It's my opinion that there is little to compare with the joys of lazily fishing from a canoe in a lake in the Boundary Waters. Periods of quiet paddling in an incredibly scenic and peaceful place, interrupted by the explosion of a fish attacking whatever lure you have gently placed in the water. From previous trips together it was clear that our esteemed mayor Crown Rudolf enjoys the same thing. We pledged this year to take a trip north to enjoy the woods and especially, to test our fishing skills in such a lovely setting.
We took it upon ourselves to recruit another boat of outdoorsmen for our trip - the experienced and wily angler C. Walter Lack, and the relatively inexperienced Cherry Boy, J. Thomas Seymour. Even his name caused problems with the Minnesota fish licensing authorities. Perhaps they were reluctant to license the owner of the "Fighting Bullwhip" fishing rod. And what kind of a first name is "J."? Whatever the reason, it took all of my lawyering skills and $30 of Tom's money to enable Mr. Seymour to ply the waters of Minnesota. But on a Thursday a few weeks ago - off we went to the woods.
This is a Train Party group, so it goes without saying that a contest was established. Actually, three contests. A team contest, with the winning team being the twosome with the most credited inches of fish - based on a scientific, complex and sometimes changing formula. A second contest utilizing the same formula was established to determine the
MOST VALUABLE FISHERMAN AND GREATEST FISHERMAN IN THE UPPER MIDWEST. And finally a more subjective contest - the contest to boat the "Most Impressive Fish, All Things Considered." This is the contest which Harry and I have on our fall trips - so I felt duty bound to make every effort to score well in this event.
Our plan to fish in East Pike - in the area where Wein's grandfather, the venerable Doc Johnson, built his cabin decades ago - was thwarted by a large fire. So we diverted to the very west end of the park to Trout Lake. That allowed us to spend a night enjoying the hospitality of my friends the Remicks on Black Duck Island.
And then it was off to Trout Lake - a large lake and one of the few in the BWCA on which motors are allowed. That wasn't a plus - but it worked out fine. Oddly, on Friday when we put in boats with motors were everywhere. But the frequency of hearing motors decreased throughout the rest of the trip. I don't think that was due to any alcoholic haze. Perhaps the changing weather. Who knows.
The highlights of the first day's fishing was the lovely six pound Lake Trout conjured from the waters by Tom "the Snake Charmer" Seymour (so named because of his amazing ability to entice small to medium sized northern's to his lures). Mr. Green added a nice though somewhat smaller laker to the larder, and dinner was secured.
Sunday dawned with snow falling gently - a first for me in the Boundary Waters. I think the variability of the weather is illustrated pretty well by this photo:
When your sandals are snowy, you know the weather is changing. And on Sunday my fishing luck changed in a big way when I hooked a very large northern. Tom Seymour and I had quite a time getting the fish in the boat - but it was really fun to try to land a 40" fish. Unlike the smaller fish I've caught in the past, there was no way to get this one in the boat until she was tired out. So, oddly enough, once in the boat there was little of the thrashing around that I associate with northerns.
After this photo and a couple of others, the northern was returned to the water. I hope that by now she is the proud mother of another brood of fish. Wein followed up my northern with a nice bass, an even nicer walleye and we had the makings of yet another fish dinner. Curt's skills as a fillet master were a wonder to me - and his cooking skills were almost as developed.
When all was said and done, Wein was officially named the
MOST VALUABLE FISHERMAN AND GREATEST FISHERMAN IN THE UPPER MIDWEST. There was a small amount of grousing about the fact that his paddle remained a bit on the dry side while he fished. But my man fished for the cycle, catching all four species of fish. The Snake Charmer came in second, closely followed by Curt (who rallied at the end after a pitiful start as his experience and skill began to show). I brought up the rear - too far behind for Wein to carry us to the team championship. But I did win the "Most Impressive Fish, All Things Considered" contest.
Of course everyone was a winner. The fact that you are able to go to a great place with great friends is a victory in itself. Some of life's best moments - a most impressive trip, all things considered.
A great time was had by all. Stew
Mr. Green established his bona fides as a woodsman with the most stunning display of firewood location and chopping and splitting that I have seen in my nearly thirty years of trips to the Boundary Waters. He and Mr. Seymour produced what seemed to be cords of finely split wood which allowed us to enjoy evening fires. This was particularly nice, since last year we had been unable to have camp fires due to a fire ban.
The wood produced by Mr. Green and Mr. Seymour, combined with the patented "Stan Oleson Maxi Pack" technique which allows for massive provisions, allowed us to dine like kings and snack like large men. With a sommolier like J. Thomas Seymour, the libations were beyond unbelievable. A fish stew Curt and I made of three large bass snagged from East Pike, some potatoes, onions, portobello mushrooms, and various other bulky but tasty ingredients stands out in my memory. The steaks were great, Curt's pan fried northern and smallmouth were, if anything, even better. The final breakfast fare was a giant pork chop - again with portobellos and onions. It's a dish that I am still refining. When the Hatchet Man (who likes meat cooked more fully than I do) is along, I have now resolved to grill the chops over the fire he provides and cook the mushroom sauce separately. This will allow for better "a la carte" presentation of the meat.
As this food preparation example illustrates, trips to the BWCA invariably involve some problem solving. This year, Curt helped ensure that was the case. Due to Curt's newly developed bull moose canoe entry method, he and Wein failed to "mount up" properly for an evening fishing junket (while Mr. Seymour and I elected to lounge around camp sipping on a "splash" and taking in the scenery from terra firma). The result - a quick dip in a lake that was covered with ice three days before - went beyond bracing. At least the solution was obvious. Less obvious was the solution to our problem on the "dismount." It was then that the car door locked with the keys on the front seat and in a backpack in the rear of the car (a safety feature that we all agree Acura could dispense with), we found ourselves 17 miles up a gravel road to nowhere (though an amazing chunk of nowhere) and 35 miles from cell phone service. At this point Curt's preternatural skills kicked in. He fired a pheromone (or perhaps it was a Farrah moan) and summoned two nice women who provided transport and phone cards and other necessities in aid of Curt's location of Bud the Locksmith and Storyteller, who arrived on the scene a hour or so later. Like magic, in 46 minutes Bud had the door opened (with liberal amounts of "help" from the assembled laughing masses). At this moment the 2 a.m. return to Saint Paul dampens the humor just a bit, but I think it will be a rich source of humor for years to come.
A great trip. Planning and pondering for next year has already begun.
But we remain hopeful that he will get used to the crazy elders in short order. What a cute guy!
A great time was had by all!
After this photo and a couple of others, the northern was returned to the water. I hope that by now she is the proud mother of another brood of fish. Wein followed up my northern with a nice bass, an even nicer walleye and we had the makings of yet another fish dinner. Curt's skills as a fillet master were a wonder to me - and his cooking skills were almost as developed.
