Except for the year that Bruce had his sabbatical, he and his friends have been fishing up here every year since 1983. Ross (in the photo here) has been part of the group in more recent years.

So as you can imagine, the stories abound. Virtually very meal and every star-gazing time on the desk inspires a recounting. Usually it begins like this: "Do you remember the time when Roche had a walleye on his line and a big northern clamped his jaws on the walleye and would let go? And then some five minutes later, the same thing happened again!?"

And of course there are the hook stories; almost every year someone gets one caught in a finger. One year, Bruce was the unlucky victim. It happened on Friday, the day before they were to be picked up by plane. He and his friends couldn't get it out, so on the way home, they stopped at a hospital in Grand Marais, where a woman doctor expertly removed the offending barb.The ER had a box filled with hooks that she and her colleages had removed.

I have a strong feeling that I will be in next year's stories. I can hear it now: "Do you remember how Kerry made us stop the boat or the canoe so she could get a photo of some weird (but in her eyes, gorgeous) rock-and-water views?" It's true: I did it -- often. Here are a few photos I took....