Greetings from the Minnesota Northwoods. In my family, we fish. As far back as I can remember, I've been fishing with my Dad and brothers. When any of us come off the water, it's customary to go near anyone that didn't catch a fish and give a big sniff. With that, whoever the unlucky fisherman is will say, "what...you smell a skunk or something?"

Well tonight it happened to me. The boy kept hammering 'em. (Excuse alert!) No doubt, he kept bringing 'em in faster than I could take 'em off. I'd bait his hook, put the fish on the stringer and no sooner said than done, he'd be cranking in another one. Back in '73, my Dad started taking me and my brothers into a place called the Quetico Provincial Park in Ontario just over the Minnesota border. My Dad would be in the back of the canoe working faster than a monkey on crack. Barely ever getting to dip his lure in the water himself. And that's where I am at this point in my life and it warms my heart. I'd love to catch myself, but instilling that which my Dad for me is the way of things. Outstanding!

This morning we went to a horse riding place and the family did a whole trot together. The girl was on Bullit, the boy on Trevor, the wifeage on Shadow and yours truly on Dude. We got to canter for a while and did some stream crossings. I was on the tail end of things with the boy just in front and we went a little off the menu every chance we got. If there was a fork in the trail and the string was going one way, we went the other. The wifeage was less than pleased with our rule breaking, but cowboys got to roam. Hope you are well. Plenty of pictures to post and they'll be up next week when we return to reality.

Johnny TrotFast