Reality can be brutal

Jackets, hoods, raingear and even lifejackets are being worn to keep what little body heat is left after the 15-20 mph winds suck away reserves. The fishing is just as cold. 11 am drifts by on another wave with one small walleye in the boat. I wish I could wake up from this nightmare but reality can be brutal.

The alarm is interrupting a perfectly peaceful morning at the Holiday Inn and Suites. Nice beds, way too nice to leave this early. Nick and the gang are driving over from Minot Air Force Base and if I get up we plan to meet at Grahams Island State Park for a fun day on the water. A quick shower and I head down to the lobby for breakfast. Ya, I said breakfast. Ain’t gonna get better, I don’t care where you stay. A cheese omelet, sausage, sweet roll and coffee make the cloudy NW wind look bearable. I fill my thermos and head out to gas up. Sweetest thing to enter the day so far apart from that cinnamon roll is the truck heater.

What are the chances of two cars leaving from two separate destinations, traveling two separate directions, at unknown times meeting at the intersection to Grahams Islands State Park? I don’t know either but it happened. Nick pulled over and followed me into the parking lot as he got a park pass and I finished getting the boat ready. We launched with the idea of heading over to Doc Hagens and looking around for walleyes in the areas protected from wind.

Look is all we did and as I mentioned by 11 am I was beginning to sweat but not because of the August heat. One measly little walleye! By noon I started to get feeling back to my extremities, including my brain, so first move was over to where we started the day. Leadcore in front of the trees along Grahams Island sounded like a reasonable plan. We turned the boat with the wind to make our first pull in 20-22 feet. The RS4’s are down at 110 feet back with 4 different colors in hopes of salvaging the day.

If the walleyes don’t talk to you how ya suppose to know what they want? Eventually we got fish # two on the same color, Blue/Chrome. Not a color I normally use on a cold, cloudy day but it’s the only info the fish have given up. Turns out it was enough, as by early afternoon things were looking like I may salvage what little reputation I have left. I tried to encourage the gang by telling them that picking guides is a lot like picking wild mushrooms. You never know you got a bad one ‘til it’s too late. “What’s the matter fellas, you got no sense of humor?”

Later in the afternoon it got, better the fishing got. Dave entered the ring with a middle weight wearing the blue/chrome Reef Runner Rip Shad. Nick was in the opposite corner with the same colors but wearing a Rapala RS4. Before long we were getting doubles and even a triple. Chris was hoping for some northerns which I figured would be no problem. Turns out we only got the one but it was a fish to smile about.

I’m beginning to believe we may end the day with at least a fish fry as fishing this afternoon is as consistently good as this morning was consistently bad. What a contrast and for no reason, well just maybe a possible reason. Don’t let this out but my real secret to a good day on the water is my wife. We normally check in with each other and Julie always asks how it’s going. If it ain’t good news she starts praying. As you might imagine I keep her pretty busy, today being no exception.

The guys are as great a group as a guide can share a day of drama with. Never, not once, did I get any pressure or questioning look, even after a fishless morning. Only thing that came my way was constant encouragement from Chris. “We’ll get ‘em, I got confidence in you.” Thanks Chris, I don’t fish well under pressure.  Turns out Chris was right. Reality can be so sweet.  A count from the livewell put us at 25. Not bad for a ½ day of fishing. Location, leadcore, blue/chrome, genius guide, prayer, I’ll let you decide.