I have a healthy fascination of — and appreciation for — the Great Lakes.

I still remember quite vividly my first visit to Besser Bell. The pines through which visitors walk on their way to the shoreline are so majestic, so peaceful, they remind me of a church sanctuary. During that visit, as I soaked in the peace that setting afforded me, I could hear the surf in the distance. Following the path that headed in that direction, I stood in awe between two sand dunes that stood as sentinels guarding Lake Huron. I still remember quite vividly to this day the feeling I had of “this certainly must be what Heaven looks like.”

Besser Bell remains one of my favorite places on Earth.

I never grow tired of her beauty, or the tranquillity I find there.

But she, like all of the Great Lakes shoreline, has changed quite a bit over the years.

Back in 1988, when I met her for the first time, there was quite a bit of beach that existed there. Rocks of all sizes dotted places along the beach, and it was a good place to enjoy swimming, relaxing on the beach, and searching for pudding and Petoskey stones.

On my last visit to her four months ago, she didn’t disappoint, except for this one fact: Her shoreline as I have enjoyed it all these years was under water. It still was pretty, but different … quite different.

Those of us who live along the Great Lakes have come to accept such fluctuation of water levels over the years, as it adds to the mystique of living here.

That is, unless you own property along the shore. Then, despite the beauty of the setting, it can be frustrating year after year, trying to gauge where water levels are going to be come good weather.

One year, you’re dragging the pieces of the dock way out into the lake to finally reach a water depth that will accommodate the draft of your boat. The next year, the water is so high you almost could anchor the boat to the fire ring that was the meeting spot for shoreline campfires the summer before.

Nowhere is the water fluctuation more evident than Squaw Bay. We have seen that area almost look like the salt flats that extend forever. Conversely, today, the water again has filled in along both sides of U.S.-23 South so fishing is again feasible there.

This week, Michigan Capitol Confidential, the news arm of the Mackinac Center for Public Policy, ran an interesting story by Tom Gantert pointing out that lake level fluctuations are nothing new.

Adding some perspective to the lake level issues today, Gantert researched headlines from Michigan communities over the years that dealt with Great Lakes water levels.

Naturally, today’s stories all deal with the high water levels and the damage being done to the shoreline and, in some instances, people’s cottages or residences.

But that hasn’t always been the case. Back in 2000, for instance, the Battle Creek Enquirer ran this headline: “Great Lakes water levels drop to record low.” In the story connected to the headline, it is noted that, just three years earlier — in the summer of 1997 — the water levels were at near-record-high levels.

In 1986, this headline ran in the Petoskey News-Review: “High water may be the norm, not the exception.” The author wrote that “we would all do better to learn a lesson from the increasing tide, a lesson teaching that Mother Nature is consistently inconsistent. Today’s extreme may be tomorrow’s norm and the reverse is certainly true, also.”

Probably truer words never were spoken.

I like that phrase, “Mother Nature is consistently inconsistent.”

That is the cycle of the Great Lakes. Today, it is high water that newspapers like ours write about. In three years, that water level might be at record lows again.

Today’s nightmare might be tomorrow’s dream.

Bill Speer can be reached at 989-354-3111, ext. 311, or bspeer@thealpenanews.com. Follow him on Twitter @billspeer13.