I just purchased a can of beef stew from the country store that overlooked the peaceful rocky harbor of Drummond Island, Michigan.  As I exited the door to enjoy my purchase a woman called from the counter, “I hope that’s not your breakfast!”. I chuckled, “Sure is, it’s the breakfast of champions”.   She paused, studied me for a minute, and then began to smile as if she understood.

You see, during the informative years of my life, I was raised in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Traveling to the “U.P”, as it is commonly referred to, is like inserting yourself into a Jack London novel. If I were to try to describe it, I would say it’s like Alaska without the mountains. Life is simple here. There is no competing with the Jones’s because the Jones’s live a half-mile away through the cedar swamps or jack pine forest.

When I was a boy, my father worked for the State of Michigan as a substance abuse counselor. He made $18,000 dollars a year and we were considered to be “rich” folks in the community. In order to earn a modest living, most took advantage of the abundant resources that the UP had to offer. Everyone fished and used wood to heat their homes.  Venison was the steak of choice, and yes, most often, we would eat cold beef stew directly from the can when on hunting trips.

I am proud to be a “Yooper”.   When I travel back to this region, I make it a practice to announce to the locals “I used to live in Curtis”. It’s like being part of a secret club, and I know the password to get in.

On this particular day, I refrained from the usual announcement but the cold can of stew for breakfast must have given my identity away. “Where are you from?” the woman tending the counter inquired.   As I explained, she smiled and said “Well at least take a spoon” and pointed to the table positioned next to the fishing tackle and outdoor magazines. I thanked her and headed out the door into the blanket of warm morning sun.

In the distance, there was a stout golden retriever enjoying the sweet smells captured within the morning dew. I sat down on the dock, legs dangling above the water and cracked open the can. The dog, blind in one eye by cataracts, had no problem seeking out the smell and came over for a little introduction. I dug into the can. One bite for me, and one for the dog.  Ivan Meade, Drummond Island resident and captain of Sturgeon Bay Charters, stepped off his boat and was taken by my actions. I imagine it was a strange sight as the dog was eating directly off my spoon. Well, maybe not so strange if you’re “in the club”.

From there a conversation was launched about where from’s, values, lifestyles and alike. After about ten minutes a new friendship had come to life. Ivan asked me to join him for an Atlantic salmon fishing charter that evening without mention of a fee.

When we met later that evening, Ivan brought me a brown bag that contained two sandwiches, a banana, and some home made smoked pork loin that his wife had prepared earlier that day. We fished, and ate, and laughed, and shared stories, and laughed some more and shared more stories. As the evening progressed, enormous ocean-going freighters lumbered past, clearing our bobbing bow by less than 100 feet as they headed north bound for the Soo locks, the gateway to Lake Superior.

Dusk was upon us as we hooked into a ten pound Atlantic salmon that, by all rights, would have won a local tournament the week before. This beautiful, glistening silver and white fish with little X’s on its back may have been the most beautiful fish I had ever reeled in. Pride beamed from Ivan’s face as he was able to produce such a prize fish from his beloved St. Mary’s River. The sun began to sink in the sky and Gods water colors began to unfold across the sky.  We reluctantly packed the gear and turned for the beckoning harbor.

The evening, however, would not end upon arriving at the dock. I spent the night at Ivan’s home, broke bread with his extended family, and played with his three dogs (who I’m sure would have been happy for some stew). The following morning we shared some perfect cups of coffee while watching the sunrise gently lift into the sky. I even learned the secret to making my own smoked pork loin.

Life doesn’t get much better than this. Most people think I am very lucky. The truth is, I’m not lucky, I’m blessed. I am grateful to God for the things I have experienced throughout my life.  In my line of work I don’t often get to actually participate in exciting and interesting things.  As a matter fo fact, most experiences are lost because from my perspective, entire trips are seen through a small view finder.  On this trip, however, the Lord blessed me with the chance to slow down, meet great people, create new friendships and enjoy life the way it was meant to be. Funny, it all started with a one eyed dog and a can of cold beef stew. It was possibly best breakfast I ever had.

By: Byron Goggin,  Director of Photography/Photojournalist

“Saying no to an adventure is like saying no to life”  Jim Cottrell