Jim Boren and I got into our kayaks at the classy state boat landing near the mouth of Cedar River in Upper Michigan. It was 1 p.m. and the wind was coming off the bay. We headed upstream, away from the wind and also those fishing boats with 500-horsepower motors that were heading out into Green Bay to prepare for the following weekend's fishing tournament.
Jim, with a brand new kayak, was dying to get into the water. At age 88, Jim was a tad older than his boat. I want to be just like Jim when I get big. What should I buy when I turn 88?
We paddled under the Michigan Route 35 Bridge where hundreds of people parade across on Labor Day. That 100-yard trek has to be exhausting for the walkers. Thank goodness the Lighthouse Pub is at the other end.
The Cedar River, from its mouth to the first rapids that impedes further aggression, is a mere 1.5 to two miles. That length has a personality that oozes wilderness, geography, history and peace; the kind of peace that makes everything about the world feel good. We took our time, barely breaking a sweat while beating similar hearts with those who may have been doing the same thing in kayaks somewhere else in the world at that very moment.
Read Jerry Harpt's entire story in the September 2012 issue of Silent Sports. Don't miss an issue! Subscribe here.