Born to Run

Delilah, the resort dog of Northwind Lodge (well, and Cookie, too, but Cookie is a bit boring) lieks to run against the Skidoo.  You can just see the bird-dog look she gets when I start the machine.  She takes off for home every time.  Fun dog.

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Snowstorm on the Wood Lake Portage

Five thirty PM, October 30, 2014, I quickly finished dinner.  I laced up my boots, grabbed my coat, my 20 gauge, single shot brush gun, some #8 birdshot for my left pocket and two slugs for my right.  Delilah watched me intently with her beady little brown eyes and ears on full alert like a Labrador ready to go get some ducks.  Every little move I made, Delilah studied intently.  She was bound and determined to not let me get out the door without including her in my plans.

I stuffed a flashlight in my back pocket as it was almost dark and the wind was beginning to howl.  I told Annette that I was going to Wood Lake to flip the boats for winter and she said "Now?!"

I confirmed that and told her that cold weather was coming in and I just couldn't find time to get down there during the day.  So with what little daylight I had left, I put on my coat, grabbed my gun and at the bottom of the stairs, Delilah looked up at me with great anticipation.  I didn't see that eight pound dog sneak by me.  I found her little dog coat, put it on her and opened the door to a full-blown blizzard.

I couldn't believe how much snow had come down in a half hour, but it's not unusual for this time of year.  There was a half inch of snow on the windshield and hood of the truck.  I picked up Delilah and put her in the cab.  She was shivering as I started up the truck.  The diesel engine came to life with a rumble and while it warmed up, I checked to make sure that I have all the Wood Lake boat keys, my bird shells, Delilah's leash and my defensive rounds, the slugs.   Ever since I began hunting small game in October, I've almost always carried a slug round with me.  It's probably illegal but I have no intention of ever using them for anything illegal.  In a worse case scenario, I would use them to save my butt when the chips are down.

October is the moose rut.  That is the time when bull moose like to assert themselves as king of the woods.  They have their full antlers and are driven by the call of mating season.  This is the time when the strong dominate and show off to chase all the other bull moose away from "their" territory.  They demonstrate their prowess and strength by pummeling, pounding, kicking, biting, and stomping on anyone who is considered a threat to them and their "woman".  Unfortunately, they think humans, trains, and cars are a threat to their women.  We are talking about totally nuts and the size of an angry battering ram.

One time, my brother Bernie and I were in the car heading towards Ely with Big Grandma.  (she was my dad's mom and bigger in size than my mom's mom. It stuck forever.)  Big Gramdma had a souped-up game warden car with three on the tree, double belts on everything under the hood, a big engine, and about 12 neatly drilled holes in the steel dashboard where the control switches once were mounted.  The labels were still there.  There were on-off switches that shut off the tail lights, the head lights, the brake lights, etc. and those that turned on the siren, the flood lights, grill lights, etc.  None of those were there anymore but the red plastic labels conjured a youngin's imagination about wild car chases in the night, hiding in the woods and adrenalin pumping moments with wounded bears attacking and angry men with guns wanting a showdown on a narrow, overgrown road in the middle of nowhere.  It was good stuff and Big Grandma owned it in full.

We were barreling down the Fernberg in Big Grandma's blue ex-game warden Ford  approaching Camp Four Creek which is at the base of the hill and just on the Ely side of Wood Lake Portage.  It was mid-October and when Big Grandma drove, she had this nervous grip on the wheel and used to alternately tap her thumbs.  It was a twitch of sorts and it always made me a little nervous.  Back then, we didn't have airbags and the seat belts were nowhere to be found and probably stuck in the crack of the bench seats down with the gravel, dust bunnies, assorted coins and probably some bullets and old, dried-up ballpoint pens.  When Big Grandma was anxious, her thumbs were a-tapping.

She must have been feeling something because the thumbs were going and down by Camp Four Creek a gigantic bull moose with rack like Atlas' arms stepped out and centered his bawdry magnificence over the center line and struck up a pose that said "Call of the Wild" and stopped.  He was huge and crazed by the rut with the fear of nothing in his eye.  Big Grandma hit the brakes and I braced with locked arms against that steel dashboard, and little brother Bernie pushed his face up against the back of the vinyl-clad, bench front seat.  When the car came to a complete stop, we were about 100 feet away from the new owner of the Fernberg road.  And, he was making no consolations, no exceptions; he would move at his determination.

We sat there idling in the big blue ex-gamewarden cruiser.  We are all quiet and in awe of this monstrous ruler of the woods waiting for him to finish crossing.  Then, Big Grandma's white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel turned to nervous thumb tapping with increased frequency.  Must be something big gonna happen, I thought.  Big Grandma shoved in the clutch with her left foot, pulled the shift handle back and up for reverse, hooked her right arm over the back of the seat on the ex-game warden car and looked back with no humor.  She stepped on the gas and eased out the clutch rapidly making the rear tires squeal and the posi-traction laid down smokin' blue rubber tracks as we peeled off backwards up that hill.   As she turned to look back with her left hand on the wheel like a Kentucky bootlegger, I looked forward and that bull moose had all of his fur up from his tail to his ears.  It stood up like six inches of  whoopass as he put his massive rack down and began to charge.  Big Grandma was way ahead of him, however and I didn't know she could drive like that.  At 30 mph in reverse,  Big Grandma easily put six blocks of space between us and that angry moose.   Looking a whole lot smaller from our safe vantage point, the bull lifted his rack and proudly sauntered off to the south side of the road disappearing into the thick woods.  He won yet another battle without firing a single shot.  Big Grandma let him believe that anyways.

This was just one of the many, moose stories that I was either a part of or heard told by my family.  The theory behind the slugs is that we could shoot a charging moose in either antler and ring his bell hopefully enough to get away.  Since they lose their antlers, at least we wouldn't be wasting a moose because that would be a shame.  So, that's the plan.  No one has ever tested the theory so we don't know if it works.  But, if running like a guy who just stepped on a wasp nest in a stump won't cut it, sometimes you have to have a back-up plan to stand your ground.  Slugs and crossed fingers.

It's snowing hard on the portage now and visibility is not that great. Delilah is running ahead, disappearing, and then appearing from behind at full speed.  She's making me a little nervous because we have coyotes and plenty of wolves.  My worst nightmare would be if she decided to attack a moose and then after ticking him off, run to find me.  Well, none of that fortunately was happening and I was covering ground fast because daylight was fading and those boats would be full to the gunwales with rainwater.  Bailing would take at least a half hour and that would mean coming out in complete darkness.

We get to the final hill and in the leafless October woods I can see through brush to the familiar water below.  Delilah takes off in an excited full gallop down that hill and turns right to where the boats are parked.  I followed knowing that the two gallon bucket in my hand would be put to good use in only seconds.  That's when I saw the unbelievable.

There our boats lay on the shore where I'd left them months before.  But, instead of being full of water, they were upside down on dry ground.  Somebody bailed them out and carefully flipped them over, still locked to the eyebolt in the stump!  I was flabbergasted.  This has never been done before.  If anything, passersby returning from canoe trips will leave plastic bags of garbage in the boats so they don't have to portage them out.  Nobody EVER bails our boats and then flips them.  I wanted to know who so I could properly thank whoever it was.  I still have no clue.

I stacked the boats on top of each other away from the little creek that flows from Rookie pond because the water is so low it may overflow and back up into a glacier covering the boats in ice.  With it getting darker still and more snow falling, I called for Delilah who went missing in the last 30 seconds of boat wrestling.  For about five, tense minutes, I thought a wolf snapped her up.  But then, she suddenly appeared from some micro-adventure in the brush.

With darkness falling and snow joining in, I put a leash on Delilah and begin the uphill jaunt back to the trail head.  As we were rapidly walking, the wind suddenly kicked up and like it does at this time of year, it didn't stop blowing - hard.  It was howling through the trees.  We passed through a stretch of Christmas trees  and I debate taking out my flashlight but hold off.  The trail is all white and I can still just make out the rocks and roots.  We both hear trees snapping and crashing to the ground in the distance.  Then, suddenly, to my right, I hear new crashing about 30 feet away.  I look into the woods there to see if trees are tumbling my way but the visibility is only about 10 feet between the driving snow and the lack of light.  This particular tumbling sound became continued crashing and the thunking of heavy hooves.  Delilah even took notice and I was glad that I put her on a leash,  It was getting way too dark to run, shoot, or shoot and run, so "no trouble" would be the preferred state of my existence right then.  Big deer?  Moose?  I don't know, but it was big and ran the other way and that was fine with me.

We continued up the portage through the horizontal snow my fleece jacket turned completely white.  Despite the potentially fear-inducing conditions, I felt a particular calmness as Delilah and I were all alone deep in the woods.  Maybe it is my lifetime of experience in this element that makes me feel so at ease.  Maybe it was having the faithful Delilah next to my ankles.  Maybe it was my trusty 20 gauge slung across my back, or a combination of all those.  Then, there is always the memory of Big Grandma tapping the steering wheel with her thumbs.   Whatever it is, this is where I must belong.

Delilah and I finally make it to the truck and head home.  Wood Lake is done for this season.  A big thanks to whoever flipped our boats.

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Cabin #2 at Northwind Lodge - an historical e-vacation

After building Cabin #1 as my family still knows it today and using it for a few years, Grandpa Frank Baltich decided to build a second cabin that was more out in the open and in sunlight.  The #1 (Grandpa's Log Cabin) is still up against the side of a really steep hill on it's south side.  In the summer, it is the coolest spot being located in the shade except for from mid-June through August, but the shade always grows longer as the seasons head to winter. That would make for a very short day in the darkest months of the year.  Grandpa got a little tired of those conditions which can weigh on one's psyche and decided that the next cabin would be in sunlight and next to running water which was Jasper Creek.  So, in 1946, right after the war and when my dad was only 14, Grandpa bid on a government building that was no longer being used.  It was the on the Firetower Road about 5 miles from Northwind Lodge. It was the ranger's quarters and they were making changes in up on that really tall hill where the fire tower was.

That fire tower installation was one of the neater places that we visited when I was a kid.  First there was the road up to the fire tower.  It was, and still can be, rough and bumpy and steep.  At the top, was the fire tower standing tall & proud but unused for many years even when I was a kid.  Towers gave way to airplanes in the never-ending vigilance of tired eyes watching for that little stripe of smoke that makes its way into a monster if left unchecked.   A board was bolted up on the first 20 feet of ladder to keep the crazy people off during it's retirement.   On the ground was a beautiful, old log building with one of those old desk telephones like you'd see on the Andy Griffith show sitting on a table in the pane glass window.  A log garage there with boats that the game wardens was stored as well.  That was a really cool place.

We always went up in the fall time when the resort was closed.   My dad, my brother and I wandered around in the crisp air of the Minnesota fall with really crunchy leaves under foot looking for partridge.  For some reason, there were oak leaves (very few oak trees in this area)  present and they were tough and extra crunchy.  You could try to sneak around in hunting mode, but it was hopeless to be really quiet.  There were also pine needles thick and if you could find a clear patch on the ground, you could hide the noise for a second until you met up with the leaves once again and your cover was blown.  Good thing partridges aren't that spooky.  Age-old trails headed down the hill towards the Kawishiwi river and a spot where the CCC camps built a wellhead at a spring where the water flows even today.  There were and still are the big rock foundations for the cabins and signs of masonry that lives forever but blends in with the land from where the rocks and logs came.

The other thing that I can't forget up on that hill was the wind in the white pines.  It constantly made that soothing sound of loneliness and freedom, and happiness all wrapped up into one endless song.   No matter when you go there, you'll hear that sound and smell those pine needles.   It was the place that I always wished I could live at for it's beautiful desolation and the sound of the gentle wind always present.  Strangely enough, it was the kind of desolation that could drive one to madness, but like a mermaid on the rocks,  it always called me back.  It is still one of my most favorite places to be.

If you followed one unmarked trail to the northwest,  it took you down from the peak and to place where the ultra modern world met the old.  It was some sort of science testing station complete with a little building, several little chicken coops with louvered vents and strange contraptions and propane tanks.  It was like you wandered out of a spooky desolate woods high on a hill into an alien landing site where somebody did experiments.  At least that is what my 14 year old mind told me it was.  It was really creepy.

Back in those days, everything was government secret and they didn't tell anybody what was going on, so imaginations had to fill in the details.  I was pretty sure it was for ungodly alien experiments on humans, but it was and still is, a weather testing center.  If you go there today, they actually spent $10 bucks and put up a sign so kids don't think the aliens have an outpost there.

The place I've just described is from where Cabin #2 came to Northwind Lodge.  Grandpa and my dad won it on a government bid.  They cut the building up into four pieces and reassembled it at it's current location. Over the years, Grandpa added a front porch which is now the kitchen, and a back room which used to be the kitchen.  In later years, my dad remodeled it.  Then in the mid 80's my brother Bernie remodeled it again.  In 2010, I remodeled the kitchen.  It served as a home in 1946 and then in 1952, Grandpa built what is now Cabin 8 and Cabin 2 went into rentals.  The beaver boards that make the ceiling beneath the tiles in one of the bedrooms will still show the nail holes of many stretched and dried hides all brought to the fur buyer so many years ago.

I'm always amazed when I think back to how long we've been here.  Cabin #2 is part of the history of not just us Baltich's but also countless men who stopped fires from burning the woods around us undoubtedly saving people's lives.  That's why it's such an interesting cabin at Northwind Lodge - it's been standing the test of time with great success.

Cabin #2 at Northwind Lodge

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Larry and the Bait-caster: A Fishing Journey on Jasper

On Saturday, 8-23, the Wilson party arrived and checked into Cabin 6 in the late afternoon.  Right now at 11:45 AM on 8-24, Lori and her friend Joanne popped into the store looking for bass tackle.  They bought Yum Crawbugs and Booyah bass jigs to put together to form Jig-N-Pigs like I showed them about three years ago.  Less than 20 hours after arrival to Northwind Lodge, I asked Lori if they had done any fishing yet.  She replied in a conclusive, confident tone, "Oh, yeah...we've already caught 19 fish."

By Sunday's end, they boated another 19 fish!  Monday morning it was so windy, after boating four fish, they headed into shore to wait for the wind to die down.  Today, because they were land-locked, which is a rare occasion, Lori, Joanne and I talked more fishing and Lori said that they have now pretty much fished every spot that Jasper has to offer and caught fish out of every last one of them as well.  Jasper has 4.1 miles of shoreline and the Wilson party knows it and all the spots in between probably better than most.  

The Wilson party came here for several years in the past,  but with kids, school and college and activities, they had dropped off the Northwind Lodge yearly return-roster several years back.  But, one day, out of the blue, kids done with school and on their own, Lori gave us a call and they showed up for vacationing once again at Northwind Lodge.  At the time, I recall Lori saying to me that "it had been too many years" and they looked forward to staying here again. We were more than happy to have them back this time with the addition of friends Mike and  Joanne.  As I recalled, they used to fish, but I couldn't remember anything truly notable with their results of years past.  I'm sure they caught fish back then, but nothing really notable stood out with me.

Then, one day, a few years ago, Larry, husband of Lori came in to Red Rock to look for a bait-casting rod & reel.  Having been in the business of fishing and selling gear for my entire life, I felt it was my duty to inform my customer about what he was planning to do.  Over the years, I felt that I'd seen far too many people buy a bait-casting combo with not enough info and then they would go home and stick it in the corner after experiencing their first major backlash - which usually occurred in the first cast.  So, I told Larry to test mine out first.  I had a $350 outfit with Pflueger Summit reel on a Falcon casting rod and 20 lb. test braid (the ONLY way to go with a bait caster - mono really does not work nearly as well), and suggested Larry go out and beat the water to a froth with it.  I just happened to have Jig-n-Pig rig tied on that sales rep for Booyah Bait Co., Yum, and Pradco (which stands for Plastics Research and Development Company) Tim Fogarty  set me up with to try for largemouth bass fishing "because it is a TON of FUN".  I left the lure on and told Larry that it is weedless and he could cast it right into the lily pads or cabbage weeds and it would crawl right through the thickest ones with little difficulty.  It was a fun bait to use because the little Crawbug arms flip like a crayfish through the water.  The other cool part about that jig is that you can let it hit the bottom just about anywhere and it come right to you when you retrieve it.  As far as catching fish with it, I had no real luck partly because I am more in the store talking about fishing that actually fishing these days.  Larry disappeared out the door, and other duties called me to action.  I forgot all about Larry and the bait-caster.

About 4 hours later, Larry showed up with that fancy-schmancy bait-caster and jig-n-pig in tow.  I asked him how it went as I saw the reel was devoid of a bird's nest and showed no signs of sword-fighting.  Larry handed it over, thanking me for being able to demo it.  He also added  that he's glad I set him up with the demo and he no longer wants to buy the bait-casting combo because it wasn't for him.  "BUT", he added, "where do you get more of these?", he asked pointing to the Jig-n-Pig rig.  Well, as luck would have it, I knew precisely where he could get more.  I asked him if they were working and he said Lori told him to get some more and return quickly.  I grabbed one off the shelves and showed Larry how to rig it up.  Then, he grabbed a bunch that I put on the bill and disappeared out the door.

It was "Game On" from this point with the Wilson party.  They turned into fishing fanatics!  They'd be gone all day long on Jasper, rain or shine.  I'd see all four of them in the boat, plugging the hell out of the shorelines, working the weed beds and lily pad rafts .  The women would make an occasional visit to the store for a Jig-n-Pig resupply and they weren't excessively wordy. They got to the intended point of their visit and then back out the door they went.  I was amazed at how hard the fishing focus combined with the competitive nature of their fishing.  (!)  Man, you talk about serious, butt-kicking, take-no-prisoners attitudes about putting fish in the boat, measuring them, releasing them, and winning.  Apparently, they've had a rather serious competition going for the last few years and from the calm quiet intensity of it, I would contend that they are betting their homes, cars and maybe even gold doubloons.   In reality, I think the prize is simply bragging rights which makes it even more spectacular.  Annette and I remain fascinated by it all.  I would have to conclude that they are now harder-core fisherpersons than our hard-core guys and I thoroughly enjoy them proving what this particular lake is capable of producing when one goes out and works at it.  After all, they pulled in 19 fish in under 20 hours time here and while that doesn't sound impressive per hour, you gotta remember that they slept, ate dinner and breakfast during that time as well.  

So, it's off to the races with the Wilson party in Cabin #6 for another year. They are on to a solid start on Jasper for 2014!

Row, Row, Row Your Boat at Wood Lake and Northwind Lodge

Back when I was a lot younger, all of our resort guests were here to fish.  Well, sure, there were some of them who didn't fish, but fishing was the focus and they fished a lot.   Not only did they spend a lot of time on Jasper Lake, they spent at least one day on Wood Lake as well.  Our Wood Lake boats were constantly rented out, rain or shine.  We all grew up on Wood Lake when motors were allowed and all the following years after President Carter signed the rider called Rare II which was slipped into the BWCA law taking motor use on Wood Lake and a few other waters away from us and our guests.  That move alone instantly took away a large chunk of our wood lake rental business along with our old-school customers who believed that rowing a boat was impossible and fishing from a canoes was too scary/uncomfortable of an endeavor to pursue.  So, faced with yet another federal law wiping out a good portion of our business we concluded a few things.   We knew who one of the major driving forces behind RARE II was since his family lived summers on Jasper Lake.  Since this was a last-minute "rider" signed into the actual BWCA Law PL 95-495 by Carter introduced by the guy who knew us and what closing Wood Lake would do to our business, we still suspect that this was a deliberate attempt to harm our business.  Why else would he push such a specific lake that was not part of the original bill?   Either he was out do us harm, or he's so oblivious and far-gone in his ideology, he had no clue as to what forcing this issue would do to us.  Who knows?

The main takeaway of this whole saga is that we managed to survive despite our losing a large number of lodge guests who no longer could accept the changes forced upon them by this man and his so-called environmental organization "for the good of the country".  In 1978, we began rowing Wood Lake boats and found that we would now go farther and catch more fish than we did before while using outboards.  With an outboard motor, we were always beholden to the amount of gasoline we could carry on the portage.  Plus there was always the threat of a motor breaking down or malfunctioning.  That problem evaporated with oars.  Without using a motor, as fishing guides, my brother and I learned how to fish a spot more thoroughly.  Instead of picking up one or two fish like walleyes and moving on, we would work the region harder to get more bang for our rowing buck.

The most difficult part today is getting people to understand that when rowing, one takes his time, fishes while moving and before you know it, you are a long ways from the beginning.  The other critical part of rowing the most do not understand is that dunking the oar blades deep in the water actually slows you down with each stroke.   You want to dunk in half the blade and break some of the water surface with each stroke. That requires less strength, allows for more repetition and supports forward momentum.  By the time you finish a deep oar stroke, your boat's forward momentum conks out.  

Also rowing "over there" and not fishing while you are heading there, is inefficient and a complete waste of potentially good water and calories.  You fish along the way, and if you find a fish before you get to a "hot spot", well, screw that spot!  Fish here!  With a motor on a boat, you most likely would never have tried that place nor would you have ever discovered what was there.  You would be too busy going fast over there to "the spot".

So, whether or not it was a deliberate attack upon Northwind Lodge to add Wood Lake to the BWCA with the sneaky, subversive, last-minute rider inserted into a 1978 bill in Congress, it backfired.  Yes, it did really hurt our business forcing us to adapt and change our technique and operation plus find new customers who were unafraid of fishing with a motor.  As a result however, we can really row a boat and have become very adept at handling a fishing rod with no hands and quick reflexes.  We ended up applying these abilities to guiding for many years on the Canadian side of Basswood.   We've all rowed a million miles and are perhaps in better shape than many people our age.  We also know from experience that there is no reason not to take a day trip to Wood Lake when you come up to Northwind Lodge.  If you can walk uphill/downhill, sit in a boat, move your arms for eight hours or so, and are comfortable with taking your time on the water, you'll do fine and have a great day. 

Here is what rowing looks like from a point-of-view perspective.  This alternating technique is how you want to make the boat travel for trolling and a steady trolling pace like this will make your arms looked a bit ripped when you get home that evening.  Developing your "cat-like" reflexes is also a plus.

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Finally Gone Fishing with Delilah plus Video Footage

We each packed our packs and loaded up my dad's rusty old truck and headed off to Wood Lake for a day for wilderness fishing.  I hadn't really been on the water yet in any meaningful way and today was going to be a fishing trip / dog test.  I decided to take a chance on messing up what looked to be a perfectly beautiful day by taking Delilah along and having her in the boat for the whole day.  Over the years, we didn't usually bring a dog.  Some go crazy in the boat trying to bite fish and stepping in tackle boxes, others are scared of the water or being far from shore.  There was some risk in taking this little dog, but my dad was on board with the idea, so we decided to give it a try.

At the Wood Lake parking lot, I put a leash on Delilah, put on my pack with an overkill amount of fishing tackle, inflatable PFD, raincoat, beverages, and other sundry items I always have with me when out in the woods. Things like firestarters, matches, a lighter, toilet tissue, plastic bags for fish, an anchor rope with a replacement landing net on one end for my anchor should we need to stop, and two small boat cushions.  I never go without those cushions. You can get a serious case of  "boat butt" from sitting on those hard aluminum seats and without cushions. As a result, you end up MacGuyvering stuff out of available resources.  It's just better to bring along cushions.

I picked up my eight foot guiding oars and small landing net and headed down the trail.  May dad followed up with the rods and his pack.  His pack is the most important as it has the lunch in it.  It's a really long day with no lunch.

Down the trail D and me go, with her out in front matching my pace nicely. We make it all the way to the boats with no issues and it helps that this was not Delilah's first rodeo on the Wood Lake portage.  We were just here a week ago on a possible search/rescue that turned out to be nothing (a good nothing).  

The boats were filled with water from the big rain dump the two nights previous.  I bailed them while I waited for Dad to catch up.  Got everything ready and when he arrived shortly and we loaded up the boat and headed down the river to the main part of the lake.  In the water along the way, we were looking at the lilly pads below the surface.  They all stood at attention waiting to rise up and great the air but they had a ways to go.  Most were under at least six inches of water.   There were very few of them who'd made it to their summer resting places laying on the water in a large green mosaic to tangle with oars and canoe paddles and to feed the moose.  The vast open water made for faster rowing without the pads trying their best to slow us down and enjoy the day by their rules.

Delilah found her spot on the seat in between the motor (me) and Dad in the back of the boat.  So far, so very good.  The little dog was as calm as the day is long enjoying the sights, sounds and smells of new muskeg as everything prepared to grow into the summer season.  You could smell the fresh smells of new grass and tree buds and tamaracks. There was the clean smell of the wind as it travels through a filter of ten thousand trees only to cross the water and greet the trees on the other side.  Delilah was taking it all in like a new day in a puppy's world, sniffing the air, briefly analyzing, learning and getting her ducks in a row for the years to come leading in the role of an adult. 

We finally made it out to the first island and set up to troll through that familiar spot.  Sometimes, the fishing there can be so good that no further traveling is required.  Today, with the slow southeast wind, it was an inactive spot with nobody home.  Or, if they were home, they weren't answering the door like people who ran out of candy on Halloween night.  An easterly wind will do that almost every time.

We continued onward, noticing how slow the fishing was going with some near "hits" by northerns missing our lures at the last second and startling the "bejeezus" out of us.   You never seem to expect that high-speed attack/miss/swirl by the freshwater sharks in northern Minnesota.   Some were small, some were nice sized, all were fast as greased lightning.  When we finally boated a fish, Delilah would do the unthinkable.  This eight-and-and-half-month-old puppy has the wherewithal to back out of the way and observe no matter how much flopping around occurred.  She neither barked nor cowered but instead simply watched calmly.  When the fish went back in the lake or on the stringer, she looked over the side briefly and then went back to doing her thing.  That has never been my experience with a dog in the boat before.  We were both surprised and impressed.

Well, we put distance behind us as I pumped aluminum and picked up scattered fish here and there.  At one point, my dad hooked what appeared to be a hefty walleye.  It wouldn't come up and had a lot of determination to not come into the boat.  Those are always fun.  Here's the video of that :

Yes, I accidentally shut off the camera right when it was getting good.

Here's the rest of the event:

It ended up a really good day on Wood Lake,  We got some walleyes and some really nice perch.

And, here we're breaking for lunch with Delilah:

Late in the day, the wind changed to a south wind and the fishing kicked into much higher gear as we were on our way out.



It was a good day on Wood Lake.  More videos to come.

On the return, it was something to note that a zillion lily pads, only eight hours later, were now  resting flat on top of the water instead of below.  They grew like crazy in just one day and were their juvenile red color instead of their more mature green color to come in the ensuing days of summer.  I have a feeling the brush is going to be very, very bushy this season. 

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Northwind Lodge - River tour

Take an outside tour of Northwind Lodge and Jasper Creek in early spring right after ice out.  It was a beautiful day on May 10, 2014, opening day of fishing!

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You run the Chainsaw

Run a chainsaw and a Bobcat right from your computer.  Well, maybe not.  But, if you were able to do it, it would look like this.

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Scenes from Northwind Lodge - 70 years and counting!

Jasper Creek Falls at Northwind Lodge by Cabin 2

Northwind Lodge has now 70 years of continuous operation by the same family under it's belt. It began with my grandpa and grandma Frank & Mary to my dad and mom, Joe & Paula to me and my wife, Joe, Jr. & Annette.  

I'd like to introduce you to a few of the faces of the people with whom we grew up in the resort life at Northwind Lodge.  Yes, these are modern years depicted, but this is only a tiny smattering of the photos of the folks who've been staying with us year after year for over 50 years with some families!  I often think about all the family histories to which we've been a part and it is truly amazing.  Births, deaths, marriages starting-ending-repairing, new jobs, job losses, new cars, illnesses, healing, quirks, happiness, peacefulness, a thousand-plus different stories, all as we come to know our lodge guests many of whom have become close family of sorts living far away for the rest of the year. Northwind Lodge is not simply a "property" to us Baltich's.  Our history is rich and deep with more exposures to more people than most will see in an entire lifetime.

Also included are scenes from our resort.  This is what wilderness living looks like today.  At Northwind Lodge, it is still a lot like it was 70 years ago but now the water runs in plumbing as opposed to having to "run and go get it" like we did back in the day.  


Visit just one Northwind Lodge Album Here - 42 pics. 

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