Once the middle of February has passed, I don’t hold out much hope of avoiding the dreaded &uot;cabin fever.&uot;

This is the time that most of us start getting antsy for the sight of an open body of water with a bobber dancing on the ripples made by a slight breeze blowing across a clear lake.

When I think of the opening of fishing season only being a little less than three months away, I start going into a funk. That seems like an eternity. I guess I can shoot for ice-out and catching panfish while in the midst of a daydream.

Thinking back to early-season walleye fishing brings to mind the time when my brother-in-law, Lynn and I went fishing in the Battle Lake area. We took a couple days vacation in the middle of the week and decided to try some walleye fishing.

We left after work and headed out with no reservations and no designated lake to fish. The plan was to seek out a &uot;Hot Spot&uot; when we got to Battle Lake.

Earlier that spring we had put our resources together and purchased this antique 14-foot Pipestone fiberglass runabout with a 35 hp Evinrude that you had to pull start.

Talk about a motor for a &uot;Real Man,&uot; that was it. If your heart didn’t stop and your knuckles could stand the beating, it would eventually fire up. Once you started it the re-starting wasn’t quite so bad if you didn’t let it sit too long.

Once we were on the road and headed due west on I-94 (always wanted to say &uot;due&uot; in some direction but never really knew what it meant; I always figured it meant straight and wondered if it wouldn’t be easier to say that.) About an hour out of Minneapolis it stormed. I mean it rained so hard we had to pull over because we couldn’t see.

The old Pipestone was taking on water fast and we weren’t within miles of any lake. Once we pulled the plug, the only sensible thing to do was put it on the dash so we wouldn’t forget to put it back in.

Finally, we reached our destination and, after spending the night sleeping in the topper of my pickup, it was time to search out a lake. We came to a gas station and Lynn went in to ask directions to a lake we were thinking of trying. He came out a few minutes later smiling ear to ear. He said these three old guys who had about seven teeth between them told him about a lake that was really hot.

We went to the lake, Silver Lake, about 3 miles north of town. It was time to launch boat and start fishing. When we dropped the boat, I jumped in while Lynn backed it into the lake. Once it was off the trailer I started to notice that an overly large amount of water was appearing on the bottom of the boat. I think that’s when the light bulb lit up above my head and I had this sick vision of the plug laying safely on the dash of the truck.

Reacting quickly, I stuck my thumb in the hole and yelled at Lynn to get the plug. There was also a strong breeze rapidly blowing me out into the lake. As he waded out to his chest in the cold water and gave the plug a heave towards the boat, I think my heart was pounding like an old Evinrude because if he missed I would have met him at the other end of the lake. If the old Pipestone had filled with water, it would have sunk faster than the Titanic.

Once I had the plug in place the battle was only half over. There was still the motor that was usually started by men working in shifts while wearing out their arms tugging on the pull cord. I now knew that the motor would have to be started by one guy and that guy would be me. After a few minutes the it sputtered, and that’s when I knew it would eventually take off. I also knew that my right arm was now at least two inches longer than my left.

It seems like almost every time Lynn and I went fishing we always turned what should be a normal event into an adventure.

There was a positive side to this though: We caught a lot of walleyes. After all that good fishing we decided to go in and fix some shore lunch. We ate a lot of walleye, and they always seem to taste that much better when they are fresh out of the lake and into the pan. Once we finished eating we set out to fill our limit. Once we filled our limit with real nice walleye we headed home. I can truthfully say that I have never had walleye fishing like that again.

We used gold Little Joe spinners with a split shot and a fathead hooked through the lips. All the fish were caught back-trolling about 20 yards off shore.

I guess if there has to be a moral to a story, the moral for this one would be that, &uot;You have to go through the bad to get to the good.&uot;