Wannaskan Almanac for Tuesday, June 27, 2023 Just in Time for the Show

I probably should have just stayed home on June 13.  13 is unlucky, right?  But fishermen are not concerned with things like luck or weather conditions or sunscreen.  So I headed out.

I did not take pictures of my fishing trip.  Most of them would have been indecent.  Still a bad day of fishing is still better than a good day of work is the saying.  This day, however, was slightly better than an infected hangnail.  The pictures I will be posting are ones that I took after I got back to land.

The Warroad Dock

I started to launch my boat at around 7:30.  I like to fish alone.  That way my wife can't out fish me. It is a little more difficult to launch my boat when I am doing it alone.  I thought it would be enough to have the rope tied to the front of the boat and stuck in my tailgate.  I backed up and then froze as I saw the rope pull through the tailgate and drop into the water.  Luckily the wind was blowing the boat out or it would have stayed right there at the dock.  I rushed out wearing my shoes and socks and finally, after getting waist deep in the water, reached the rope.  I tied up to the dock and then parked my truck.  I an nothing if I am not a glutton for punishment!

Canadian smoke leads to a hazy day

After parking I sloshed back to my boat.  I untied it and then had a cool ride out to my personal part of the lake.  At a personal point, everything is perfectly legal.  That could be written somewhere in maritime law.  I come prepared for every situation.  In a waterproof pail I have a map (in case I learn how to navigate), spare clothes, my wallet (with my fishing license), and even a pup tent.  If there is a homeless puppy floating by I am prepared.  I looked around.  There was no one in my space.  I ripped of my wet socks, shorts, and boxers.  I tried to put on my dry pair of pants, but it isn't easy when your lower half is still wet.  I stumbled a bit and fell to the floor of my boat.  

It was then that I saw the other boat.  It was coming up on me quick.  Surely they would change course.  I ducked down behind the seat in my boat.  My pants were still refusing to come up.  

It is always kind of nerve wracking when an authority figure pulls you over.  That is what happened right then.  It wasn't another fisherman that pulled up.  It was the DNR...the police of the sea...or the lake as it were.  He looked at me with a little bit of confusion.  I had my pants down, yet I was alone.  So the first conclusion he came to was obviously wrong.  After a long, cool, stare down he asked me, "So how is the fishing?"  

"Haven't really started yet," I answered.  

More awkward silence.  I so badly wanted to ask him if he was here on business or just for the show.  

"Can I see your license?"

"Uh, yeah."  I reached for the bucket, still trying to get my pants up.  It was like they were superglued to my ankles.

I handed the DNR guy my license.  At least he was now making eye contact with me, which was keeping his eyes from my dangling participle.  

"Everything seems to be in order," he said as he handed back my license.  He sped away without looking back.  I finally was able to get my pants up.  

I caught two seventeen inch walleyes that day.  And sunburned my...face.  What did you think I was going to say there!  

Ah fishing.  Even at its worst it is still better than working!