As Benzie County evolves and grows the roots of the community stay. As our waterways have been used for shipping and logging over many generations they have also been used as a place of home, for salmon. In such a small place of the world such a large ecosystem full of beauty lies beneath the water where few get to experience its perplexing style. I am fortunate to grow up live in such a water driven environment where I can understand nature to the ability of a human. The Chinook Salmon was introduced to the Great Lakes in the 1950’s and partitaly drove Benzie County’s economy. Though not native these fish integrated themselves quickly. The Betsie River was chosen as a breeding ground for the exoctic salmon. They entered into a river that
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My mom and I traveled down Dam Road in Benzie and reached the Homestead Dam. We hiked down river around the first bend and ended up at the fourth hole below the dam. As the dusk swallowed up daylight the action at the river began. I felt small standing in the river, not only because I was the youngest person their but becuase I was standing in a river that stretched for 54 miles and carried immense amounts of power in the form of water and life. As I began to fish I became distracted by the properties of nature. All I could do was observe as I was engulfed by the landscape and its inhabitants. I perceived a Blue Heron fishing for itself, a Muskrat following the bank, a Woodpecker creating the music of nature, and the Salmon making their annual spawning run up the river. I stood with my nine and a half foot long rod rigged up with 12lb line and a few split shot weights. I was using a size 6 gamakatsu octopus hook rigged with a single piece of orange yarn. I was consumed in my task falling into a rhythm of drifting my bait through the hole. I felt my hook catch on something and I set the hook. Bam, I was intertwined in a one on one fight against a riverbeast. We went back and forth, it tugged and I tugged. The salmon then flew out of the water and over a log. “VssssSIP” my line went flying out of the water as the fish
My mom and I traveled down Dam Road in Benzie and reached the Homestead Dam. We hiked down river around the first bend and ended up at the fourth hole below the dam. As the dusk swallowed up daylight the action at the river began. I felt small standing in the river, not only because I was the youngest person their but becuase I was standing in a river that stretched for 54 miles and carried immense amounts of power in the form of water and life. As I began to fish I became distracted by the properties of nature. All I could do was observe as I was engulfed by the landscape and its inhabitants. I perceived a Blue Heron fishing for itself, a Muskrat following the bank, a Woodpecker creating the music of nature, and the Salmon making their annual spawning run up the river. I stood with my nine and a half foot long rod rigged up with 12lb line and a few split shot weights. I was using a size 6 gamakatsu octopus hook rigged with a single piece of orange yarn. I was consumed in my task falling into a rhythm of drifting my bait through the hole. I felt my hook catch on something and I set the hook. Bam, I was intertwined in a one on one fight against a riverbeast. We went back and forth, it tugged and I tugged. The salmon then flew out of the water and over a log. “VssssSIP” my line went flying out of the water as the fish