(A re-run aimed at keeping you keenly aware of the pitfalls that await should you make a mistake and decide to vacation in the north woods, rather than the Lake Geneva woods.)
I’ve returned. It wasn’t easy, but I just lived the life of one of those people who drive 4+ hours to their “weekend” vacation homes. After making the trip I have come to a conclusion. Such people are insane. There were moments over the past 48 hours where I thought I might be insane as well. Like when I arrived at my friend’s cabin at 10:30 pm and immediately agreed to go out fishing on a moonless night in a light-less boat. There was also a moment on the way home (several actually) when the lady on the navigation screen kept telling me to turn around because she didn’t understand that I no longer wanted to be in Minocqua. This moment- a spell that actually lasted some 15 minutes- gave me a great idea for a GPS unit that I’m going be selling in stores around greater Chicagoland soon: a portable navigation system that will only provide directions to Lake Geneva.
Saturday morning we woke to rain. Not calm, drip, drip drop little April showers rain, but real, grown up rain. It was miserable, but in the rain there was a teachable moment. Since I had willingly marooned my family in Minocqua, in the rain, there was little to do but carry on as if it weren’t actually happening. When you drive 4 and a half hours to get somewhere, you don’t/can’t turn around and go home just because it’s raining cats and dogs, or as might be a better saying for those in Minocqua, raining mountain lions and bears. So in the pouring rain we went to fish. Not only did my friend and I decide to go fish, we (he) decided that we should bring our sons with. Which makes complete sense, because then instead of their being two soaked fisherman, there would then be two soaked fishermen and two soaked fisherboys. Perfect.
So we fished in the rain. In the pounding, horrendous, freezing cold rain. Did I mention the temperature? It was 58 degrees on Friday during the middle of the day. While it was raining. We have weather like that in Lake Geneva too, but we just prefer to call it November. We fished in the cold rain, and as the boat filled with rain water and water from the minnow bucket, we did catch fish. Thomas caught a nice walleye, and it was after that fish had spent about 5 minutes in the bottom of the boat when another moment of insanity arrived. I was sitting in the back of the fishing boat. Thomas was sitting in the front with his friend Jack, and my friend Jon was sitting in the middle. I was closest the walleye. A walleye whom must have had a rough night, because he was coughing on something. Not coughing really, but sort of gagging in the way that fish might gag if they might have eaten something that fish shouldn’t eat. Like squirrels.
I know that largemouth bass will eat terrestrial creatures that fall into the water. I also know that northern pike and musky will do the same. But these are shallow water fish with aggressive appetites. Walleye are supposed to be a little more civilized than that. Walleye are supposed to know better. This walleye, did not. He was in the process of spitting up a very large, fully developed, squirrel. I thought it was a mole or a rat, but the guy at the baitshop who I later told about the incident, said it was probably a small squirrel. Either way, it’s completely gross. You know what walleyes in Geneva eat? Minnows and small fish. That’s what decent walleyes eat. Under no circumstances should a walleye eat a squirrel. Period.
I learned alot about this far north vacation destination, far more than I could write about in one sitting. I learned that while my friend is Chet, when it comes to all things northwoods, I am Roman. I learned that Illinois license plates crowd the streets of Minocqua, but there’s no reason for them to. I learned many things, but mostly I learned- or was reminded- that my prized lake is so much better than any other vacation destination the Midwest has to offer. When I drove home on Saturday evening, I didn’t come home and rest. I didn’t lock myself in my room and weep silently about the things that I have seen. Things that no man should ever have to see. I came home and got back in my car to drive down to Geneva. I had to see the lake. I had to smell it. I had to remind myself how lucky I am to live right around the corner from a 5200 acre oasis. A watery oasis that, thankfully, is much closer to home, and entirely free to mutant squirrel eating walleyes. More to follow, but for now, there’s an open house at 1880 Hunt Club Lane, Lake Geneva to prepare for. And by prepare I mean put on jeans and sandals.