Weather might be the problem

Don suggested that we might have a problem with weather. If you think about it, we all complain about it. Perhaps we should place our lack of success on the weather, you know, like politicians blame each other.

Paul and I went fishing at Boulder Junction in September. This was years before Paul met Neal. This was our second trip that year. During our first trip in June, we arrived in a thunderstorm. Paul had booked a cabin on a lake. There was no office, and the owner had told Paul to go into a specific cabin as the cabins were unlocked. It was raining so hard we couldn’t read the numbers on the cabins. Paul’s boat cover filled so deep with rainwater, we were afraid it might break the cover. I got out to walk the area to try and find where we to stay, while he tried to get the rainwater off of the cover by driving back and forth and slamming on the brakes. After I found the cabin, I told Paul “let’s stay someplace else”. It was somewhat better than the “Shangi-La” and several notches below “Almost Holiday”. We decided to stay in town, at a hotel near a bar.

By the time we arrived at the hotel, the weather cleared and it was beautiful. We went out right away had a great day of fishing.  We had great success the next day and tried several lakes. The fishing was terrific everywhere. We even had a muskie follow one of Paul’s lures all the way to the boat.

We decided we had to return in the fall. This is why we were back in September.  Paul booked us in the hotel. We arrived early enough to go fishing that evening. We had great fishing and great weather. The next day we were formally introduced to the vagaries of upper Wisconsin weather.

The day started with a hearty breakfast. This was a big mistake for me. As I have gotten older, I occasionally forget that my stomach can’t take all of that food. It was cool that morning, so we dressed in bad weather gear to keep warm.

By the time we arrived at the lake, my insides were in terrible stress. Needless to say, I don’t know what a bear does in the woods, but I know what I did.

As we worked our way out the narrow channel from the dock, the wind picked up. Paul was driving the boat, so he headed for shelter from the wind behind an island. As we approached the island, it began to sprinkle.

As we stopped to fish, it began to sleet. We worked around the back of the island, and  I could see back where we had entered. Paul was facing the opposite way. I started to laugh. Paul asked “Why are you laughing?” I told him to turn around.

The entrance to the lake was not visible. Snow was falling so hard, one could not see ten feet. By the way, we had not had one strike. We decided continuing was unwise and headed back to the dock, moving slowly in the heavy snow.

To wait out the weather, we decided to go in to the Boulder Beer Bar. We had lunch and a few beers. There were some other men there and they were drinking a lot.

After an hour the other men had the bartender fill a couple of growlers with beer from the tap and then they left. We asked where they were taking so much beer. The bartender said they were going fishing. Paul and I decided driving with those guys on the road was unwise. Also we thought the weather was still too bad, so we stayed at the bar. More beer was needed to wash down the bar food (You know, deep fried everything). We then returned to the hotel for a nap.

By evening, the weather cleared. We decided to go back out at a different lake. By the time we got to the lake, Paul was struck with my same ailment from the morning and he also did an impression of a bear in the woods.

Another hour on the lake produced not one bite. It had to be the weather, right?

And on a nice day....

One warm day in January, Paul said “They are catching muskies down below the dam at Lake Shelbyville. We always enjoyed the lake so we decided to drive down for a day trip. Along the way we stopped for lunch just south of where we usually turned off to visit Almost Holiday. We were heading south towards the dam.

As we were waiting to be served, several people came into the restaurant. They described how they had seen a tornado pass just south of our location. Imagine if we hadn’t stopped for lunch?

We decided to continue on, as the weather had cleared.

We didn’t hook a single muskie.

I returned home to find that my dog, Rhett, had tripped Connie while she was walking him. I had trained him to walk on the left, and he was on her right, tried to get to her left and wrapped his lease around her legs. She tore her rotator cuff and ended up with shoulder surgery. She would never be able to pitch in the majors.

She didn't  think I was funny when I said this. 

I should have stayed home.

This is the last post until July 31.