For over a decade now a buddy and I have spent a week either in late June or early September fishing. We go to a place called Loon Lodge on Lake Temagami north of North Bay Ontario. Sometimes, my brother Whitey from Toronto tags along. It's a fun week. We use it to decompress, fish, eat and - heaven forbid - have a drink or two.
Now we don't drink out on the water. It's against the law in Ontario. And we've been stopped several times just to make sure we're good boys. But we more than make up for it in the evenings, back on dry land. Hey, a guy gets thirsty out under the hot sun on the lake all day. Okay, half a day. Okay, okay for a couple of hours. Then we'll head back for a meal, a brewski or two and a nap before heading back out again.
We've had our share of fish tales to share. Not just about the one that got away and, believe me, there have been plenty of those. There was the time, for example, the boat engine stopped dead and we couldn't get it going. We had to paddle to the nearest cottage. Borrow the fella's phone. Call the Lodge to see if the Lodge owner could come and tow us back. About an hour later the Lodge owner arrives in his boat. By this time it's pouring rain. We still can't get the engine started. The cottage owner leaned down and asked "Does this boat have a kill switch?" Now when the pilot hooks himself up to the switch and for any reason should fall out of the boat the switch switches and kills the engine. I saw a light go on over my buddy's head. He looked down, flipped the switch turned over the motor and guess what! It started right away.
We're often very successful at fishing. My buddy uses real bait. I use plastic worms. Stupid fish love the plastic stuff. We catch bass, pike, pickerel and perch.
But speaking of fish stories, after a few mid-day brewskis sooner or later one has to, um, empty one's bladder. Have you ever tried to pee out of a small boat? It can be quite a challenge, especially if the lake's a little rough. But neither of us have fallen in yet, despite the precarious perch necessary to relieve ourselves. Now that's the mark of a real fisherman!