You Can’t Go Home Again (Or Can You?)

The first and only time I went to Lake of the Woods, straddling the Minnesota/Canada line, was in the summer of 1984 or 1985. A friend and I had attended the aptly-named, Lindner-affiliated Camp Fish in Walker, Minnesota for a couple of years, and after you’d progressed to a certain level of fishiness you got to take a trip to the big border ponds. As I recall, our group caught smallmouths and northerns and walleye. One kid inadvertently latched onto and landed what seemed like an enormous musky, but which in reality was probably around 15 pounds. A good time was had by all.

In the intervening three decades, and particularly over the last dozen years or so, my travel jones has grown exponentially. I’ve been all over the country chasing little green and brown fish, and to varied corners of the world chasing all sorts of other finned critters. It has become my passions, and while I’ve returned to Mexico nearly 20 times, Brazil three times, Guatemala three times and Alaska three times, the startling truth is that each time you return somewhere, you are effectively giving up a chance to go somewhere new. At least that’s the case when you’re dealing with my work obligations and my bank account.

So it came as a pleasant surprise that Hanna met Gary Moeller, one of the partners in Ballard’s resorts, with operations on both the Minnesota and Canadian sides of Lake of the Woods. He got her fired up about taking a trip up that way, which in turn got me fired up about the same thing. I hadn’t really considered a trip back up there – now or ever – but now that it’s on the radar I’m completely jacked. I think about how little I knew about fishing in the 80s, and how rudimentary my tackle was at the time (I believe that I owned two, or perhaps three, rods, and neither the Senko nor the Chatterbait were close to conception), and yet still we caught a ton of fish. I don’t recall if we had electronics on the boats, and I know we had bow-mounted trolling motors. If my sense of personal evolution is anywhere in the ballpark of reality, we’re going to crush them. That’s what makes me excited – the chance to revisit history and see if a storied fishery in any way reflect my recollections. Truth be told, I’ve already started packing a couple of Plano boxes with lures that I’m convinced I can’t live without.

This also made me think about all of the fisheries I’ve loved and haven’t seen in a long time: I went to Toledo Bend in 2001 and 2003 and haven’t been back since; I fished the California Delta in 2003 and 2007, but not again; and while I’ve been on the water at Guntersville to cover various recent Classics, I haven’t wet my own line there since I believe 2006. All of that needs to change, sooner rather than later. Of course the problem is that I keep wanting to hit the same spots again and again and again – whether it’s Mexican largemouths or big yellowfin tuna in Panama (my current obsession). Someday, though, I need to put together a list for old time’s sake and knock them down one after another after another.

[Note: We’re headed up to Canada September 3-7 and it’s one of the greatest bargains I’ve ever seen in the world of fishing travel – with the holiday rate, less than a grand per person for lodging, use of a boat and food, for four nights and three long days of fishing. If you’d like more information, email Hanna at fishmore@halfpastfirstcast.com]