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March/April 2010              FISH TALES AND MORE             by Greg Lindahl

 

                  Camp Oops!

Michigan’s Upper Peninsula is teeming with inland lakes of all sizes. You might catch anything from perch, walleye, small and large mouth bass, pike or sunfish.

Brother Bill and I were fishing trout' in Lake Nineteen. Separated by a high ridge, was a lake named Ironjaw. We caught nothing in the morning and stopped fishing to warm up by a fire and have lunch. A short walk brought us to Ironjaw lake and a surprise.

It appeared as though two people had the same idea as we did, but with a few major differences. Their campsite was a plastic tarp draped over a fallen pine tree. Two sleeping bags were arranged almost vertically on the side of a hill where a pine had fallen and it looked like they must have been sleeping standing up. We looked the meager campsite over, one fry pan, a bag of chips, a small can of beans. Obviously that had expected fish and and we knew they weren’t biting. 

Just as we started back up the hill and rounded the corner hook which, gave Ironjaw its name, we saw two boys coming our way - the two ill prepared campers. We chatted and found out that indeed, no legal fish had been caught and worse, they had forgotten their can opener along with a cooler of food.  They had two days left in the trip. We gave the lads a can of stew along with some beef jerky and then went our separate ways.

Later while putting our supplies away I bent down to pickup our cooler and spotted our can opener.  Next to the opener was a thank you, not in pencil or pen, they didn’t have one.  Crossed "t", A framed "a" , perfectly bent "n", slingshot accurate "y", all cleverly done with one book of matches!

The Final Straw

Look, I've given up double cheeseburgers, three slices of cheese please, my steaks are lean and trim, not half fatty, and gosh I miss my prime rib. Just a dab of sour cream, and Miss Waitress, is that light butter? Is that decaf? I can‘t have caffeinated, read somewhere it might possibly be, under the proper circumstance, if ingested in copious amounts, coupled with a bad hair day, bad for you! 

My poor Grandpa, eggs and bacon every day, sausage and pancakes and bring on the butter.  Gramps what were you doing? After a long work day he would have his two shots of brandy, chew on a few King Edward cigars, and sit down to supper. Supper, real food, how he enjoyed his meals.

We can't enjoy ours though can we? Thanks to all of our wonderful technology. We are afraid to eat anything, and I personally am having trouble eating anything that does not scare me to death! 

SOOOO, I quit, the final straw was on Friday the eighteenth day of October, yes, the one that did it for me. Wave the flag, complete surrender.  BEER AND STEAK ARE BELIEVED TO CAUSE CANCER WHEN CONSUMED TOGETHER!!!  That’s it!  I will continue to exercise, do the food groups, but I will enjoy my steak, relish my beer, ladle the gravy on the spuds. Yep, just like Grandpa did... Oh yea, Eric Lindahl, my Grandfather, died in his sleep . . . eighty nine years old.


 

 

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