First Night on the River (an Au Sable River story)

I just got back from a two night trip on the Au Sable River. Here’s my account of my first night on the banks of the river. A friend and I paddled the river from Grayling to Parmalee Bridge this week. We didn't catch many fish, but had a great time. There’ll be at least another story or two to come as well as plenty of pictures. Hopefully, over the weekend, I can catch up with all your blogs…

I also think it's time to change my profile picture as it's been a few months since ski season! What about this photo of me sitting on the canoe, catching up in my journal?

The photo below shows my bivy tent, a small one person affair that is only about 18 inches tall. In the photo, take on the second evening of the trip, the rain flap over my head is zipped up. Hopefully the photo will give you an idea of what I'm referring to in the story below.

Distant flashes from lightning could be seen when I crawled into my bivy tent at 11 PM. In this northern latitude, it’d been dark for only an hour. We’d fished till after ten, but with no luck. After enjoying a drink of peppermint schnapps, which Jim had packed in, we each retreated to our tents. The air was heavy and moist and the fly on my tent was wet with perspiration. I zipped myself in, hoping to have kept out most of the mosquitoes, but leaving the fly over my head open. It was too warm to close up the tent. I lay on top of my sleeping bag and fell asleep, listening to the sounds of insects, the rushing of river and the occasional clap of distant thunder. An hour later, I’m back awake. A felt a few drops of rain on my face. The thunder claps are no longer distant and I see a bolt of lightning streak from the sky, striking on the other side of the river, the boom following just a second or so later. The storm is on top of us. I unzipped my screen and pulled the fly over my head, sealing myself inside. Zipping the screen back up, I fall asleep, listening to the rain approaching like a stampede of horses. It pours and beats against the nylon, but I sleep. I wake up an hour later, hot and sticky. The rain has stopped and I am dry. But the air is too warm and I pull the fly from my head and enjoy the night air. It’s a little cooler after the rain, but still warm. I look at my watch. It’s 2 AM.

An hour and a half later, I wake back up to mist of water on my face. It’s beginning to rain again and I once again pull the fly over my head. There’s less lightning in this storm but soon the rain is even more intense. I fall back asleep for a few minutes, only to wake up hot and stuffy. The heavy rain has slowed and I partially opened the fly, letting a little air. Enjoying the fresh air, I fall asleep for a few minutes, then the rain increases, sounding like a drum on the roof just above my head. I zip the fly back tight. This goes on for several cycles, till around 4:30 AM, when the rain completely stops. I then remove the fly and fall back asleep. I’m surprised, for the next time I wake it isn’t to a shower, but a chorus of birds welcoming a bright new morning. The sun is well up and attempting to break through clouds and a light breeze moves the heavy wet air around. I unzipped the netting over my head, stretch my scrunched up muscles, pull on pants and a shirt, stood up and slip on my wet river shoes which had been sitting outside the tent. It’s now 7:15 AM, time for coffee and for getting back to the business of the river.