SEASON 2, EPISODE 9

OCTOBER WALLEYE FISHING. LAKE OF THE WOODS. BALLARD'S RESORT.
OCTOBER WALLEYE FISHING. LAKE OF THE WOODS. BALLARD'S RESORT.

Season TWO – Episode 9 – “Truth or consequences.”

At an agile 40-plus miles per hour the bull raced west while Rusty held on dearly, heels pressed under the horns, belly tight to the midsection, and fingertips buried in the hindquarters. He had already beat the 8-second rodeo clock… And if riding a bison bareback and backward was an Olympic sport he would most certainly be representing Team USA.

Sally had her Bear Archery RTH Adapt 2 Mainline Compound Bow drawn as the film crew rolled tape in anticipation of the kill shot. She was hoping for a broadside opportunity, but the bison was jet-setting head on, directly toward their ambush location.

Ron Heimburg (speechless ranch co-owner) joined her and Jackie Loonsuckle in the cluster of brush. The distance in yards-away for the bison, was quickly becoming a measure of feet by the second. It was time for TRUTH OR CONSEQUENCES!

“How do we get the bull to stop… Or at least slow down?” She and Jackie and Ron pondered. “And what the hell does he have on his back?!”

Ron (below normal outdoor survival skills) thought whistling might work… And pursed his lips… But large snowflakes pelted his puffy jowls, over-wetting a futile attempt.

Meanwhile, Jackie was adamant about “getting a shot off” even if the bull flew by at full stride (Sally had her doubts). “This could be a one and done chance,” he barked to everyone and no one in particular.

And then SHE saw it! Or him in this case. RUSTY! Bareback! Backward! On top of THE BULL!

“I can’t take the shot,” she blurted out. “Rusty’s on that bull.”

     “Bull and bullshit,” Jackie responded. “Give me that arrow flinger, woman.”

Sally stood up from their hide… Backed the arrow out… Tossed the bow to the ground… And marched from the brush pile to face the stampeding bull one on one.

Her emotional state of mind was a rollercoaster:

A.       Let the bull ride off with Rusty into Never Never Land along with her relationship issues.

B.       Step in front of the bull to bail out Rusty and put him back in her arms.

C.      Sidestep the bull in a half-assed attempt to save both he and their friendship.

D.      None of the above.

Standing tall and waving her arms, Sally made herself larger than life by yelling and screaming at the top of her lungs. She became a crazed pack of WILDCATS facing off against their prey.

She had seen a similar tactic work ONCE. It was a late-September afternoon when she and Rusty were in the bush preparing bait for the autumn bear season.

Temperatures were warm that day… Highs in the mid-seventies… Indian summer in northern lake country. The breeze was extremely stout at 30+ mph from the south.

This was a beach bait (an isthmus that connected two petite islands) with tall cattails on each side of the waters edge. Killing the motor, they glided the skiff through a slick of surface algae, and immediately for Rusty it was pungent to the nostrils and burnt his eyes (allergic).

Getting the boat to shore they hopped out, pulled the bow on the beach, and noticed they were leaving dark green algae tracks in the sand. Similarly, there was an XL-SIZE bear paw print in the same proximity as theirs. Dried out… Hard packed… Interesting… As was the XL-SIZE pile of bear poop.

With arms crating five-gallon pails full of sweets, they made their way through cattails and pushed toward their bait pile. The warm breeze continued to crank steadily in their faces.

Their trail through the weeds opened to a circle with a shooting lane. This was a traditional bear baiting procedure: dig a half disk 12-inches deep… The diameter of a basketball… Dump your 5-gallon pail of bait… Cover bait with large rocks that only humans or bears are capable of moving… Cover boulders with 5-foot timbers (diameter 10-inches) that only humans or bears can disturb… 

The bait pile is complete by stacking said logs to an overall height of 4-feet. Only a bear can get to your bait. And the height of the bait pile allows you to judge its size. 

Sally led the baiting and cleared strewn about logs to dump a bucket of goodies. Rusty was nearby, collecting rocks that had been disassembled, and exploded with a gargantuan sneeze.

This was immediately followed by Rusty screaming “BEAR!!!”… As he had literally woken a black bear!!!

Standing on hind haunches this black beauty was ten feet to a basketball rim. With his nose pouring allergy-induced snot, Rusty dropped the boulder and fled to the boat. Sally held her ground. This was no three ring circus animal. She fully intended to win the standoff.

Full on WILDCAT MODE (yell-scream-make-yourself-large) brought the black bear down to all fours. The monster bruin clacked his teeth and aggressively shook his head, but chose to retreat and scaled the nearest tree. Sally finished baiting the pile with the bear peering down from the top of a 180-foot Norway pine. Rusty stayed huddled in the bow of the boat. His allergy ridden runny nose was buried in a handkerchief.

At one-hundred-yards Jackie Loonsuckle was clocking the bull at 43 miles an hour. Sally was standing directly in its path with her best attempt at going WILDCAT… Ron Heimburg was screaming, “Put that bow down!”… And the film crew continued to roll.

Fifty-yards-out and Loonsuckle did not flinch. Sally glanced to the right and saw him with the compound bow drawn at full length. Ron continued to scream. The film crew kept on rolling.

Ten-yards-out. It was TRUTH OR CONSEQUENCES! Jackie released the arrow, as the bull left its feet, soaring over the top of Sally. The film crew was rolling rolling rolling.

Sally stood 5’9’’ without cowgirl boots… And the bull cleared her by a foot and a half. Her screaming was now drowned out by both Rusty and Ron. 

Each of the men had opened their respective eyes long enough to see the arrow stick the BISON. The film crew stopped the tape.

–            To Be Continued – 

SEPTEMBER 29 BALLARD’S RESORT FISHING REPORT

SEPTEMBER WALLEYE FISHING. LAKE OF THE WOODS.
SEPTEMBER WALLEYE FISHING. LAKE OF THE WOODS.

SEPTEMBER 29-

Hey Sportsfans!
 
Is it really the end of September? It sure doesn’t feel like it when you step outside. 
 
With the temperatures creeping into the 80s this past week, our fall fishing groups (who typically pack mittens for their trip) were walking around in shorts and t-shirts. 
 
Camp was full this week with old friends who venture up to see us each year… thank you. We are looking forward to next year already. We also had a crew of 30 gals, they were a hoot, and they out fished everyone! 🙂
 
Fall walleye fishing has been good to us on Lake of the Woods. For the most part, the guides continue to fish on the south shore (24-28′). Our close to home honey hole is producing many fish, though most are small keepers. 
 
In an attempt to find larger fish, the guided have trekked back north. Fishing both shallow rocks (8-10′) and deep (anchored off the ledges of deep rocks) they have done well. 
 
Looking at the weather forecast, our summer-like fall is fleeting. As temperatures start to chill off, the thought of what to come starts creeping into our minds… ICE FISHING ON LAKE OF THE WOODS!
 
That’s all for this week. #SETTHEHOOK
 
KEEP UP WITH RUSTY THIS WEEK
The Ultimate Canadian Fishing Adventure - Ballard's Black Island

SEASON 2, EPISODE 8

SEPTEMBER WALLEYE FISHING. LAKE OF THE WOODS. BALLARD'S RESORT.
SEPTEMBER WALLEYE FISHING. LAKE OF THE WOODS. BALLARD'S RESORT.

Season TWO – Episode 8 – “They could sense it coming.” 

Rusty could have sworn his pack horse SUGAR winked twice at him before throwing a foot up into the stirrup. The hunting party had officially formed just outside the newly noted “Flying Arrow Barn” at the Gold Rope Ranch.

Present and accounted for… Today’s members included: Jackie Loonsuckle (lead guide – all around professional outdoorsman – spoon in hand son of Geoff), Sally Squatnfishes (consummate glamour girl – still perturbed – but no longer in the I’m going to kill Rusty Flathers mindset), Rusty Flathers (aspiring to be anything successful – still wet in the crotchal region – happy to no longer be on Sally’s target list – outdoor enthusiast), Ron Heimberg (high finance ranch partner – low level wilderness survival skills), and Geoff Loonsuckle (transportation mogul ranch partner – also low level wilderness survival skills).

From the corral they moved north, including the film crew in tow. It would be an hour and fifteen minutes to the base of the mountain. The tape was rolling and Helly Hansen was footing the bill for this adventure. With the entire party clomping along, it was the horses, they could sense it coming.

Rusty had ridden a few Mustangs in his life. Mostly during visits to Aunt Mari Delle’s where his father would frequently drop him with little notice. This was par for the course when far away fishing adventures would beckon Doobie into parts unknown. Make a buck… Take a fishing trip… Seemed to be the general theme for this single parent of one.

Anyway, Aunt Mari Delle’s place was wonderful. He had access to hundreds of acres of open agricultural riding. Plus, there was unlimited access to the knowledge of stable hands who were professed in riding, cussing and snoose chewing.

Rusty felt lucky until he saw SUGAR wink. Traditionally Mustangs have a mild temperament and are extremely sure footed on the trickiest of terrains. Halfway to the hills this horse had already made TWO attempts to throw him and slipped more than once on the flattest of shale. SUGAR was no sweetheart!

At approximately 3-miles from the base of the mountain the terrain began to slowly roll with easy ups and jagged downs. Even though you peaked a knoll… You were still gaining altitude.

Jackie Loonsuckle had been correct in his assumption. A week prior the herd had been spotted at 8000 feet. Now, the impending weather had brought a massive swelling of bison down the not super steep mountain, and they could be glassed with binoculars (Kowa’s Highlander 32x82mm) from a high vantage point as they freely roamed the grassy foothills. Their range was currently 3200-yards as the slightest snow began to fall.

With direction from their lead guide… Both Sally and Rusty dismounted to position a tripod for closer inspection. The film crew was held in the rear by Ron and Geoff. This was crunching time, and no excessive amount of movement or noise was allowed.

Rusty viewed the innumerous bulls, cows, and calves as Sally perched nearby (why does she ALWAYS smell so darn good) in anticipation of further instruction. Any official game plan for success could potentially be altered on the fly.

Everyone wanted a glimpse of the GIANT bull… Early reports put this bison at 2000+ pounds if it weighed an ounce. Currently, it was nowhere to be seen.

“Let’s keep moving forward,” Jackie called out to the party. “This next knoll up ahead, RUSTY, I want you and Geoff to circle around it from the east. I’ll take Sally and Ron with me to the west, and we’ll split the balance of the film team between us. Meet back in the middle after we circle around this ridge.”

As instructed the group parted ways. There was a crosswind circling around the ridge that put Rusty and his half of the ongoing downwind. Good odds when you’re looking for a bison that could be hiding in small patches of habitat while resting between stints of food or water. The spitting snow had now turned to quarter sized flakes, hitting the searchers head on as they straightened their path and moved over the next incline.

Wind direction was crucial as the hunters closed in on the pending herd. Their vantage point at the crest of this next knoll would potentially put them on target.

Rusty had field glasses in his left hand and reins in his right as he circled the slope to gain a new viewing angle on the bison. The downward drop on the mogul was tough to make out with the snow pelting his straining eyes.

From his distance it appeared as though the herd was bunching tighter. Safety in numbers he assumed.

Raising his arm to begin glassing… SUGAR took an ill advised step forward off the peak of the little knoll, and instantly went into a four legged skid. By the time her brakes were fully engaged, she came to a screeching halt and immediately came unglued!

Normally, most Mustang’s remain calm when something out of the ordinary happens. Nothing about this situation was ordinary… Standing next to a pile of buckbrush she snorted twice, turned sideways, and reared up on her hind legs. Then… She slammed her front hooves to the ground, and went vertical with her hind end… SUGAR was anything but sweet!  She looked more like Skeets Neimiah attacking the high hurdles with her legs constantly kicking up and down.

Rusty felt the distance grow between his ass and the saddle as he went airborne (high-right) heading directly toward the pile of brush. It was in THIS instant, that the GREAT BISON rose from his slumber! There was no conditioning in the world that would prepare him for what was about to happen.

Bison are the largest land mammal in North America, and this beast of a male stood 7 feet tall at the shoulder, and weighed over 2000 pounds on the hoof. His protruding shoulder hump that allowed him to swing his head for foraging, was large enough to move granite boulders.

Also peculiar to note… There was an abnormal amount of dense hair on the flanks and hindquarters of this bull, which was oddly long. In this instance it provided RUSTY something to grasp onto, as he had landed perfectly on the bison’s back (JUDGES SCORED IT A PERFECT TEN), albeit facing the animal’s rear. Hang on COWBOY!

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the ridge… Sally and Jackie, along with Ron Heimburg, were crouched behind their own clump of bushes… Frozen.

They could sense it coming… The vibration… The thunderous roar of hooves is fast approaching.

–            To Be Continued –  

SEASON 2, EPISODE 7

FALL FISHING. BALLARD'S RESORT. LAKE OF THE WOODS.

Sally saw what she saw. Or at least enough of what she thought she saw. A man and a woman on the fringe of darkness. Him standing with pants down. Her on her knees with outstretched hands.

Her man. Rusty Flathers. Along with what appeared to be that bimbo blonde working the front desk when she checked into the lodge. “What was her name… Ally… Karly… Ellie… What did it matter…” she gasped between sobs of tears and bubbles of snot.

     “This isn’t some novel, like Fifty Shades of Fish. This is my life!” she thought while retreating to her room.

Hitching his pants up… Rusty took a step toward Ellie, and she responded equally. Briefly they embraced with the awkward, butt-extended-out, pat each other on the back, friendly greeting.

     “It’s good to see you, Ellie. What’s it been… Ten years?” he asked… Even though he knew right to the pin it had been ten years – two months – fourteen days since they’d last been together. He’d done the math no less than eighty-three times since collapsing in the lobby at the ranch on his first morning of arrival.

     “It’s been a long time Rusty… And I must ask… How did you find your way to the Gold Rope Ranch?” she questioned.

On the way back to the evening dinner party Rusty explained his Sally Squatsnfishes connection that brought him to Montana, and his pending opportunity with Professor Cosmoid Scale in Northwest Ontario. The two spoke with ease, as if they were back in time, walking the lake trials and simply enjoying each other’s company.

     “Do you want to join us for dinner Ellie?” he asked.

FALL FISHING. BALLARD'S RESORT. LAKE OF THE WOODS.

    “Thanks, but I need to get back to the office and finish up a few things before tomorrow,” she replied. “And Rusty… You should also know that I’m seeing someone right now.”

There was a brief pause… They once again did an uncomfortable (butt-extended-out) hug… And agreed to catch dinner tomorrow night, along with each other’s respective plus one’s.

Being completely famished… Rusty piled into the elk steaks, lobster and mashed potatoes… And all the while Sally was nowhere to be seen.  He assumed she had called it an early evening, with the BIG bison hunt scheduled for morning. And he would be doing the same, soon enough.

Pre-dawn, and all was quiet (momentarily) at the Gold Rope Ranch. Rusty was in the stables with Jackie Loonsuckle, hitching up the horses and getting ready to pack out for the day. The temperature had dropped twenty degrees (Sally’s would be colder) and there was fresh hoar frost on the tree branches.

Jackie suggested the cold front would move the bison lower out of the hills and set them off in a grazing frenzy. Then he explained how he would be guiding the lead horse… Sally would be saddled behind him with bow and arrows in check… And Rusty would bring up the rear acting as an additional set of spotting eyes.

“Fine and dandy to me,” Rusty thought, while standing and hoisting a saddle bag over his ride. And then a hummingbird came from behind, whizzing past his noggin, and slamming itself into a 6 X 6 rough cut of timber that was stacked along the wall of the barn.

He had heard it before he saw it… And now, what he actually saw was an Easton XX75 Camo Hunter Arrow tipped with a Grim Reaper Pro Series 125 grain blade! For maximum effectiveness this combination of arrow and tip was stealthy, offered awesome penetration, and resulted in much bigger cuts.

The flight of the arrow had cruised past his right ear lobe at Mach 1 speed missing (and or intentionally missing) by less than two inches. Rusty was fully aware this style of arrow was Sally’s preferred notch on her big game hunts.

“What the…” he exclaimed, spinning on his heels, facing the direction in which the arrow had arrived. And then he stopped mid-sentence, frozen like a popsicle in a cooler door.

The tears on Sally Squatnfishes face had dried overnight… They had been replaced with the warpaint of a jaded lover. She had a two-finger-wide black streak, painted below her right (dominant) eye, and there was a similar blood-red-slash below her left. The balance of her camo makeup was spilled across her face leaving a ghostly impression of death at the nearest doorstep (Rusty’s doorstep).

Jackie Loonsuckle inched his way along the wall, making his way toward the opening of the barn, using his horse as a protective shield. “I think I’m going to leave you two alone,” he stammered, and then spun sideways sprinting out the door and dropping the reins of his ride.

But neither Rusty nor Sally had heard a word. They were currently occupied playing a game of “who’s going to blink first.” He had nowhere to hide… And she had another arrow notched and pointed in his direction.

     “Sally… What’s going…”

     “Shut it!” she screamed. “I’m the one doing the talking, Rusty. You think I wouldn’t find out about you and that whore!”

     “Sally… I can…”

     “I said shut it!” She commanded and discharged the trigger on the TruFire Edge 4-Finger Release, parting the hair on his head, and burying another arrow into the side of the barn.

     “Ms. Squatnfishes… Please… Wait…” It was Ron Heimberg and Geoff Loonsuckle, co-owners of the Gold Rope Ranch. They stood at the entry of the barn with Ellie Waylayer by their side and begged to clarify the events of the previous evening.

     “We feel there’s an honest explanation for all of this,” they choired as one.

Rusty had been innocently caught with his pants down on one previous occasion (a reassuringly unique story in itself). It involved a brown bear… A salmon feast… And a Bohemian family of eleven residing in a Czech fishing village.

In this situation… He was walking a dangerous line with Sally Squatsnfishes. YES, his pants were down. NO, he hadn’t physically (yet) acted on any immediate feelings.

Admittingly, Rusty was operating full-send within the sketchy bounds of Fifty Shades of Fish.

–            To be continued –