Explaining riparian rights and recreational boating on Michigan’s inland lakes

By Linda Alice Dewey

Sun contributor

In 2015, the Sun reported that beach walking along Michigan’s Great Lakes shoreline up to what is termed the ordinary high water mark is a public right. Now we turn to boating on Michigan’s inland waters. Where do the rights of boaters end and those of riparians—who own inland waterfront property—begin? The laws can be confusing, and it appears that many, including some law enforcement officers, might be misinformed.  

Leelanau County is called “the land of delight.” For most, the key to her beauty is her water. Those lucky enough to be called “riparians” live on it. The rest love to relax by it, swim in it, fish in it, and boat on it.

One such Maple City family set out on a Big Glen Lake boating excursion this past June, when things took a turn. “We decided to anchor for a few minutes so our toddler grandsons could take a quick dip in the water,” says Linda Engelhard. They stopped in front of a home and dropped anchor a ways out in the lake.

After about five minutes, the apparent landowner marched down her lawn to the shore. “Are you friends of ours?” the woman yelled. The Engelhards couldn’t hear, and she had to repeat herself several times. They couldn’t see well enough to tell if they knew her or not, so they shrugged. “In response,” Engelhard says, “she shouted that unless we were friends of hers, we couldn’t swim where we were anchored.”

Glen Lake residents Chip and Shirley Hoagland frequently see pontoon boats anchored in front of their place on Big Glen. Although most boaters are courteous, there have been incidents. Boaters occasionally use the Hoaglands’ raft, for instance, although it is clearly marked “private.” Recently, a couple came in close to the Hoaglands’ land to wash their boat. A few weekends ago, two men parked off their shore and were wading back and forth with metal detectors. Their haul? A pair of pliers, an anchor chain link, and four bottle caps. 

Here’s the thing. Technically, except in the case of using the raft, none of the above boaters were trespassing. All of them were within their rights.

Other neighbors have had problems, as well—boaters plopping beach chairs in a foot of water, or even coming on land to use a picnic table. Kayakers have stopped for lunch at a neighbor’s dock, though “no trespassing” signs are posted. According to law, the beach chair folks were legal; the others were not. (More on this in the next issue of the Sun.)

Lt. Tom Wanless, boating law administrator for the State of Michigan Department of Natural Resources (DNR) Law Enforcement Division understands the basic problem. “People are trying to find a place, sand bars and beaches, where they can anchor, beach, hang out in somewhat shallow water and recreate, whatever that may be,” he said. 

“The thing is, the surface of a body of water is publicly owned.” Wanless refers to what in law is called “the Public Doctrine,” handed down from English common law, that certain things, like water and air, belong to everyone. “Everybody has a right to it. You’ve got other folks that see that as a nuisance, where it’s in front of their house—’I pay taxes; I live here; it’s too loud.’ You can understand both sides of it—‘I’m a riparian owner; I want peace of mind, tranquility’.” Whereas others might say, “I’m a boat owner; I just want to have fun, relax and enjoy the water.”

For most riparians, such incidents occur only occasionally. But for those living near public or popular navigation areas, the problem becomes a frequent summer occurrence. Landowners can let it go—which they often do—or confront the situation. “Sometimes,” Shirley Hoagland says, “when [land] owners approach such offenders, an argument begins with them asserting that they have a right to be there even after riparian rights law has been explained.” 

Depending on the circumstance, the boaters may be right. But Michigan doesn’t clearly state the law and how it impacts inland-lake boaters and riparians. Even law enforcement officers coming to the aid of the riparians sometimes misunderstand some riparian laws.

Many of the boaters rent boats for the day from boat liveries and are unfamiliar with the lake. When they drift into their area, Shirley tries to guide them to public areas—Old Settlers Park (on the easternmost shore of Big Glen Lake), the public beach on Little Glen near the Dune Climb, or 2,500 feet of shoreline at Inspiration Point. The Glen Lake Association also distributes a brochure at the boat wash on W. Day Forest Rd. and liveries with this information. Usually they go courteously, but, Shirley recounts, “I had one young woman say to me, ‘Well, thanks. Have a great day, bitch!’”

According to Michigan’s law (each state is different), the public does have the right to travel and fish on the entire surface of “navigable” waters, including lakes, rivers, and streams.” But here’s where it becomes confusing. While the bottom of the Great Lakes is owned by the public, the “bottomlands” of inland public lakes are owned by riparian landowners. 

Yet the public is legally allowed to anchor “temporarily” for “navigation” purposes. The question is in the interpretation. The law is unclear, but several court decisions have led to accepted legal interpretations. Recreational boating is allowed in riparian areas. 

Not everyone understands this. Even Leelanau County sheriff Mike Borkovich believes the public can anchor temporarily only on the Great Lakes. Regarding inland lakes, he says, “You’re not allowed to set anchor on the bottomlands of another [riparian] without their consent.” When asked a second time, he said, “Temporary mooring is Great Lakes; inland lakes, the landowner retains the bottom land rights.” In fact, the general legal consensus is arguably that the public probably cannot anchor overnight, but temporary anchoring is allowed on inland lakes and on riparian bottomlands. The specifics still have to be tested in the courts, however.

Determining property boundaries on inland water bottomlands can be difficult, spawning trespassing issues. Those who live on a river own the bottom straight out to the center “thread,” if you will. For inland lakes, if you have a “perfectly symmetrical circular inland lake, like a pie, everybody owns from their borders to the center point,” says Wanless. “But what if it’s an odd-shaped lake?” Coves and irregular shorelines pose boundary difficulties only riparian surveyors can figure out.

On a positive note, the bottomlands in front of public areas—public beaches, accesses, boat liveries, and public-owned land—also extend to that lake’s midpoint or river’s thread. The public has every right to be there, as long as those individuals are obeying local ordinances and not interfering with other boaters and swimmers. 

The tenor of the boating population appears to have shifted over the years, says Dave Miller, president of Glen Lake’s Tamarack Cove Association. His family has been on Glen Lake since 1936. Miller notices an attitude shift in the past decade that seems to correlate with the shift in boats from speed boats to slow pontoon pleasure boats, coupled with fast jet skis. “There’s been an increase in numbers of those who don’t know how to behave,” he says. “Loud music—most of these new boats all have radios, CD players, speakers—partiers. Philosophies have changed over the years.”

When an incident begins to grow, many riparians will approach the boaters. “If anything blatant is going on by way of either drinking or noise, yelling as well as loud music,” Miller says, “then we go have a talk. That’s only happened a couple of times this season.”

“I’ve seen how this can go awry, especially in popular resting areas, if you will,” says Leelanau County drain commissioner Steve Christensen, who is also a boat owner and at one time owned land on West Grand Traverse Bay. “There’s a raft of boats, and suddenly, there’s a party going on. It’s difficult. I’ve seen landowners come unglued when a boat’s anchored in front of their beach, and it’s not a pretty sight.”

“The issue really is that the riparian owner pays taxes,” Christensen says. “It’s typically a pretty pricey thing to be there. Maybe they don’t have much time themselves, and they’ve [carved] out an afternoon. They’re on their beach, and there’s a boat a few feet into the water, anchored there. They were thinking of the sunset, and all of a sudden, they’ve got a boat right in front of them. It can be hard to deal with, and I understand entirely.

“Sometimes people with a boat anchor without thinking, ‘We ought to be down the beach a little this way or that way,’” he says. “If everybody were considerate of their neighbors, it probably wouldn’t be much of an issue.”

Forty-year-old Jeremy Tobin of Greilickville has fished Leelanau’s lakes and streams for as long as he can remember. “I think that what it comes down to for people is respect,” Tobin says. “If someone is allowed to have a dock, you should give them a little space from it. Or if there are people swimming, not go over there and fish.”  

The law uses the word “reasonable,” when it comes to exercising the Public Trust. “I guess it comes down to manners,” says Chip Hoagland. “Middle ground is common sense.” 

For the most part, consideration does seem to be the rule. Everyone the Sun interviewed stresses that these incidents don’t happen all the time, and that most people are courteous if confronted. Dawn Laracey lives on Lake Leelanau. “Problems are what people make of them,” she says. “For the most part, I think everybody just wants to enjoy the beauty around them, and people are happy with it.”

Look for more coverage of riparian and boater rights on inland lakes in subsequent editions of the Sun.