"Known to very few" is somewhat of an understatement...so shrouded in secrecy is its location, that I am obliged strictly to never speak of the name of the lake it's in, town the lake's near, or city that neighbours for that matter!
- To protect the innocent (me); lets just say it exists within the province of Ontario and leave it at that!
- Carl...lets call him (could be fictitious/could be a real name) is very protective of his treasured fishing grounds...so much so that even a highly trusted professional colleague and friend such as myself is allowed there only with the greatest reluctance and angst on his part.
- "My God!" must think Carl, "what if that fool tells someone!" Like in a moment of moral weakness to "massage a deal together" with a client who's a fishing enthusiast..."damn him...I could see him doing that." All could be lost!
During one expedition last year I thought I caught a look of relief and satisfaction flash across his face when I complained that "they changed the @!$#&* highway again...I don't know where the hell we are now."
I speculate now, that Carl may have been given an idea that day, as a result of my confusion with changes to ramps, exits and entrances...
On subsequent trips up I found that we never seemed to take the same route in twice, and our way out was always under cover of darkness, him relating colourful stories to me to hold my attention and distract me, and my keen sense of direction.
Once when we arrived, I was astonished to find during my absence he had built an entirely new private road leading in, complete with white knuckle, hairpin corners, treacherously steep blind hills and various forks in the road, leading to dead ends; or off the property all together to an unneighbourly neighbour's house! (Most folks in these parts favour large guard dogs and firearms over "Alarm Force Security Systems." "No need for a "stern voice" on the telephone telling you "the police are on their way.") You cross the wrong local in an isolated area like that and you'll only wish "the police are on their way."
All this subterfuge, in an effort to disorient and confuse even the most persistent interloping sport fisherman!
When/if one eventually makes it to the cabin, they are greeted by the sight of a small, yet perfect little cottage, perched amongst the pines overlooking a scenic pathway down to the lake.
Arriving at the shore we set about bailing the water from Carl's favourite fishing boat!...a large steel hulled "behemoth of a craft" built for utility rather than creature comforts, capable, I'm sure of carrying great amounts of cargo, and as it turns out...two hundred gallons of rainwater!!
After 26 minutes of two old guys in the classic crouched bailing position and then another 10 minutes or so to recover the circulation in our legs and back pain to subside before we could both straighten up to a full standing position we set off in "the Red Green boat" as he likes to call her.
I'm not sure if the name is some reference to our "champion of the outdoor adventure" or simply because it is red and green...
We caught fish from most, if not all of the indigenous species...some "singles" (uh, again no reference to any website) and double headers as well.
Of course out of customary respect for my host and he being the elder; it was necessary for me to let Carl catch a few more fish than I...no sense risking no invite back, just to prove my prowess as the superior sportsman.
And...after a day like that...Carl's secret is safe with me!