North With Doc: Volume One

North With Doc — Volume One

By Greg Knowles

Published by Greg Knowles at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Greg Knowles

Cover illustration by Peter Kohlsaat

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DEDICATED TO

IN-FISHERMAN MAGAZINE

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF, DOUG STANGE

WHO GAVE ME A CHANCE

TO REACH

A WHOLE LOT OF READERS

Preface

The North With Doc series began in 1989 when the first episode appeared in the tabloid-like Walleye In-Sider published in Brainerd, Minnesota. Editor-In-Chief Doug Stange eventually moved the columns to the flagship In-Fisherman magazine, where they have appeared ever since. Cartoonist extraordinaire Peter Kohlsaat has been illustrating my Doc stories from the start, and his work appears on the cover of this book.

In-Fisherman published a paperback of my first twenty-five episodes in 1993, and that book is no longer in print. This book (Volume One) is, for all intents and purposes, a reprint of the first twenty-five episodes from 1989 – 1993, yet they have been refreshed here and there. While Doc says that's like putting lipstick on a pig, I prefer to think small changes have made each episode a bit better reading.

Speaking of Doc, he and the rest of the characters who populate the North With Doc series are about eighty-seven percent fiction. While there is a member of our fishing group who is a dentist we call Doc, and he lives in Adel, Iowa, and he has a wife named Janis, it's simply not possible a single person could have all the traits and behavior flaws I have given my Doc character. Instead, I have drawn from experience from the dozens of fly-in experiences with close friends Jay Nichols, Dennis Chapman, Mike Murphy, Don Brador Brazelton, Bob Deck, Jim Stadler, Gary Doc Colwell and others to create stories about a bunch of guys who just want to have some fun.

A special note: Sioux Lookout fly-in legend, Knobby Clark, his wife, Bobbie, his assorted family members and employees, and his string of outpost cabins at lakes on the Cat River chain in Northwest Ontario are very real, indeed.

I hope you enjoy reading my stories about Doc and the guys as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Tight Lines & Better Times

Greg Knowles

Table of Contents

Episode 1 – Doc Discovers A Different Way To Land A Fish.

Episode 2 – Doc Dresses For Success.

Episode 3 – If You Get Lost In The Wilderness, It's Good To Have A Friend Along.

Episode 4 – It Only Costs A Little Less To Go Worst Class.

Episode 5 – What To Do When The Fish Stop Biting And The Fishermen Start.

Episode 6 – Friends, Snorers And Fishermen, Lend Me Your Ears.

Episode 7 – Taking The Family Car On A Fishing Trip Is Driving A Hard Bargain.

Episode 8 – The Bush Hog Buffet: Take All You Want, But Eat All You Take.

Episode 9 – If You Let A Smile Be Your Umbrella, You'll Be One Miserable Fisherman.

Episode 10 – When Outboards Are In Gear, Brains Should Not Be In Neutral.

Episode 11 – When A Sharp Hook Meets A Dull Mind, It Can Be A Bloody Shame.

Episode 12 – Sometimes Memories Make Better Trophies Than Fish.

Episode 13 – Every Now And Then, A Fisherman Needs A Tune-Up.

Episode 14 – The Walleyes Are Not Always Greener On The Other Side Of The Rapids.

Episode 15 – When Dads And Kids Go Separate Ways, It Works Out In The End.

Episode 16 – Here's How To Ask Your Pookie If You Can Go Out To Play.

Episode 17 – Doc Gets Tangled In The Mystery Of Backlashes

Episode 18 – Where There's Smoking, There's Fire.

Episode 19 – If A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words, I Have A Library In My Closet.

Episode 20 – It's Even Possible For An Ecoslob Like Me To Clean Up His Act.

Episode 21 – I Am Always Fired Up To Go Fishing, But One Time I Almost Got Burned.

Episode 22 – Nightmare On Walleye Street

Episode 23 – Potty Talk

Episode 24 – A Fish In The Net Is Worth Two In The Lake.

Episode 25 – For Some Fishermen, Trolling Is The End Of The Line.

Episode 1

Doc Discovers A Different Way To Land A Fish.

Some years ago, six of us boarded a familiar float plane and flew due north out of Sioux Lookout, Ontario, with our hopes high and our airsick bags at the ready. The fifty-year-old de Havilland performed like a fifty-year-old de Havilland, and an hour and a half later we had set up residence in the only cabin on an incredibly beautiful Canadian lake. The loons were looning, the grouse were grousing, and we paired up in three boats and set out to catch dinner.

I've wetted lines in lots of places, but early June in the remote Canadian Bush is about as close to an ideal outdoor setting as I've ever come. As we motored away from the shore a dozen shades of greenery merged into a soothing, forested blur, camouflaging bays and islands alike. And after a couple hundred yards, even the bright red cabin disappeared. The wake of dark, cold water, imprisoned in solid ice a little more than a month ago, frothed cleanly behind us.

The bouquet of burned boat gas gives me goose bumps when I'm on any body of water. But mingled with the northern air, it is a veritable olfactory orgy. As I felt my first northern pike slam my lure, I knew this would be the continuation of a twenty-year string of outstanding Canadian outings.

Over the years we learned northerns are mighty mean fish—even the smaller ones are fun to catch on light tackle—but they're also very fragile. That's why we've always tried to crank them in fast and release them while they still have a lot of fight and a lot of life left.

As was our habit, we trolled spoons for northerns until our heartbeats slowed and we could settle down to a serious walleye drift and jig. We'd caught and released a dozen or more snakes when all at once: WHAM! and Get the net! That from Doc, my boat partner. He had what looked to be a decent fish on the line.

Doc yelled, Trampoline it!

I said, Do what?

And Doc screamed, Trampoline it! with the fishcaught fire in his eyes and his new light action number doing a dance toward the down side of the lake. Since I was a stranger to this trampoline talk, I netted the northern on the second run and brought it on board.

You ever seen a fish with real sharp teeth, fins, and gill covers do a pirouette in a net? If you've netted a northern pike, you have. And if you've ever unwrapped one of those slimy seven-pounders from its nylon mummy, you know what a chunk it can take out of your fishing time. And your fingers, too, if you're not careful.

Back then, I'd known Doc for only a short time. Mostly, we'd stared at each other over a hand or two of pitch or cribbage, or he'd carried on a one-sided conversation while both of his hands were in my mouth. Did I mention Doc's my dentist? Well, he is. A pretty good one, I guess, because I still have most of my teeth. And I soon found out he was a pretty good fisherman, too.

But at that point, Doc was not at all pleased as he began to sort out about a thousand fish teeth and the five hooks on his Ruby-eye that were spun into a major league mess in the net. (That's the unwritten rule of boat partners. It's his fish, so it's his mess.) He gave me a disappointed look as a light breeze took the boat along a magnificent rock wall and I jigged for walleyes.

After I had put a couple of eaters on the stringer, Doc gave out a sigh and announced he was ready to fish again...right after he gave out some advice about the proper use of the net.

First, he showed me the northern. It took so long to free the beast, it had to go on the dinner table instead of back in the drink.

Second, he said it looked like we drifted through a walleye honey hole and, if he hadn't been fooling with the tangle, he could have helped fill up the stringer.

Third, he said it's okay to deep net a trophy northern, but nothing in the twelve pound or under range. And if I do it again, he'll make it up to me the next time I'm in for a checkup. I stopped jigging and began listening real close.

Here's how to trampoline land a fish, Doc said as he picked up the net. You grab hold of the net material like this. He grabbed the net material. And you pull it tight. He pulled it tight. You see, instead of a deep dish, that makes a flat surface...like a trampoline. Then, you just shove it under the fish and kind of bounce him out of the water.

Hmmm. This had possibilities. No teeth or hooks in the net. No tangles, no wasted time. Less chance of injuring the fish. So I thought I'd give it a try. I experimented on a few small walleyes and the technique looked workable. Now for the acid test. Doc had about a three-pound axe handle northern hooked. I grabbed the net, bunched the nylon material, pulled it tight, shoved it under the fish and boooinng! it flew completely over the boat.

On the second try, I tossed the critter about eight feet in the air where he spit the hook, did a two-and-a-half (in the pike position) and was off like a shot when he hit the water. I managed to get the next fish in the boat, but it landed in an open tackle box. Mine. Doc was amused.

I fully understand that bass, bluegill, and crappie fishermen may find trampoline netting downright distasteful. After all, with a thumb and a few fingers, it's relatively easy to yank almost any size of those toothless species right out of the water. And sportsmen who fish for northern pike with professional regularity (more than once a year, and on TV), have probably mastered the art of snatching twenty-pounders under the gill covers and dragging them on board without damaging fish or fingers. I figure the first time I tried that, I'd never play the violin again. So, I think I'll stick with Doc's trick until something better comes along.

I'll be the first to admit it took a little practice to get the hang of trampoline netting. But after several dozen successes, I had it mastered. On subsequent fishing trips, my less worldly companions have marveled at my expertise in no-hassle fish landing. But being the unselfish sportsman that I am, I gladly give credit where credit's due.

Thanks, Doc.

Episode 2

Doc Dresses For Success.

It has been my passion for many years to gather with the boys and fish the lakes of Northwest Ontario for a week in early June. That's been the best time for fish quality and quantity where we go. But it's also an unpredictable time for weather and insects, the two wet blankets of fishing.

At one time, my fishing companions laughed out loud at some of the things I packed for our annual trip. Like the waterproof boots when the sky was clear to all horizons. But two days later, when the rain turned the boats into wading pools, I was high on being dry.

And when I brought along the beekeeper head gear, they damn near busted a gut. But when the black flies swarmed, and the mosquitoes began to burrow into inner ears, their arms and poles flailed the air like copter rotors while I hummed a happy tune and kept on fishing.

After a few years of seeing my preparedness pay off, the other guys in the group followed suit, so to speak. Soon we all owned the boots, hats, rain suits, gloves, electric socks and the other apparel that adds some creature comforts while fishing the Canadian Bush.

One year we had a last minute cancellation, so I invited my dentist, a self-professed expert angler, to join the fun. I called him Doc when he wasn't beating me at cutthroat pitch, and he managed to teach us all a thing or two about what the really successful fisherman wears.

It was the ninth of June, and our Ojibway pilot, who looked to be about fourteen, flew six of us and all our gear and provisions out of Sioux Lookout, Ontario. It was a great flight, once we got above the five hundred foot ceiling. Luckily the clouds broke enough an hour later for the pilot to land the ancient de Havilland at our remote outpost. Then the weather went to hell in a hand basket.

We slipped into rain suits and boots and unloaded in the downpour, carrying provisions up a mudslick hill to the only cabin on the lake. As the plane taxied out and took off, the rain stopped. And the snow began to fall. We got a fire going and looked out the windows and watched a summertime mini-blizzard dust the boats.

While the rest of us argued whether to break out the Oreos or the dry roasted peanuts, Doc began unpacking his wardrobe. Standard baggage for the one week stay in the Bush included a navy sea bag or large duffel for clothes, and a small gym bag for toiletries. Doc's baggage was not standard. Besides the large duffel and gym bag, he had one very large suitcase. We munched our Oreos and peanuts, and wandered over to see what he'd brought.

Out of the large duffel emerged light and heavy jackets, light and heavy gloves, winter and summer weight hats, three sets of long underwear, an Iowa Hawkeye sweatshirt, two bathing suits, four bath towels, two washcloths, two sets of bed sheets, a pillow, a blanket and two pillowcases, everything wrapped in plastic. He piled all this on an extra bunk.

Then came the underwear and socks. Each set was in its own plastic bag and was labeled DAY 1, DAY 2, etc. There were also bags labeled EXTRA HOT, EXTRA COLD and EXTRA WET. Without us asking, Doc explained these were for weather extremes, when a fisherman might want to change clothes more than once in a day. This brought hoo-haws from a couple of the guys. As for me, the feelings of inadequacy began to well up in my gizzard. Or pancreas or whatever that thing is to the