Was up early and packed. No breakfast per my usual on leaving day. I took stock and realized city brain had only left me yesterday. Sad to have to leave just when it was getting good. But I was also missing my wife and dog. So it is what it is.

The little push up to the portage to Brule was lovely.

Easy 60 rods into Brule. From there, it was just a short jaunt east along the north shore to the boat landing. Figured I'd be there by 8. Well I thought wrong. Along the shore were just beautiful small boulder patches I hadn't seen on any lakes this trip. The wind was just perfect for drifting in my direction so I couldn't resist! I tied on my favorite drift rig for the BW. Snake sinker above a swivel, with about a 2-3' leader, corkie, and no 6 walleye hook in pink or orange tipped with a leech. The best way to use the corkie is with a knot and bead above it, but usually I just jam the eye of the hook onto it. Not the best I know, but it has always worked. An alternative would be a floating jighead, but this setup has outperformed so I stick with it. This is no news to anglers more serious than me, but for newbies (as we all were once), the advantages are this: when drifting, the snake sinker will move in and out of the rocks, snagging infrequently. The corkie keeps the hook and leach up off the rocks, imitating the movement of crayfish. It is simple and easy to use when fishing alone. It will produce walleyes and smallies and the occassional northern. The wind was going pretty good, so I used a 3/8 snake in place of the 1/8 I prefer. Got a nice drift going and bam! This wasn't a walleye! I bet that smallie didn't go over 3lbs, but what a fight, him pulling me against the current, diving, bombing, out of the water, nose down, back and forth, and all in water so clear I could witness it all. I made a few passes up and down the shoreline (about 15 ft out) and caught probably 5 or 6 smallies, keeping one nice one for my breakfast. I paddled around the point into the bay, but found that site occupied. So I settled for a flat rock at the end of the bay, butchered the bass and had my breakfast. Whoever says they don't like bass has never had a fresh caught smallie from those hallowed waters. Case closed.

Whitecaps were whipping across the bay but I chanced it and enjoyed the brief paddle challenge. Unloaded and stashed the canoe and made the easy 2 mile walk back to my car at Homer. A group of seniors were loading up, and one woman asked me if I was alone. I said yes and she asked me what it was like and if I was scared. I admit I was a bit glib with her, which I regret. However, I pondered her question. I have been coming to the BW both alone and with dear friends and loved ones for years. Here is what I concluded. When you go with people, the trip is mostly about the people. Yes, you experience the bounty and majesty, but you do it together. It is a shared experience. Hence, your communion is more with each other than the natural ecosystem. It is glorious yes-sharing this magical place with someone you love is the ultimate experience. But there is little solitude in the true sense, as you are never alone (unless you count the latrine or a difficult solo paddle in a tandem canoe). Therefore, the connection with nature is fragmented through other's presence, and thus diluted (only my opinion). Alone, especially when a lake is yours alone, there is a purer twining, especially if you practice sound wilderness habits. For the first couple days, the noise of society is still in your brain. But after a couple days it will fade, and you can tune in with the sights, the sounds, and most importantly the energy of the place. There was a time way back when the earth was happy to have us on her. That time has probably passed, but I feel like when alone out there, there are moments when mother earth starts to open her arms to me again--and that feels very nice.