We broke three rods this year.  We had been doing so well lately it was only a matter of time before it all caught up.  The first broken rod was Larry Clark.  My father, Bob Taylor, Larry Clark and I were on the trail from Lower Cranberry to Billy on the first day of fishing.  I was in back with the trolling motor over my shoulder when I came upon stopped traffic along the trail.  Seizing the opportunity to stop for a moment, I dropped the trolling motor to the ground without examining what was underneath.  Apparently, I dropped the motor on the rods that Taylor had laid down while we were stopped.  We did not realize what had happened until Clark discovered the soft spot in the fiber of his rod as he was gearing up to fish for the morning.  I loaned him my dear Ugly Stick to get him through the week. The second broken rod was Bob Taylor's and the third was Todd Swenson after he had tried to tackle the Great White Lightning.  Todd never even had a chance to use the rod before it was bent over the gunwale of a lake boat.

Fishing that first day on Billy was fantastic.  We found a spot on the North end of Billy where a mess of plate sized Bluegills were holding.  I chucked crawlers with a small float and reeled in a quick half dozen while Bob threw a series of hard and soft baits for bass.  He had asked me to bring a few crawlers for him... just in case... but opted out when the opportunity arose.  I could sit under the blue sky all day and skip big bream across the water.  As it always does around late morning, the wind began to pick up and we decided to change strategy and troll for Northern.  By the time we met my father and Larry Clark at the portage, we had a heavy stringer of bass and bluegill to hoist.  The two reported that Little Lake on the Hill did not produce like she usually does.  I still think a few monster pike prowl the shoreline feasting on the over abundance of bass.  Now, she regains her equilibrium.  We had lunch under the pines on the North East shore and took a little nap under the afternoon sun.

The four Kline's spent a day on the Big Lake fishing, enjoying the weather and the time together.  They fished a lot together this year... I imagine trying to make up for the many months during the year they are apart.  They came back with big smiles and tall tales of a shore lunch cooked on Nick's Whisperlite stove.  Nick cooked up three nice Smallmouth, once of which was in the 17" class. 

The next day, Larry, Jim, and Mike fished the Big Lake.  Mike caught a second? 18" Smallie but not too much else.  They arrived back early and enjoyed the afternoon sitting on the main dock in an extended happy hour while presenting the returning fisherman a cold beer upon arrival. Bob Taylor & Todd Swenson arrived from Billy with another great stringer of Bass and Bluegills.  Todd was beaming, hands dark from worm gut and dirt.  Bob was still reluctant to hook the mighty crawler and spent most of his energy throwing lures in and out of his tackle box.  Jim and Todd ended up in the fish cleaning shack dulling knives and preparing the weeks dinner.  I headed to Sandy Beach for a swim in the soft sands that are slowly disappearing.  The large beach that once covered the end of the bay is shrunken and muddy.  The grasses invade quickly.  Still, its a bit of heaven stripping naked in floating in the quiet bay.  No jet skis, no skiers, no sounds but the wild world around.  South of the beach in a smaller cover is a new active beaver hut.  After the water settled from my entrance, I could hear the soft barking of young beaver under the stick and mud hut.  In the later hours of the day, when the sun faces squarely from the west and shines fully on sand beach, I daydream of never leaving.

At Sandy Beach I was washing off the grime from hiking with my dad, Garland and Jerry to fish Basson.  At the portage on High, we arrived to a rising wind.  As I lowered the trolling motor to the ground, a swirling wind touched down on the shallow water and began sucking up water.  Nobody moved, or talked.  We just stared at this small water spout as it sun along the surface of the water and finally exploded apart, spraying water over the narrow bay to High.  We couldn't believe what we saw.  Fishing on Basson was fun. The famous point at the far East end was unproductive but the islands East of the portage were on fire.  My father and simply tied ourselves to a few trees on the shore and fished the drop off for Smallmouth.  I could have sat there all day with my father chucking out crawlers into the clear Basson waters.

This night, Chuck made T-bone steaks for all the fisherman.  He served them with bowls of fresh wild blueberries.  Perhaps an apology for threatening to kick us off the island while we were still unpacking the vehicles.  Garland made Beans w/bacon and Todd cooked up baked potatoes for everyone.  I had stopped by the Bundi's and picked up fresh homemade bread from a bread baking party Matt threw.  What a feast.  After dinner, we drew partners for euchre.  Larry Clark was my partner but we never ended up playing.  Too busy fishing and Jack wasn't around to hound everyone.

Immediately after the drawing, Todd and I headed out to fish.  We hit 3-pine and then the Bay Finn.  While fishing we could hear Matt & Carol and my father talking to each other across the lake talking on their talkabouts.  Fishing was not great so we headed to Rocky Channel but caught no Walleye-- only Rock Bass.  We stayed too long fishing, hoping the night would bring an open sky and a little moon light for the ride back to the island.   No moon came out so I struggled at 35MPH to find my way through the channel and back to the island.  While fishing, a group of canoes and 8 people passed... they were looking for a scale for two big Lake Trout.  I am still wondering how they caught those Lake Trout with only rods.... in August.... Later, Carol rode by on her way to some friends on the island.    That night, Coons broke into Todd Swenson's cooler and devoured a few hundred worms. 

Yesterday, I saw an Osprey over Stoney...