Wildfires, and their resulting smoke, are seasonal. Lifelong friendships are seasonless.
One is tolerated and, lately, argued about. The other is treasured. Or should be.
I was exposed to both lately here in Michigan’s remote far north. Photos and captions follow.
As I write this Saturday night, much of the country is experiencing heavy smoke from wildfires in Canada and Minnesota. It reached us here on the south shore of Lake Superior first, as the air quality went (literally) off the charts. We’re fortunate to live in a time when it’s not hard to “stay safe.” But it’s certainly disrupted daily life, like a serious snowstorm. We rugged northerners adapt, and I’m discouraged that some local politicians are blaming Canada. (As it reached the east coast, the president did also.) When did we become a nation of angry victims? We used to send help instead of blame.
This map shows why the smoke has hit us hard. I’m located at the bottom of that peninsula, above the “q” in Pequaming. The wildfires are in Ontario and Minnesota, to our northwest. Prevailing winds bring it directly to us.
The morning it arrived on Huron Bay, the opposite shore less than a mile away was barely visible. And it got worse.
Car headlights came on at midday. It wasn’t hard to drive in…like a light fog…but weird.
The lift bridge in my hometown was shrouded in smoke. The bridge is lifted here to allow the Ranger to pass on its way to Isle Royale, the national park that is also an island in Lake Superior. It’s been making extra trips to evacuate hikers from the island.
By the third day, air quality improved enough for a brief paddle. Those with lung conditions or other sensitivity didn’t go out at all or wore masks. The rest of us limited outdoor time. While we wait all for the air to clear, I reflect on a happier recent event…
…my recent visit to friends I’ve know for decades, who live in Traverse City. We met in the 80s when I worked for a radio station there. When I joined the Navy, Lynn drove across country with me to my first duty station. Reed sailed and skied with me, visited me in Italy and DC, and camped with me at Camp Hatteras. When I returned to Traverse City as a Navy ensign, his family met me at the airport with balloons. These folks know me differently than anyone else and I haven’t seen them enough. It was worth a 7-hr drive to reconnect, even briefly. (If you’ve been putting off visiting old friends who live far away, just do it. Time flies.)
And in my hometown of Hancock, I reconnected with high school classmates Mike and Ron, visiting from other states. Our 50th high school reunion is coming up. Like almost everyone before us, we don’t feel that old and can hardly believe that we are. Yet we still have active and fulfilling lives. As I near 70 (gasp!), I increasingly realize how important it is to honor old friendships, and also…
…new ones, such as the hiking group I meet with regularly. Last Sunday, we did a waterfront hike…
…and enjoyed a dip in Lake Superior along the way. (Several dips, in my case.)
On the drive home, I stopped at Keweenaw Bay. Our hike occurred between storms and was followed by extreme heat (100+), then by heavy smoke. We need to get outside when we can! I’m getting pretty antsy after nearly a week of staying indoors. But I know…
…that clearer skies will return, just as they did on the drive to that hike, along this dirt road. I know I’ll be sleeping in my little waterfront trailer again soon, so that I can wake up to this…
…the kind of sunrise that’s worth waking early (not natural for me). I haven’t seen the sunrise, or sun, in days due to the smoke, and I’ve been worrying about the wildlife, but they seem to be fine…
…as my young friend still stops by regularly, looking healthy. I fed him last winter, before I knew he was a “he.” As I watch his horns grow, I’m trying hard not to “tame” him. (Male deer are targeted during hunting season.) But I have to admit, when he walked straight up to me recently and touched my hand, I was … well, touched! I wasn’t even holding food. It felt like a simple “hello” from a friend. But will he understand that a hunter is not his friend? And so we continue to observe, participate, and adjust to nature – both the animal kind and the climate/weather kind. Of course humans have an impact. How can we not? We’re part of the cycle. Hunters and ranchers kill, and many of us eat meat. Or fish. And as the human population on the planet grew, it changed the earth (deforestation, carbon fuels, etc) and therefore the climate surrounding it. I’m puzzled by the insistence from some that we’ve had no impact. One can dispute the amount, the reasons, the justification–but not the fact of impact. I impacted this deer when I fed him. (It was a very hard winter and deer had trouble finding their natural food. That’s how I justified it.) I impact my natural environment every time I remove a tree. (I needed to remove lots of trees in order to build.) Humans impact Earth. We can’t help it. In 1926, Earth’s population was about 2 billion. In 2026, it’s about 8 billion. That’s a 300% increase. How can that not make a impact, when accompanied by industrialization, the creation of huge cities, billions of vehicles, and, and….? Anyway. The argument continues and we all find ways to justify our position. And when that’s too tiring, we find refuge in friendships and hikes, and try to remain educated and aware. We try. š
For Many Moons 
As always, thank you for your thoughts and perspective.
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Thanks Paul. Not everyone wants my perspective. š
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I know the feeling. Like you, I took the oath and live by it.
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