"Lets go Fishing"

On a balmy spring day in March, 1919, with the sun melting the last of the winter‘s accumulation of snows, is the topic of conversation at the luncheon table that Saturday noon turned to Trout Fishing. With the consciousness of Spring in the air, such a topic would naturally arouse in any lover of the out-of-doors memories of past fishing experiences — the smell of fresh growing things — the sparkle of water over moss covered stones — the songs of myrid birds, and the unforgettable thrill experienced with the “Big One” left his hiding place under the log jam just below the bend and grabbed the fly you figured out last winter would get him.

“Let’s go fishing the first of May” was the proposal and the motion was carried unanimously. But where to go wasn’t so easily answered. The best streams were nearly all privately owned, and the privileges jealously guarded. We couldn’t very well wish ourselves as uninvited guests on our more fortunate acquaintances and the prospect of going to one of those hotel-like clubs, who take paying guests wasn’t attractive

“We’ll build a club of our own” was the ultimatum. A place where we’ll feel at home — where we can loaf or fish — where we can feel the pure contentment of just being out-of-doors, out of sight of smoke and tall buildings — where we’ll find the feel of soft woods’ trails under our feet instead of city pavements and breathe the pure spicy pine laden air.

Luckily a beautiful site was secured on the famous South Branch of the AuSable river — a modern club house was built among the Norway pine where the river makes a double bend between the high ridges that form the watershed of Michigan. The bends suggested the name “Ox-Bow”, and by the first of May we were happy in the possession of one of the finest fishing camps in Michigan, on a trout stream undoubtedly the best known far and wide for its rainbow and brook trout sport — the AuSable.

The clubhouse was planned for solid comfort and convenience. A large living room with a wonderful big cobblestone fire place. How Bob and Bill and Ray and Joe worked digging those stones out of the river and up on the hills. Eight ton of stone and cement. But it was worth it with the cheery, crackling fire burning in the evening, driving away the chill which arises from the river after the sunsets, even on the warmest summer days.

“Uncle John” Fowler is the autocrat of the breakfast table at the Ox-Bow, and dinner and supper tables, too. “Uncle John” cooked many years at a famous hotel in White Sulphur Springs and, of course, no expense was spared in deferring to his wishes when it came to the culinary department. Believe us, one and all, you have never tasted real food until you have shoved your boots under the table at the “Ox-Bow” — Buckwheat flapjacks and maple syrup, crisp bacon, and fried trout, raised biscuits and coffee bring you up standing in the morning and no one has ever yet demonstrated the willpower to stay in bed. And those lunches, Mrs. Fowler packs for those who don’t find time to quit fishing for dinner. Did you ever sit down on a log in a trout stream with your boots in the cold water and review the morning’s fishing with your partner while eating that packed lunch to get the last crumb? It’s a memory you’ll love to recall when you are far away from such places.

And when the big day is over and you have explained about how the biggest one snagged your line and broke away under the roots of the leaning pine up at the third bend, and modestly showed the neophytes the art of dry fly fishing, that delightful sleepy feeling drives you to your bed, where you can look out of the window through the pines onto the moonlight misty river whose rippling silvery music quickly lulls you to dreamland.

And if you can only come back again next year, or again this year, to this spot where Nature and Nature‘s pleasures are supreme, and in the words of Henry VanDyke, consider the flowers and the birds and confess your fault and mistakes and your unbelief under the silent stars, and hear the river murmuring your absolution, you will die young, even though you live long; you will have a treasure of memories which will be like the twin flower, always a double blossom on a single stem, and carry with you into the unseen world something that will make it worth while to be immortal.

How to Get There

Secure a membership, or failing in that, an invitation from a member.

Michigan Central R.R. train leaves Detroit at 9:00 p.m. daily, arrives Roscommon at 5:00 a.m Lou Sackrider at Roscommon attends to the rest. Returning, train leaves Roscommon at 10:45p.m., arriving Woodward Avenue station 6:55 a.m.

Make reservations for return when arriving at Roscommon to insure accomodations.