Thursday September 3, 2026 Hayes Lake State Park September 3, 1983

   A guy at the toy factory asked me to go with him and his wife to his dad’s cabin at Hackensack, Minnesota, over this weekend. They were going to be gone until Monday — said there was plenty of room.

   I was surprised and honored; but declined apologetically. We had known each other just a few weeks since I started working there with his wife. I said I had other plans to meet friends at Hayes Lake State Park, which was sort of the truth, but actually I didn’t want to get stuck in an unpleasant situation, after  learning firsthand of this guy's penchant for getting drunk and obnoxious — and overtly jealous of his wife. I knew how he could get and I didn’t want any part of it with no way to escape.

   I set up my rod and reel, tying on a new swivel and leader after losing them in the Roseau River, a couple weeks earlier; I laid in a supply of a few inexpensive lures, a new stringer, two rods & reel. Got the canoe on top of the truck, hooked up to the 8' x 10' camper, loaded it with some food and 'essentials,' then drove to Hayes Lake. 

   Gliding into a likely spot in Grethen’s Bay, I christened my last “Red Eye,” on a small northern pike that fought mightily right up to the boat. I released it without harming either of us, holding it gently in the water along the boat. I let it get its ‘wind’ and  balance once again; soon it wagged its head and swam its away out of my hand and was gone.

   I got two or three more strikes like that, one hitting just as the lure left the water along the boat, scaring me for a moment; splashing me pretty good, and disappeared; it didn’t appear to be a big one.

   The loons called. Two deer walked the east shore line in the setting sun. Two silhouetted canoeists across the lake sat seemingly motionless in appreciation of a beautiful day and a beautiful evening coming on.

   The next morning I slept so well that I couldn’t get out of my warm sleeping bag, and let the sun rise on its own. I threw some clothes on finally and headed to the showers, meeting up with a woman who apparently was on her way back to her campsite, hair-drier in hand, looking up into the tops of the pines nearby.

   She said ‘good morning’ without a look my way, continuing to stare into space. I returned her greeting, somewhat haltingly because I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or someone high in the tree …

   But she was, talking to me. She said there had been three raccoons in that tree last night, and she wondered if they had come down. She introduced herself, and her husband, as Arlen & Theda Breen, from Thief River Falls; and said they knew Jack & Janet real well, moving with them from Roseau to Thief River Falls in '66.

   My woodsmanship suffered a setback today in the canoe, not only did I seem to continually whack the gunwales on the craft but I lost control three times due to the stiffening southwest wind. There must be a way to do that better; the fact that the bow sticks up high off the water and you’ve got twelve feet of aluminum ‘sail’ to keep straight into the wind doesn’t help matters at all. If I get the keel line off too much to the windward side, there’s hell to pay to correct it again, and three times I couldn’t, try as I might. I ended up paddling backwards for a ways into the wind and then paddling hard with it to gradually swing around to face it and start again.

   Had to call fishin’ short because paddling demanded too much of my time — and I was getting hungry.

   Breakfast of fried sliced potatoes, three eggs, and three slices of toast all went down mighty easily after all that paddling and rod casting yesterday. I just might gain some weight again if I eat like this; last night I had four pieces of chicken, half the potatoes and two slices of bread.Yeah, and a couple beers.

   In conclusion, as the various other campers pull stakes and depart, the park woods become quiet once again. The wind blows through the pines; squirrels scold. An occasional voice sounds through the trees; one of greeting, another of damnation; one of ‘good-bye’ as truck doors slam, someone folds an aluminum chair; someone calls a dog. Cars and trucks with campers roll by with another Labor Day weekend brought to an end.

   I can see the sky in the southwest darkening; I reckon I should get on home too before long. I loaded the canoe before hooking up to the camper amazing myself with my dexterity by picking it up and swinging it onto my shoulders portage-fashion with no one there to see it. Judging by the skid marks in the dirt not many carry theirs. I was wondering if I could do it (It was my first attempt. No one needs to know) I mean everyone knows  ‘us’ woodsmen do it instinctively with all that ancestral Viking & voyageur  blood coursing through our veins.

   I’ve been all alone all weekend — but that is my way now. No one came by to drink a cold beer (but now I still have some left to take home.)

   I live in Minnesota: The Land of Sky Blue Waters. I camp, canoe, hunt and fish much to my heart's content. I am now (come October 4th) a free spirit, owing it to my determination to do the things I enjoy. I take heart in my associations with other people and will continually seek the special one to share these things with me.