Jim Harrison - The Great Leader

They drove east to Munising and then northeast to the shore road, taking a dip at Twelvemile Beach which was nearly empty, the often tempestuous water sullen and placid. A dozen miles to the south beyond Kingston Lake Sunderson found the two-track with difficulty. He was full of anxiety that the pond he and Diane had loved and so often camped at over twenty years before had somehow been ruined. Not in the least. The two-track was nearly impenetrably overgrown and Sunderson managed to knock loose one of the sideview mirrors on Diane’s newish station wagon, which she ignored. When they arrived at the clearing, about seventy yards by seventy, two coyote pups scooted off and entered a burrow up a hillside. Sunderson grabbed a flashlight, walked up, knelt, and shined the light in the tunnel. The male pup growled as if to protect his sister. The women took the flashlight and knelt down wagging their butts in the air. They were both wearing clingy gray cotton gym shorts. At the first stroke of desire Sunderson looked up at the heavens but failed to feel heavenly. He quickly set up his small tent facing east so he could catch the first of dawn’s light while the girls chose the far side so that they could sleep in. He was told to turn around while they put on their bathing suits but he was already headed west for a walk despite the heat following a tiny creek that provided the pond’s outlet. He looked down at the spring fumaroles burbling upward and the shadows of a small patch of lily pads with yellow knob flowers. Everywhere on the water’s bottom where it was shallow enough there were the footprints of heron and sandhill cranes. At the far end the girls were screeching at the coldness of the water but finally submerged to their necks. He was looking forward to the roast chicken, potato salad, and wine Diane had brought but he first needed a two-hour sweaty walk and a swim. They would never be the kind of family that would live under one roof but they would be close.