good friend Russ Bengel of Jackson, honored me with a library of fine books. He knew I loved good fishing and hunting books, and he left me his sizable library. None of these people owed me anything, but knew I loved the history of fishing and hunting in this state.

Russ Bengel was a giant when it came to improve duck habitat.

Each man left behind a treasure trove of Michigan history concerning fishing and hunting in this state. After having sifted through it, and gathered what seemed important from a writer’s standpoint, it is my task to make a contribution of the remaining material to the Bentley Historical Library in Ann Arbor in their respective names.

Ben East kept voluminous files, notes and published book manuscripts and newspaper articles. Gordie Charles did much the same. All but three file drawers of East’s material has been donated, and much of Gordie’s files have been donated to the same research library.

Gordie’s files covered the gamut of fishing and hunting, as well as resources management, in this state. Reading through his notes, and his newspaper columns, adds still another dimension to this multi-talented man.

He was well known for his head-slapping puns and corny jokes, but he also was a man deeply in love with the outdoors. In fact, he was so captivated by the beauty of nature that he vowed as a teenager to write a future column for the Traverse City Record-Eagle newspaper.

Ben East and Gordie Charles fought for resource protection.

That he not only did that, and did a wonderfully fine job of it for many years, he also syndicated a newspaper column to 50-some state weekly newspapers, wrote magazine articles and still had time to research and write six books.

How does one measure value? If going through these old files of men like Charles and East, there is nothing of a monetary value to be found. What is valuable, though it is not tangible, is a close-up look at the history both men helped record for the enjoyment and protection of Michigan’s natural resources.

I found numerous things in Gordie’s files that have been returned to the Charles family such as family photos that had been lost or misplaced. What isn’t needed by the family, or by me at the moment, was donated to the Bentley Historical Library.

Some files, from a historical viewpoint, are rather important to me at this time. I have permission from both families to keep these files until my death at which time all of my files (and theirs) may be donated to the same research facility.

There they will join the files of Charles, East, Harold (Opie) Titus, of Traverse City, an editor for Field and Stream magazine; Jack VanCoevering, past outdoor writer for the Detroit Free Press; and Corey Ford, an U of M alumnus and well known outdoor writer and the author of many books.

These files now give me a look at what has gone before. It allows me to determine the thinking of the Department of Conservation, the forerunner of today’s Department of Natural Resources & Environment, about topics that affect our resource management and the fish and game we  seek.

It allows me to learn about different fish plantings that were tried but failed, such as the grayling and kokanee salmon. They let me know what the collective thinking of sportsmen were in earlier generations, and let me compare them to what the current thoughts are. I even found the deed and abstract for Ben East’s home and property, and promptly returned it to Ben’s late wife, Helen, so she could sell the family home. That was an unexpected find.

My passion is historical papers from top conservationists.

It also enables me to determine the effectiveness of biologists from an earlier period against those of today. The differences, in most cases but with some rare exceptions, indicate that earlier fisheries and wildlife biologists were in much closer contact with sportsmen than they are now.

I sifted slowly through Gordie Charles’ files for nearly a month with the blessings of his late wife, Dorothy and their children, and some files have gone on to Ann Arbor. Others will go after I’ve spent more time examining them.

Gordie Charles was, as all outdoor writers should be: a man with an inquisitive mind, a willingness to dig deep for a story, and to put our resources ahead of everything else, especially politics. The stacks of correspondence lauding his work far outweighed the few crank letters sent by people with some imaginary axe to grind.

I see Gordie as a man who was born at the right time to do what had to be done to help protect our resources. I, for one, appreciate his hard work and the unique genius of this man who spent his adult life writing so that others could enjoy and better understand the outdoors.

Going through old files, and studying such history, must make me an historian. Hopefully, it also will make me a better writer … even after plying my trade for 45 years.

It’s when we stop learning that we stop being effective outdoor communicators. I am still learning, thanks to these gifts from other outdoor writers who helped to pave the way of today’s outdoor communicators.

A good reason to go fishing

Walleyes and brook trout make good eating for the elderly.

Fishing seems to be one of those pastimes where some people need a reason to go fishing. They need a jump-start, and oddly, since the birth of salmon fishing in this state, the reason many go is to catch big fish.

I’ve nothing against catching big fish that can stretch my line on 100-yard runs, but it’s not necessary to catch a big fish every time.

There were a few days during my 10-year guiding career chasing browns, Chinook and coho salmon, and steelhead, that things just didn’t work out right. I remember taking two gents out for spring steelhead, and both men limited out the first day and wanted a new challenge.

The river was full of suckers. Fish to six pounds, and these guys had never caught one so I asked if they thought these fish could be caught on flies.

They didn’t think so, so a friendly little wager ensued, and I caught the first sucker on a fly. It was landed, and I taught both men how to roll an orange fly along bottom. The suckers were protecting their spawning bed, and they hooked one sucker after another.

One man tossed a sucker 20 feet up the bank where it flopped around. I asked if he planned to keep that fish, and he said no. I sent him scurrying up the bank to retrieve the fish and put it back in the river. He sulked a bit, and I got him aside, and explained that his behavior only encourages others to do the same thing.

I told him those suckers hatch, grow, and get eaten by game fish such as bass, perch, muskies, northern pike, walleyes and all species of salmon and trout. I also said that spring suckers from clean water make great eating when canned and made into fish patties.

He got right into that program, and although I probably cleaned two-dozen of them for him, I was happy to do it. I didn’t mind him keeping them if they would be properly used. He also apologized for his earlier actions.

Need an excuse to go fishing? Here is one that will help the environment.

Walk some of the streams and try for stream trout. Perhaps you’ll bump into one of the Skamania steelhead that continue to pop up on rare occasions, but use the fishing trip to wade the river and fill your landing net with worm boxes, discarded line, beer cans, juice bottles and other stuff left behind by slobs.

Want another reason to go fishing? Take a kid with you. He can be young or old, a neophyte or an older and experienced angler. Choose what you both wish to fish for, and go out and enjoy the day and the outdoors. Any fish caught would be a bonus.

I have a couple of elderly ladies I share my catch with. If I know they want fish, and I hadn’t planned on keeping any, I will keep one for each of them. A channel catfish I caught last week went to a neighbor, and she was delighted with fresh fish.

I never give them more than one fish each, and sometimes I take turns giving them a fish. They know that many days I put all the fish back or keep an occasional fish for Kay and I, but this they accept because no one else they know is giving away fish.

It’s something I do that makes me feel good and makes the women feel good. Both have sons who seldom fish, and they eat what they catch, so the Good Samaritan strikes again. One lady can still clean her fish but the other cannot so I fillet, bone and skin her fish.

Some days, like yesterday or today, are wonderful days to hit the river. No need to worry about big fish or other anglers because most of the stream fishermen are now waiting for the water to cool  that will trigger other fall salmon and trout runs.

I like not having to share the water with others although I readily do so if I encounter another loner like myself. We chat, and invariably he is like me — a person happy to be able to wade a river, cast a fly or spend a few happy hours alone with the whisper of the wind, a just-right  breeze and the quiet gurgle of water washing around a sweeper and sending soft and lovely river sounds in my direction.

That is a good enough reason for me to go fishing … anytime.

George and I hammered the Chinook salmon

My late twin brother, George Richey, leads a big king to net.

Years ago we had an early cool snap, a cold rain fell, and suddenly the Betsie River was awash with fresh-run Chinook salmon. Everywhere one looked were fish moving upstream, their backs creasing the surface.

Brother George and I were fishing two small holes 30 yards apart, and he was casting a wet fly while I was pitching a copper No. 2 Mepps Anglia spinner. It was midweek, and we seemed to have the river to ourselves.

George hooked a fish on a pattern he devised for dark-water, and it was called The Crick. It was basically a black fly with a bit of color, and he was bouncing it along bottom when it stopped and the line switched sideways. There is nothing delicate about setting the hook on a big river salmon. It is a happening!

Hooking two big kings was a special treat for us.

I could hear him grunt as he muscled back to pound the hook home. I took two turns on the reel handle, and a king salmon tried mightily to wrench the rod out of my hands. I urged him into a fighting mood with a hard double hook-set, and there we stood, 20 yards apart, the Richey twins, each one tight to an angry king salmon.

My fish started downstream, and jumped almost into his back pocket, and George spun around, glared at the fish heading out into midstream as his fish ran upstream away from the splash. His fish jumped out in front of me, and we both had to get moving to avoid tangling our lines.

He shuffled upstream while I moved down, and we had the two fish separated by 20 yards when his big king swapped ends, and headed downstream behind me as I scrapped with my fish in the deep hole. I stepped backwards, stepping over his line, and then we stood there, our backs almost touching, as we tried to beat up on those fish.

“Having fun yet?” he asked, knowing I was.

“Nothing better than a 25-pound king trying to rip the rod from your hands,” I replied. “Waited a year to do this again.”

The silence of the moment was hushed by splashing fish, and then George’s fish headed upstream, and our two fish were as close together as we were, and both were struggling upstream, fighting the river current and our heavy rod pressure.

Fighting both salmon, with each going its own way, was a hoot.

“Could get a bit tricky soon,” he noted. “If both of them come down together, it will be interesting to see if we can get out of the way while keeping them separated.”

The Chinook salmon apparently read his mind or heard his voice, and like two submarines heading for two troop ships, here they came. One fish stayed deep and mine was near the surface, and I pulled from one side to upset his travel pattern. George and I always seemed to read each other’s mind, and he did the same except he pulled in the opposite direction.

The fish hit the air, both in half-hearted jumps, and it was as if we were in a ballet on water. We reacted in unison without discussing it, and his move and mine complemented the other. The kings, reacting in a somewhat predictable manner, responded in kind. This was a battle of two twin men, working on two adult Chinook salmon of equal size, and it couldn’t have been choreographed any better.

My fish cut between me and shore, spinning me around as it charged downstream. George’s fish peeled around him in midstream, and now both fish were wallowing on the surface.

My fish was just half-a-shade lighter in coloration than his but it played out faster on the spinning tackle. I led the fish to shore, grabbed it by the caudal peduncle (the wrist-like narrowing just ahead of the tail), lifted it out, reached for my long-nose pliers, and twisted the treble free and released the fish.

Tailing a big Chinook salmon is easy if you know how and hang on.

I grabbed my camera and began clicking photos of George as he landed his 25-pounder. There was a bit of color in the background, and he held his fish aloft for two or three photos.

He bent over, released the fish with the dignity it deserved after putting up a valiant fight, and we were off looking for another adventure.

Those were the days when George and I lived our lives to the fullest, guided fishermen, and traveled Michigan’s rivers together as we did everything else … together, and as a team.

Today I was on the Betsie River again, and my thoughts of George were wonderful as I looked for fish below the old Homestead Dam. I found a few fish but they weren’t hitting. The river water is still warm, and oddly enough, there were no people where I was at.

I cast to several fish but the fish were really spooky. One cast, and they would head into a timber-lined hole. The last thing they seemed interested in was flies or spinner, but it was a good day for remembering my twin brother.

I still think of him daily after almost eight years since his premature death, and although we hunted together as well, it was on those early salmon and steelhead trips that we became almost welded together, inseparable as two peas in a pod. I miss him, and just remembered this story today as I tried to recreate that day, and it’s one of my favorites.

Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.