Generating A Generational Gathering

 

Sandwiched between Christmas and New Year’s, and on the backside of a small town in southern Wisconsin, I gathered two other kindred generations and headed out.  First we crossed a frozen lake, and then we climbed the far bank, before making our way up into the woods.

I’ve been there before, but this was my first venture into that locale with my Dad and son Todd.  Although I’ve taken each of them out individually to the woods, and on multiple occasions, it was our first outing all together.  For that reason they each knew the routine, quickly began packing down the snow, and set about collecting and cutting up some firewood.

Our Three Walking Sticks
All Carved By Dad

With the snapping sounds of the crackling flames, and the tantalizing smells of the sizzling food cooking in the skillet, we settled into the rhythm of a day camp in the woods.  We wouldn’t be there long, but we would be there long enough; long enough to generate meaningful conversations between father and son, and grandpa and grandson.  While my dog Kora settled in on her blanket, we sat and talked as I added various ingredients.  The food was typical, meaning that it was what I always cooked.  It’s become what’s expected.  I can appreciate that, even as the one who cuts and prepares it all beforehand.  When you’ve eaten several helpings of it outdoors, and in cold temperatures, you’ll know what I mean.

After indulging in the breakfast, and rinsing it down with some hot cocoa, we cleaned up, packed our gear, and erased any evidence of being there.  Being stealthy is important to keep such places sacred.  It’s why I’m always mixing it up as to where I go.  I suppose it’s like having a random generator that allows me to arbitrarily choose from any one of my special get away places.  In such circumstances I liken my decision making to being, “Crazy like a fox,” but I suppose it’s better described as, “Sly like a fox.”  Either way I’ll lose you if you try to follow me, and still manage to enjoy a great day in the woods.  And should you be so lucky as to be invited to join me, I’ll welcome you into the secret location with open arms; although on more than one occasion I have been known to wander in circles first to confuse people with directions or have them turn off the location on their phones.  As I said, it keeps places special.

For that reason, I’ll always hold that morning special.  Such an outing, in a sacred place, doesn’t happen often; and when it does you mark it.  Generating a time when you can gather generations of your family together for an outdoor experience can be memorable, especially when you each share the same spirit of adventure.  Perhaps that’s why I smiled to myself as I walked with my dad and son back across the lake, watching our shadows in the snow covered ice under the glare of the rising sun.

See you along The Way…

A Lake That Gave Up Her Secrets

 

It was the third year in a row that my wife Cindy, daughter Jodi, and I had spent at Jung’s Birch Lake “Tranquility Cottage”.  Born of necessity to get-a-way in the middle of the pandemic of 2020, we now use the week to reconnect.  Because Jodi’s been going to grad school in Texas this last year, she came back to join us Up North where we could spend time making some memories together.

The days quickly fell into a rhythm.  Being familiar now with the lake and surrounding area, I typically headed out to fish in the morning and spent time at the cabin with the ladies in the afternoon.  During that time we’d read, journal, take walks, fix and eat dinner, go for a drive, or go get ice cream.  The weather was pleasant during the day (70° ’s) and cold at night (50° ’s); a refreshing change of pace from what Cindy and I had been experiencing back home and from the triple digits of central Texas for Jodi!

I’d caught some fish in this lake each of the last two years; not a lot of fish, but some big fish.  So each cast this year was made with hopeful expectations.  Gordon Lightfoot sang in his song of Lake Superior and the Edmund Fitzgerald, “she never gives up her dead.”  Likewise, Birch Lake doesn’t always like to give up her fish, unless the fisherman has a lot of patience, some ideas of where to start, and a little knowhow on the lures of choice.  Any knowledge that I’ve gained has primarily come through intuition, mistakes, and sometimes just plain, dumb luck.  When she does give up her fish, they are downright memorable!

The first full day of the week (Sunday) was my 56th birthday.  I fished for several hours that morning with absolutely no action; until there was.  While retrieving a deep diving lure, a fish hit just below the aluminum boat.  I saw the flash, and instantly felt the pull.  What I eventually reeled in was a 23” walleye.  Although I’ve fished a lot throughout my life, for some reason this was my first walleye; and probably one of the last of the main freshwater game fish I had yet to catch.  We postponed my birthday dinner of tacos and had walleye, dipped in Shore Lunch, and fried in butter.  It was a memorable happy birthday indeed!

I Used My Grand-Dad Fagerlund's Old
Fillet Knife To Clean The Walleye.

On Monday morning the air was cool, and with hardly any breeze, the lake was like glass.  I tried several different spots around our end of the lake, but didn’t catch anything until the sun began to heat things up.  Using my Whopper Plopper lure, I caught a nice 18” smallmouth bass that exploded on it and jumped multiple times; all within sight of our cabin and dock.  I released it and watched it swim quickly back under some nearby lily pads.  It’s fun to catch a fish on that surface lure as I feel like Matt Nelson, the YouTube fisherman under the tagname of, “ndyakangler.”  That evening Jodi and I fished together in a back bay for a while.  I managed to catch a 20” pike; releasing it after a quick picture into the water from which it came.

Tuesday morning was slow going.  I caught and released one small pike, but otherwise it was simply time in a boat; which was still worth every minute.  Before heading in, I shared the last hour or so with a doe and her two fawns as they made their way along the shoreline.

On Wednesday morning I started the day by running the hills around the lake, jumping off the dock to rinse off, and eating breakfast.  By that time I had formulated a bit of an adventure in my mind, so with the kayak that comes with our cabin, I set off with some of my fishing gear for a neighboring lake.  It was like being the main character of an epic tale about a guy who trudges through Hell to get to a Heavenly secret lake.  Indeed, it required a lot of grunt work, mud, slogging up and over beaver dams, and wallowing through a swamp, but it was well worth the struggle.  Halfway to my destination I took a break to catch my breath, rest, and was actually able to get a connection so I could talk to my Dad on the phone.  I told him he wouldn’t believe where I was (actually he could picture such a place because he knows me, has done that type of thing himself, and even looked up my location on a satellite image).  The ensuing lake was choked with weeds, but I fished some of the sporadic open sections with a #5 silver Mepps.  After an initial small pike, I managed to catch and wrestle in two twin northerns at a smidge over 25 inches.  I elected to keep them as I truly do love the taste of pan fried pike.  Before I headed back, I caught and released a couple of largemouth bass that were hanging out next to a beaver lodge.  The final paddle across Birch Lake was against the wind, which of course had whipped up some small, rolling whitecaps by that time.  I thought my arms were going to rip out of their sockets before I reached our cottage, but regardless, it was a classic way to end the day’s tale!

Thursday morning’s fishing expedition lasted no more than an hour.  While fishing a small bay, a giant fish went airborne after hitting my Mepps. Spinner.  It was hard to tell what it was exactly.  All I really saw was a large body and a lot of water being thrashed about.  It dove deep, but as I brought it close to the boat, after it had taken multiple runs, I could see that it was a muskie.  I felt fortunate that I had my large, rubberized net.  It’s safe for the fish, and a bit easier to handle them when they are in it.  Make no mistake that with the combination of power, hook barbs, and fish teeth, it’s not what I would label as an easy task.  It is, however, more manageable of a venture as it allows you to keep a fish in the water while using your multi-tool pliers to get the hook out.  Actually, for this fish, which measured at 33 inches, I had to grab it under its jaw and lift it from the net.  I find that it immobilizes them more than a gripper.  This also allowed me to reach down into the muskie’s mouth to extract the treble hook while still holding it.  I lifted it for a quick photograph and then eased it back into the lake, where with a flick of its tail, it disappeared.  At that point, and after a fish like that, I quit for the morning.  That fish was my fourth muskie in three summers, my second of the year, and although the smallest of all of them, I was more than satisfied with the experience!

My Plug Of Cedar
With A Prayer Of Thankfulness
For The Opportunity
Before Each Fishing Adventure.

That afternoon I took the girls to a nearby bay where they caught panfish and perch.  They had fun, laughed, and enjoyed being out on the lake.  We kept 6 of them that we ate that evening along with one of the pike from the day before.

I closed out the week with a 25 ½ inch pike on a cold and early Friday morning.  I took a selfie with the fish and then released it as I didn’t feel as though I needed to keep it (we were already bringing home one of the two pike that I had caught on Wednesday for a meal later this fall).  The interesting story of that last fish was that I was able to see the wake it made as it charged out from some lily pads before it actually hit my spinner.  Talk about short lived anticipation!  Knowing that something was about to happen, I waited only a fraction of a second for the actual strike.

All in all our week together was fun, relaxing, and just what any doctor with half a mind would have ordered.  Fishing was just a portion of what we did that week, but to that end, it was an important facet of the overall experience.  Thankfully, Birch Lake, in its tranquility and serenity, shared some of its secrets and gave up her fish.  Interestingly enough, the brochure for Jung’s Birch Lake Cottages states, “The natural beauty of this 180 acre lake offers you great fishing for Musky, Northern, Bass, Walleye, and Panfish…”  Indeed it does, and indeed it did - on all accounts, with fish that were truly memorable!

See you along The Way…

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