North With Doc: Volume Five
By Greg Knowles
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About this ebook
Doc and the boys from Iowa are heading North for their annual fishing trip to Canada. After dozens of fly-in adventures in Northwest Ontario, and countless walleyes and northern pike boated, their unlikely escapades are as much about friendship as fishing. Doc supplies a bait bucket of laughs while offering his sage advice to help the guys deal with life's inevitable obstacles. If you've ever spent time with a rod and a reel, you'll recognize yourself and your friends in these refreshed versions of the popular In-Fisherman magazine feature that first appeared in 1989. Perfect for enjoying in the living room, the bedroom or the throne room, here are episodes 100 through 125 as Doc and his best buddies are having the times of their lives.
Greg Knowles
Greg Knowles was born on a ping pong table in the basement of his parents' unfinished home near Knoxville, Iowa. He began his education in a one-room schoolhouse at four, and was writing stories by the age of seven. After a year at the University of Iowa, he was all set to take a shot at the Iowa Writer's Workshop when he lost his 2A draft status due to low grades and general indifference, and spent the next four years in the US Navy. Knowles eventually earned a BS in Journalism with advertising emphasis from Iowa State University. Three decades of ad agency work followed, during which he was a copywriter, broadcast producer and creative director. He has written his North With Doc humor column for In-Fisherman magazine for more than 20 years, and has many projects underway, including a soon-to-be-released thriller novel with his brother, Mel. Knowles lives in Tucson, Arizona, with his wife, Sandy Tweedy, and a cute yet cantankerous rat monkey of a pom/silky terrier aptly named Jezebel.
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North With Doc - Greg Knowles
North With Doc — Volume Five
By Greg Knowles
Published by Greg Knowles at Smashwords
Copyright 2012 Greg Knowles
Cover illustration by Peter Kohlsaat
Discover other titles by Greg Knowles at Smashwords.com.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
DEDICATED TO
ALL THE WIVES
AND GIRLFRIENDS
WHO ALLOW THEIR MEN
EVERY NOW AND THEN
TO ESCAPE THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD
WITH A HANDFUL OF LURES
AND A ROD AND A REEL
Preface
This batch, Volume Five, begins the middle of 2005 and rolls all the way into 2010. By mid-decade the U.S. economy that would tank a few years later had already begun to sag and lag in the advertising business. I know, because writing copy for ads, brochures and other materials is how I made my living for forty years. A shortage of ad dollars also was tough on In-Fisherman magazine where these episodes appeared, so the Doc column would get bumped every now and then, and sometimes be put on the magazine's website instead of in the book. However, gradually Doc and the guys returned to the magazine four to six times a year.
In good times and those not so good, somehow we fishermen (and the fictional North With Doc crew) managed to scrape up the cash to continue the tradition of annual fly-in trips with Knobby's.
Fishing for a week at a remote lake where you may see no other humans except the check flight pilot is a pure delight. Especially in a fishery as vast, productive and naturally renewable as the Northwest Ontario Bush. Once upon a time the pine forest was virtually unbroken all the way from the take-off point in Sioux Lookout to the remote outpost lakes on the Cat River chain. Pulp logging has cleared much of the area, and roads snake in and out of marshes on the way north, but the lakes we fish are still surrounded by dense stands of trees and are accessible only by float plane.
In this book, the gang is at it again. As the years flash by, the boys have begun to be concerned with weight gain and with getting serious about cutting back on sweets, fatty foods and the fruit of the barley. At least until Doc mixes up one of his caustic Black Russians in a Big Gulp cup, and convinces the fishermen that going overboard one week a year isn't going to kill them.
One thing they all agree on is that catching Mr. Big is an important enough reason to sit in a boat ten hours a day, but that the company of good friends trumps a trophy every time.
Tight Lines & Better Times
Greg Knowles
Table of Contents
Episode 101 – Dead Serious
Episode 102 – Doc Bites Back.
Episode 103 – The Casting Call
Episode 104 – Weavers
Episode 105 – Doc Gets An Earful.
Episode 106 – The Hulls With Boughs Of Holly.
Episode 107 – Doc's Formula For Failure
Episode 108 – The Manic Mechanic
Episode 109 – Knobby Takes Us Back To Better Times
Episode 110 – The Gift That Keeps On Giving
Episode 111 – Three Things We'll Never Tell Knobby
Episode 112 – Favorite Places
Episode 113 – On The Road To Ruin
Episode 114 – Snapshots Of Paradise
Episode 115 – Doc's Artificial Intelligence
Episode 116 – The Price Of Paradise
Episode 117 – Doc's Winter Wonderland
Episode 118 – Living Large
Episode 119 – Doc's Pregnant Pause
Episode 120 – Swashbuckled Doc
Episode 121 – Goodwill Fishing
Episode 122 – Doc Measures Up.
Episode 123 – Doc Goes Rogue
Episode 124 – Doc's Lost Cause
Episode 125 – Holiday Greens
Episode 101
Dead Serious
It was a dark night. Darker than a homicide detective's heart. The quarter moon didn't have the guts to break through the low-hanging clouds on Roadhouse Lake. The wind blew. A Northwest Ontario screamer. A mean wind. Meaner than a snake with a hangnail. Cut through you like a fillet knife right out of the box. And cold. Cold enough to freeze your BVDs.
Doc and I were making plans. Big plans, I tell ya. At daybreak we'd pull off the biggest caper of our lives. Or die trying.
Doc?
Yeh,
he answered. We had to speak up to be heard over the roar of the wind and the snores coming from the goons at the rear of the cabin. Nice place. One of Knobby Clark's remote fly-in outposts. A safe shelter from the storm outside.
The other guys turned in early. But not us. We had work to do.
What's your weapon?
I asked.
Ambassadeur 5600C3 nailed to a Fenwick HMXT66MH.
Wheeoo,
I breathed. That's mighty heavy hardware.
Big job. Can't go skinny.
Whatcha doing for cable?
Trilene XT.
Extra tough?
Yup. Going twenty-five. Hope that's enough.
What's the link?
Titanium leader. Eighteen inches. Ball bearing swivel on one end, a Cross-Lok snap on the other.
Not taking any chances.
Would you?
The wind knocked hard on the cabin door. Knocked like an old girlfriend looking for rent money. I wasn't about to let her in.
Doc put his rod and reel on the table, got up and fed another log into the Franklin stove. The dry wood caught and the sap-filled bark cracked like pistol shots. Brought back memories.
I lifted Doc's tackle box from the plywood floor. It was heavy. Heavy enough for two men. But I managed.
Doc opened the center latch, swung up the trays. Colors so bright they hurt my eyes. Chrome and brass. Red and white. Blue and green. Hooks honed to needles.
You gonna choose one tonight?
No.
Why not?
Doc gave me a look. A squinty, angry look through one watery eyeball. Could have been the smoke crawling up from his cheap green stogie. Or maybe he was as tough as they say.
Gee, Doc. I didn't mean anything by it,
I said.
That's okay, kid,
he replied, his voice soft but with an edge to it. An edge made of pig iron fresh from the smelter. He gave my shoulder a punch. Like I was a pal. A real pal. You'll learn,
he said.
I swallowed hard, gathered my courage, and asked, So when you pick a lure tomorrow, how will you know, Doc?
Listen up and listen good,
he said.
I leaned forward, the light from a single swinging bulb made shadows dance on the walls. I imagined a Skagway saloon. Rotgut liquor. A piano player. Gamblers, cheaters and dames. Dangerous Dan McGrew.
Silver in the sun. Copper in the clouds,
Doc said.
I had to repeat it. Silver in the sun. Copper in the clouds.
Remember that, kid,
he said.
I looked into that tackle box and my open-wide peepers roved over the silvers and coppers. All kinds of spoons. Krocodiles. Cleos. Dardevles. Hot Rods.
Doc was on the hunt. He'd bet money with the banker—lots of money—that he'd land a trophy pike before the week was out. The pressure was oppressive. A lesser man would have folded like a cheap camp stool. But Doc didn't show it. He leaned back and puffed his cigar. It smelled like a burning slaughterhouse. He didn't seem to notice.
But where will we go?
I asked. It was big water out there. Big enough to get lost in. Maybe lost for good.
Doc unfolded a map. It had been around. Coffee stains. Burn marks. Fish treasures marked with exes.
Suddenly the attorney, one of the more colorful members of our fishing party, appeared at a bedroom door, yawning and scratching. Winnie the Pooh pajamas in XXXL. Homer Simpson slippers. An Oregon Ducks stocking hat that quacked when you squeezed the bill.
Doc moved his elbow over the tattered document to protect it from view. What do you want...shyster?
he said.
Drink a water,
the attorney replied.
Then get it and get out,
Doc said. He fixed the attorney with a steely, unwavering stare, watched while a bottle was unscrewed, tipped up, put back in the cooler. The force of Doc's gaze drove the attorney stumbling back through the bedroom door. Bedsprings squeaked. A sleeping bag zipped. In a moment the snoring resumed.
Can't be too careful,
Doc said. He uncovered the map, silently pointed to where the cabin sat on a small narrows, the Cat River emptying into the lake from Bamaji above.
His finger traced the shoreline, stopping here and there, then slowly moving on. At a point on the far southeast edge, No Man's Land, he began to tap the paper. He smiled. It was a good smile. A dentist's smile.
Here,
he said. We begin here.