The reason for the season ...
A new Minnesotanís first fishing opener
By Barbara Brown We moved to Minnesota so that my fiance could get back to the way of life in which he was raised.
Michael spent his Minnesota summers fishing and swimming in lakes; the fall was spent hunting and winters often were filled with snow and the fun that comes along with that season. I, on the other hand, rarely saw a significant snowfall, never swam in lakes and only fished at the cityís family day event during which anyone with children could go to the man-made lake in the middle of downtown and fish for bluegills that were dumped into the water the night before. This past weekend, I experienced fishing as I never have before and Iím not yet sure if I want to again. We left our house late Friday, around 8:30 p.m. and headed north to Lake Vermillion. After several side trips and stops along the way, we eventually made it to the camp site at 2:30 a.m. The temperature had dropped significantly and we found it difficult and frustrating to try to set up our tent in the middle of the freezing night while not waking any of the other campers. We awoke bright and early and set out to rent a boat for the day. The day was cold and grey, with the wind whipping around and sending the chill through our layers of clothing faster than we expected. We tracked down the last boat available at a nearby resort and set out to find Michaelís uncle and cousins, who have a cabin on the lake.
Just the ride over to the cabin should have given me the clue to get off the boat and stay bundled up inside all day, but we boarded after lunch and headed out to hunt down the Ever Elusive Minnesota Walleye. Those fish must be smarter than I thought because after two hours of absolutely no action on our lines, and trolling through miles of lake water, we decided it was time to pack it in and head for camp. After some time on the water, controlling my line became difficult and eventually it got tangled up in the prop. Michael has incredible patience, evidenced by the fact that he did not throw me over-board, and he battled the increasingly large, chilling waves to get the line out. By that time I had given up the cause altogether and had resorted to curling myself up on the bench in the boat trying futilely to block the wind that seemed to not let up all day. Fishing wasnít supposed to feel like that, I kept telling myself. We werenít supposed to be wearing winter coats and gloves to celebrate the rite of passage into summers filled with weekend shore lunches. As we moored the boat and gathered our gear to return to camp, we chatted with other fishermen who were giving up on the bad weather, too. We talked about where the best spots to find the fish were, what kind of bait to use and about the lack of success all around the lake. We settled in for the night by the campfire we built in spite of the rain and freezing cold. When we awoke, we were cold and wet because we had hit the sides of the tent in the night, breaking our thin shield against the elements. But that wouldnít stop us; Michael was determined. Little did I realize, you canít fight the fishing bug on opener weekend and Michael headed back out onto the water. Michael certainly was back in his element, the smile never left his face all day. He set out for an afternoon trip with his cousinís friend that lasted about two hours. After lunch, he and his cousinís husband, along with three younger cousins, piled into the boat and headed out to take advantage of the improving weather. I stayed on shore because I still was freezing and the skies were grey and threatened another downpour like the night before. After a couple hours with no sign of the crewís return, the rest of the family determined they were catching fish or they had all fallen overboard.
As the boat came into view to dock in the bay, we could hear faint cheerful yelling. When the group got within ear-shot, the kids were gleefully telling about the fish the crew had caught and the tales about reeling them in. Michael pulled the stringer out of the water and showed off the two walleye dangling from the hooks. Turns out, Michael said, we had been fishing wrong all along. A boat full of loud kids hyped up on caffeine is more effective than quietly trolling the waters.
As we drove away, we heard a report that Gov. Jesse Venturaís fishing crew had only landed five fish and that made Michael feel better about his slow weekend. And although it took all weekend, lost sleep, exposure to freezing temperatures and putting up with a rookie fisherman, the fishing opener was a success for Michael and I. He got to come home with some fish and I got to come home to my nice warm toasty house, better mentally prepared for next years opener. When weíll be in a hotel, with a sauna and a hot tub and room service. Barbara Brown is still thawing out from spending hours in the howling, freezing winds on Lake Vermillion. She can be reached at barbara.brown@ecm-inc.com.
Top of Page
©ECM Post Review
6448 Main Street
North Branch, MN 55056
Telephone: 651-674-7025
Fax: 651-674-7026
E-mail: editor.postreview@ecm-inc.com
|
