Michigan is not just about heavy water and shipwrecks. Much of the state’s aquatic charm comes from its inland lakes that are teeming with fish, wildlife, and forageable morsels close to shore. For a hungry sportsman with a kayak, a day circling the lake to fish and forage is all that is needed to take in the true spirit of the region.
This August I took a kayak out to explore Duck Lake in Grand Traverse County. The small lake stretches over 1900 acres next to Interlochen State Park, the oldest State Park in Michigan. With a light wind and partly cloudy skies I ventured off into the southern side of the lake to search the inaccessible shoreline for edible plants and fish the nearby shoals.
I started my journey by making a b-line to the very southern end of the lake and hugged the shoreline once I got there. Decaying logs of fallen cedar and birch laid beneath my kayak. Turtles and small fish lingered within the decrepit branches just a few inches below the surface. Then, within minutes, as if watching a nature documentary, two fully grown bald eagles started chasing each other above the treeline in front of me, diving and veering off quickly against the mild west wind. My gaze was fixed on the majestic raptors while my kayak drifted within two feet from shore. I could smell the wild mint covering the mossy ground where the soil rose above the water. I gathered a bundle of it and pushed off towards the inlet, keeping an eye on the aerial spectacle.
Horton creek, a small winding waterway to the southern end of the lake, snakes into the undisturbed wetland forests. Many species of cranes and colorful birds nest here. Lilly pads surround me as I make my way inside. A large beaver dam blocks my way inside towards the roadway. I sat for a moment, listening to the birds and watching two large deer walk by, oblivious to my presence. Slowly and quietly, I paddled back to the mouth of the creek. The shallow shoals along the horseshoe inlet host healthy groves of cattails. I grabbed some young stalks, carefully removed them with my knife, and threw them in the cooler. Cattail shoots taste similar to cucumber, in case you were wondering.
I paddled up towards the state park, passing a large shoal used by boaters to dock their speed boats and pontoons. Here, the other side of Michigan culture lurks: boat parties. People crowd alongside each other on the shore to bbq and socialize. As addictive as quiet and stillness are, I love seeing people having fun on the water. I waved at the people reveling in their summer and continued my journey.
Along the western shoreline wild grapes and apple trees grow in abundance. Their fruit dangles just above the water, waiting for someone to pick them. As I paddled north, my kayak now weighed down with fruit, I docked next to a fallen tree and took an hour to rest and read in the shade. The echoes of off-key strings and horns from the nearby music academy’s Bach rehearsal billows across the still lake, lingering like a hangover. Even in natural stillness a music snob will critique. As I got back to my book, suddenly, in quick succession, motor boats recklessly zoomed by me. These boats were fast, newly built, and beautiful. The whole time I kept wondering who was having more fun, them or I? I smiled, popped open a cider and continued reading, submerging myself in the warm water and leaning against the tree.
As the sun started to fall it was time to catch my meal. I paddled towards the small peninsula in the middle of the lake. Duck lake is full of deep drop off points, some over 90 feet, and as I hit deep water the color went from green to black. I sped into shallower water, hooked my worm and casted my line. I was after bluegill and bass, and these fish enjoy hiding in the tall algae that grow along the edges of the embankments. As my line fell several feet within the tall aquatic grass I waited. Loons noisily swam by me, apathetic to my presence. Then, within a minute of getting lost in a daydream, I felt a tug. Another bend in the tip of my pole. Then another. With a sharp flick of my rod, the fish was hooked. Swimming with all its might the bluegill finally succumbed to its fate. I slipped the loop of my stringer through its gills and continued. Paddling about 100 meters up the current I casted my lure once more. This time into deeper water. Again, within a few minutes another fish took the bait. With a couple bends of my pole and a quick jerk of my wrist, another bluegill, this time larger, was hooked. I reeled the fighting fish in, hooked it up to my stringer, and paddled further down the lake shore home.
Cleaning and gutting a fish and preparing it for consumption is the perfect time to show your respect. As a surfer, constantly immersed in the food chain of the ocean, I like to pay special attention to any creature I harvest from the water. The paradox of one day meeting my fate to the jaws of a much larger fish than the one under my knife is enough to keep this contemplation going. With all the self reflection out of the way I brought the beautiful fish inside. I heated the pan on medium, seasoned it with olive oil and melted butter, and laid them down to cook. After a few minutes I added the chopped cattail shoots and chopped garlic and shallots. With the mint from the shoreline I made a heaping portion of piping hot mint tea. To complete the meal I built a campfire and threw on a few cobs of sweet corn that I bought from the farm down the street. An entire meal made with ingredients sourced from within a mile.
In one day I covered several miles of Duck Lake, harvested some fruits and veggies, caught two healthy sized bluegill, and saw an endless variety of wildlife. For some, speeding down the lake with a brand new speed boat, beer in hand, rocking Nickelback and Kid Rock while your kids are being bounced around on a speeding inner tube sounds like fun. For others, a fresh meal after daylong exercise and adventure in pristine nature truly embodies the finest Northern Michigan experience.
I recognize that route 🙂 Good looking catches there!