I was invited to a friend’s home in west central Minnesota. So driving from
northeastern Minnesota out away from the northern boreal forest for fishing was a bit of rod shock...

Salmon are moving in the water. Directly in front of me, with fins fanning. Fish now, suddenly still, the water shows motion again and not the fish, like the water and fish trade energies...

I had, up until the last ten days a stiffly starched attitude on becoming a nudist. With the recent humidity my mental position has wilted considerably. My clothes feel like beach towels. I have had about as much energy as a wet sloth. So from a guy that goes from neutral to ninety, this has been a sopping change...

I was seated in a Small quiet café with a thick heavy woolen socks Scandinavian flavor. This is a very small town. It’s so close to the Canadian border they have an exchange rate for your coffee cup, and it’s a good one...

Its underwater lunges, after no fish all day, is pure adrenaline to my body. In typical fashion I start to shake and vibrate. Dave just grabs the net. The drag is rip singing and I ask Dave if he wants the rod. He says “no way it’s your fish”. I'm mentally hoping this isn’t the last or only fish today...

I have seen this antlered deer five times this fall. He’s got a blonde tall tined rack that nobody could forget. He’s not Boone and Crocket or a record head for anybody else. But in my book, he is spectacular. I caught him sleeping one day I was chasing woodcock in October and I have been buck struck, ever since. I watched him sleeping and actually saw him open his eyes...

I'm under the bridge. Nobody gets to this terminal hole sooner then me on the days I fish it. It’s the only spot worth fishing. So to try and crowd the short downstream run or perch in the rock wall above I do not bother. When guys hook up on fish above me it gets dangerous. I love catching fish as much as the next guy but...

Today and yesterday, just like most days I wake at 430 am. This morning I rise from my log bed and slide from underneath my down comforter. Yesterday, I rose from a cot and flipped my sleeping bag off me. I did not brush my teeth or brew a pot of coffee. I donned some bug proof clothes, a rain suit, and life jacket then slid into my fully loaded kayak...

I can drive to the Superior National Forest from several different routes. My favorite is going past one massive piece of rock. It was formed by heat and pressure. The size is akin to your home for said rock. My eyes, even while driving, cannot resist to scan crevasses and small cedars clinging in a crag that cannot possibly hold soil but still supports a tree. So much for a dead lifeless rock...