It's All About the Lunch!

One of the things I do to put a little extra joy in my tank, is pack a good lunch when I’m heading into the outdoors. There should be no rules to follow when doing this: dietary or otherwise. It should be tasty, fattening, extravagant, decadent - and just plain yummy. Pick some things you really like and throw them into the bag. And don’t be stingy with the salt, fat, and sweet! 

I’ve had trips where I’ve humped into a remote stretch of river only to find that there was not enough water to have good fishing. But I had an Eatmore bar and a Coke Zero in my pack that totally saved the day.

I walked 65 km with my dog Autumn for one grouse today (okay maybe 6.5)… But the egg salad sandwich, pickles, strawberries, and chocolate was by far the greatest part of the day. My wife, Antonietta, made the sandwiches. I don’t know how she does it but the sandwiches are totally off-the-charts good. Mine are okay, but hers are legendary. These particular sandwiches were made with Five Star light rye bread, bought directly from the bakery on the day they came out of the oven. On this trip she was with me and made my sandwich exactly how I like it. It’s one of those little things that makes the day amazing regardless of the circumstances. It’s almost like the lunch is the REAL reason for the outing. 

Yes you could stay home and eat the lunch, but it wouldn’t be the same without the breeze and the falling leaves, and all the Tupperware containers full of sandwiches, fixins, condiments, nuts, cookies and drink choices spread across the tailgate of the truck. 

I have a YETI cooler that I bought on a deal from Cabela’s. A gift certificate, combined with a sale price, made it almost affordable on a retirement income. Of course it qualified for free shipping  because it was WAY ABOVE the minimum purchase. Expensive yes, but it does keep things cool all day with just one small ice pack. It’s also as heavy as a large kettle-bell if you want a little shoulder workout after lunch.

I’m not sure why some people don’t eat good food when in the outdoors. I remember one exhausting afternoon walking on the tundra looking for a polar bear to photograph. I was on a trip fly fishing the Sutton River in the far north of Ontario for brook trout. I had been tasked by a certain tourism organization manager to photograph a polar bear if the opportunity presented itself (you know, if possible, without dying in the process). My guide pulled the boat up at the edge of river right at Hudson Bay. He said we’d just walk over the hill and see if we could find a bear. No need to change out of my waders as I’d only be gone from the boat for a few minutes. An hour later, with blisters on my feet and cooking in my own juices from walking in chest waders, we did find a polar bear but it was thankfully way out of photography range. My guide looked at me and said, “Hey. You want a sandwich?” “Sure!” was my instant reply. Well it was one slice of processed ham, with a faint green tinge on the edges slapped between two pieces of accordion style Wonder bread with no butter or condiments. 

Now that’s just wrong…

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A Walk with Hidden Purpose

This morning I discovered there was no coffee. I frantically opened every cupboard in the house but we were completely out. I started dialing 911 but then thought better of it. The police would understand, but they are quite busy these days.

Somehow I squeezed out enough black juice from the remnants of grains in the coffee grinder. Wow. That fuelled my caffeine deficiency for a full 5 minutes.

Time in the outdoors is like that too. If I don’t get enough I don’t operate properly. It’s like I can’t find the right gear. My mind is dull, and my spirits are missing a certain vibration. 

I’ve learned that whatever trials you are facing, the outdoors is the remedy. 

A few days ago I walked along the stream near my cabin. It was very low and thirsty looking, but nevertheless it was a little higher than it was a week ago. I knew the migratory fish would be down near the mouth waiting for rain. So I looked downstream and could see them finning near the surface in a large pool. Imagine that: The river and fish were waiting faithfully for the renewed flow of water… 

And today it is raining. In fact it’s been raining all night. 

Regardless of the doom-and-gloom in the news, the worries that overcome our thinking, and the notion that suggests everything will dry up and die; creation - or more accurately - “the creator” pulls through.

In fact a wise person once wrote “creation itself testifies there is a creator.”

I continued on my walk that day and saw a family of grouse milling around in the weeds on my way back from the river. Probably the same family my dog spooked up about a week ago. 

This was a walk without any particular goal. I didn’t have a fishing rod - because I knew the river was too low to fish. I didn’t have my shotgun - as hunting season was still a week away. So this walk had no purpose - or so it seemed.

What it did, was refresh my soul. It gave me confirmation that the salmon were coming, and a reminder that grouse season was only a week away. It also gave me hope for myself. That the future held good things. 

Let that sink in a bit. 

Oh, and by the way, Tim Hortons down the street had coffee. And it was REAL GOOD!

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THE GREAT OUTDOOR IRONY

Yesterday morning my dog flushed a family of grouse from a thicket at the base of a crooked jackpine. There had to be at least 6 grouse altogether. The mature bird flew off in a straight-line clear out of view, while the young ones changed direction at least once and lighted in trees nearby. My vizsla, Autumn, was wound like a cheap Timex for the following hour. The sun was just poking through the trees to the east and the light shone green as it filtered through the forest and morning mist. It was one of those snapshots in the great outdoors that will stick with me forever. 

If you have followed my stories over the years, you’ll know that I’m a bit of a romantic. 

But this was not a stroll in the woods or a dog-training session. I was simply walking over to the shed on my Lake Superior property. I was headed there to do some work and spent the rest of the day slugging it out in the 30-degree heat covered in sweat, soil and sawdust. 

For anyone who owns lake property you know the drill. While your love of the outdoors may have inspired you to buy the place; your time fishing, hunting and pursuing the outdoor things you love most becomes mixed with never-ending grunt labour doing repairs and chores that have no regard for the timing of the salmon bite and other nuances of the seasons. 

It is the great outdoor irony, if you will.

Last weekend, for example, I was standing in my rubber boots in a wet, stinky hole in the ground repairing a plugged septic line. I will spare you all the details, but I will tell you that I was wearing safety goggles, rubber gloves and an N-95 mask wielding a saws-all with a long blade. 

Not so romantic.

But this has become the norm for me since the snow left back in April. A little fishing here and there, and a whole lot of hard work in between. Just the same, it has been rewarding and enjoyable. I am one of those strange ones that loves hard work. While I do enjoy fishing, hunting and all of those wonderful outdoor pastimes, I relish in working with my hands. 

After I retired in 2011, I fished, hunted, checked my trail cameras - and so on - ad nauseam. Eventually, I discovered that the times I was most happy, were the ones where I was setting up a tree stand, felling trees and cutting firewood. So I decided to go back to work as a carpenter: the career I started after highschool; and really, my first love, so to speak.

So purchasing an old, run-down resort on Lake Superior that needed lots of TLC, seemed like a good fit. 

Although my days are chocked full of this hard work that I apparently relish in, I do have Superior at my doorstep to provide a reprieve now and then. Like yesterday when I stripped down to my shorts and walked like a zombie up to my neck in the cool clear water at the end of the work day. I was hot, sticky, dirty - and a bit crabby. But the water washed it all away, and reminded me that it was all well worth the toil.

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The Splendour of Lake Superior

On one of the recent hot, over-thirty-degree-days, we ventured across Nipigon Bay in our boat to an island, with a full crew between the ages of 3 and 60-something. We stopped at a secluded beach and spent the afternoon there. The water was clear and unusually warm for Lake Superior. But of course, still quite refreshing to the skin. 

We made a fire on the sand beach, and roasted some wieners and smokies. I had a smoky on a fresh bun with mustard and ketchup. It tasted so good it was like fine dining. We swam frequently, walked the shoreline and spent time in the shade under a big birch tree. Even on an island on Superior - the world’s biggest freshwater lake - it was very hot. 

Later in the afternoon we noticed the breeze picking up and the trees near the top of the cliffs starting to sway. We knew it was time to go before the bay became too choppy. 

Those who spend any time on Lake Superior will know that during the summer the lake basically makes its own weather. As the sun heats the mainland and the gigantic islands, the contrasting cooler air above the lake’s surface creates contrasting air currents; which we all know from watching the weather creates wind. So best to plan your trips in the early part of the day.

Nipigon Bay is a long sheltered piece of water spanning from the town of Red Rock to Rossport; that scenic little villa reminiscent of a maritime fishing village along the Trans-Canada highway. While this distance by water is over 30 kilometres as the “seagull flies” it’s only about 10 kilometres wide from south to north. Several large islands separate Nipigon Bay from the expanses of Lake Superior. You can access this main portion of the lake by several passages, known as “straits.” For example, I can boat from my cabin across Nipigon Bay, through Moffat Straits (the passage between St. Ignace and Simpson Islands) to the main lake. Often the main lake has large swells - even on a calm day - that make your boat rise and fall in rhythmic fashion. Looking to the south you can’t see land as it is beyond the horizon. Regardless of what kind of boat you’re in, this expanse makes you feel small and intimidated. Often we see moose shoulder deep in the water along the islands during the passage through Moffat Straits. 

I mentioned these islands are large. To put things in perspective, St. Ignace has 15 or more lakes on the island itself, some of which are big enough that a small motorized fishing boat would be appropriate to traverse the lakes that are perhaps 5-kilometers long. 

Once you get to know a few of the secret places on the bay and the surrounding islands, there are enough to fill the summer calendar with exciting day trips. Caribou Cove and Battle Island lighthouse being a couple of the spots that I dare share with my readers. 

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Secrets to the Outdoor Meal

Recently I spent a night at my cabin with my son Timothy. We worked on the camp all day long and although we did not fish, we enjoyed working beside Superior; listening to the waves pound the beach. At the end of the day it was time to prepare a solid meal. The workers-reward if you will.

Outdoor meals always taste a notch higher. Whether it’s the setting, the hunger, or the sheer joy that makes it so good I’m not sure. Generally speaking they tend to be hot, big, and brown. 

Our meal that night consisted of a huge steak seasoned to have a wee bite, and fried in butter in an iron skillet; cooked medium rare and finished with a can of beans slopped over top. Maple beans bump this dish over the top. Our side dishes included sweet potato fries cooked in hot oil, perogies, and a salad shaken in a zip-lock bag so the homemade dressing permeates the simple mix of romaine and tomato chunks. It’s a meal you don’t rush through. Combine with some good conversation over the setting sun and it’s a moment to be remembered.

I am not a chef by any means, but often get relegated into cooking on trips. On our annual fly-in moose hunt I am the go-to cook. (I let the other guys do the bottle-washing.) To be kind, I use the least amount of dishes possible. Sometimes just one.

My specialties are mostly fried and barbecued. I also do an epic job of heating up an apple pie that my wife has made.

Here’s my secrets in a nutshell: I stick to basic, authentic ingredients. Always use salt, pepper, and a sprinkling of some kind of spice that bites. Rarely is butter not involved. Olive oil is nice too. And I cook it all hot and quick. Gas or propane heat preferred. Even a good military flame-thrower if you have one handy. If you doubt my system, watch “Salt Fat Acid Heat” on Netflix. I rest my case.

I mastered the steak-and-beans-in-the-frying-pan meal back when I did a bit of guiding along the north shore. I’d pack in a naphtha fuelled Peak stove and cook the entire meal in an aluminum wok. I always finished the meal with something chocolate. Often I received accolades like “This is better than a fine restaurant.” (They were usually very happy customers.)

Throughout my sojourn as an outdoor person I’ve eaten some great meals in wild places. I can’t count the number of shore-lunch fish-fries I’ve partaken in. I’m always amazed at the  number of variances to this basic meal. Different side dishes and desserts, and every lodge seems to have a secret fish coating. 

One of my most memorable shore lunches occurred on the banks of the Sutton River. I was fly fishing for brook trout on this world-class Hudson Bay tributary. Basically you can’t get wilder than this. My role here was to photograph and journal the trip but also to teach a couple young guides from nearby Fort Hope how to fly fish. Our leader was the owner of the outfitting company, a Cree man who was literally born and raised on the river. He made a meal on an open fire, again in an iron frying pan. It consisted of sliced Spam, black tea, and Wonder bread (“accordion bread” as I call it). In a word, it was “AMAZING!”

A month later, I decided to replicate that same meal in my home kitchen. It didn’t work. In fact I had to open up all the windows and fire up all the fans to get the smell out of the house.

I guess that meal was missing a couple key ingredients: the great outdoors, and good friends.

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