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"Idiot wind, blowing through the buttons on our coats, blowing through the letters that we wrote, blowing through the books upon our shelves, it's a wonder we can even feed ourselves," - Bob Dylan
Walking along an old dirt road, I feel the winds of autumn swirling around the tree trunks, blowing down the hillside in front of me and across my face, giving me a chill.
As I move up the hillside, my body gets warmer. By the time I reach the crest of the ridge, I'm ready for a rest and my skin is warm to the touch.
Though the sun is shining and the temperatures are moderate, the gusting wind cuts across the entire scene, reminding me of much colder days that will assuredly arrive in the weeks to come.
I look down the hillside now before me and see the flowing river disappear behind a stand of lowland conifers. I keep my eyes open for animals down there, especially moose. It's the time of the year when they're on the move.
I saw a video this morning of a bull moose in the south part of the county romping around back and forth across the state highway with a massive rack of antlers that were decorated with broken tree branches from the surrounding woods. It was incredible.
With hunters out in the woodlands preparing for their fall pursuits, there is more activity overall out here and more likelihood that animals will be moving around from place to place.
I reach into my shoulder bag and pull out my binoculars. I take a long scan of the area, but don't find any moose. I had seen some tracks along the dirt road I drove to get here, but I didn't spot any of those majestic animals.
I'm enjoying the view from up here, even with the chilly winds. I think about the waves out on the big lake, which must be pushing up white caps today -- another image that I associate with fall.
The leaves have begun to turn, but they are still a way off from their peak. We've had a good share of sunny days and increasingly colder nights, which combined work to help spur the leaf change.
Recent rains have greened up grass and other vegetation, which may delay the peak color, and help prevent the autumn leaf show from being strictly a brown and yellow affair.
Last night, the stars were shining brightly while the air was cold and still. The deeper we get into the fall, the better the colder temperatures feel.
After a few minutes of taking in the sights from this ridge, I turned around and started to walk back down the hillside. The decline wasn't steep, but not long and gradual either. It was somewhere in between.
Back at my Jeep, I dug into another bag I had and pulled out a still warm pasty that had been waiting on the backseat of my vehicle. I take it outside with me, along with a few ketchup packets and a cold Dr Pepper from my cooler.
I don't know why food always seems to taste better when you eat it out in the woods, but that certainly is the case. This pasty I got from a local shop tasted as good as the ones my grandma used to make for the church bazaar.
After I finish enjoying my pasty, I leave my Jeep and start walking down a side dirt road to a place where I know a creek crosses under an old wooden bridge. The road is littered with leaves already downed by the winds and rains of recent days.
Ruffed grouse in the low brush near the creek take off together in an explosive fluttery flight as I approach the bridge. I find the water flowing slow on the upstream side of the bridge and much quicker on the downstream jaunt.
There are deer and moose tracks along the road here. I sit on the bridge and close my eyes, listening to the water flowing over the creek's rocks.
I take in several deep breaths of cool, fresh air and wait to feel the ease of tension in my chest and the rush of energy to my body. I lay back on the bridge and listen to the relative silence of my surroundings.
Beyond the creek, all I hear is the wind and occasional "chipping" sounds made by yellow-rumped warblers and chick-a-dee-dee-dees in the tag alders behind me.
When I opened my eyes, I spot a colored leaf floating on the wind. It circles and spins as it floats down toward me. I raise my open right hand to catch it, but its flight pattern takes it too far off to my right to be able to have a chance to grab it.
I get up and continue walking down the road to an old campground I knew of. It's gone now except for some remnants of old barbecue grill sites and the concrete that held an old hand pump in place.
I think about how fast the world is changing and shifting, with its exponential bursts of technological advances, I may be dead for five years before I even realize it.
I may still be out here walking around in these woods unaware that in fact I am indeed a full-fledged woodlands ghost -- an apparition from the afterlife.
Then, above me in the sky, I hear the honking of Canada geese. They aren't in a V-formation to fly south just yet, but you can tell these might be the auditions for flight training school.
Once they start their mass exodus from the peninsula, there's no turning back from the autumn season around us. I usually see the geese heading south while I am fishing for fall salmon and steelhead.
So, I best get my fishing stuff together.
All those changes I mentioned have got my mind tied up in knots these days. I get down thinking about all of it.
Developers are seriously talking about the potential of artificial intelligence to wipe humankind off the face of the earth by the end of the decade.
I guess I must admit that I always thought that life here would likely end up with humans somehow doing ourselves in. However, I never thought it would happen during my lifetime.
Tears well up in my eyes as I stand at the edge of a river, the water flowing over my boots. A pair of sandhill cranes flies over. I want to fly with them wherever they are going -- probably Florida.
On second thought, I'd rather be here.
I splash my feet back through the water to the sand on shore and then walk up the embankment to the old campground. I scanned the area as I walked heading back up to the same dirt road I came in on.
These are days of soul-searching, dissolution, reverence and loneliness. Anger and pain haunt my daytimes and nights. The moments of relief and respite for me come in breaths of nature's healing and forgiveness on days like this.
And so again, I shall soon return.
Outdoors North is a weekly column produced by the Michigan Department of Natural Resources on a wide range of topics important to those who enjoy and appreciate Michigan's world-class natural resources of the Upper Peninsula.