The Bear Essentials

"Daddy, I want Lois!" B-man declared.

"Don't forget your hat and mittens."

"Lois doesn't wear mittens. She wear leashes."

The Haffer and his Mrs. had invited the B-man and I for the weekend. We were headed up to their place along the south shore of Lake Superior for an early spring try at fishing. I was so looking forward to being near the big water, blessed with the invite, and tickled by the company. As I lumbered through warm clothes, gear, snacks, blankets, life jackets... my life insurance policy, B-man was worried about his stuffed dog, Lois.

Lois was a seasoned traveler. She was a spotted white and blacked stuffed dog. She had already been flown to Tampa, Florida and seen Sea World. Was lost momentarily at Disney World. Lois had also portaged many a trail near Burntside Lake in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area, outside of Ely. In fact, B-man had her leashed, and walked her every portage from Burntside to Lake-1, screaming at her when she lagged, "Come Lois. Come! Bad dog. Keep walking Lois!"

Lake Superior was to be her next adventure. B-man, age four, took her everywhere.

This trio of travelers made their way east of the St. Croix Valley, and headed north along old Highway 63. By the time we hit the marshy areas near Turtle Lake, I breathed easier. Lois had been behaving as a good stuffed-dog thus far, and the B-man conversed between us about all the things important to a four-year old.

I attempted to point out the more interesting lakes, and sandy areas of the Central Plain, and where it turns into the quintessential woods of the Northern Highland. B-man spoke about how Lois had ruined his action figure, and liked her tummy rubbed.

The highland covers vast miles of woods, bogs, and marshes. Within it are thousands of glacial lakes, and rivers. Wonderful duck hunting has been had over the centuries. It is my understanding that mountains once stood in the area. Glaciers of the last ice age bull-dozed and wore away these peaks, leaving us gently sloping hills, and forest to lose oneself in.

This area is a throwback in time. It makes me think of the pioneer days of Laura Ingalls, or Caddie Woodlawn, how the woods surrounded all. I think of the Ojibwa and how they lived with nature and the changing seasons. Relaying this sentiment to a four-year-old is an exercise in futility, but alas a worthy attempt. Plant those seeds early friends, and perhaps they will bear fruit.

At a point outside of Brule, oh the mighty Brule... another Wisconsin treasure, we made our way east towards Highway 13, and our destination. The Haffer and the Mrs. have a small cabin on the shores of Lake Superior. It isn't far from Siskiwit Bay. This area of Bayfield County is full of streams and rivers headed down the highlands to Lake Superior below. The Apostle Islands are not far, and the sea caves that collect along the brown sandstone bluffs are a sight to behold.

We met the Haffer, the Mrs., and their dog, Koda, about lunchtime. B-man introduced Lois to Koda, and the trip was nearly lost there. Koda, a seasoned golden retriever and as good a pheasant dog I've seen, saw Lois as a toy snack! That gave B-man more attention than he bargained for. The Mrs. came to the rescue, and took Lois to a safe position above the refrigerator. Koda and B-man were released to the yard to do as boys and dogs have for ages, play.

The Haffer and I planned our fishing outing. The Chris Craft boat was in fine shape. The motor was ready. Rods, and reels had been stored. All the tackle was packed, with sandwiches and beverages locked in a cooler. "There's a mud flat coming out of the harbor. Figure we'll work off the reef in 90' or so. Maybe they'll hit the dipsy today. It's a bit early for down-rigging, but you never can tell,” said the Haffer.

I was at his mercy, as he knew the area and waters far better than I. We collected our contingent and headed for the marina to launch.

Outside of my own desires to tie into a laker, rainbow, or salmon, I hoped B-man would get a chance to tie into a lunker. Chances were good, and the prospect of catching a fish larger than yourself is the dream of any angler! That would be quite a memory for a little boy.

B-man and I spent a few moments at the launch alone. I turned around to speak to him about the marina, how it worked, and about this Greatest of Lakes we were about to fish, but stopped. He had found a stick, and became absorbed with splashing it into the water and debris. B-man was so absorbed in it, I just sat back enjoying a little boy immersed in his own world.

The cough of engine exhaust brought us around. The Haffer was backing up the boat. In moments we boarded, and launched. He hadn't been joking! As we exited the harbor, the shore line looked like chocolate milk! The contrast of muddied water coming out of the rivers and the gin clear blue waters of Superior were striking. We made our way out of the soup and into the clear. With the sun shining, and a calm breeze we made it to the prescribed spot.

The Haffer and I set up the down riggers, and set the depths at ten foot intervals between 90' and 60'. Next we rigged the dipsy divers. B-man was fascinated with dipsy switch and sparkled array of baits. Lastly, we set planer boards off the starboard and port. We were fishing Gitchigammi!

This is a completely different method of fishing than what I am accustomed too. It isn't a casting contest, as I typically have bassing with the Angry Dane, or a lesson on back-casting with the Good Doctor. Trolling along with the Haffer, the radio sings, we soak up the sun, chat, laugh, and munch sandwiches from the cooler... amongst other beverages of choice.

On this particular outing, the Haffer produced a package which, at first glance, made me think summer sausage. The red, tubular length of meat deliciousness was nothing new or noteworthy. The cheese and crackers that accompanied were nothing else of note. The Mrs. cut a few slices, and the B-man munched and chatted happily. He quickly asked for more. We were all enjoying the simple pleasures, waiting for the first rod to pop.

"What do you think of the sausage?" asked the Haffer.

"Good. Lois likes it," said B-man.

"Not bad sir,” says I. "Where'd you get it? Port Wing?"

"Black Swamp! It's from that cinnamon bear I got last fall."

I'd never had bear sausage. It was as all sausage should be... spicy, flavorful, salty goodness. B-man began to giggle. Then began laughing out loud.

"Just what are you giggling about over there?" I asked.

"Lois... ha ha, snicker snicker, giggle."

"What? What did Lois do now?"

About this time the Haffer and the Mrs. were both looking pained, covering their noses, and making an awful fuss. The Mrs. was fanning her nose. Haffer was looking pinched.

"What stinks? Whew! What do you feed that thing B-man?" said the Haffer.

"She has bear toots!" said B-man. At this, we all had a good laugh, accentuated by koda covering his nose lying on the floor of the boat.

The fishing itself wasn't anything exemplary. It was just a joy to be on the water on a beautiful spring day. A joy to enjoy sunshine, breeze, sea gulls, and the lake. It was a joy to share it with such good people, and with such good furry companions. Koda and Lois got along famously, although Koda did steal the occasional winter cap from unsuspecting heads.

The rods remained quiet through the afternoon, so we brought up the down-riggers, and dipsy's. The Haffer took us along the mud line, and that's where we finally connected. It looked like we may have gotten hung-up, but after reeling in, we quickly put the rod in B-man's hands. "Is it a fish?" he asked. Upon confirmation, his brow furrowed, and he put all of his concentration on the task of reeling in his monster. Lois urged him on from behind. B-man snapped at her, "Quiet Lois. I'm fishing." In all too short a time, the small salmon was netted. A boy was happy, friends smiled, and a father was pretty proud. I may have even petted Lois once or twice for being a "good dog."