The Annual Road Trip

I'm one of THOUSANDS of fellow Michigander's, who make the trip every Friday before Deer Season, to head to the Upper Penninsula. Why do I go you ask ? Well, for me, It's a right of passage of sorts. Tomorrow morning, the Journey " Up North " begins. This time, with an extra passenger...

First of all, I'm a hunter. I am very proud of the fact that my father, taught me at a very young age the importance of knowing these skills, the benefits of doing so, and the proper and safe way to use firearms.

Not to mention, My father was very instrumental is showing both myself, and my brother, how to utilize what we had taken from mother nature and use it in a manner that was both ethical, ecologically sound, and safe for the entire family.

Having said that. Our family, is blessed to have been given by my late grandfather, a small parcel of land complete with a small cabin located smack dab in the geographical center of the Upper Penninsula. So far out in the middle of nowhere in fact, that after a medical emergency involving my brother, it took 2 hours for the ambulance to get to camp - however, my father and his wife had to drive all the way out to the main highway - which is at the minimum, nearly 10 miles from the cabin.

Quoting a famous movie line.....For the layperson, It's North of the bridge and just South of Heaven. We make the trip every year to spend the week there Hunting, Drinking, Eating, Napping and basically, well, just having a very good time nearly 15 miles from the nearest town.

I wasn't in a position for many years thanks to a miserable marriage, of being able to go every single year. My first time actually staying at camp with my father, was in 2004 and let me tell you. That was the single, most amazing week I've had in a GREAT many years..

I got my first buck there. Not a very large one, but - it was just legal, and that was all that matters... I was so proud. The best part of that whole experience, was walking back to camp to get my father, because I needed help getting it into the truck, and getting it hung in the tree behind the cabin. The smile on his face when he first saw that buck, I will never forget... He was probably more proud than me.

It was our first day at camp - and I had been in the woods for a total of about 2 hours. Needless to say, this accomplishment was overshadowed by the fact that on the last day of camp - Dad bagged the biggest buck to be taken in many years at camp - a 6 pointer that was so close, dad could have beaten him over the head with a tree to take him...

Did I mention, we were sitting in HIS spot, for all of 15 minutes.....

These are just a couple of reason's why I love to go to camp. I get to spend the days with my father. Days, in which I am almost certain - will be numbered in some way. Dad's almost 70 years old now, and still very healthy. But, really. When you're spending time with your father, in a place that's as close to heaven as one can get, one can only think of " The inevitable " as I say to myself every year. " God, I hope I can do this with him again next year "