Fishing with Connie

I had had many enjoyable and screwy times fishing, but the times with her are very special.

When I learned to fish while in college, I was addicted. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any place to fish except the ditch. There were no farm ponds near our farms. They were no lakes either. The only fishing areas were the Hennepin canal and the Green and Rock Rivers. Since I had no idea how to fish a river and the banks of the Green River were very steep, I decided to stay away. I tried the canal, but it was stagnant and smelled. It wasn’t much better than the ditch.

Then I discovered my uncle had quarry pit on his farm. This pit was stocked with largemouth bass.  I decided to try it and brought my future spouse with me. Connie had done some fishing as a kid, so I figured she knew how.

We borrowed a rod and reel for her. As we got to my uncle’s pit, I handed her a nightcrawler worm to put on her hook. After I cast I looked over to see the nightcrawler laying on a rock. Connie was trying to stab it with the hook. A fish hook is curved 270 degrees with a point that curves back in the loop.  I enjoyed watching this take place. Eventually she was successful and started to fish.

We didn’t do too well fishing, but we had a good time. The quarry pit wasn’t easy to fish as it had steep banks and few places to stand. We went back a few times, but decided it wasn’t too much fun.

As we planned our wedding, we talked of options for a honeymoon. Connie’s folks took a vacation trip most years, and often these would involve fishing. One place they stayed was in northwestern Wisconsin. The place was Boyd’s Mason Lake Resort.

This became our destination. We made a reservation for a week. We had no money as I was just finishing college. We had hoped to put together enough money to go by working part time. We also hoped to get some money at our wedding.

Neither of the money things worked out. We had to cancel our plans and hope for a honeymoon sometime later. This actually was a fortunate thing.

With the military draft hanging over my head, I had only a temporary job where I had worked during summer breaks. Because we stayed home, I received a call to interview for a teaching job. Through luck and timing, I was hired to teach on the Friday before school began. Thus began over thirty years in education.  Had we been in Wisconsin that would not have happened.

After we were married Connie bought me my first spinning rod and reel for Christmas. This was a perfect gift and I kept it for many years. Unfortunately I had almost no time to fish. First year teachers are unbelievably busy. My salary was so low, we couldn’t afford anything. I worked every week-end for any part-time job I could find.

We also had moved to Albany on the Mississippi River. The Mississippi is a scary place for novice. It is the superhighway for water traffic. Barges traveling on the Mississippi are pushed in triple lengths greater than a football field. They move forward, but don’t turn or stop for anyone. Imagine standing along an interstate highways and trying to cast a fishing rod. That is how I felt about fishing the Mississippi.

Ely, MN

After a year of marriage, we put together a plan to go on a fishing trip. My former roommate’s close friend, nicknamed Slim, was an avid fisherman. I had met him on our Coleta trout trips and we got along quite well. He was also married, and his wife was originally from Ely, MN. All of her family still lived there.

Ely is at the entrance to the Boundary Waters.  These lakes border the US and Canada and are world famous for fishing. There are restrictions in the Boundary Waters and boats motors are not allowed with few exceptions. Canoes are the mode of traversing the Boundary Waters. Camping is part of the experience.

However, Ely has many other lakes which are not so restricted. It also had many resorts that provide fishing opportunities. We planned to stay at one and fish with a guide. We also planned to fish with Slim’s in-laws for a few days.

It takes “forever” to drive to Ely.

We stayed in a nice cabin on a lake. Included with our stay was a guided trip, which was to include a shore lunch. We had access to a dock, but we didn’t rent a boat. Neither of us had any idea how to drive a boat.

The day with the guide was wonderful. Slim and his wife joined us for the day. We caught walleyes, and northern pike. 

I was never fond of fish. It was almost a requirement for Friday dinner, and we never had fresh fish. On our guided trip, we experienced our first shore lunch. After building a fire next to a large boulder, our guide filleted our morning catch. He cooked them over the fire.The shore lunch fish was absolutely delicious. Both of us ate until we were full.

That evening, we walked down to the dock and Connie threw in a line. After a few minutes, Connie’s reel began to take out line. She grabbed it and tried to set the hook. The line kept going. She pulled and couldn’t turn the fish. We saw it roll and then dive. It was a monster. As it dove, her line snapped with a crack.

The next day we joined Slim’s wife’s family for fishing in a “secret” lake. This lake was privately owned and way off the regular roads around Ely.

We had to walk uphill a long distance before reaching the lake. In addition to fishing equipment we were carrying small boat motors. By the time we arrived, we were exhausted. Fortunately the family had access to a couple of boats that were kept at the lake. Keeping the lake secret proved a great benefit to us. Connie caught a smallmouth on her first cast. This was followed by many others. It seemed the smallies wanted everything we had. This was the one time I think she really enjoyed fishing.

We followed with another shore lunch and still had many fish to bring home. Fresh caught smallies are delicious.

Our final day, I went out with Slim’s relatives, and Connie stayed in. We were fishing Lake Ely which borders the town proper. It also serves as Ely’s airport, and there were several float planes docked by town. While we were out several landed and took off from the lake.

On this trip I was introduced to the concept of “walleye chop”. This is the term locals use to describe miserable cold windy weather that supposedly makes walleyes want to bite. It is definitely “choppy”, and cold. I didn’t have any sea legs and was miserable. I don’t recall catching anything but cold.

As the years were taken up with the army, children, and working every week-end, we never fished. When we relocated to Bloomington, I finally had some time. Most of my fishing was alone or with my fellow principals, although Connie did join me for some before work fishing.

After I retired and bought a boat, Connie agreed to fish with me. Of course, her real interest was relaxing and reading a book. This she often did while we were fishing. Occasionally she would bring a chartreuse green umbrella to keep the sun off. I was hoping none of my friends would see me fishing with a chartreuse umbrella in the boat.

In spite of her lack of interest, she would pick up an throw out a line if we were stopped. She also was good at fishing and caught some fish.

On occasion Connie was disturbed if she actually had a strike or snagged her line. One such snag turned into this trophy channel catfish, which she would not hold for a picture.

Connie has the natural instincts of a mechanic or an engineer. She can see how to fix things just by looking at them. I often ask her to figure out how something goes together. She doesn't believe is using conventional tools. Like McGiver, she can use a shoe or a kitchen knife to fix almost anything.

We don’t fish together anymore. I miss those times, but her interest in the boat and fishing has gone. I would like to do more together. I love being with her when it is just the two of us, like those early years when we couldn't get enough of being together, passing notes in our lockers, and talking on the phone. She is my first and only love. It is because of her all the important things in my life have happened.

 I regret that our interests have diverged, and that she has yet to teach me how to hook a worm laying on a rock. There is always hope.