If a Michigan tornado does not observe red lights, it is easy to assume that they might find another red light in hot pursuit. I just wouldn’t want to be that state trooper as the offender might tend to be a tad windy in their response. Or would a windbag be a better description?

What a great vista to view water skiers or jet skiers at Big Bass Lake. The “narrows” are the perfect area as all traffic proceeds through this passage going north or south.  Can you imagine holding a picnic for friends on your picnic table just a few feet from the lake?  And, what a place to observe the Fourth of July Boat Parade.  Within the narrows you are always close to the action.

Imagine stepping out your back door to where you are only a few steps away from your dock.  A paddlebaot at this location could easily explore the shoreline all through the narrows.  On the north end are the twin islands, Four Winds and Turtle, and if you follow the east shoreline you will be at the passage way between Big and Little Bass Lakes in no time flat.

This area is also where Camp Martin Johnson once stood and one can pass his burial site marked by a boulder along this course.  Or encircle Four Winds Island for even more history of that camp.

I really like that enclosed picnic table area.  What a great location for a cottage don’t you think?

Over the years, Sauble Lakes have taken two major hits. The first was when the Fun Stop burned down and I lost my bowling lanes tucked away in the Manistee National Forest. Then the Keasters (I think that’s spelled right} sold the Emporium. Now that was a country store.

I’m old enough to remember Otto Bartlett’s store over at Big Bass Lake but the Emporium was far greater though each had their charm. Each had a great vista of their respective lakes and that was a selling point of each store.  The Emporium stocked moe merchandise and the parking was never a problem. 

Now each of those stores stands vacant.  It’s sad.  The Bender Family has a country store between Big Bass Lake and Loon Lake that seems to be doing okay.  And ha the original owners kept their store I think the Emporium still would be in business. 

The Big Bass Lake store would need a total remodeling job to get it into shape for any business that took it over.  The Emporium would need far less remodeling.  I wonder what will become of the old Emporium store?  Country stores are an albatross in today’s economy it would seem.  Still they served their purpose and I, for one, loved making purchases there.  I really enjoyed their ice cream.

Maybe the Emporium could be made over into a roller skating rink like the one that at one time was on Loon Lake?  It deserves a better fate than to be razed or turned into a home.  Any ideas on what might become of the Emporium? 

Tow ropes now pull everything from skiers to tubers to boards. Each year another new way of movement behind a speed boat comes forth. When water skiing became too boring, boards became popular because one had to stand upon something far less as long as skies.

Plus the boarder also got to perform certain gyrations upon that board with each one more daring than the former.  Some can even do full loops aboard those devices. 

Then there are those people who like to ski with only their bare feet which is a good way to exercise, not to mention clean them, as well.  I don’t know if that form of exercise reduces callouses or increases them?  The only question remains is as to what new form of skiing one will come up with this year.  Any thoughts on that?

The Hoffman Estates Boys Club kids were just past the tree farm down the Bloody Antler Trail when they heard a blood curdling growl. In the tree farm behind us we saw a figure running across the meadow. It appeared to be a human body but with a grotesque head. I had heard tell of the stories of the Michigan Dogman and perhaps that is what we were all seeing.

He suddenly stopped in his tracks and glared at us even though we were about seventy yards away. He looked skyward and screamed in agony sending the boys close around me. Then he came forth in almost a charge. Before we knew it, he was in front of us. A strange dog like head was what we took in and two older boys picked up a large branch to hold it off. But he shook those branches aside as if they were toothpicks.

I moved forward to protect the boys and the thing shoved me to the ground as if I were nothing. Before I knew it shirts were being torn ascender and screams filled the air. I grabbed the creature from behind and he shook me loose in no time flat and set upon the older boys again. By now it was evident that we had encountered the Dogman as his head was very visible to us. It acted as if it were insane.

The creature ignored the smaller boys and continued his assault on both me and the two older boys. One boy he flung ten feet through the air and the smaller kids went to his side to assist and protect him. Throughout the attack the Dogman shrieked that blood curdling howl as if it were wounded.

After about ten minutes, which seemed like an hour, it moved off without giving us any more due attention. The next thing I knew I was getting myself off the ground from my tent in full perspiration. What a nightmare that was! It made me ponder if the legend of the Dogman was real or not. But for that dream it was more than real. It was a terrifying nightmare!

One of the nice things about Tent City at ULBC Camp was that it was far enough away from the regular camp to provide it its own identity. Gordie, Bob, and I, as tent counselors, had four large tents atop a cement foundation. A few feet away was our campfire area and we had campfires every night as part of our program. At the regular camp, those were far and few between but not at Ten City.

Since we never had our own group of kids we wanted to provide the boys with the best experiences possible when we had them. On each regular camp counselors days off, we took their boys for that two day period. Every camp day we had at least two cabin groups from the main camp.

Nightly campfires for singing, ghost stories, or roasting marshmallows was the order of the evening. Even during the day that area was kept busy as we taught the boys how to build fires and how to cook over them. Proper use of the hatchet was also taught. Tent City gave the boys a real camping experience apart from their regular cabin life.

We also had a picnic table, that is, until Swamp Man from the lagoon once visited us and broke it. But that’s another story for another time. Suffice it to say, that was a most spooky night for many of the boys as I believe that was the farthest that Swamp Man ever strayed from his lagoon.

In retrospect, I believe Tent City would have been even more effective had it been placed in the forest surrounding League Lake. Now, I understand Tent City is no longer used by the camp by the youngsters which is a shame.

I wish those paddle boats were at camp when I was there in 1970. This is a new docking area since I was there. I could evasion having relay races using those paddle boats for races around League Lake. And, since I used to take my guys around the lake on a hike each day before breakfast, the same leg action could have been accomplished with a paddle boat excursion around the shore each day.

I’ll bet those paddle boats are in high demand at camp even over kayaks and canoes. When I was there rowboats were my vehicle of choice. But I could just see me taking one of those paddle boats into the lagoon. It makes me wonder what other new things are up at camp? I know they have a tennis/basketball court there now and a new staff cottage.

I hope Tent City gets a make-over as well and is available for kids again on a rotating basis. What was taught out there by me and two other counselors were real camping skills. Still an occasional visit to the paddle boat area sure would have been in order for me as well!

I enjoy this photograph because it allows us to observe the reflection of the setting sun upon the fragile ice of Little Bass Lake early in the winter season. The ice itself is still in its infancy but without a cover of snow. Just imagine the entire lake as being a glass bottom boat where you can study what’s below the surface in crystal clear clarity!

Maybe you could catch a glimpse of some fish darting about beneath the ice.  I have often wondered what it would have been like to walk over the ice at Big Bass Lake before the first snow made vision somewhat difficult.  Yet, at the same time, since the ice is in its infancy one also has to comprehend that it may not be safe enough to walk upon.  However if one is wearing hip boots and in the shallow portions of the lake, they could still take in what’s beneath the ice with great clarity. 

Or if the ice were safe can you imagine coming down a hillside onto the ice with a sled or saucer?  How far could you go on smooth ice?  Or what about some ice skating on our own rink?  Hans Bricker, eat your heart out!  Well, if nothing else, watching the sun cast a shadow over the glimmering ice is still pretty good all by itself.  What do you think?

I heard a wolf baying off in the distance. I had taken one of my two huskie dogs with me on a camping trip to the Upper Peninsula and now even he was drawing close in to me. Frack was with me while Frick stayed back in Scottville with my wife Darlene.

I had just fixed up a supper of fish and beans with some bacon on the side.  Frack was helping himself to the side dish along with a bowl of water.  The only light for miles was our lone campfire.  The moon and a million stars were out that night casting their pale reflections of the lake I was camping next to and a nights chill was in the air.

I did have a third partner alongside me as well that being my rifle.  One never knows when a bear might show up.  I stood up to walk down to the lake for another bucket of fresh water.  Every few seconds I heard that wolf in the distance cry out.  It was both somewhat comforting and a little scary all at the same time.

As I returned to the fire I could hear it crackling and I began to yawn.  Frack was lying about four feet from the fire warming himself.  As for me, I was wondering what the fishing would be like in the morning.  I had brought along my canoe and it was tethered to a tree by the lake.  Aside from my tent and canoe I was all alone by there.  I don’t know why but once a year I always camp alone in the UP.  I guess I enjoy the solitude for those five days.

The night view was spectacular and you couldn’t get a better sound system to sleep by than that wolf howl in the distance.  The more I heard it, the more secure I felt.  As I crunched on that last piece of bacon I began to yawn knowing sleep was just a few short minutes away.  What a life!

The Michigan Highway Department is super as they even clear off the back roads in record time.  However they do manage to push the snow across driveways making the even deeper snow worse in those areas.  Take our old driveway for example.  Our driveway is surrounded by open field and the wind driven snow piles up almost faster than it can be remoed making winter habitation near impossible. 

One winter I took some college friends of mine to our property from Muskegon, where we were staying for a three week off campus course, and I parked the car on Noreika Road on a night where it had just begun snowing.  We walked down to our beach area and it was tough going with the ever increasing snowfall.  I’m glad that I had help that day as it took all of us to push out my car three times getting stuck on Noreika Road before we could get back onto Big Bass Lake Road. 

Getting down our driveway that evening was even worse as all the drifts made walking near impossible.  It wore us all out just gong that hundred yards or so and did not make our return trip back to the car very exciting.  Our property was nice to visit during the winter but not to live there.  Even then our cottage was not winterized.  Though it had a wood buning stove, only the front room and  kitchen would have been liveable.

I often call our property the family farm even though the forest acreage far exceeded tha of the farm land.  Mark loved going off the logging trail as he was more interested in making his own trails.  He explored everything from ferns to trees and was especially interested in the birch trees on our beach front. 

On our wooded beachfront we had two small ponds that were only filled in the spring and early summer.  He explored them for frogs and minnows that might still be around.  He spent a lot of time at the Pointe and would be found swinging in an old tire we had attached to a tree. 

His favorite chore, of all things, was chopping wood for the campfires.  He was quite skilled at using the hatchet to the point where he designed some unique artistic designs starting off with a log.  Where other boys would spend their free time fishing or swimming, Mark designed various wood blocks for uses such as a chair for himself during campfires. 

It was a real joy to have Mark along for that particular trip.

Now-a-days there are about as many jet skis on Big Bass Lake as speedboats and almost every dock has at least one. Often you seem them in pairs moving throughout the lake and darting around the five islands on the lake. I wonder what their top speed is?

I also wonder if a jet ski could tow one of those tubing things?  Are they powerful enough?  And what does one of those things cost?  When I was in the area in 1950-1980 I didn’t see any of those at all so I also wonder what year they became available?

One year I did see a speedboat towing a hang glider.  You could make out the glider from the other side of the Big Island but couldn’t see the boat which was cool.  I wonder if hang gliding is still found on Big Bass Lake today? 

If you own a jet ski on Big Bass Lake leave us a comment with a few answers to our questions.  Thank you!

Thank heavens my master took off those hot sneakers. I literally choke to death in there. Ah? Fresh air! I wonder what those other six tootsies think about their masters’ tennis shoes? At least I get a little airing out in this tent although it also is a bit musty in here. Great! My master is putting on his swimming trunks and that means one last time in Big Bass Lake this summer. He’s heading back to Chicago tomorrow as camp will be closing down.

Well, I’m out and for the last time. Yes, up those stairs too for the last time. You know, some day, after this camp closes for good, I’ll be back here again. I will not be de-feet-ed!

I’ve said this before, and I shall say so again, Michigan is loaded with roads, both paved and otherwise, within the confines of its national forest system. Each weekend I pick another and my map of all those selections is getting rather full. It seems I’m beginning to go further and further out each week. Last week i found a roadway close to the Traverse City area.

My only criteria for my jaunts is that the road must seemingly go to nowhere.  Of course, that means a full tank of gasoline and a patient wife.  Her main goal on our trips is to provide a spectacular lunch.  We even come equipped with a tent and full supplies in the event we opt to spend an overnight in a great location. 

Darlene likes those romantic evening with just the two of us and millions of mosquitoes.  Thank God for mosquito netting on our tent.  On the whole we each love our weekends in the wilds which we take from mid-April through mid-October almost every weekend.  By my reckoning we hve enough roadways that we’ve never been on to last well into 2018. 

He dropped anchor and jumped overboard into the lake.  I’ve heard that the north side drops off to about sixty feet deep.  He took an underwater light with him to break through the darkness.  After about ten minutes in a deliberate search pattern, he nearly froze in place. 

The reason why stood highlighted in his search beam and left little to grasp as to why the fish had seemingly disappeared at the lake.  They really hadn’t and this is the reason why.  By the way, my friend was never heard from again so this is but mere speculation as to what happened to him on that fateful day.

Any questions?

It is somewhat curious in that I am composing this post in January however this winter has not seemed all that like winter. Our area is well below our normal winter for snow and the temperatures always have us on the verge of our seats for spring. Could it be that, on the whole, Michigan has cheated old man winter out of his fury this yaar> Or is that too premature to say?

Our average temperatures have been great this winter and often our snowmobiles have been in mothballs.  It makes me anxious for planting season.  Mike loathes this seemingly nice weather as he adores winter at its worst.  I can take it for a few weeks but the term Michigan snow bird has me wanting another home in the south.  And by that I don;t mean southern Michigan!

Yet Springtime will arrive soon enough I suppose.  In between there will be hose bouts of snow and frigid cold.  But with each passing day, spring is coming.  I can’t wait!

Often times this was about the time that we set out on our night time activities at our property either toward the Bloody Antler Trail or into our own forest. The boys from various boys clubs for the first few times preferred staying in our woods until they got the “feel” of the land so to speak. Actually they wanted to get their night bearings right.

The large percentage of our hikes were without flashlights, even though they were carried in the event of an emergency. Flashlights tend to rob us of our night vision. In time the boys saw right good even in the dark. They learned to listen better to the sounds of the forest. Kids enjoyed the trek to the tree farm at the end of the Bloody Antler Trail which was in the Manistee National Forest.

When we played scouting games the boys were paired in teams of three and were told to stay together as a team. Two teams of three were the hares, also to stay together, and I was the ref. The final pair of three were the hounds chasing and trying to locate the hares.

Other times we would stay together as a group and just enjoy the hiking experience. Night hiking was very popular on our trips. The kids of the Hoffman Estates Boys Club enjoyed tracking games the best and became quite good at it. Alan, one of our younger members, excelled in tracking games.

This photograph was taken off our former property on Big Bass Lake and provides you with the southwest corner of the lake.  Just to the right of this picture are the Public Landing and the Big Bass Lake Campground.  You can also make out the southern tip of Haunted Island. 

Just past that tip and due east is the Big Bass Lake Bridge leading to The Big Island.  And this location is where speedboats make their turn back northward around the eastern half of Haunted Island heading back toward the narrows or an eastern swing to the southeast portion of the lake.

Before the public lading was installed fishing was quite good in that area just to the right of this picture.  And about two hundred yards to the left of this location was our wooded beach area where the majority of my Boys Clubs of America camping trips were held. 

This is the wonderous view from our pier on Big Bass Lake looking eastward. There in the distance is the bridge leading to The Big Island. That bridge was built in 1956 linking that island to the mainland. Just to the left of that bridge was the home of Clyde Waite and that island was first known as Waite Island.  It’s newest name is Isle of the Wilds.

To get to that island from our dock one had to first pass by Haunted Island and then just under that bridge, to your left, is the smallest island, Grandma’s Hat which today is known as Loon Island.  It was a pleasant row from Labor Day to Memorial Day but in the summer one is always dodging speedboaters along the way.

I used to take that course daily as the Big Bass Lake store was just past that bridge to your right.  By the way, does anyone know how many homes are found on The Big Island?  Also the view is quite the same in either direction from the Waite Bridge. 

One lazy summer morning, Keith Bishop and I, who had camped on our beachfront property the night before, rose at a time we thought was quite prudent to go visiting. We rowed over to the Benish’s dock and proceeded to approach the Benish farmhouse when a dog started barking. Appearing at his cottage door, an outraged Frank Benish shouted, “What are you two nuts doing up at this hour of the day?” Moments later we found out that the hour of the day at hand was 6 am.

Yes, the sun DOES rise early in the eastern time zone State of Michigan. Yet I thought farmers rose earlier than even sunrise?! We had come to see Mr Benish’s grand daughter Julie who we had taken for a lake tour the day before on Big Bass Lake. Needless to say, we didn’t see Julie until much later that afternoon and she came over to my grandmother’s house as neither Keith nor I were all that eager to see Mr. Benish again.

I suppose Mr Frank Benish was the type of farmer that slept in since at the time he had an iinactive farm. A lesson well learned that day.

Starting points on all our Michigan trips either started from Marion, Indiana, Hoffman Estates, Illinois, or Columbus, Ohio. This particular trip was from Marion, Indiana, and one of the difficult things to do was keeping the boys occupied for the 300-mile trip.  For the most part, I preferred Adam’s way of coping with the journey as most of our trips began around 7 AM when the boys were still tired.  Or were they wired?

Games such as finding signs with various letters of the alphabet from A to Z were one way of dealing with the boredom.  It was always a more difficult ride en route to Michigan rather than on coming back.  One always had to deal with anticipation especially once we entered the Manistee National Forest for our final seventy miles.  Then the scenery superseded game playing.

About ten miles past Grand Rapids, Michigan, the scenery changed from farm lands to woods and streams and lakes.  Adam napped twice on the way on this trip.  He slept for the first hour and a half and then again for the final forty miles.  In so doing he was one of the freshest kids ever once we arrived at our property for then we had to erect the tents, rake the beach, and set up our camping area. 

Always on that first night the kids were so travel weary they were ready for bed at 9 PM.  Then anticipation would take on a whole new life the following morning.  The trip to Michigan was always full of excitement while the trip hom full of stories and memories. 

This one is a keeper for my collection of glorious sunsets at Lake Michigan. I like the addition of awakening love that is shown as well on the breakwater.  The color is near breathtaking!  Could this be an impending proposal of love?

The stillness of the lake reminds me of total peace which should be the foundation of any relationship.  Not to mention the reflecting love that each has for the other.  I know for a fact that Lake Michigan sunsets, not to mention sunrises, are very romantic.  Mike once set up for me an anniversary dinner on the sands just off M-116.  It was a wonderful evening that I will never forget.  Even our beverage of choice was cooled in the waters of Lake Michigan.

I hope that some of your memories are keyed to nature as well.  Perhaps you might share one or two by way of a comment. 

Days where a light fog appeared over Big Bass Lake made for ideal day time hype of the Haunted Island.  Often I would promote our trips out to the Haunted Island at these times and once with the Hoffman Estates Boys Club, it sent chills down to particular kids those being Mark O’Brien and Alan Cohen.  Both were very apprehensive of making a midnight run to the Haunted Island.

Whenever we swam at our beach, each boy could visually make out that all forested island and their apprehension grew.  I mentioned to them of the burial mounds just north of the Haunted House and the stories of the Bonepickrs.  Mark seemed braver than Alan but once at the island, both were hanging onto me for dear life as soon as we docked there at midnight.

Yet, fog always seemed to make the tales more suspenseful.  That is why when the boys looked out at the island, enshrouded in fog, they were even more sacred of that midnight journey to come.  In that way, Big Bass Lake itself played into the drama.  But, for what might have happened on that midnight trip,  you’ll have to check the sidebar for the categories Hoffman Estates BCA or Haunted Island.  You’ll also find their other stories of trips with different boys clubs over the years.

The Ludington Lighthouse stands its lonely vigil with no visitors today.  Its treacherous breakwater, coated in thick ice would make any travel to that point highly dangerous.  Open holes in the ice of Lake Michigan would also spray this area with even more ice making walking near impossible.  Yet despite that,  this local tourist attraction still retains its charm from shore coated in ice and snow and almost represents an ornament dangling from a tree at Christmas time.

I never cease to be amazed at this precious site.  In every season it holds us mystified at its charm and grace as the final glance at Ludington from ferry boats heading toward Wisconsin or our shining lady to those coming from that state to our Ludington port. 

Soon this locality in Ludington will again appear this way for the majority of the winter solace.  My photography will be on the safety of the Ludington shore as I also do during times of high waves.  The fog hanging over the area almost seems like a garment of warmth for the lighthouse in this season of cold.  And soon this desolate location will turn its head toward the renewal of spring.  I can’t wait!

Last summer Mike and I were tent camping in the Manistee National Forest and after a full day of fishing and then a little romance we both went to bed. I was awakened from a deep sleep about two o’clock in the morning hearing a low growling sound. I was so scared I didn’t know what to do. After all a tent doesn’t provide much shelter from a marauding bear.

Just two nights before our trip, Mike had rented the movie, Grizzly, about a killer bear in the northwest territory of the United States and I had visions of that bear any minute now tearing through our tent.  I did have some mace along but that just would have gotten the bear mad.  As the growling intensified I was near horror-stricken.  I wondered how Mike could be sleeping through all this.  But then what could even the two of us do against a charging bear. 

My eyes darted to the middle of the tent where I thought I had seen a shadow.  I closed my eyes and turned over ever so slowly to awaken Mike.  Once that I was fully turned over, I gave my husband a good poke in the side.  “Mike, your stomach is growling”.  “Probably didn’t eat enough tonight, hun, go back to bed” was his reply.  I felt like such a dolt.  Next time I’ll make sure my husband has plenty to eat for supper.