Ducks and rain

(Continued from this post)

We prayed over our breakfast of bacon and eggs and Nate ended with, "Please let us see some wildlife still."

We had read journal entries of people seeing all kinds of wildlife, and although had seen telltale signs, there just wasn't much showing itself during our trip.

At the beginning of the week, a family of mallards had come up near the dock to forage and dig up water bugs by the big boulder in front of our cabin. I had crouched down on the dock to get some photos of them, and they didn't seem to mind us there. They stayed for about 10 minutes and then lined up and continued on down the lake, but they hadn't come nearby since. We had seen three ducks together, but not the four.

That afternoon, we saw a line of four ducks coming up to the dock as we brought the boat in. We stopped to watch them as they pricked and preened their wings, making sure they were absolutely clean so that they stayed bouyant and waterproof.

I laid down on the dock to watch them, and Nate returned to sit on the boulder after taking some stuff inside.

We figured three of the mallards were siblings while one was the mother. She quietly peeped at them while they preened and dug for bugs in the water, and they peeped back softly, making sure to stay within sound distance.

Then they started to do something I had never seen before.

One of the young mallards flipped upside down, kicked its feet in the air, flipped back over, rose up on its back legs, flapped its wings three times and swam like a jet about five feet away. Its sibling flipped over, kicked its feet up in the air, repeated the process and landed next to its sibling.

The young mallards continued this ruckus, and Nate and I looked at each other with smiling mouths agape. Neither of us had experienced this playfulness from a duck before.

One of the siblings that flipped over, kicked its feet, flipped back and dove underneath the water, shooting about 10 feet away to its sibling and popping up right next to it like, "Surprise."

They kept playing for about five-10 minutes, while we watched all the frivolity.

The little ones finally calmed down and came back to the shallow area to look for food, and Mom walked up onto the rock to continue to preen.

However, it wasn't just any rock. It was the same rock that Nate sat on. She perched about 5 feet away from him, not caring in the slightest that he was there. She itched her head with her back feet, spread her wings and flapped, bent her head to get a drink.

It was the closest we've ever been to ducks, and we would move around and they still didn't care about us. They had nothing to fear from humans, probably not much experience with humans at all.

We watched the ducks for probably an hour before another storm started to roll in and we headed up to the cabin.

After the short storm, we went out to the dock to enjoy some afternoon sunshine, although some clouds were still in the distance. Everything was silent around us, and we soaked in all the peace.

"Listen," Nate said. "You can hear the rain that storm."

He pointed to a dark cloud to the north, probably four or five miles away.

When we both were quiet, we could actually hear a rustling sound of rain hitting trees, from that distance away. We were sitting in the sun and listening to a storm cut through the tranquility around us.

"That is something we'd never be able to experience back home," Nate said. "That is so cool."

It was a quiet we had never experienced before, a peace that was untouched, a world as if people didn't exist. We were in such a wild place, and we loved it.

I enjoyed watching the storm, and I had also enjoyed watching the ducks but honestly didn't think that much of it. That evening, before dinner, Nate prayed, "Thank you for the time watching ducks and for the answered prayer."

That convicted my heart. He had asked God for a wildlife experience, and I felt a bit sad that we hadn't seen any moose or bears. However, my thankful husband had acknowledged that God had sent us a blessing of an up-close experience with wild ducks, a creature that we both absolutely love. Nate had noticed and taken to heart the gift that I hadn't given God credit for. It made me stop and thank God not only for that blessing that day but also for the blessing of a husband who appreciates and notices the little things.

That day, we also ate pretty well. Here's what we had:

Walleye pesto dip
4 walleye filets
2 Tbsp. vegetable oil
4 ounces cream cheese
1/4 cup sour cream
1/2 jar pesto
1 Tbsp. lemon juice
1/2 cup parmesan
4 green onions, chopped

Heat oil in a cast iron skillet and add walleye filets. Cook through. Add cream cheese, sour cream, pesto and lemon juice and mix together, breaking up walleye as you do. Once cream cheese is melted and incorporated, sprinkle parmesan on top and place in 375 degree oven to cook until bubbling.

Remove from oven and top with green onions.

We dipped homemade flatbread into it, but you could use French bread, pita chips, tortilla chips, really anything. It's so good.

Almond walleye and pesto gnocchi
For walleye:
6 walleye filets
3/4 cup bread crumbs
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. pepper
1 cup ground almonds
1 egg
2 Tbsp. milk

For gnocchi:
8 ounces gnocchi
2 ounces whiskey cheddar (a soft, white cheddar)
1/2 jar pesto
2 Tbsp. lemon juice

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Mix the egg and milk in a bowl and whisk to combine. Dip each filet in the egg mixture and then into a mixture of other dry ingredients. Once coated, place in non-stick, oven-ready skillet (all metal, no plastic). Bake walleye for approximately 15 minutes or until cooked through and breading is crispy.

While walleye is baking, boil 4 cups of salted water and add gnocchi. Boil until gnocchi floats to the top and then drain. Place cheddar and pesto into pot with gnocchi and continue to cook on low until cheddar is melted. Add lemon juice.

Serve walleye with a side of pesto gnocchi. It's rich, but it's delicious!

(Next post here)

Looking for bears

(Continued from this post)

We both woke up and looked at each other.

A loud thud somewhere outside had jolted us out of dreamland. The night was still pitch black, but Nate got up to check the front door to see if he could see anything.

A chair was propped up against the door that didn't lock, not for fear of someone stumbling across camp but more for precaution in case a hungry bear smelled something delicious inside so we could hear the chair and grab the shotgun.

We both went back to sleep.

The next morning though, we continued wondering what we had heard.

"Did a branch fall on top of the cabin? It was windy last night."

"I went outside and didn't see any big branches down."

Nate went out to explore the area again and came back with an announcement: There were claw scratches on the cabin.

Now, we had read in the cabin journal that people had heard a bear clawing at the cabin and found scratches on the back and front the next morning. We circled the cabin and found where that journal mentioned, and saw the grayed/weathered scratch marks.

The scratch marks by our bedroom, however, were still raw wood and fresh.

"I don't know if it was last night or some other recent time, but there's definitely a bear around."

We really wanted to see a bear, or a moose, or the mountain lion that had been spotted in the area. So far, though, we hadn't seen anything except for some sandhill cranes, gulls, a bald eagle, loons, diving ducks, kingbirds and a crazy rusty-looking finch.

So we decided to explore a bit.

We attempted to canoe back into a waterway, but we were told on Tuesday that the lake was about 2 feet lower than usual, so we got stuck on a tree only a few feet in.

"Why don't we try that trail?" I suggested.

On one beach, we could see some sort of trail. Nate had read that a logging road was nearby, and we read in a journal entry from 2012 that fishermen showed up at the lake while a couple was staying there. We assume that the trail was an old road.

It must have been a very old road, because the trail disappeared quite quickly, although there were some beer cans strewn about and remnants of a fire having been put out. We thought perhaps someone had hunted the area.

We followed the trail and crawled through some brush and overgrown grass, taking precautions to look behind us about every 10 feet or so to make sure that a mountain lion or other animal wasn't stalking behind us.

When we walked into an open area, filled with blooming purple and yellow flowers, I thought "This is exactly where bears like to hang out." You'd think I'd think, "Wow, gorgeous," and I did, but bears were definitely on the mind.

A few more feet and the trees crowded around once more, and we looked down at one muddy spot to see a hoof print. It had to have been eight inches across. I had thought I'd heard a moose the other night grunt from across the lake, and now we knew there was definitely a moose in the area. The intermittent rains throughout the week had softened the ground enough to show several moose prints as we walked along.

We got to a spot where the Joe pye weed bloomed magenta but grew over our heads, and we turned back.

Almost to where we started, Nate began to slow down.

"I'm really curious where this ends."

"We can keep going if you want."

"We'll go another 50 feet and see if it clears."

We turned around again, and about 25 yards later, I saw something else.

"Bear track."

A big paw with claws had left an imprint in the mud near where we had originally seen the moose track.

We kept an eye around us.

When we got back to the Joe pye weed, we pushed through a few feet, and Nate stopped.

"Should we keep going?"

"Is it wise to continue going through stuff where we don't know what's right in front of us?"

"No. Let's go back."

We walked about 10 yards.

"I forget sometimes that my first job is to take care of my lovely," Nate said.

"I never want to hold you back babe."

We went back to our canoe and followed the shoreline, questioning some of the trees that had been cut down and trying to figure out why. We even tried going up another waterway in the canoe but again got stuck pretty quickly and pushed ourselves back out.

Instead of heading back to shore, we dug into the barbecue rib MRE we had packed and enjoyed it on the water before a storm rolled in.

It cleared up quickly, like usual, and we showered that afternoon and enjoyed some time of the dock before dinner of wild rice and walleye soup.

Walleye wild rice soup
4 walleye filets
1 cup wild rice or wild rice blend
2 carrots, peeled and chopped
2 stalk celery, chopped
1/2 yellow onion, chopped
4 Tbsp. butter
1/4 cup flour
2 cups milk
4 cups chicken stock/broth
Salt and pepper, to taste

In a stockpot, melt the butter and saute onion, carrot and celery. Season with salt and pepper. After about five minutes, stir in flour to make a roux. Slowly add milk and stir until milk thickens. Add chicken broth slowly and continue to stir to incorporate.

Add walleye filets and wild rice. Walleye will cook and fall apart as the rice cooks.

Continue to simmer until wild rice is cooked through, about 20-30 minutes. Stir occasionally to keep rice from sticking to the bottom of the pot. Continue to season with salt and pepper as needed.

(Read the next post)

Leadheads, check-in and nighttime photography

(Continued from this post)

Monday was a hot one.

We got up early and caught enough fish for the day, came back to the cabin and crashed.

Waking up about 10 a.m., we had a late breakfast, enjoyed our coffee and wasted away part of the morning.

By the time we headed outside, it was a warm one. Temperatures were supposed to hit about 85 degrees, and although we didn't have Internet, we figured that was about spot on. I did something I'd never do back home, I went fishing in just leggings and a sports bra.

"Who's going to see you?" Nate said, convincing me to go for it rather than keep sweating.

It was a rather calm, relaxing day soaking up the sun with our line in the water. Since the day was warm, we also had enough sun to warm up our hanging shower bag so we could actually get clean!

For dinner, we had fried fish --- and this Long John Silver's copycat recipe is my absolute go-to.

Long John Silver's copycat batter
6 walleye filets
3/4 cup flour
2 Tbsp. cornstarch
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. baking powder
salt, to taste
3/4 cup water

Mix the dry ingredients and then stir in water until batter forms.

Heat oil in a cast iron skillet. Dip filets in batter and fry.

I handed Nate the malt vinegar I packed, because that's what he likes to dip his fried fish in.

"You brought me malt vinegar. That's what I love about you."

----------------------

For the past two days, we had gotten up early only to then take a nap. Plus, we weren't having any trouble catching walleye later in the day, so when the alarm went off on Tuesday morning I looked over to see Nate turn it off, roll back over and close his eyes.

I did that too, and so we slept until about 9 a.m.

After a leisurely breakfast and devotion, we finally decided to head out onto the water.

We continued to catch walleye in the little cove we found, and at one point, Nate looked at my leadhead, which was missing both its painted-on eyes and had teeth marks from the northern and the walleye indented on it, and laughed.

"I think your leadhead has seen better days."

Plus, his hook has been ripped out of a walleye mouth so it was way too wide open to be able to catch anything easily. We both needed new lures.

We headed in for a lunch of walleye citrus salad --- by far our favorite menu item the entire trip --- and then went out to read on the dock while we awaited the arrival of the outfitter which was coming to make sure we were alive.

The float plane arrived at about 3 p.m., and two gentlemen, one with a thick French accent, got out to make sure everything was OK at camp. They first handed us a bright yellow box that held the satellite phone we had paid to rent that week.

"You guys rented a satellite phone?" One man asked as he handed it to us.

"Yes, we forgot it," Nate said.

"We were trying to figure out how you told us you forgot it since you didn't have a satellite phone to tell us."

"We realized it on the flight in that we did, but it was too late then," I said.

That had been another anxious part of the flight in for me. About halfway there, I turned sharply around to Nate in the back seat.

"We forgot the satellite phone," I said.

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess it's too late now."

But we had the assurance of the phone for the rest of the week at least.

The guys asked us about our experience so far and regaled us with some of their own experiences hunting moose, and we told them we had enough walleye to eat which was what we needed since we didn't bring anything else.

"You didn't bring other food?" One man asked.

"No. We figured we're on a fishing trip, we'll eat fish."

"You didn't bring steaks to grill?" He pressed.

"Nope."

Nate and I smiled at each other. Apparently, we are survivalists and didn't even know it.

One of the things I had really wanted to do in Canada was see the stars, but each night clouds rolled in as the sun set, and it also didn't get dark until far past the time we were tired.

But Tuesday night promised to be clear, and we decided it would be the perfect night to try some long exposures.

We played cribbage and Kings in the Corner for several hours waiting for the sun to finally give way to night, and we put on layers, not to fight the cold but the mosquitoes.

Nate, clad in his rain gear and a netted hat, followed me out to the boulder where we stared at the night sky, still partially light from the moon. The galaxy of stars was a bright band above us, and the moon was full and lit up the evening. It wasn't even minutes before I saw two shooting stars and Nate saw yet another that I missed.

I worked on focus and long exposure for night shots and was pretty pleased with how they came out.

Then I decided to try one with the moon to see if it had enough light to make more definition in the photos.

My camera clicked as the shutter opened and 30 seconds later closed. I looked at the screen and my eyes opened.

"Holy cow. It looks like daytime!"

I showed the photo to Nate.

"The moon looks like the sun! But look, you can still see the stars in the sky."

Walleye with citrus salad
4 walleye filets
2 Tbsp. butter
Grapefruit, segmented and chopped
Orange, segmented and chopped
1/3 red bell pepper, chopped
1/4 red onion, chopped
1/2 roma tomato, chopped
2 Tbsp. lemon juice
Chopped lettuce
Cilantro, chopped

Melt butter in a cast iron skillet and cook walleye through, on both sides.

Combine grapefruit, orange, bell pepper, red onion, tomato and lemon juice in bowl and stir to combine. Let rest of 5-10 minutes for flavors to meld.

Place chopped lettuce on plate and lay filets on top. Top with citrus salsa and cilantro, if desired.

(Read the next post)

Catching more than a northern

Continued from Part 2 (click here)

We woke up early.

It was 6 a.m. and the alarm on Nate's phone went off. Since we were on eastern time, that meant it felt like 5 a.m.

He hit snooze, and I rolled over in my twin-sized bed and went back to sleep beneath the warmth of the green, fleece-lined sleeping bag.

The alarm went off again. Snooze. Again. Snooze.

It was finally 6:30 a.m. and we knew we needed to get out there and catch some walleye with the morning bite or we might not eat that day. We had to at least have enough fish to get us through the day.

So we bundled up for the chilly Canadian morning, grabbed a coffee cake muffin, loaded up our gear in the boat and headed out to the same cove that we had success with on the first day.

It was chilly as the sun made its way over the trees, but it sure was beautiful. I yawned while I watched my line bob in the wake.

A bite!

I started to reel in but forget to set my line, so the fish got away with my worm. I grabbed a new earthworm to put on my hook while Nate reeled in his first fish. He got the second walleye, and I got the third.

Then Nate yanked his pole up to set the line and started to reel in a fish that certainly didn't want to be caught. It pulled and tugged while he reeled, and it finally rolled on its side to use its razor-sharp teeth to cut the line and steal Nate's lure --- a northern.

"Man! That northern stole my whole lure!"

"Crud," I said, getting cut off when I felt a bite on my line.

I started reeling a fighting fish, and Nate got the net ready. As he swooped it down and grab the fish from the below the surface, we realized it wasn't a walleye but a northern.

And this northern not only had my lure attached to its lip, but it also had a turquoise leadhead in its mouth --- Nate's lure.

"I caught your lure!"

We got the lures out of the northern's mouth, threw it back and continued to laugh. What were the odds that I would catch the exact fish that stole Nate's lure literally seconds after he lost it? We knew that was going to be quite the story for our fishing trip.

Nate caught one more walleye, and we knew we had enough food for the day even if we didn't catch anything else later, so we headed back to the cabin for breakfast.

Coffee brewed in the percolator, and I got the eggs and bacon out of the refrigerator.

When I went to crack an egg into the hot cast iron skillet, it cracked but didn't break. I hit it again, still seemed a little too solid for a normal egg.

"The eggs are frozen..." I said to Nate.

"Uh oh."

We had packed the eggs in the cooler the day before, and they must have gotten a little too cold sitting in ice and then got even colder in the frigid propane refrigerator.

I held them over the hot pan one by one, trying to warm them in my hands and defrost them. Slowly, they came back and cracked into the sizzling skillet.

It took a little longer than anticipated, but we had breakfast.

"It's Sunday, isn't it?" Nate asked.

"It is Sunday! We should do some kind of devotional."

I remembered that I had some Beth Moore books downloaded on my phone, so I went to turn it on and access one. We read some Scripture and read a chapter.

It was only 9 a.m., and we both looked at each other with tired eyes.

"I think I need a nap," one of us said, but we were both thinking it.

Later that afternoon, we attempted to shower with our hanging shower bag. The sun had warmed the water to a tepid temperature, but we still wanted to try it.

Left looking for a place to hang the shower bag that was out of the grass so it wasn't mosquito-ridden and in the sun so it was warmer, Nate attempted to prop two ladders up on the dock. However, the wind blew and toppled them.

He grabbed an ax inside to hack a branch off of a tree near the shoreline that would work as a second-best option. The moment he grabbed the ax, though, the head of it shook and slid right off.

I was picking up a few things inside and I saw him working on the shower situation outside when he came in with a huge smile on his face.

"I used a wooden clothespin to rehang the ax."

"Good job McGyvering it."

"Your dad would be so proud. I think he's the only person that would appreciate it."

We did shower, and although it was a bit chilly in the late afternoon, it felt good to be clean for the evening.

All in all, it was a pretty relaxing Sunday.

Plus, here are Sunday's dishes:

Walleye hot dip
4 walleye filets
4 ounces cream cheese
2 ounces cheddar cheese
1/2 cup salsa
1/2 yellow onion, diced
1 Tbsp. butter
Topping: 1/2 cup bread crumbs, 1 Tbsp. paprika
Sliced artisan bread

Melt butter in a cast iron pan and saute onions until translucent. Add walleye and cook through, breaking up into pieces.

Melt cream cheese into onion and fish mixture, then melt cheddar. Mix in salsa.

Top with bread crumbs and paprika. Bake at 350 degrees until bubbly.

Remove from oven and dip bread in to eat. Make sure to cool slightly before serving!

Fish tacos
4 walleye filets
1/4 cup bread crumbs
1/4 cup Panko bread crumbs
1 Tbsp. jerk seasoning
1 egg
Tortilla shells
Toppings: Cilantro, avocado, sour cream, chopped lettuce

Heat vegetable oil in a large cast iron skillet. Mix bread crumbs and jerk seasoning. Beat egg in a bowl. Dip filets in egg wash and then in bread crumb mixture.

Fry fish until crispy and done all the way through.

Layer on tortilla with desired toppings.

I also served the fish tacos with a mixture of white rice, chopped red bell peppers and corn, similar to the base of the fish taco bowl. We had a limited amount of food, so I made everything work more than once!

(Read the next post)

Settling into camp

Continued from Part I

We woke up early, showered in a real bathroom for the last time in a week and put on our outdoor clothes.

I pulled on my new leggings with antibacterial fabric that was supposed to help them not stink for at least three wears, wool socks, hiking boots and a long-sleeve top.

We gathered our stuff and headed out of town, stopping at Tim Horton's for coffee and a sour cream glazed donut along the way.

We were supposed to arrive at Hearst Air at 6:30 a.m., but we didn't want to be late and heard that people show up pretty early so we got there at 6:15 a.m. The owner was walking out of her house to the shop, where we met her. We took care of final arrangements and she said, "It will be a couple of minutes. You're kind of early."

"Sorry! We didn't want to be late. We're in no rush."

The sun was just coming up over the horizon, behind the conifer trees that edged Carey Lake. Pink and purple shone as a light fog rose from the calm waters.

A young guy with a French accent came to weigh our luggage. We were supposed to have 100 pounds of gear per person, and we had weighed everything but thought we were a little over.

"You're fine; it's just you on the plane," the owner, Melanie, assured us.

We came in at 214 pounds, but they didn't charge us for the overages. In fact, they let us bring an extra cooler that we had set aside for them to bring later in the week on a check flight.

I piled everything, including our sunglasses, onto the luggage cart to be weighed and next thing I knew, it was being wheeled to the plane.

I quickly walked behind, because I hadn't thought they would take it so fast, and I wasn't sure our passports were secured in the bag I had put them in quickly, and I knew our sunglasses were just laying on top. I tried to get the guy's attention as the pilot picked up our lifejackets and the sunglasses dangled from them precariously as he threw them into the plane.

"Our sunglasses..." I pointed.

The kid tried to convey it to the French-speaking pilot, and I felt bad as I pointed out they had fallen underneath a seat of the plane. The pilot handed them to me, and I grabbed them and let them continue with their jobs.

My anxiety continued though as they quickly ushered us on to the plane and took off before I really could calm down about the fact that we had everything we needed. I sat the entire flight with my hands in my lap, monkeying with the string that closes the top of my orange sunglasses bag. "Nervous hands," Nate said later.

Cold air blew at my face as I watched out the window, amazed at how untouched the landscape was. Miles upon miles of dense green forest was broken up only by shallow lakes and a massive lake in the distance --- that I later realized was just fog on the horizon, reflecting light to make it look like a lake.

It took about a half hour for us to reach our destination and touch the float plane down on the water. We rode across the mirror-like lake to a dock attached to a large boulder, where an older man stood with a younger man, amidst bags and totes of gear.

We unpacked. They packed. The plane left.

We were alone.

Nate and I moved our gear into the little brown cabin and unloaded what we could. I put sheets on the twin beds and laid out our sleeping bags and pillows. We hung up our jackets and rain gear and unloaded the coolers into the propane refrigerator.

We didn't even check what time it was but headed out in the Sea Nymph --- the aluminum boat that was ours for the week --- to see if we could catch ourselves some lunch.

We hadn't brought any meals with us. I had the ingredients for 12 walleye meals for lunch and dinner, and we had bacon and eggs for breakfast. In fact, we had packed so lightly that the pilot asked if we were survivalists when he loaded our stuff.

We thought he was joking.

He wasn't.

Apparently, most people don't eat the fish that they catch. They bring frozen entrees or steak to grill. We figured, we were on a fishing trip. We would eat what we could catch. We had read journals that it wasn't that hard to catch fish at Sunshine Lake, so we were confident we would be fine.

And if we didn't catch fish, we had Goldfish...

We headed to a little cove to the west and put down our leadheads with twisters and worms. The day was so calm and the water so glasslike that we didn't get an automatic bottom bounce from the movement of the boat. In fact, we didn't get any movement from the boat at all.

I had no idea what I was doing --- I haven't been soft water fishing for a long time, so I just followed what Nate said to do, bottom bounce. I slowly lifted and lowered my pink Shakespeare rod to make my bait look appetizing to the walleye at the bottom of the lake.

It must have worked, because I caught one!

We got it in the boat with the help of a black net that someone had left behind, and Nate looked at me. I looked at him.

"What do I do?"

The walleye just hung there.

"Take it off the hook."

"I don't know how. They have barbs!"

A few years ago, I had been barbed by a perch during a kids fishing day at work, and that had left me quite squeamish about fish that could hurt me when I try to take them off the hook.

Nate took the walleye and quickly had the hook out of its mouth and had it on the stringer.

He caught one. I caught two more.

Four walleye. Enough to eat, and we were starving. Those Tim Horton's donuts didn't last long.

I made Fish Po Boy sandwiches for lunch (see recipe below) and we scarfed them down figuring it had to be about 2 p.m.

Nate checked the clock on his phone. 11 a.m.

We settled down for a nap, some more fishing, fish taco bowls for dinner, cards and bedtime.

It was a jam-packed first day.

Walleye Po Boy
4 walleye fillets
2 Tbsp. oil
1/4 cup Panko bread crumbs
1/4 cup bread crumbs
1/4 cup mayonnaise
2 Tbsp. ketchup
1 tsp. lemon juice
Dash of tobasco
Sliced tomato
Chopped lettuce
Panini bread

Bread fillets with bread crumb mixture and fry in hot oil. Mix mayo, ketchup, lemon juice and Tobasco and spread on bread sliced almost all the way through. Layer in fried fish and top with tomato and lettuce.

Walleye taco bowls
1 cup instant white rice
4 ounces canned corn
1/3 of a red pepper, chopped
4 walleye fillets
1/4 cup bread crumbs
1/4 cup Panko bread crumbs
1 Tbsp. jerk seasoning
Toppings: Chopped avocado, cilantro, salsa, sour cream, chopped lettuce

Boil 1 cup of water and add rice, corn, red pepper. Boil for 5 minutes until rice has absorbed all water. Take off heat.

Meanwhile, bread fillets in mixture of bread crumbs and jerk seasoning. Fry in hot oil.

Layer rice in bowl and top with pieces of fish. Add whatever toppings you would like.

(Read Part 3 here)

Grocery store quandries and gravy fries

It was 11 a.m., and we crossed the border into Canada after an six-hour drive to Duluth and an OAR concert on the shores of Lake Superior.

Our phones said "No Service," and a sign read "Entering eastern time zone."

We switched the clock on the dash of the 2002 red Ford Explorer to noon.

That puts an hour behind our schedule, I thought with a little anxiety, like every other trip I've been on. I'm usually a lot quieter and a lot more on edge, thinking through back-up plans to everything that could go wrong until we actually reach out destination. This trip was no different.

We started out on Highway 11, changing our thinking from mph to km/h, and I went to look for the La Poutine's address in Thunder Bay on the GPS.

I went to the search area and changed from Minnesota, USA, to Canada and then looked confused at the screen when it allowed me to only choose New Brunswick province. We were in Ontario.

I clicked on the search area and wrote Ontario. "Not found," the screen read in small black letters.

"Uh, the GPS doesn't have Canada. It only has New Brunswick."

Nate looked at me questioningly, and I went through the process again. "No, look it just says New Brunswick. It doesn't have any other part of Canada in it."

"OK, well, I know this road leads us all the way to Hearst, so I know where we're going. I don't know the address to the restaurant though, so we may be out of luck there."

"Maybe we'll be able to find it or stop and ask for directions."

I had really wanted to try some authentic poutine when we crossed the border, but I didn't realize how big Thunder Bay was. In a city of more than 100,000 people, finding one restaurant without an address and without any cell coverage to look it up is difficult. We drove through the city for about a half-hour and finally gave up, assuming we'd be able to find something to eat along the way.

Across the border, we were passing nothing but trees, and I commented on that fact. "This isn't how I expected Canada to look."

You see, my experience with Canada was limited. As a kid, I went to Niagra Falls with my family, but that is basically the U.S. What I had read about Canada consisted of prairie stories by Janette Oke, and so I expected many more grasslands than I was seeing amidst the bluffs covered in conifers.

We continued out of Thunder Bay and were surprised at how rural everything was. There weren't small towns every now and then. There weren't even gas stations or fast food restaurants.

Our stomachs were growling, and I saw a sign that said there was a business section of Highway 11 that had restaurants, gas and a bed and breakfast. We took the turn and continued driving, but nothing commercial presented itself.

In fact, nothing presented itself except more conifers.

The bypass ended, and we merged back on to Highway 11, where the speed limit of 90 km/h was apparently a suggestion because cars with Ontario license plates blazed past us.

It was an hour before we saw a sign for Nipigon. We entered the "town" and saw a gas station and a Tim Horton's.

"Is this it?"

"I think so."

Nate and I looked at each other and laughed. This was a town? This place was insane. I was expecting a continuation of what we were used to in the U.S., and the farther north we went, the less it looked like that.

We stopped at Tim Horton's and got some food, starting our meal with two sour-cream glazed donuts, which we may have had two other times during our trip as well, and headed back on Highway 11.

The road curved around Nipigon River, amidst rocky cliffs and tree-covered bluffs. We passed ditches of wildflowers and more conifers than I had ever expected to see. There were no open areas, except where a shallow lake broke the line of trees and then disappeared.

There were no houses, very few off-roads and hardly any cars.

It was the most secluded, untouched place we had ever been, and we just couldn't get over it. We laughed at how our expectations were changing tremendously.

The hours dragged on, and I started my anxiety dance in my head again. At this point, we weren't going to get to Hearst until 8 p.m. We had to be at our outfitter early Saturday morning. I still had to get groceries, and we had to pick up our bait that we pre-ordered from the tackle shop. We had no idea when a grocery store might close in a small town and were pretty sure the bait and tackle place would be shut up tight by the time we arrived. However, we also didn't have any cell service to be able to check on hours or to call the bait shop to say we'd be late.

We entered Longlac, or Long Lake, a First Nation community, and passed a general store. "Think they have groceries?" I asked.

We pulled into the lot and quickly decided that they didn't have groceries. It didn't look like they had much of anything.

We cross the bridge over Long Lake, seeing toys sitting by the side of the road and dogs roaming around, and we entered the small town. We drove around to see if we could find a library with wi-fi or a grocery store, but there didn't seem to be either of those things.

Nate stopped at a Rexall Pharmacy. "Maybe this is their grocery store," he said.

We walked in, and it was bright and clean, but it was just a pharmacy. There were boxed beverages and bags of chips, but there wasn't the fresh items that I needed.

"What do you need?" Nate asked.

"Everything I couldn't bring over the border --- grapefruit, lettuce, sour cream, milk, eggs, escharole."

"Escarole? What is that?"

"It's a green, but I'm thinking I'm dreaming if I thought I could find that here."

We went to the back of the pharmacy, and Nate asked if there was a grocery store in town.

The two white-coated individuals looked at us like that was the dumbest question they'd encountered that week.

"Noooo," the woman responded. "There's one about 30 minutes away, but it's really expensive."

"We're heading to Hearst, and we needed some groceries," Nate said.

"Hearst would have better groceries," the woman responded.

"We don't know what time it would close though," Nate said, and the woman kindly checked on the computer to find that the grocer closed at 9 p.m. We would have plenty of time to get what we needed, or at least what we could find.

"Do you have a phone or wi-fi?" The woman again looked at us with an expression like she saw a kangaroo in Canada. "We're from the U.S., and our phones don't work here," I explained. "We are going to be late getting to Hearst, and we need to contact the bait shop and tell them."

She looked at her co-worker and decided whether she could give us a wi-fi password. She took Nate's phone and input the password so he could make a call to the bait shop via Google. He almost shouted his concern that we would be late to the bait store owner who said, in a French accent, that he could bring our bait to the hotel we were staying at.

We profusely thanked the kind pharmacist and headed back on our way.

What we had concerned a primitive area didn't seem to hold a candle to what we were getting into though. As we left town, a sign said "Check fuel level. No services 211 km."

"Nothing for 211 kilometers?" I asked, aghast.

We turned around to top off the gas tank, better to be safe than sorry, and had to drive all the way back through town to the original general store we passed to fill up. A couple of dogs without collars or tags sat underneath the shade of the store overhang. They didn't seem to belong to anyone.

I decided that I had better make a back-up menu if the many fresh items that I needed weren't available in the town of 2,000 we were heading to.

"I need my recipes. I think they're in the blue tote."

I climbed into the back of the car and tried to dig out my recipes from our tightly packed totes of supplies.

I couldn't find them.

"I forgot, they're in the folder up front."

I sat back in the passenger seat and went through the manila folder of papers we had.

"Oh no."

Nate looked at me then quickly turned his eyes back to the road. "What?"

"I think I forgot my recipes."

"Where are they?"

"I think they're on the floor in our upstairs."

"Guess we'll have to improvise."

"Looks like my chef skills are going to be put to the test here." I got to work writing my back-up plan on the yellow legal pad that had the list of ingredients I still needed to buy.

It was a long trip, but we finally made it to Hearst --- with plenty of gas in the tank --- and were delighted to find a grocery store just like back home, actually larger than what we have in town. It had everything we needed, and I didn't even need a back-up plan.

We had everything ready to go, including getting the bait at our motel, and went into the restaurant for dinner.

"I'll have the salmon burger," I told the waitress. "Fries would be great."

"Gravy fries?" She asked.

I said great, not gravy, but what the heck. "Sure."

We were enjoying our meals, complete with the Canadian staple of gravy fries, when the waitress came over.

"I forgot to bring your ketchup and vinegar."

She said a bottle of white distilled vinegar on the table.

We knew that vinegar on the table was a staple, from watching "Letterkenny," but we thought it was malt vinegar. It turned out it was white vinegar, which made me think more of cleaning than of eating.

Nate poured some on his plate and dipped his salty, crispy fries in it.

"Actually, that's quite good."

"OK, give me some." I dipped my fries in a pool of the clear liquid. "Alright, that is actually good."

It was like salt and vinegar chips but fries. Dip them in vinegar and gravy, and it's even better.

When in Rome, right?

Go to: Part II