
We talked fishing, traded stories, and made plans for tomorrow. Backbone Lake awaits. Somewhere beneath that water, allegedly, swims an elusive 10 pound bass. Whether we catch it or spend the day getting outsmarted by a fish remains to be seen.
Either way, the crew is ready, the food was good, and tomorrow we go looking for adventure with fishing rods.
DAY 2:

The day started the way a fishing day probably should: pancakes and sausage. We cleaned up base camp, wandered over to the camp store, did a little shopping, and eventually pointed ourselves toward Backbone State Park. Supplies secured, we headed for the lake.
We arrived, ate lunch, and got down to business. Lines in the water. Cast. Wait. Reel it in. Cast again. Nothing. The fish, apparently, had other plans. So we moved. New spot, new water, renewed optimism. Surely this was the spot. It wasn’t. The fish remained elusive. Eventually, we admitted temporary defeat and headed back to camp.
Dinner was spaghetti and garlic bread. A meal that tastes considerably better after spending hours getting rejected by fish. We ate well, regrouped, and decided we weren’t finished yet. There was still daylight. There was still Lake Todd. Maybe our luck would change. And finally, mercifully, it did. The fish started biting. Crappie. Bluegill. Largemouth bass. After an afternoon of casting into what felt like an empty universe, suddenly there were fish on the end of the line. Nothing makes you forget several hours of failure quite like that first tug.
We ended the night around the campfire, where good camping days are supposed to end. Puggy pies over the fire, conversation about the day, a little smoke in the clothes, and the satisfaction that comes from finally getting the better of the lake even if only briefly. Then it was back to camp and off to bed. Tomorrow: Lake McBride. New water. Bigger lake. Bigger hopes. And, with any luck, bigger fish.
DAY 3:
Off to Lake McBride.
We work our way around the lake, trying different sides, different spots, looking for some sign that the fish might actually cooperate with us today. The surface is mostly still, except for the occasional ripple, a fish coming up to feed on bugs unfortunate enough to have landed in the wrong place. You see one. A bigger one. So you cast. The lure lands near the ripple, and you slowly reel it back in. Sometimes you can see them moving around it, circling the lure or worm, interested enough to investigate but apparently smart enough not to commit. A few nibbles. A few moments where you think, this is it. Nothing. That’s fishing. Eventually, we admit defeat and head back to base camp.
Today, though, the crew has earned something better than whatever can be cooked over a campfire. A meal from a restaurant in town. We ate. We were happy. Sometimes that’s enough. But there was still daylight, and apparently, we hadn’t learned our lesson. So, we headed back to Lake Todd one last time. We cast. We waited. And caught many fishes. Some legendary haul.
Back at camp, we finished the night with a little party and root beer floats. Cold root beer. Ice cream. Tired people sitting around after a long day outside. A lake. A fishing pole. A few fish willing to cooperate. A warm meal. Good people. And a root beer float at the end of it all.
DAY 4:
And that’s it.
The last morning arrived the way these things usually do. Too soon, and with donuts. We woke up, ate more sugar than anyone probably needed, cleaned up camp, and gathered for the closing ceremony.
At the beginning of the trip, each camper received a rooster tail lure. A small promise of the fishing and adventure ahead. At the end, they left with a photo, flint, and steel. A picture to remember the trip and a spark to take with them wherever they go next.
It was a good trip. Fish were caught. Stories were made. We laughed, learned a few things, and came away knowing each other a little better than when we started.
And now the road keeps moving.
The travel crew is headed south to Florida and Port Canaveral for a Disney cruise. New scenery, new adventure, and a whole different kind of water.
Onward.
