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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Enjoy Wilderness Without Sleeping on a Rock

Feeling creative today with a radio ad I put together about "not sleeping on a rock" and still enjoying wilderness.  I set it to pictures from Jasper Lake and Northwind Lodge.  It's only 41 seconds long.  Enjoy.

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Strangle the Sucker!

I never have a boring day at Northwind Lodge.  Sometimes, I wish I did.

Today, at 1 PM a sales rep came in to show us a line of hunting clothing for the store part of Northwind Lodge which is Red Rock.  Red Rock Wilderness Store to be exact.  He's an older gentleman whom I've known for quite a few years and he was outside for a bit getting a rolling clothing rack ready with the product line to display.  I helped him wrestle it over the threshold of the store door and got behind the counter with Jackie as the show was set to go.  This particular line is of clothing is cheap in price only.  The actual clothing itself is some of the best we've ever seen in quality.  It is simple, beautifully made, generously cut, very warm and just a great all around line that would easily go head to head with any line offered by any well-known big box retailer.  So, we like it.  One can actually own an affordable product that is made well.  As a result, we always look forward to meeting this rep from Wildfowler.

Earlier in the day, one of our cabin guests came into the store to buy some new Rapala X Raps.  He'd been casting off of the dock at the beach on Jasper and brought in a nice large mouth bass.  He also missed several other fish until he finally gave the lure up to the lake.  Apparently it was tribute for the nice bass. He came to buy a few more and then disappeared back down to the beach to see if there were more nice bass waiting for a chance to attack an X Rap.  

About a third of the way in to the sales rep's presentation which was very casual as we like them that way ourselves, our guest and his friend came back in the store.  I stopped looking at the rep and asked our guests if we could help them.  The one guy said,  "No, no.  Looks like you are busy with this guy, we can come back later."  

I said, "No, we're fine.  What can I get you?"

"Well", he said.  "Can you help me with this?" he queried as he held up his hand with the brand new Rapala X Rap in his palm.  

At first I was going to ask what is wrong with the lure, but then I saw the blood on his middle finger.  He had one of those razor sharp, brand spanking new, treble hooks jammed in past the barb in his middle finger.  The rep looked at it and said, "Whoa!" and the guy with the hook in his finger reiterated, "But, really....you folks ought to finish up here!"  To the that rep said, "Don't worry about me.  You gotta get that fixed!", and we concurred.

I looked at it and said, "Yeah, I can get that out."  We'll just pop it out with a string and a stick and the rep chimed in, "Yeah....you won't even feel it.   I've had it done before." 

I asked to take a closer look and he presented his hand over to me.  At that point, it passed right in front of Jackie who was standing next to me and she looked at the blood and rather urgently said, "Ooo,  oooo... I, I gotta go to the back room."  I thought she was going to knock me over as she made her distance and disdain be known.  Jackie turns green at the first sign of blood, regardless of ownership.  I laughed because I already knew that.

I looked at the hook on that shiny, brand new X Rap and said that I'd go and get some snippers and we'll pull the points off the other two hooks of the treble and remove it from the lure body.  It was then that I noticed that there was a pair of sucker lips stuck on the rear hook.  He caught himself a bugle-mouth trout!   The suckers are spawning in Jasper Creek and that is what hit the X Rap.  He said it fought like crazy, pulling line out of his reel making the drag sing.  But, then when he finally got the sucker up on the dock, he was trying to be nice to it by freeing it from the treble hook to let it go.  Well, the sucker, being a rather obnoxious, rough breed of  fish, decided that he wasn't going back into the lake without a fight.  He flopped around magnificently, until he ultimately hooked this unsuspecting angler with the other end of a two-hook lure.  At that point, being nice to the fish took far less priority as the shooting pains from his middle finger to his neck told him he should now "strangle the sucker".  Anything to make that lousy fish stop jumping around on the dock.

I'm not entirely sure as to what transpired exactly, but there were sucker eggs  smeared all over the front of the guy's shirt and a well-defined set of sucker lips still stuck to the back hook of the X Rap.  That would indicate to me that the sucker didn't fair too well in the end.   But, who knows? 

I ran up to my basement which after numerous years is looking more like a film clip from the show "Hoarders" and went directly to the spot where I had my bike spoke cutters from my past life as a bike mechanic.  Like any organized mess, they were right there, proudly waiting for this moment.  Then, I went back to the store, snipped about twenty inches of 60 pound test monofilament off a spool and grabbed a screwdriver.   I had the guy go out on the deck and he was stammering, "Wait, now...wha...what are we doing?"

While I was working on his hand as he laid it on the railing, I replied, "First, we're gonna snip that split ring and remove the lure so we don't get that other hook back in us by accident.  Then, we snip all the points off the hook that aren't stuck in you."  I moved carefully and tried to not jiggle the hook as I lopped off parts of the forge-hardened steel with my spoke cutters  (spoke cutters really work great, incidentally)  until I was down to the stem and buried point.  "Then, we take this line and put it around the hook, right next to the skin.  We wrap the two ends of the line around the screwdriver handle for a grip.  I'm now going to tip the hook forward and yank on 'three' and it should pop right out. "

His buddy said that he should have had a drink prior to this event to which he confirmed that he had just downed a beer.  "That beer should kick in about half an hour after we're finished here.    Lot good that's gonna do", I said.

He shuts his eyes.  I grip his finger and hold it down to the deck railing and carefully tip the hook forward with one of my free fingers.  He closes his eyes.  I think his buddy was giggling.   "One, two, THREE!" and I give it a yank.  It popped out as smooth as butter with barely the slightest hint of resistance.  I go "All right!" as I see the hook is tangled in the line attached to my screwdriver.  I look up and his eyes are still shut and I tell him we're done.  He looked at his finger incredulously and said "That's IT?!"  I don't believe he even felt it.  Maybe that beer did kick in.

"Yup!  I'll get some peroxide and a bandaid."  I came back, patched him up and then put on a split ring and a new short-shank Gamakatsu treble hook on his X Rap.  Oh, and I removed those sucker lips.  He was good to go and quite relieved. Me, too - that's only the second time I've used that technique.  The last time I did it to a guy's thumb  he hollered "Holy Hannah!  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!  TELL ME that you GOT it, Joe!  Don't say that we have to do that again!"

In that particular instance, the hook came sailing out and pinged around the room like a ricocheting bullet in an old cowboy western.   I told the guy after his screaming that it "didn't work and it looks like I need to do it again".

He groaned loudly and I then quickly followed up with, "Nah,  we got it out!   You're good to go!"   He had to look at his thumb to verify.  Whew!   LOL! 

This year's hook removal was pretty painless.   I went back inside to where Jackie had come out of hiding and was talking with the rep.  We placed a Wildfowler order for some of our fall clothing lines and everybody was happy!

Never a dull moment at Northwind Lodge.

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Delilah's First Boat Ride

Alrighty, then... Just got back from Wood Lake - at 8:03 PM.  The same party of lodge guests was there today, four in two canoes and two guys in one row boat.  The four in canoes...who had been there before,  all came back at 3:30 PM.  I waited for the two in the boat to come back until 7:30 PM, but no sign of them availed itself.  The fact that we're burning daylight puts me in full alert mode.  I went to check with the rest of their group at their cabin and asked if either of the two guys had ever been to Wood Lake before.  No, was the answer.  I was a bit incredulous at the sheer lack of planning,  but I had a gut feeling that this would be the case when I went to visit them.  In fact, that was why I went to see them.   Wood lake is a a 453 acre lake in the BWCA.  It's easy to get turned around and I supposed that if they were lost, they weren't terribly lost because tonight was a nice calm evening.   Nonetheless, I'd rather have extra time on my side than not enough so I make the decision to go immediately. 

One of the younger guys (age 69) volunteered to join me in crossing the portage and heading out on the lake. I grabbed my guiding oars (I never lend them to anyone, ever), some PFD's, the boat key and Delilah.  I didn't want to leave her home as Annette was visiting a friend and the concept of cleaning up the house after the little dog went nuts was less than appealing.  Cookie was her usual sound, calm self, but she has no control whatsoever over Delilah.  (I don't think she really even tries.  She's a bit lackadaisical in areas of guidance and counsel and running far and moving for approaching cars, etc.)

With Delilah snarling at the strange-to-her guy in the truck, we took off.  Got to the Wood Lake parking lot and their vehicle was still there.  Bad sign Number One.  I take my oars, the guy grabs the PFD's and off we go.  Delilah is on the leash and as I'm moving fast, I'm really wondering if this was my smartest move of the evening.  She's never been in a boat before.  Cookie freaked out last time I put her in a boat.  I figured I might have to tie Delilah to a tree and go.  I get to the water's edge some 210 rods later and see Bad Sign Number Two:  no boat with two guys in it.

I unlocked our second boat and pushed it out and my partner piled in.  That guy moves pretty well for a 69 year old for his second round trip on this portage in one day.  I loaded Delilah and he took the leash.  After a some initial bouncing around, she stood on the floor of the boat like she's been doing this forever.  Whew!  I turn the boat around, pull on my oars and head the boat down the river towards the opening of the lake.  I just round the first "S" turn and am about 200 feet out in the river and there they are.  Whew, again.  I didn't have to row very far this evening.  My partner asked if we could just say that we were "out for some exercise".  I smiled and said "Sure!"  I turned the boat back around and brought it in to shore where I locked it up.  That was a really short trip.  We were happy to see the two newbies coming in completely intact with no issues.  The one guy had two walleyes and lost a third having had no landing net. 

I locked up the boats, and told the three guys that I would be heading back,  One of the guys in the boat asked me if we were the "scouting party".  I said that I was "just out for some exercise".  I'm pretty sure he didn't believe me.   I took off up the trail, oars on my shoulder, dog on leash.   Nothing like the Wood Lake Workout to burn some calories off of my layer of winter fat.  

Bullets, Boats, and Bears

Well, spring is in the air I think.  Yesterday morning was 25 degrees F when I got up and standing water had ice on it.  However, Jasper Creek is really ripping hard right now and the water everywhere is high.  We are at the point where it'll be good to see the leaves starting to come out as they drink up a lot of water. The ground in the woods is pretty wet yet.

Two days ago, I went to Wood Lake to check on our boats.   I took Delilah on a leash to get her used to seeing new things and still remain with me or as least near by.  Good thing I had her on a leash.  I walked a fast pace over that 210 rod portage, skipping around big muddy sections, looking for rocks to land my feet on to keep dry.  Delilah followed along in a trot but every now and then she would blast off in a direction of a squirrel or "perceived" animal of the woods.  With a firm grip on the end of the leash, she would wind  up doing an undignified backflip when she accelerated herself to the end.  She remained unflappable (and unable to learn, apparently) in the whole "running out of rope thing" as she did it several times.   She's still a puppy.

After about 12 minutes of walking on last year's leaves on top of this year's mud, we made it to the hill above the water.  Only at this time of year with no leaves on the branches, can one see out into the endless muskeg towards Wood Lake from the overlooking hill.  I could see that the water was really high.  There is a waterfall behind the hill that comes out right where our boats are locked up and it, too, was roaring loudly.  Delilah was obviously having a ball with so many new sights and sounds in focused oblivion smelling every scent of every animal that came this way.

I made my way down those same rocks that I have now crossed for an entire lifetime.  At the water's edge, I turned starboard to use the little path that takes me to our boats and tied Delilah's leash to an alder branch.  I flipped the boats upright and checked them over to make sure nobody shot them up over winter.  

As a young lad, when we had our boats down there and Deer Trail Lodge had theirs, I remember the constant struggle with their lodge guests using our dock because it was built better than Deer Trail's.  Then, their guests in utter laziness would sometimes simply lock a Deer Trail boat to the back handles of our boats so when our guests would get there, they "could" go fishing but would need to drag along a Deer Trail boat which was generally frowned upon as a viable option.  Our lodge guests would have to come get us, we'd have to call Deer Trail.  They'd have to send somebody down the portage with their key. We'd have to go there as well.  It was a gargantuan pain sometimes.   Everybody ended up doing a whole lot of walking because of one clueless individual with a lock. 

Those boats from the other resort would truly drive us nuts.  One year, the owner  took his four green boats in the fall and stacked them upside down in a pile directly across the end of the portage.  We were simply astounded by the apparent lack of concern for anyone else using that portage, namely in the winter.  Lots of people would snowmobile to Wood Lake to go ice fishing as did we.  Coming off the portage with a "gate" built out of 14 foot long, steel, green boats made for some fancy maneuvering and cussing by a lot of people forced to crash through the surrounding brush with their snowmobiles. A clear, open portage would have worked a lot better.  That winter, those boats didn't fair too well.  They ended up riddled with bullet holes -lots of them-  through all the important parts and not one fired by us.  Apparently, someone took out their anger - boat rage - on those Deer Trail boats.  Based on the caliber, we're pretty sure we know who shot them up but we didn't have proof and nobody was terribly surprised that this happened.  (Plug the portage with boats, somebody shoots up the boats?  Nah!)  Well, except for Deer Trail Lodge - they had to do a lot of  repairs - they were probably upset.   After that incident, however, he always flipped them over off to the side and had no more trouble with bullet holes.   And, that is one of the things I think about coming down that hill to look at our own boats.  Over the years, we've had bullets holes and shotgun blasts with birdshot from fall grouse hunters who couldn't find a bird so they shot a big red steel boat.    We've always done our best to keep them tucked away off the beaten path and have been fortunate to not have a lot of vandalism.  They were fine on this trip as well.

Another thing I think of when I get ready to walk down that final hill is a story my dad told.  When HE was a kid, some of his guests went to Wood Lake for the day back in the 40's.  Back then, personal flotation devices were not required but people brought along those old kapok boat cushions because even in the 40's, the seats got hard after a while.  Sitting in one of our floating boats were some of our guests who were just getting ready to start the motor and head out to the lake.  They suddenly heard a loud shot and felt the impact as a 30 caliber bullet tore under the middle guy's backside cutting a 14 inch groove in the seat under his boat cushion and then making an exit hole out the side of the boat 4 inches below the gunwale.  It missed him completely.   Everybody ducked, squirmed and yelled when they realized that someone actually took a shot a them with a 30-30 Winchester!  What the...?    It was spring time - NOT deer season!  Who the heck is out there shooting and why?!

As it turned out, there were two escaped convicts from some faraway prison who were on the run.  For actual motives unbeknownst to my dad and grandpa, they fired one round at our guests and narrowly missed a seated man's hip and butt by mere inches. Then they took off.  It made no sense -shoot at unarmed people once without warning or robbing them and then take off  into the woods.  The authorities eventually apprehended these guys and caught them with the rifle.  Initially, nobody could figure out what they were doing at the end of the Wood Lake portage in the middle of nowhere. Then it was surmised that they were interested in taking the boat and heading to Canada with an ill-planned escape trip.  It made sense because we're are pretty far north and the border is only a hop, skip and a jump away.  However, one would need canoes to quickly cross the portages at Hula and Good Lake to get to Basswood.   Maybe they only had one bullet left and missed killing the guy so the other two would not have been very cooperative.  Who knows?  It made for an interesting day of fishing in the area that was eventually deemed God's country by the federal government or AKA, the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness some thirty-plus years later. Unbeknownst to the vast majority of visitors today, many things happened in the BWCA when it was a just a mere wilderness instead of a federally-designated wilderness - which the same but with more rules.  To all of us at those times, it was just rocks and sticks and water in the middle of nowhere without all the government restrictions and the fancy title.  

This story, and my dad running into bears on the Wood Lake portage resulted in me carrying a .45 cal. 1911 pistol for the first several years of my guiding career on Wood Lake.  As a kid, I used to pull that heavy pistol out of my pack and clip its army-issued leather holster around a gunwale bracket of the boat right next to me.  

My new clients would usually gasp audibly and then stutter as they asked if the pistol was "real".  "Yeah, it's very real" I would reply.   

"Is it loaded?", they would query hesitantly. 

"Yup!" would be my answer.  "It's ready to go."

I would always tell them it was for bears on the portage.  Some of the clients would nervously smile or show facial trepidation to their buddy on the other seat.  Then, after the shock of having a 15-year-old with a loaded cannon sitting next to him in the boat subsided, they would ask incredulously as an after thought, "There are BEARS here?"  

"Well, of course", I would reply and then tell the Cliff notes version of how my dad and his friend John Butorac had a big momma bear chasing them around in the dark one night on the Wood Lake portage. Coffee can of gasoline wired to a forked stick for a torch, stumbling through through muskeg, wet up to their armpits, feeling with their hands for the portage in the pitch black, not knowing where that 350 lb. angry bear was, etc.  Fun times!   It seemed that nobody ever lolly-gagged on the Wood Lake portage on the way out.

Since I was young and guiding many "off the road" people (who weren't staying with us and we didn't know them), I never told them I carried that .45 mainly for them.  Nobody messed with me ever, not that I ever felt that any of my clients would.  But who knows - I had a .45 right next to me a all times so it could have been a real disincentive.  For the most part, they were all nice people.  When I finally grew bigger and surlier, I left the .45 at home.  It was extra weight that I happy to live without on the portage.  An oar would have worked pretty well, had I needed it.

So, I checked the locks, floated the boats and untied Delilah.  Back up that hill we went with the little brown dog tirelessly sniffing the ghosts of many seasons past.   There were leaves to be raked, water lines to be turned on and remnants of a hard winter that needed to be put to rest at Northwind Lodge so we headed home.  Our first people would be arriving tomorrow.

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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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Bladders, Rocks and a Little Brown Dog

Our first guests are coming next Saturday to Northwind Lodge and just as well.  I've never been a fan of opening day of fishing. Sure, some guys pound the fish in the moving water only because the walleyes have just finished spawning and are milling around, but for the most part it was never my fun time for fishing.  Last week in May, after Memorial Weekend are ALWAYS better than opening day, any time of the year for consistent fishing all over the lake.  The weather is nicer usually, the water is warming up, and you can catch more than one species of fish.  Now, some say that if it's not "only walleyes" what is the point?  If that is your only focus and you like eating fish that tastes like whatever breading you chose to fry it in, well, knock yourself out.  Do what you need to do to catch the tofu of fish. Just remember that fishing in NE Minnesota on fishing opener may lead to no fishing as there is still ice on the lakes right now.  I'd come later on for more stable weather, no ice, and more variety in fishing.

Today was a day of diversity in working, however.  Since we are closed on Sundays in May, I try to take advantage of the time for finishing heavy equipment projects and plumbing adventures.  For the better part of Mother's Day, I wrestled with two, 220 gallon pressure tanks that I had installed to aid in our water distribution system.  Pressure tanks allow a reserve of water to build up in the pressurized water system so the pump isn't clicking on and off which causes excessive wear and tear and eventually premature pump failure. Changing out a pump by hand, 165 feet underground is far less fun than it sounds having experienced that event years ago.  So, pressure tanks make sense - when they work.  

Last fall, for the first time ever, we decided to shut down the central restroom building  to save on heating costs.  No biggie, I've been draining water systems since I've been a young kid.  Having to drain those pressure tanks was something new, however.  Turns out that the rubber bladders in those tanks ruptured at some point over the years.  They were full with 220 gallons of water and I had to blow it out using the air valve on top and an air compressor. In order to get 440 gallons of water to run outside the building I had to cut an outside line with my knife.  To get the water system up and running today, of course, I needed to install a coupling in the water line that I cut last fall.  I put on hose clamps and discovered that I had two US made clamps and one Taiwanese clamp.  I normally avoid the Taiwanese clamps because they are totally unreliable. 

I put the two US clamps together on one side of the coupling and snugged them down.  I put the cheap clamp on the other side of the coupling.  After isolating the building with valves, I turned on the main water with a valve under the lodge building.  I checked the now-pressurized coupling, and didn't trust that foreign clamp.  I found some used US clamps on discarded piece of line and decided to install them in place of the cheap clamp.  So, in back of the building, I decided to move the cheap clamp and deftly slip in the two better clamps so I wouldn't have to worry about it while I lay awake at night wondering what might blow when we need it most.

I take my 5/16" nut driver and begin to loosen the clamp.  I unscrew it smoothly and slowly because my goal is to take it off and deftly slip on two used clamps without shutting off the water because the shut-off is under another building 125 feet away.  Twist, twwwiiiisssssttttt, tttwwwisssssssssstttttt and POOF!   The line blew off the coupling and an instantaneous geyser of 55 PSI water blew up my nose and soaked me from head to crotch.  I sputtered and reacted with my "cat-like" reflexes (Ha!).  I took off running to get to the main water valve like I should have done in the first place, hair wet, hat dripping, soaked T-shirt, and 47 degree water meeting various parts of me that don't really appreciate ice cold water - ever.  I went back, fixed the coupling and went in to change into dry clothes.  

From there I moved to the pressure tanks by wrestling one big, fat slippery tank onto the back of the truck and tying it securely on its side with canoe straps so I could pull out the old rubber bladder out.  I grabbed hold of the rubber with my pliers.  It wouldn't come out without a fight.  (Of course...)  It was heavy, stretchy, and belligerent.   I ended up taking out my knife and shredding it until I got it out of the big metal tank and dropped it on the ground like a dead carcass peeled off the center line of the Fernberg road.  

That was the easy part.  I now had to put the new bladder in place.  That means figuring out how to tightly roll up a fat piece of rubber into a log that is under 6 inches in diameter.  I got some clean, soapy water and began to wrestle the big rubber part through the steel hole.  After numerous, tiring attempts, I finally got the bladder inside of that big tank.  I kept thinking about soaking an egg in vinegar and and squeezing it into a bottle.  One tank wore me out, and I had to do the same to the second.  I figured that might go easier. HA!  Six tries and it finally popped into the tank.  I replaced the bolt-on pressure plates, torquing the six nuts to the required 85 inch pounds of pressure and back to the building they went where I wrestled them inside.

Before hooking them up, I decide to verify the water system in the building since it was turned off for the winter.  Ice really sneaks in the most inopportune of places and I figured it would be better to identify those first before putting in a water reserve.  I couldn't find a leak with the exception of one compression ring that was blown off under a lavatory.  Ice did that.  I ran out of time.  Annette and I were supposed to leave at 3 PM to visit her mom in the nursing home.  So, I shut the main line in the building, found Delilah and headed to the house.  I'll have to fix that ring tomorrow.  

When we returned from Ely, we ate dinner and I decided to go out and work on a rock wall that I'm building next to the Treetophaus.  I decided to remove some really big balsams with the help of my dad and the Bobcat for fire safety and to allow two Norway pines in their shadows to grow.  As a result, I opened up an area and decided to build a stone wall and a patio of sorts to provide a nice safer spot for the barbecue grill for Treetophaus guests. Of course, it is a tricky spot with a main water line in the way, lots of rocks and lacking in enough space to maneuver.  With Delilah watching my every move, and then chasing after a snowshoe hare, and then watching me again, I began to roll rocks as large as I could handle into the bucket of the Bobcat.  Sometimes, it is just easier to hand fill the bucket instead of trying to spear under them with the bucket edge.   After dumping four loads of rocks and moving slow not to run over my little buddy who thinks that Bobcat wheels and attachments are not threatening at all, I began to stack them into a small wall.  It's going to take many more buckets of rocks and then about 4 loads of gravel.  It's nice working this time of year as there are no bugs whatsoever and the new bugs are kind of dumb.   Also, in the background, Jasper Creek is roaring.  After having listened to that same sound of natural white noise for my entire life, it is really something to have toiled in these rocks for so long.  Not a lot of people will ever experience something like that.  

Finally, I'd had enough. Those rocks would have to wait for another day.   It was 8 PM and after wrestling boulders around that I wished the Bobcat could get into and handle but couldn't, I decided to head in.  I climbed in and cranked up the machine and headed it to a tent to keep it out of the rain that is supposed to be coming tomorrow.  Delilah trotted alongside looking at me and matching my speed.  I shut it down, climbed out I noted the mischievous look in doglette's eyes.  She began doing high-speed laps around and around in crazy patterns on the ground.  I had to encourage her and she ran faster and faster only to stop suddenly on a patch of fresh, young grass and lay down puffing.

We both then headed inside.  Delilah is now curled up in her dog bed, Cookie is snoring asleep in front of me, Annette is watching the tube, and I'm typing this post.  The day is coming to an end.   Didn't quite fit in casting off the docks for a haukie or two despite the beautiful day.  Maybe tomorrow.

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