Day 4: Fishing on Grandpa
Monday, June 9th, 2025
I sleep well through the night, but wake up shortly after 6:30 on my own and decide to get to work tidying up camp some more. Even though we stayed up late last night, various parts of camp were still in a state of disarray, and it feels great to truly settle into our new home in the woods, with everything in a place that makes sense. Today is expected to be a bit stormy, but the morning is a beautiful one. I set up the weather radio and again have zero luck getting any reception. With some time on my hands to fiddle with it and Andrew still asleep, I eventually find a solution by setting the metal lid for the fry-bake pan on top of the extended antenna. It’s pretty tricky to balance, but the effort is worth it in order to hear the forecast.
After about 90 minutes of piddling around, Andrew wakes up and says he slept great, which is a relief. I love these hammocks, but getting one set up in a way that works well for a young adult is something I worried a lot about! Last night’s lengthy campfire session burnt up a lot of wood, so after breakfast, we set out to bolster our firewood supply. We had some trouble getting the smaller sticks to catch fire last night since they were moist and not splittable, so today we err on the side of sawing some thicker logs that will require some time and effort to split, but should be much easier to keep going. We return and split just enough to have a fire tonight and leave the rest for later, because it’s time to get out and fish!

We wind around a long shoreline we have named “Broadway” with X-Raps a bit and then Andrew switches to a green pumpkin “Fat Albert” plastic grub. Both of us caught a couple fish on these lures, but the action isn’t too lively and the sizes aren’t anything noteworthy. At some point during the week, we coined the term “Grandpa special” for what seems to be the average fish caught in this lake: A healthy 21” northern. The fish we caught during this session were no larger than a Grandpa special.

Even for these smaller fish, both of us have really taken a shine to manning the net to help the other person land their catch. There’s just enough skill to it to be challenging, especially for the pike, and it lends a surprisingly strong sense of teamwork to each and every catch. Unfortunately, the joy of using the net comes along with the price of dealing with a tangle or two. On one of these fish, Andrew’s X-Rap trebles become tangled beyond hope in the net well after we release the pike. After over ten minutes of fiddling with it and more curse words than I care to admit, we decide to land at the now-vacant other campsite on the lake to sit down on land and fix the issue. Also, I wanted to show Andrew this site that I loved so much last year because exploring campsites is always fun. We climb up to the top of the bluff above the site and snap a photo before I sit down by the fire grate to tackle this mother of all tangles. I still struggle mightily for over 20 minutes, but at long last the tangle is unsnarled. Andrew is a bit glum after seeing the campsite, because he sees why it is the preferred site on the lake with its expansive view, breezy point that keeps the bugs down, picturesque bluff above the latrine, and no mosquito-infested bog behind it. Even so, he and I both agree that our present site with the tarps hung is a wonderful place to call home for a few days and that we don’t want to pack up and move now!
After trolling another shoreline or two, the skies darken and we decide to head back to camp for lunch and a cozy campfire beneath the tarp. The rain never materializes, but it still is so comforting to relax in the camp chairs a bit by the fire after a morning in the canoe. After lunch, I split the remainder of the firewood, and we realize that if we are going to do any more fishing today, we need to quit sitting around camp and go for it.
By the time we get our lures tied on and the dishes cleaned up, the skies are the most threatening they’ve looked all day. But by this point we make what we both figure is a foolish decision to head out anyway, keeping our rain gear handy in the event of a downpour. Somehow, the rain never materializes, and aside from a few stray sprinkles, amounts to nothing. Neither does the fishing, as we return to camp, having caught zero fish tonight. Before we land, we make a quick pass in front of our campsite to scout the depth of the water just in front of the 5 foot high rock in front of the fire grate. We test the depth with our paddles and are unable to touch bottom, so this should be a great spot for jumping into the lake when the moment strikes us!
In spite of the slower fishing action today, both of us are in high spirits and spend a long time sitting in front of the fire. I always have my National Geographic Boundary Waters maps handy in camp for scheming and dreaming, and now that he’s finally in this place, Andrew has a lot of questions about various lakes and my experiences from past trips. I share many stories from the first trip I took up here with my friend Shawn, how neither of us really knew what to expect and the inevitable mistakes we made on that trip that now make such great stories. This uninterrupted time in the wilderness, just the two of us, is so very special. We manage to get to bed much earlier tonight at 10 P.M. and have grand plans of an early wake up for a trip to Roy tomorrow to have another try at catching some smallmouth bass.

Stats—> Portages: 0 | Fish caught: 4 pike | Lake: Grandpa