My days in a canoe are not over but they sure aren't what they used to be, but at 73, what is? The highlight of my advancing age is being able to make fun of myself in ways that would've been embarrassing twenty years ago and not caring much what anyone thinks. A second is still being flexible enough to listen to the possibility of change even if it first pisses me off no end. Like I said in my last post, I live in South Minneapolis. Yesterday it was announced by a veto-proof majority of our city council that they were going to defund the police department. Yup, that set me off. Then today I spoke with my council person and learned their plan is nowhere near as bad as it sounds. It'll take a year or so with a lot of input from all sides and finally it'll be voted on in the 2021 city ballot—or hopefully it will.
Fine and dandy, time to move onto more important issues like fishing the border lakes. Like I hinted, the canoes will remain in the shed. I still paddle and fish from them but only on the small, backwater lakes by our cabin. Of course that won't happen unless I share blood with you or if we've known each other for at least three decades. Standards like those cuts out the riffraff.
What excites me about this year's trip to Lake Namakan is the chance to put a tingle of adventure in three men and one fourteen year old, and with a little luck, the fish of a lifetime on the end of one of their lines. Pretty much all of our ducks are in line. About all there's left to do is conjure up with a food list and bring it to life. Six weeks to go so there's no hurry.
As usual, I was a little slow on accepting reality, this time on how much gas to carry for the motors. I asked people how much and consulted charts. What they told me was simply don't short yourself but don't go overboard. The simple solution would be to make a mid-week, fifteen mile run back to the lodge for more gas and ice. Only an idiot wouldn't have realized that from the get-go. That I didn't comes as no surprise. For the moment I'll leave at that and go rest my brain.
What excites me about this year's trip to Lake Namakan is the chance to put a tingle of adventure in three men and one fourteen year old, and with a little luck, the fish of a lifetime on the end of one of their lines. Pretty much all of our ducks are in line. About all there's left to do is conjure up with a food list and bring it to life. Six weeks to go so there's no hurry.
As usual, I was a little slow on accepting reality, this time on how much gas to carry for the motors. I asked people how much and consulted charts. What they told me was simply don't short yourself but don't go overboard. The simple solution would be to make a mid-week, fifteen mile run back to the lodge for more gas and ice. Only an idiot wouldn't have realized that from the get-go. That I didn't comes as no surprise. For the moment I'll leave at that and go rest my brain.
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