At every camp I visit, I make it a personal mission to catch a fish. Buying a fishing license—whether it’s for Texas, Colorado, West Virginia, Minnesota, or Wisconsin—is a small price to pay to keep the streak alive. But this story isn’t about me. This trip was all about Tobias U. and his magical shoelaces.
Like many great campfire tales, it starts with: “No kidding, there I was…”
Tobias, Dillon, and I had just finished yet another portage—one of many on our route. As Tobias stood knee-deep in the water, holding the canoe steady so Dillon and I could load our gear, something unexpected happened. With a sudden yell of surprise, Tobias launched into the air. In my memory, he must’ve jumped three or four feet straight up.
“Something bit me!” he shouted.
Now, I’ll be the first to admit—I scare pretty easily. So when Tobias jumped, I jumped too. But that wasn’t the worst part. The truly terrifying moment came when Tobias started running—straight at me. And in all my years of scouting, that was the first time I ran away from another scout. Whatever had startled Tobias was now being led straight to me.
So there we were—Tobias, Dillon, and I—doing high knees out of the water like it was a drill. Flashes of the Loch Ness Monster ran through my head. Or maybe it was a freshwater shark? I’m no marine biologist, but whatever it was, it had effectively cleared the water of all three of us.
We crouched near the water’s edge, trying to spot this mysterious creature, all while our gear started to pile up behind us—canoes, food bags, and those ever-heavy whale bags. That’s when Tobias pointed and said, “There it is!”
It was a huge bass—no exaggeration, I’d guess somewhere between 100 to 150 pounds. A real freshwater beast. As Tobias cautiously approached, the fish lunged at his shoelaces again. Over and over, it came at him.
With surprising calm, Tobias (and let’s be honest, only Tobias) used our fishing net to gently capture the monster. Meanwhile, the rest of the group quickly completed the portage, now even more motivated than before.
We released the fish unharmed. The only injury sustained was to my pride.
And that, my friends, concludes this fish tale.
