Blue Bird Box 488 stands near outlet of Ryerson Creek, confluence with Lake Muskegon. Mile 26276.

I have been exploring Ryerson Creek since I discovered it flowed by the Bogner Center, home of Muskegon County United Way. Ryerson creek has been clobbered by modenity, having to run under railroad tracks and Seaway Drive and through industrial yards. I parked at a Muskegon County flood or sewer facility and attempted to walk the last quarter mile of Ryerson's Creek before its waters join Lake Muskegon. A nice bridge crosses the creek, part of the bikeway around Lake Muskegon, going from North Muskegon to the channel. The creek runs along a cinder field, probably left over from a Foundry. I saw shards of metal parts embedded in these cinders, a field overgrown with prairie plants and saplings. A plastic barrier tried to keep this land from eroding into the creek. I found a strange vegetable that grew foam lance points. I could see these had snapped off roots, like a rhubarb's roots. I saw about six of these, which looked so industrial, I thought it was cast off wire insulator. I couldn't plunge through the cattails and the brush to see the creek mouth. Maybe in a canoe. It is my understanding that Jackson & Merkey has contract to remediate Ryerson Creek, removing unnatural fill, such as concrete rubble.

I continued north on the lost road of Ottawa Street, which terminates at Seaway and the Muskegon River delta. This park by the power plant once served as the log booming area,  where floating logs were sorted as to owner and tied into rafts. The rafts were floated to Lake Muskegon lumber mills. I saw a big red Ford truck with logger plates parked near the river. Maybe the driver was fishing or maybe he was searching the south branch of the Muskegon for sunken logs, now more valuable after time and water had changed the sap of century old pine logs. Seaway passed over this narrow, sand and cattail choked branch of the Muskegon. At last, I had found a bridge under which I could live. The clearance from sandy floor and cold flowing water to the concrete road measured ten feet. One could pitch a tent city of ten pup tents, making a vagabond city like those found under elevated sections of downtown Dallas. Of course, with all the fishermen walking through, I wouldn't have privacy. Maybe in my next lifetime.