OUTDOOR Adventures

BY BRIAN G. SCHOMMER

The annual trek to the Canadian border has come and gone and while eventful in many ways, the fishing was slow, and the fish were small. Of course, it would be easy to spin a few fish tales as an angler of 56 spins around the sun, it certainly would be in my wheelhouse, but not today. In the two days fishing, a pair of sixteen-inch Walleye were the largest fish caught with a couple other “eyes” and sauger between the fourteen and fifteen (and a half) type. These are great “eaters” and a limit of them would have been awesome. Unfortunately, these were few and far between. You might say that the “and a half” when it comes to these fish is almost as important to our fishing party as it would be to a four-year-old who is really “four… and a half.” We did catch enough for a nice fish fry at the cabin and a few small bags of fish for home but, the fishing certainly was nothing to write about… well, except in my case.

The annual trip truly has become much more about the company we keep and the surroundings that we enjoy versus the size of the fish we catch. Last year, the biggest fish was an 18” Walleye, which is a far cry from the twenty-plus inch slabs that were common for the original crew of our party. The stories of the “out of slot, too big to bring home” monsters are just that. Stories. Nobody in the last seven years can prove this type of fish exists, at least where we have been dropping our line. The trip has truly become about the stories. The stories on the way up to the resort, the stories in the ice shacks, the stories on the way back to the cabin and of course, the stories when we get back to the cabin. The stories may or may not have much if anything to do with fishing. Sure, there are always a couple of the “I remember when I was a kid and…” fish tales. A few of us in the party have been hanging out since our early teens and while I admit, some of the stories from our childhood might get embellished a bit, or be a bit embarrassing, good laughs are always had. As we get older though, a lot of the stories we are sharing seem to have a lot more meaning than some of those camping trips at Lake Isabel when we were kids. There are so many things going on in our lives it seems that the trip to Lake of the Woods has become much more of a needed getaway. You know what I am talking about. When life seems to be coming at you from all directions, and there does not seem to be any reprieve, that little break in the action to provide some solace is more of a need than a want.

Never has this been truer for our group than this year. To understand more what I am talking about, a brief description of the composition of this motley crew is imperative. Terry is the “leader” of our pack who started fishing at Lake of the Woods with his father- in-law Gary, who sadly is only with us in heart and mind. Terry was my best man in our wedding, is one of my best friends and technically, is also my second cousin. Terry’s brother Scott is our comic relief, a seasoned outdoorsman, and Mr. “what can I do to help” in all situations. Steve, our camp chef, and co-planner with Terry is not related but may as well be. With me tossed into the mix, that would be the patriarchs, aka, the old guys. Who calls us the old guys? That would be Terry’s son Nick, who is soon to leave his teens and Steve’s son Ryan, who will soon be closer to 30 than 20 (still a pup). Sixty-six percent of our crew is related by blood and with each passing year of friendship, the knit gets tighter and tighter.

Knowing the dynamics of our group will help understand why this year, even had we gotten skunked, the trip was necessary. The amount of loss that our group dealt with in 2022 is almost unimaginable. As a second cousin and friend who grew up with Terry and Scott as a “pseudo brother,” I cannot fathom what they have gone through and continue to deal with. You see, within a months’ time in 2022, they buried two sisters and six months prior to that, also buried a brotherin- law, all three of whom were in their early 60’s. Talk about life crashing in from all sides. We may not have caught much for sizeable fish, but looking back on the trip home, it really didn’t matter. What we needed on this outdoor adventure was each other. We needed the laughter; we needed the camaraderie. We needed the phenomenal dinners that Steve whipped up and the stop at the café in the snowstorm on the way back home. I am sure that in the past, those huge fish were caught. This year, I am happy with the small bag of Walleye that will turn into fish tacos and maybe even a pan-fried fillet for me. I am happy because they will remind me of what the trip was about.

We all struggle with things in life. Sometimes it hits us when we least expect it, and we question if battling back even matters. When you are ready to give up all hope, remember, you have places that you can go that will bring you back. You have a village of folks who understand you and what you are dealing with, at least to a point. Your solace awaits. Get Out and Enjoy the Great Outdoors.