One might assume that growing up in a state renowned as "The Great Lakes State" would mean that a lot of that time would be spent at one of those lakes. I honestly feel rather guilty that more of my childhood and young adult years were not spent on freshwater beaches, whose aquatic counterparts stretched out to the horizon; they could be called freshwater seas. While there isn't a Great Lake I owe many memories to, there is a much smaller body of water that has seen me and my family through many events.
Once every year, my fathers side of the family takes a week-long sojourn to a small resort (for lack of a better term) about a 45 minute drive into the upper peninsula. Pictured above is the view from right in front of the cabin where my family stayed in 2011. The body of water is the Snows Channel: a small yet charming capillary in the heart of the Les Chaneaux area around Cedarville and Hessel. From that dock I and any combination of my 15 cousins leapt into the channel and would either swim out of the frame or immediately jump out, lamenting the cold water before we jumped in again. The channel served as a mode of transportation: ice cream, shopping, leisure trips via pontoon boat, tubing via speed boat, tests of endurance via kayak. Only by means of the channel could one go explore the many islands in the area. The channel was a backdrop to bonfires, twilit games of beach soccer and capture the flag, and small banquets cooked by the family.
It was here that I learned that my baby brother had been born back home.
It was here that the ashes of my father were spread.
It is here that I have been every year of my life that I can remember.
It is here, to this channel and all of it's memories that I will return as long as I am able.
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