To paraphrase an old saying, there are lies, damned lies, and book jacket blurbs. So when the publisher says on the back of Darby Nelson's paperback, For Love of Lakes, that the book is "in the tradition of Aldo Leopold's A Sand County Almanac," you are temped to say, "Yeah, yeah..." Well, I have read Sand County multiple times and I have read For Love of Lakes, and in my humble opinion the two book titles do belong in the same sentence. Nelson's book is that good.
As one who has loved lakes all my life -- first Lake Michigan on whose shore I grew up and then multiple lakes in Wisconsin's Northwoods -- I found this book enriched me on several levels. Nelson, like Leopold, combines the sensitivity of an artist with the insight of a scientist (he is an aquatic ecologist and college professor by background). From this book I learned a great deal about what makes a lake tick -- explained in ways that I am sure his students at Minnesota's Anoka-Ramsey Community college much appreciated. Consider phosphorus and its effect on algae in lakes. Nelson first describes all the ingredients in his wife Geri's blueberry muffins and explains how, if she happens to have only two teaspoons of baking powder, she can only make one batch of muffins -- no matter how much flour and sugar and how many eggs she may have on hand. Then:
"...(I)n lakes, except in unique circumstances, the 'tin' of phosphorus usually empties first. Compared to demand, it is phosphorus that is available in least supply, the bottleneck to alchemy. Little phosphorus in lake water begets few cyanobacteria, algae and aquatic plants. Lots of phosphorus begets lots of blue-green (algae) or aquatic plants or both."
If there's a better description of the effect of phosphorus on lakes, you've got to show me. If our Wisconsin legislators -- and their constituents -- could read those simple words, they might understand this phenomenon better and we might have less squabbling over whether we really need to spend so much money to keep phosphorus out of the water.
I also learned about the geological history of the lakes of the Upper Midwest and the glaciers that formed them. Through Nelson's descriptions, I could almost see in my mind's eye a time-lapse movie of the glaciers advancing and receding across the landscape, and hear the crunching of rock and the flowing of glacial melt water.
Perhaps even better than all that was Nelson's sheer joy and awe at seemingly ordinary events like observing the tiny water fleas and other creatures in a jar of lake water, or snorkeling thought weed beds on his favorite lakes and seeing sunfish stare right at him through his mask. And one can't help but notice Nelson's passion for protecting our lakes -- a passion he lived out by serving three terms in the Minnesota state legislature and advocating all sorts of conservation-oriented legislation.
Nelson's 250-page journey takes us on visits to dozens of lakes he has known and loved, from Henry David Thoreau's Walden Pond to the "ghost" Lake Agassiz, which once extended north from the Minnesota-South Dakota border area for hundreds of miles into Saskatchewan and Ontario. It is a fascinating journey that, if you take it, will deepen by many fathoms your appreciation for lakes in general and for the special lakes you love. It will also will inspire and motivate you to do your share to protect them -- and fight for their protection in the public arena. It is hard to consider an ecological education complete without having read this book.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Canoe Reconnaissance
This is our first spring as regular visitors to Birch Lake. This weekend I kept a promise to myself and canoed the entire perimeter, splitting the trip into two days, two hours at a time. Luckily the weekend was calm, so it was easy to paddle at a relaxed pace along the shoreline.
Have you canoed your lake in spring? It’s a good time for a couple of reasons: There are no motorboat wakes to contend with, and the water is clearer before the sun and warmer temperatures have a chance to feed the algae. I would have liked to take a Secchi disc reading; I am sure it would have shown better light penetration than in summer.
Having no water-testing equipment, I just cruised along shore, a gentle paddle stroke at a time, eyes down on the water on the shoreward side – I’m a fisherman and so always want to see what’s active. What I saw bodes well for opening day two weeks from now. Numerous smallmouth bass were in the rocky shallows and under logs. Walleyes (identified by the white tail spot) haunted the woodpiles – in one case at least a dozen of them, in an assortment of sizes, some clearly in the keeper range.
In a back bay I found a substantial school of perch that, while still small, had made it past the fry stage and so have boosted their odds of survival to adulthood. One reed bed held a cluster of crappies. Here and there a northern pike or small musky hung suspended over gravel and sand bottom. One large musky cruised under the canoe. The lake’s many painted turtles were in evidence, some swimming underwater, others sunning on logs (until my quiet approach sent the plopping to safety). It was disappointing, though not surprising, to see a few rusty crayfish skittering tail-first across the bottom.
You learn things every time you look closely at a lake. I believe I found a few new fishing spots – that walleye-populated woodpile being one – and discovered why certain other places that look good in summer in fact are not (too shallow, bottom too mucky). It was a pleasant way to get to know “our” lake better and to get ready for fishing season. I also met a few lake neighbors, putting in their piers or sprucing up their waterfronts. Piers are back in place at most of the cottages and pontoon boats are in the water.
I would definitely recommend a slow canoe or rowboat ride around your lake before the weather warms up and the water gets busy. What you see will open your eyes to a world that’s bigger and more interesting than you realize.
Have you canoed your lake in spring? It’s a good time for a couple of reasons: There are no motorboat wakes to contend with, and the water is clearer before the sun and warmer temperatures have a chance to feed the algae. I would have liked to take a Secchi disc reading; I am sure it would have shown better light penetration than in summer.
Having no water-testing equipment, I just cruised along shore, a gentle paddle stroke at a time, eyes down on the water on the shoreward side – I’m a fisherman and so always want to see what’s active. What I saw bodes well for opening day two weeks from now. Numerous smallmouth bass were in the rocky shallows and under logs. Walleyes (identified by the white tail spot) haunted the woodpiles – in one case at least a dozen of them, in an assortment of sizes, some clearly in the keeper range.
In a back bay I found a substantial school of perch that, while still small, had made it past the fry stage and so have boosted their odds of survival to adulthood. One reed bed held a cluster of crappies. Here and there a northern pike or small musky hung suspended over gravel and sand bottom. One large musky cruised under the canoe. The lake’s many painted turtles were in evidence, some swimming underwater, others sunning on logs (until my quiet approach sent the plopping to safety). It was disappointing, though not surprising, to see a few rusty crayfish skittering tail-first across the bottom.
You learn things every time you look closely at a lake. I believe I found a few new fishing spots – that walleye-populated woodpile being one – and discovered why certain other places that look good in summer in fact are not (too shallow, bottom too mucky). It was a pleasant way to get to know “our” lake better and to get ready for fishing season. I also met a few lake neighbors, putting in their piers or sprucing up their waterfronts. Piers are back in place at most of the cottages and pontoon boats are in the water.
I would definitely recommend a slow canoe or rowboat ride around your lake before the weather warms up and the water gets busy. What you see will open your eyes to a world that’s bigger and more interesting than you realize.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Putting In the Pier
I am not a lover of chores, but there's one I truly enjoy, and that's installing the pier at our Birch Lake cabin. That's partly because of all that the job portends: a seemingly endless spring, summer and autumn, filled with fishing, swimming, sunset watching, visits from friends and family. Perhaps that makes the sheer mechanics of it, enjoyable in themselves, all the more so.
The first time we put the pier in, three years ago, it was a bit of a project. The whole thing was new, and my son and I had to figure out how to assemble the various components, notably the main supports. That meant screwing baseplates onto the posts, sliding the crosspieces on, and setting them in position. Then there was the matter of bolting on the rails that would hold the cedar boards, and getting everything meticulously square and level. Now that we have the main supports assembled, it's just a question each spring of moving them into position and bolting the rails on. Because I put the supports back in the same order each year, only a modest amount of leveling is required.
I put the pier in this year the Saturday before Easter, which was April 7. It took all of an hour and 15 minutes, start to finish. Square, level, crescent wrench, 5/16-inch socket wrench -- that's it. Eighteen nuts to thread onto bolts and tighten down. Carrying the cedar boards from under the screen porch down the steep slope to our waterfront was a bit tiring, but the pier is only 40 feet long, so at two 2-foot sections per trip, that's 10 times up and down. I spread that out over two days, and so it wasn't taxing.
Now the pier is in place. I bring my boat to the lake on opening day of fishing season, Saturday, May 5. A pleasant chore is done and done well. A long open-water season lies ahead.
The first time we put the pier in, three years ago, it was a bit of a project. The whole thing was new, and my son and I had to figure out how to assemble the various components, notably the main supports. That meant screwing baseplates onto the posts, sliding the crosspieces on, and setting them in position. Then there was the matter of bolting on the rails that would hold the cedar boards, and getting everything meticulously square and level. Now that we have the main supports assembled, it's just a question each spring of moving them into position and bolting the rails on. Because I put the supports back in the same order each year, only a modest amount of leveling is required.
I put the pier in this year the Saturday before Easter, which was April 7. It took all of an hour and 15 minutes, start to finish. Square, level, crescent wrench, 5/16-inch socket wrench -- that's it. Eighteen nuts to thread onto bolts and tighten down. Carrying the cedar boards from under the screen porch down the steep slope to our waterfront was a bit tiring, but the pier is only 40 feet long, so at two 2-foot sections per trip, that's 10 times up and down. I spread that out over two days, and so it wasn't taxing.
Now the pier is in place. I bring my boat to the lake on opening day of fishing season, Saturday, May 5. A pleasant chore is done and done well. A long open-water season lies ahead.
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