I head north tomorrow a.m. with my favorite men in the world to a place we all love. I bring my son... 14 years.. and a handful.. trying to find his place in the herd. A communion, but a dying one... being replaced by rock climbing or Pokemon-Go or whatever millennials bond over.
To catch walleye so gold and thick, you'd weep if not for maintaining your dignity.
Big Pike that surprise you when you least expect it. Little pike that defuckulate your line and landing net for 15 minutes if your dare net them.
Lake trout that get a running start to crush lures 50 feet below your feet.
We will eat deer sausage and cheese for lunch on rocky islands, washed down with a luke warm Leinie's or Point Beer (fuck the Ontario beer transport laws, it's only one) that never taste better.
We will share stories of triumph, personal matters, secrets, joy and pain. Fishing stories retold to the same chorus of laughter like Beatle's tunes which automatically evoke toe taping. We will laugh so hard are cheeks hurt the next day.
Tomorrow I am alive.
Tomorrow I am awake.
We get 6 and half precious days to do this.
Tomorrow I am going to Canada.
May you all experience this elixir,
Doug Stange's Evil Twin
