We survived

We survived the camping trip to Stump Lake. Unfortunately, I can't say that for most of the fish we caught. But I'll get to that later.

Stump Lake, North Dakota, is a relatively new lake. Devil's Lake feeds into it and, up until about a decade ago, the lake was quite small - surrounded by acres of trees and pastures. However, with more rainfall, Devil's Lake rose and spilled over into Stump Lake. At the height of the spill, the lake, or so I was told, was rising an inch a day. It flooded all over the trees and pasture. So the lake really has no beaches, just a lot of dead trees. The lake quickly drops off too. When we launched the boat, we were quickly in 25 feet of water and we weren't 30 yards from shore. At its deepest, it is close to to 70 feet deep. Since there are so many trees lining the shore, the fishing is great - if you can navigate your way in.

We left home around 4:30. Then we followed Brian and Correen to the lake. Their daughter, Rachel, rode with us and gabbed away with KoKo, her best friend. After getting the right camp site, the camper settled, and everything unpacked, Brian, his cousin Todd, and I headed out to do some fishing around 8.

While I'm not a hunter nor really a fisherman - though I did quite a bit of it as a kid - I was eager to give it a try. But for the first few minutes, the fishing was secondary to the scenery. The sun was bright orange and was descending into the tree line. I can't begin to describe what the water did to the sunlight when it hit the surface of the lake. It was incredible. Add to that, the ghostly trees that we were weaving in and out in order to find the best fishing spot, and the overall environment was incredible.

Then the fish began biting and things picked up. As I said earlier, I haven't fished regularly since I was ten. So I was a bit rusty on things. But we were bobber fishing, so I refreshed my knowledge quickly, though Brian is quite the fisherman. While I manned one pole, Brian had several in the water at a time. He had an extra for me (I guess we get two per person). He had another for himself. And then he was also trolling (if that's what you call it) without a bobber. Todd was manning the net since last November was in a rail road accident and is forbidden from anything strenuous as his lawyers wait for a settlement (it's believed to be in the 1 to 2 million dollar range).

Once the fish began biting, it was insane. I could mostly handle my rod, but Brian was having some difficulty keeping an eye on all three of his - plus mine whenever I got a snag or needed to re-bait my hook.

We were actually fishing on an old road. You could seethe gravel lead into the lake and then come out. The lake rose so fast that it just devoured it. Apparently, the fish like to settle over the road in the evening. I got a bite within the first minute; however, most of the fish were quite young, so they often just nibbled or had the hook yanked from their mouths.

That was my biggest problem: I couldn't master how exactly to 'set the hook.' I bet I lost half of all the fish I had on my line. And that was really okay with me. I've never made any bones about it: I'm pretty much a tree hunting liberal. So the idea of actually keeping a fish and throwing it into that God-awful storage container built into the boat reminded me a little too much for me. It actually gave me the creeps seeing those fish down in there. I was reminded of the poor narrator from "The Pit and the Pendulum" as he awaits his doom from the Inquisition.

So every time I caught a fish, I lead the campaign to free it.

"Oh, that looks like a keeper," Todd would say as he watched my bobber descend.

"Real that baby in!" Brian encouraged. "Look at the fish killer. We're out here half an hour and he's reelin' 'em in!"

"Don't be big! Don't be big!" I would think in my head. "Get off the hook! Break the line!" I also found myself thinking as I cheered for the little guy in the water.

However, I did often haul them into the boat. That was when I really started campaigning for his release.

"Are you sure we should keep him?" I would say.

"Yes. He's a keeper!" Todd laughed.

"Are you sure? He's a lot smaller than the one Brian hauled in," I would try.

"No. Toss him in. We can release him later if we get a bigger one."

When I couldn't convince them to release the fish, I would try to struggle with getting the hook out and give the walleye a chance to wriggle free and back to the water. But that only happened twice.

In all, I was responsible for the murder of 10 fish or so. But I let at least that many get away!

We fished for about two hours. The best part happened just as we were getting ready to head in. A harvest moon began to rise. Well, maybe it wasn't a harvest moon, but it was bright orange and huge. Again, what the moon light did as it threaded through the trees and danced on the water was a once in a lifetime view.

Over the weekend, I mentioned to Brian how gorgeous it must be out there in the fall - given all of the oaks and elms that border the lake. He said he would rather fish than hunt, so he invited me out there in October. Now that would be a way to spend an afternoon, surrounding by those reds, yellows, browns, and oranges with a stiff October breeze rustling across the water giving the air that fall nip to it and a football game on the radio. Now that's how to spend an afternoon.