The Incidental Fishing Expedition

When preparing for the sudden and all-too-brief wilderness canoe trip last weekend, we tossed the fishing equipment in as an after thought. And, eternal optimists that we are, we tossed in a bit of Shore-lunch and oil, too.

Many will tell you that dropping any shiny object into the Boundary Waters is likely to snag you a seafood feast. They might be right, given that I once attracted a toothy Northern Pike with no more than a toe ring and the arch of my foot.

But our experience is extremely limited, and the few times we have drug fishing rods and tackle through the wilderness have produced little more than extra weight in our packs.


This weekend, we floated on lovely, still waters beneath a low blanket of gray cloud cover. Somewhere between good conversations, quite contemplation, and surprisingly interesting water fowl watching, we caught fish.

The girls were with us in spirit. We kept planning for their first foray into the wilderness, especially after the fireflies joined us in the Pixie Hallow campsite.

That's right, both of us!


While I take pride in handling my catch (an extremely feisty Pike) alone (next step, field dress a deer? perhaps not!), Joe wins the Bad A## award for his fearless filleting. E-how instructions and a new fillet knife didn't exactly prepare either of us for the reality of fish guts, but we offered Bob the Bass and Pedro the Pike our endless thanks for their sacrifice.


I don't think I've ever eaten a more satisfying meal.