My first mistake...

OK, I'm probably going to regret this at some point. I've done reasonably well in staying away from the things in life that are enormous money pits – gambling, "fixer-upper" homes, recreational drugs, and so forth. And fishing – until now.

I called up the Minnesota parks folks this morning, and Katie and Joey and I are headed to Itasca State Park the weekend of September 15. We're going to backpack to Desoto Lake, about five miles away from the main lodge. It sounds beautiful – only two campsites are on this lake.

I googled the lake, and found a blog that said this: "We camped at the DeSoto lake, which had the clearest water I've ever seen. Chris brought his fishing rod, and caught a large-mouthed bass."

Oh, man! I could go fishing there!

I've had a few false starts on the fishing thing. It never was part of my upbringing -- my dad has some unexplained and possibly unexplainable aversion to fish in general and fishing in particular. I didn't even eat much fish until I went away to college.

I became interested in the sport about two years ago – I'm intrigued by the idea of catching my own meals when out in the wilderness. Jen's folks kindly bought me a few books and videos on how to do it right. But I haven't really been in the right place at the right time since then.

But next month, I will be! So I headed over to Scheel's, the enormous sporting-goods store in town that has absolutely amazing fishing and hunting sections. (It also has a full-sized Ferris wheel in the middle of the main part of the store – the whole enterprise will be good for another entry another day.) They would have been happy to sell me rods for hundreds of dollars, and reels that look like they've been forged with lasers. But hardly any of their rods broke down small enough to strap onto a backpack, and I was kind of intimidated by the whole setup, and I left without buying anything.

So tonight I headed over to every cheap sportman's friend, Wal-Mart, and found just what I was looking for. I had a gift card from my sister Katie in my pocket, and it ended up paying for a serious chunk of the 2-piece rod (one piece of which is pictured above), fileting knife, and fishing tackle that I bought. Thanks, Katie! (On the other hand, I suppose it's kind of like paying for someone's first rock of crack – they're thankful that day, but end up regretting the whole thing later.)

I need to check the state regulations, but I think I can eat any fish I catch when we're at Itasca. I'm certain Joey and Katie will be horrified, but we'll have plenty of macaroni and cheese for them to eat (I'd be willing to bet that I'll be eating mac & cheese that night as well...).

It looks like Lake DeSoto has panfish (a term, I learned today, that refers to a bunch of types of small fish that tend to be caught by guys with rods and reels, and the fish can be cooked up in a frying pan); if any Fargoing readers know anything at all about fishing for such beasts and would like to share a little of what they know, please feel free to leave a comment.

[And for the record, the title of this post doesn't refer to "my first mistake" ever – it's my first of two big ones this weekend. It's also a small play on a cool Lyle Lovett song title, "Her First Mistake." A report on mistake number two is coming up...]