Grand Isle S.P. was rather remote with a site that was darn near impossible to back into. It was crooked, narrow with trees, and had deep ruts running all over it. It was only after Vicki persuaded the people in the neighboring site to let us drive through theirs and turn ours into a “drive through” could we finally park.
We spent a wonderful afternoon with Joe and Jane visiting at a Farmer’s Market and then went to dinner at the college town of Burlington about a half hour away. we then went home and got to bed early because of a early morning start time with our fishing guide Mick.
We met our guide Mick at sunup, the water choppy, the wind running about fifteen to twenty. I knew immediately things were going to get dicey when I noticed Mick had brought along his black labradoodle dog. It was big, lazy and was the only thing other than Joe that wasn’t upset with the world. Some fishing guides should stay off the water. The equipment was bad while the interaction between us and him was worse.
The first words out of Mick’s mouth were, “fishing is terrible. It has been for years.”
It went down hill from there.
Good news was that 1) he didn’t charge us, and 2) we didn’t drown.