Misguided Fishing Boulder Junction

The most recent guide fail didn’t actually cost Don and I any money. Paul wanted to do a combination grouse hunt and fishing trip. He had a new puppy he wanted to train to point, so he made arrangements to go grouse hunting with a guide. He was also a fishing guide.

My brother, Tim, loves to fish. Unfortunately we rarely get to fish together. He has this thing called “a job” and it really messes with fishing trips. My brother, Steve, loves to hunt. He also likes to get away to do some fishing. Steve farms so he has lots of time off. (That’s a joke).

At any rate, Don, Paul, and I planned to go to Wisconsin. I called Tim and Steve to see if they were available too. We planned the great adventure to the north woods.

Steve and I had fished with Paul at Boulder Junction WI the prior year. (Would you ever admit you were from a town whose initials were “B.J.”?)That trip was covered under adventures in Paul’s boat. This post is about guide fails.

Paul’s guide, Neil, was described by Paul this way. If you go out with Neil every other word is “fawckin”. “Them Fawckin’ grouse will be along the fawckin’ road”. So Paul and Steve went grouse hunting with the guy. They  saw , shot at and missed two “fawckin grouse”. Paul’s puppy, Duke, spent his time wandering around looking, but not pointing at anything. Meanwhile, Tim and Don and I fished where Paul and Steve and I had fished the prior year for smallies.

We had no luck. The next morning we had breakfast with the guide. He told us we were fishing in the wrong spot on the lake. “Dey are out by the island, stacked up like fawckin’ cordwood.”  He said with a strong Irish brogue. He also said to try another smaller lake. Again he told us where “Dey were stacked up like fawckin’ cordwood”

We went out again. We fished where he said. Not one fish was caught by any of the five of us. We never saw anything “stacked up” on the fish finder. After fishing for three days we had no fish. Paul had to get home early, so Steve and Don decided with go with him.

Tim and I stayed on. After all we had another lake where they would be “stacked up”. This day BJ weather decided to make things interesting again.  Wind and rain blew up as we searched the lake for “cordwood”. We never saw any.

Since Don had left, I figured the curse we shared would leave. After several hours blowing around, we drifted over a reef in the middle of the lake. I caught one, tiny, rock bass. Tim and I tried to stay on the reef, hoping for some of those “cordwood” fish. All we caught was one  tiny “fawckin’” rock bass.

We changed lakes, but had no results. Coming back to BJ in the rain we decided to leave a day early.  Don had fished for two days,  Steve and Paul had fished for one, Tim and I had fished for four days. We had two very small fish to show for it, but hey, fishing isn’t about catching fish. The motel owner wanted to know why everybody left early.   

I decided Don must be the Joe jinx guy, but I was the fawckin cloud over his head.