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Hello, friends,

Last week and again this week I am writing to you about one of the most enjoyable and practical-joke filled trips (next to deer camp) of the year.

Along with five friends and family members, I headed into the Canadian bush for a week at Shultz Lake, where our gang was the only group on the entire chain of lakes

Wednesday, June 18

High 71, Low 51

Today was a big day for Harold “The Wildman” Moll, Riley Schuster and myself.

We took part in a seven-mile boat ride combined with a double portage to a body of water we call Thunder Lake. At just two months shy of 70, The Wildman did an excellent job helping us negotiate beaver dams, crawling over downed trees and catching fish.

The way we fish on most portage lakes is generally by trolling and casting, with the man in the front of the boat casting while the other two fishermen troll.

I was running the motor and trolling around a small island when Riley made a cast to a deadfall that was lying in the water. I looked at my 19-year-old nephew and said “That’s your cast” and maybe one second later a huge gator from the deep swallowed his Red Eye and the fight was on.

Moments later I netted a northern pike that measured just over 41 inches, and Riley was now securely in first place for our big gator of the week contest.

We fished all day, landed a 37-inch northern pike, a 34 incher and dozens of walleye.

That night, back at the cabin, it was my chore night, and I cooked up a fish fry and the laughter throughout the evening was nonstop.

Joey became a mouse trapper and I taught him to put the peanut butter on the bottom of the trap pan, with the end result of one dead mouse, as our gang watched late in the night.

With four kids between the age of 13 and 20 along on the trip, the practical jokes do not end until long after we return home. Someone kept putting moose turds in people’s pillows, aspirin bottles and shaving kits (I plead the fifth).

When we got home, Ann Moll, The Wildman’s wife, ran his underwear through the washer and someone had stuck a couple of what Harold later blamed to be moose droppings in his skivvies.

I heard through the grapevine that it made a heck of a mess and Ann thought The Wildman may have had an accident. Don’t worry, Harold, we believe you.

Thursday, June 19

High 63, Low 45

Today everyone in camp had a major adventure. Thirteen-year-old Ross Moll, my stepson Joey who is 14, Riley Schuster and 20-year-old Ryan Moll went on a long hike looking for a lake that was deep in the Canadian bush. Other than a compass that did not work, the boys were traveling by the horizon.

Meanwhile, The Wildman and I were trolling for northern pike and having a good time.

We were having a good time until one of the worst storms I have ever driven a boat in hit and beat us to a pulp. I was only wearing shorts when a hard, wind-driven hailstorm that really hurt started coming down.

The wind was creating major wave action and boat control was not an easy task. By the time The Wildman and I had made the three-mile journey to the cabin, we were beat up pretty bad.

A hot fire in the woodstove and the solar powered shower bought us both back to life.

Meanwhile, the boys were having major difficulties on their adventure as the lake they eventually found had only steep cliffs for a shoreline and the hike back was very difficult due to a maze of deadfalls created by a forest fire that this gang actually witnessed about 10 years ago.

My friends Pete and Elizabeth Hagedorn have been our hosts at Shultz Lake since we first started coming here back in 1982. It looks like we have plenty of young stock to keep this trip alive for many decades to come, but I just keep wondering who taught them how to be so wild and crazy.

Again, I plead the fifth! Sunset.