For my column this week, I’m trying something new – I’m dictating it to a friend of mine because I am driving back from Lake of the Woods and I thought it would be a good time to multi-task. My buddy Chad is typing things up as I speak and then he’ll proofread it and hit the send button. 

(Hi, this is Chad.  I decided to also fact-check Mark’s column.  Anything you see written inside parenthesis and italicized is from me.)  

In case you haven’t heard, I caught a really big fish last weekend on Lake of the Woods. (OK, I’ll admit it, his fish is really big.)

I hate to be a guy that brags about something like catching a really big fish, but after much prodding, coaxing and some begging from my friends, I decided to write about my catch.  Even Bill Morgan basically pleaded for me to write about this impressive fish – something about sponsorship possibilities and national exposure for the Patriot. 

(That’s a lie. The fish was barely out of the hole before Mark screamed something about how he couldn’t wait to put his picture in the paper this week.)

Now, the story of this really big fish starts with lure selection and me checking the barometer, wind direction, water temperature and of course conducting a deep study as to the feeding habits of the Walleye.  I always feel like I am the most prepared outdoorsman in our group and I want to be sure to highlight the role that preparation played in me landing this trophy.

(That is an outrageous lie.  He threw all his crap in a bag at the last minute, and bought the lure at a gas station because he said it “looked cool.”)

When we finally arrived at our house, I instantly knew I wanted to be on the northwestern side of the sleeper, as I knew there was structure in that area.  As the other guys were discussing strategy, I meandered through the mass of men and staked out my two holes.

(Good gravy, this is getting sickening.  While the other seven of us were hauling in the food and gear, Mark took the good bunk and started putting his line down the hole.)

Next up was my decision on the presentation of the lure and of course minnow selection. I was having an internal debate about the efficacy of different types of bobbers (blah, blah, blah...) and I chose a fathead that seemed lively and appeared to have more freckles than the other minnows in the bucket.

(Seriously?  Does this guy get away with writing this sleaze every week?  In his rush to avoid all the other work, he tied on the first bobber he could find and I literally heard him ask Russ for a minnow out of the bucket!)

Once I felt the timing was right, I slowly, yet methodically began to lower the minnow and hook down the hole to a depth of exactly 8.5 inches off the bottom. You see, at this stage of the lunar cycle... (I can’t force myself to type his deceptive words!)  

...Then I began to study the swimming habits of my minnow.

(Oh Mylanta! His Vexilar was getting interference and after whining about that for 30 minutes, he asked Don to bring over the LiveScope so he could see the bottom of the lake.  Also, he had no idea how far off the bottom his minnow was!)

As soon as the fish hit, I knew it was a trophy sized Walleye as I could detect a fluttering sensation in my high performance, medium action professional series rod.

(Lies! All Lies! He thought it was an Eelpout and he has a crappy, plastic rod bought out of the “bargain” bin in like 1995!).

After a colossal battle reminiscent of Moby Dick versus Captain Ahab, I finally landed the fish.  This is where my friends did help – they snapped a few pictures – which I reluctantly shared with a few friends via text.

(OK, the fish did put up a good fight, but hardly one that would have caught Herman Melville’s attention! I was the one who reached in the hole to grab the thing and Mark texted the picture to nearly everyone in his contact list, including his high school basketball coach!)

So there you have it readers, the simple, accurate details from the day I caught a really big fish on Lake of the Woods. I did re-tell the story many times in the house, as the other guys on the trip – Dan, Donny, Travis and Paul - kept asking to hear the details.

(We literally threatened to kill him if he didn’t shut up.)