Well, I probably should end this saga here. But here are a few more photos:
To the left is Bruce with a gorgeous wall-eye from "Sag"on one of our last days.... I took this a little cautiously from the bow of the canoe lest I lose my balance. Canoes can be a little tricky.

I nearly forgot to mention the "clean outhouse" contest sponsored by our wonderful outfitter. We were to clean the outhouse and the two refrigerators and take photos. Below is my photo of the clean outhouse -- complete with the notice of sanitization which read: "Sanitized for your pleasure: just don't look down!" (I cleaned the two propane refrigerators, too, but didn't take photos of that.

Also, please note that I shot the photo from an angle so that you're looking at fallen leaves that have blown in through the damaged back wall of the outhouse. You didn't think that I would shoot straight down, did you? How gross! Later, one of the outfitters told me that a bear had ripped away the missing portion of the back wall, but I think he was simply pulling my chain.)

Don't worry: everyone had their little jobs to do as we prepared to leave. Dick and Ross swept and mopped the floors, burned all the burnable paper, collected our one bag of trash (or was it two?) etc etc. Bruce gets a pass on these last clean-up operations since he is the guy who plans the meals, buys and packs the groceries, cleans all the fish, and does all the cooking. Sounds like a lot, but he's done this for so many years, that he's quite efficient. And besides, he LIKES to cook! And the rest of us like to EAT his cooking.

Here's our plane as we loaded up to head out: What a great adventure! And did I mention the handsome young pilot that brought us out? I didn't catch his name, but he was a doll. I think that Kashabowie Outfitters must have a rule that all their employees are good-looking, soft-spoken and polite. Maybe that just describes most Canadians... at least the ones we met.

I'll be writing next about our fly-fishing trip in August up to Alberta in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains near a place called Crowsnest Pass.

Ahhh, fishing! It's a good life.

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....