Once Upon the Water

By Mike Yurk

Once Upon The Water is a series of adventures that take you fishing along with the author from Canada to Mexico with numerous stops closer to Mike Yurks home in the upper Mid West. But the adventures are more than travels to faraway places and catching fish. They are memories shared with friends and family that make them. There are recollections of fishing over the years with a cousin, taking Mikes 82 year old mother fishing, a tribute to the grandfather who taught Mike how to fish, and reminiscences of his father while fishing his fathers favorite trout stream. Adventures with his son and sons-in-law illustrate the special relationships formed and crazy antics occurring while fishing together. A lazy day of fishing on a hot summer day with Mikes wife evoke the joys of when the living is easy. There are fishing tales from Alabama in an email from England and a testimonial to a buddy who travels from Germany to fish in America. Join Mike and long time friends as they fish when it is twenty below zero on a winter day in northern Minnesota, a trip when they catch walleyes from a remote lake in Canada and on another adventure where they fish for smallmouth bass that are as big as footballs. Old bonds are rekindled with family and friends during an annual gathering where the champagne and memories flow. An old and new friend fish together in Key West and a new fishing buddy is found due to a chance encounter on the way to Mexico. Fishing is an adventure not because of where you are or what you catch but because of the people who share it with you. It all starts once upon the water.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 2, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477245392

Mike Yurk

Mike Yurk has been writing about the outdoors for over half a century., He has written for several newspapers and published over a thousand magazine articles in regional and national publications. This is his tenth book with AuthorHouse. After a twenty year career with the United States Army, taking him around Europe and the Middle East as well the Unites States, he returned to his home state of Wisconsin. He lives there with his angler wife Becky, and is working on his next book.

Book preview

THE BACHELOR PARTY

Todd has never been known for doing things in a conventional manner. Most people have the bachelor party first and then the wedding. But not Todd. He had the wedding and then his bachelor party. This can not be entirely blamed on Todd’s penchant to do things differently but that is the way that it turned out, anyway.

We are driving north. Todd and I are in my van with my boat and behind us are Brian and Damien with Damien’s boat. The landscape is changing the further north we are driving. We are leaving behind the rolling farmlands of central Minnesota and now seeing more hardwood forests and pine trees.

We are on our way to Todd’s Bachelor Party. The day before we were all sitting in Las Vegas eating breakfast at a casino. Two days before that we were watching Todd exchange wedding vows and rings with Sarah at the Little Chapel of the West. Now we are headed to Red Lake, Minnesota.

Todd and I are talking baseball. Our team the Brewers are doing the best that they have done in years; at least since the year that they went to the World Series. In Brewers land there is much excitement. The Twins are also doing well and since three of us live near Twin Cities we follow the Twins as well. Since the teams are in different leagues, we can cheer for both teams with the exception of twice a year when they have a three game inter-league series against each other.

Tomorrow night the Brewers will be hosting the Twins for the first of these inter-league series. We are hoping that we will be able to get the games on television at the resort that we are going to. Damien happens to be a Twins fan so I expect that there will be much carrying on about sports this weekend.

We talk about football. Again there are sharp rivalries here. Damien and his wife Kim are major Viking fans. Brian and I and our wives are Packer fans. Todd is a Buccaneer fan. I do not know where that came from but Todd is a reformed Viking fan so I guess I should not complain. We never talk about basketball. We do not consider basketball a real sport. Whenever there is a potential comment about basketball we quickly switch to politics. Politics may be a dirty game but it is better then basketball. The miles melt behind us as we continue north. Todd is navigating with the map laid out across his lap.

This trip did not start out as Todd’s bachelor party and we weren’t suppose to be going to Red Lake either. In winter, when fishing season was still a dream and cold winds tugged at the corner of the house, I had proposed to the boys going to a place called Gunflint Lake on the Minnesota/Ontario boarder. I had heard that they have lake trout there and I was interested in fishing for them. I had never fished for them before and it was something new. They agreed with me so I made reservations at a resort looking across a large bay where the lake trout would be in spring. In early May the lake trout come into the shallow water and can be caught by long line trolling. Shortly after Memorial Day they head back to deep water and are much tougher to catch. So the boys and I decided to go the Thursday after the Minnesota fishing season opener.

Two months later in the end of February, Todd and Sarah decided to get married. They wanted to go to Las Vegas. So it was planned that we all, which included my wife Becky and I, Todd’s two sisters, brother-in-laws, a niece and nephew, my sister and a old family friend and his wife, would gather in the desert at Las Vegas for this event. We would leave on the Saturday, which was the opener of the Minnesota fishing season. The wedding would be Monday and on Wednesday we would return and the next morning the boys and I would take off for Gunflint Lake. Brian, Damien and I decide that we will make the trip Todd’s bachelor party.

It seemed like a great plan. But nature had other ideas. About a week and a half before we left a fire had started at a place called Ham Lake which is near the Gunflint Trail which leads to Gunflint Lake. I saw in the newspapers that homes and resorts along the Gunflint Trail were being evacuated. I call our resort. Don’t worry, they tell me. The fire is some distance away. The Friday, the day before we leave, I am getting packed for Vegas the next morning and Gunflint Lake the day after we get back.

I pick up the newspaper and on the front page is a large color photo of our resort being evacuated. This is not good. But it will be five days before we get back from the Vegas trip and leave for Gunflint Lake. A lot can happen in that time. I continue to pack. Before we leave the next morning I copy down our resort telephone number and will call just before we get back.

The day after the wedding, I am sitting in my motel room. I look outside to see a relentless sun and blue skies overlooking the barren, rocky, brown desert. I call the number for our resort and one of the owners answers. This a good sign but she tells me that the Gunflint Trail is still closed because of the fire and will probably not be open for another few days. But the good news is that their resort had been spared by the fire and they will be able to reopen as soon as the road is cleared.

So what next? I had brought along one of the magazines that I write for and went through it. There was an advertisement from a resort on Red Lake in northern Minnesota. I had been hearing about Red Lake for some time and had always thought about fishing there. Now, I guess, I might have the chance. I gave Red Lake a call. I talk to a lady and she tells me that all their cabins are full but they have a trailer still available. I talk to Brian and Damien. It sounded good to them. I call the lady back and I can hear that a bar, somewhere in the background, is busy. She tells me that I need to call back later.

I’m in Las Vegas, I tell her. I am leaving to go gambling.

Oh my, she says. I imagine that they do not get many calls from Las Vegas. She hurriedly takes down my name and a credit card number.

I will see you in two days, I tell her.

See you in two days, she responds back as she hangs up.

Becky and I and our two friends go gambling. I end up losing fifteen dollars and Becky loses five. We could have saved ourselves twenty dollars if we had stayed in our motel room and called the resort back instead of going gambling.

It is a warm and sunny day as we are driving north to Red Lake. Maybe it was not as warm and sunny as Las Vegas but certainly warm and sunny by Minnesota standards. Todd and I even have the air conditioning on. We talk more about baseball and football and even politics. But not basketball. We stop just short of Red Lake at a combination gas station and grocery story. I fill up the van and get some potatoes and a bag of ice. I call the resort to make sure that they know that we are coming. It is getting to be early evening and with the quickness of making reservations two days earlier I did not want them to think that we changed our mind.

Don’t worry, said the lady who had taken my credit car number two days earlier. You are only about a thirty miles away. You will run into some road construction, she warned as she hung up.

An hour later after getting through the road construction we get to the resort. As the lady hands me the keys to the trailer so says you are the guys from Las Vegas. Apparently we have achieved some local notoriety. Brian and Damien head for the trailer and Todd and I stop at the bait shop.

The fish are biting, a man at the bait shop tells me. This is always good news. The crappie fishing is down but the walleyes are good.

I ask him where would be a good place to go. He tells me once I get out of the marina, go where you see the other boats. It might not be the most scientific method but if it works who am I to complain.

Once we get to the trailer, Brian and Damien are absolutely gushing about our accommodations.

This is the lap of luxury, Brian says.

We have never had it this nice before, Damien added.

They are indeed right. On our trips to Lake of the Woods and Canada we have stayed in some fairly rustic and austere places. This trailer is different. We have all the amenities of home. We have an oven and a television with a DVD player and even a washer and dryer.

You are right, I tell the boys. We have never had it so good.

The trailer has three bedrooms and we make one bedroom a storage room for all of our fishing equipment and then Brian and Damien take one bedroom and Todd and I take the last one. We bring in all of our equipment and food. We have lots of room and we are enjoying the almost opulent spaciousness of the trailer rather then the tight confines of other places we have stayed at. These are great digs. I say to myself.

The food is quickly put in the refrigerator, a beer comes out and I get my bourbon bottle out and Brian mixes me a bourbon and water in a coffee cup. The only thing missing is real cocktail glasses. I guess that we can’t have everything. Besides if I wasn’t drinking my bourbon out of a coffee cup would I really be on a fishing trip?

That night I pan fry steaks in butter and onions. It happens to be a favorite of Brian’s. I serve it with boiled round potatoes with melted butter and coleslaw.

I don’t like coleslaw, Todd says.

You have always liked coleslaw, I tell him.

I have never liked coleslaw, he says again.

This bit of dialog goes on every time we go on a fishing trip. It would not be the same if Todd and I don’t banter about the coleslaw. I actually do know that Todd does not like coleslaw but I need to harass him anyway.

It has a little do with the bourbon but a lot more to do with the long drive and the day of traveling from Las Vegas and getting the van packed the night before that it doesn’t take long after dinner before I begin to nod out. It is time for bed. There will be fish to catch tomorrow.

I am surprised to find Todd up the next morning. This does not happen often that Todd gets up before me. I look outside. It looks cool and cloudy. I make coffee. In a few minutes the other two boys get up. There is much excitement now with the anticipation of the days fishing in front of us.

I tell Todd that today he must become one with the jig.

There has to be something else that will work, Todd says. Todd doesn’t like jig fishing. Although he hates coleslaw more then jig fishing, fishing with jigs of any sort has never been his forte. Even in Canada, where it is almost impossible not to catch fish with jigs, Todd has managed to have a tough time with jigs. I think it has become something almost devilish with him and jigs. This begins an extensive discussion with everyone joining in on Todd becoming one with the jig.

We turn to discussing the day’s fishing in front of us as we are rigging rods with bait rigs and jigs. I think that Todd is happy for us to change the subject. He was relieved for us to talk about something else then his becoming one with the jig.

We have open tackle boxes and rods sprawled across the living room floor. I notice that Brian is not wearing a Harley Davidson t-shirt. I am surprised. He owns a Harley motorcycle and like most Harley owners it seems like every t-shirt he owns has something to do with Harleys. Becky and I have even added to his wardrobe of Harley shirts by getting him shirts from our travels. He has Harley shirts from places like Cozumel, Mexico and Key West, and other places that we have traveled. It seems to me that anyone that owns a Harley has an inexhaustible supply of Harley t-shirts. It makes me wonder at times if Harley Davidson makes the motorcycles only to sell the t-shirts.

Did you sell your Harley? I ask him.

No, he says. Why do you ask?

Your not wearing a Harley t-shirt. I thought maybe you gave up your motorcycle and the Harley t-shirts at the same time.

I do have other shirts, he said. Besides I am wearing my Harley belt buckle.

From Todd’s oneness with the jig to Brian’s Harley shirt collection we get into a discussion of Pink Floyd. I mention that I had just read an article about Pink Floyd and Damien mentions that he will be seeing one of the surviving members of Pink Floyd in concert during the summer. I tell him that I remember in the days of my youth when Pink Floyd was also young that they did a version of House of the Rising Sun. I even remember having a 45 record of Pink Floyd’s House of the Rising Sun. Every time I tell someone that, they invariably look at me like I am nuts or did massive quantities of drugs or both. If I tell someone who is young that I once had 45 records they look like I must be really old. That must have been in the days before we had automobiles.

Damien suggests that I do a Google search of Pink Floyd House of the Rising Sun. A week later after getting home I do just that and find that Pink Floyd had made a version of House of the Rising Sun and they issued it on 45s but never put it on any of their albums. I feel vindicated. It must be the rest of the people that looked funny at me that were nuts or did massive quantities of drugs or both. I was right.

Brian makes venison sausage sandwiches and we start to pack ice chests with beer and water and snacks that were left over from our travels to Las Vegas. Once again we talk about Todd becoming one with the jig. Todd looks pained like he would prefer that we talk about Harley t-shirts or Pink Floyd again or anything else but his becoming one with the jig.

We start to drag all the gear out to the boats and get them ready for fishing. Rods and tackle boxes are stowed and we make sure that we have rain gear. It looks like we will need it.

I notice in Damien’s boat he has a Packer urinal. Shortly after I got my last boat a nephew had to go into the hospital and when he came home he had a surplus of hospital urinals. He gave me one. It would be ideal for having in the boat.

Being a Packer fan and living close to Minnesota, the Packer/Viking rivalry reaches new levels of intensity. So therefore I went out and bought several Viking bumper stickers and cut out the Viking symbols and stuck them on my urinal. I and most of my Packer buddies take a great deal of glee in using the Viking urinal while we are fishing. Most of my Viking buddies just grin politely or pee over the side of the boat. I have even offered to make them Viking urinals and they emphatically decline. Damien and his wife, my daughter Kim, are Viking fans. I have done my best to raise my kids but some will stray. What can I say. However, Damien seemed truly offended by my Viking urinal and vowed that whenever he bought a boat he would have a Packer urinal. When he got his boat the first thing he did was go out and make a Packer urinal.

It is windy on the lake and the boat rolls in the waves. Gray clouds swirled overhead with the promise of rain. Once we got out from shore we see a large group of boats north of us. They did say to go where the other boats were. We head north. Brian and Damien are in Damien’s boat and could not go as fast as my boat so I throttled back the motor so that we can stay together.

Red Lake is unique. It is actually two lakes; Lower and Upper Red Lake. Lower Red Lake and the west half of Upper Red Lake is within the boundaries of the Red Lake Indian Reservation and is therefore considered tribal waters. Only tribal members are allowed to fish these waters. Non tribal fishermen that have strayed in these waters have been arrested and boats and in one case an airplane have been confiscated. Understandably there are some hard feelings and a couple of law suites have been initiated. The eastern half of Upper Red Lake, where we are at, is out of the reservation and is open for public fishing.

Apparently, Red Lake is destined for controversy. It was at one time one of the most fantastic walleye fisheries in northern Minnesota. It had so many walleyes that no one could imagine that they could all be fished out. Sounds a lot like the passenger pigeon story. The tribe had been commercial fishing the lake for years and eventually unrestricted harvesting caused a collapse of the walleye population. But commercial fishing wasn’t the only one to blame. As I understand it, poaching and over fishing by sportsman also contributed to the lakes decline. Anyway by 1990 the walleyes were virtually all fished out. A tremendous fishery had been killed off.

However, this was not the death of the lake. The crappie population began to flourish with less competition for the available forage. Then a year or two hit it right. All the moons lined up the right way and the wind dropped and the water temperature rose to the proper spawning temperature and crappies had a perfect spawn. There was an explosion of crappies in the lake like no one had foreseen. Suddenly there were large schools of huge crappies roaming the lake. The word got out and fishermen stampeded their way to Red Lake. Once again Red Lake had great fishing.

But the crappie fishing was not destined to last forever and it was expected that eventually those large schools of crappies would decline and now it is happening. Several years ago the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources in conjunction with the Red Indian Reservation decided to stock walleyes again.

For several years they stocked walleyes and closed the lake for walleye fishing. Last year they finally opened it for the first time. I believe that it became the most eagerly anticipated lake opening in all of Minnesota history. People flocked to the lake. But to protect the fledging walleye population new regulations were set in place. Only two fish per person could be kept and no fish from seventeen to twenty six inches could be kept. Reports came back that there was great walleye fishing again at Red Lake. When the Gunflint Lake trip had fallen through I thought it was time to check out Red Lake for ourselves.

We were only fishing for about five minutes when I felt a fish slam my jig. I set the hook and the fish tore off. I yelled for Todd to grab the net. The fish put up stiff resistance and my spinning rod was bent double as the fish pulled off line. Finally I got the fish close enough to see as Todd extended the net. It was a sheepshead. Although the sheepshead is considered by many people as a trash fish, it does put up a great fight on light gear. Now mind you, I would never want to eat one. There are some people who do eat them but then there are people who eat sushi. I am not care to eat either sushi or sheepshead. But they are fun to catch and that is what fishing is all about.

A few minutes after I have released my sheepshead, I see Todd pull up his spinning rod and it is bent as a fish is pulling against it. I quickly pull in my rod and grab the net, standing on the side of the boat waiting for the fish to get close enough to see. The fish puts up a stubborn fight and within a few moments I see a sleek silver shadow below the water. It is a walleye and Todd leads it into the net as I pull up the net with the fish twisting in the mesh. It is a good sized fish and Todd pulls the fish out, twists out the hook and puts it against the tape measure that is glued to the side of the boat. It is seventeen and a half inches. It is too big to keep and Todd slips it back into the water.

Who would have thought I would catch my first fish on a jig, Todd said as he sat back on the seat at the back of the boat, dropping his minnow and jig overboard.

You will become one with the jig yet, I tell Todd.

We drift with the wind, using the trolling motor sparingly. We steadily catch fish. After every drift we head upwind to let the wind drift us back. We check with Damien and Brian. They are catching fish too. We are amazed on what good fishing we are finding and I remark at one point that this is the best walleye fishing I have found outside of Canada.

Damien and Brian are anchored. It is a good idea, Unfortunately, I had forgotten my anchor. Because I am primarily a bass fishermen I seldom use an anchor. I do have an anchor