Walk of shame

I stood swaying back and forth in the parking lot of PJ’s Little Store, half asleep on my feet, after a particularly long overnight shift. It was early December, and my brother Bruce was slated to pick me up. I wasn’t going to let a little sleep deprivation get in the way of our plans.

We headed south past Moose Lake. Our mission: chuck the spear at a few pike. We parked the truck along a gravel road near the water’s edge. Frozen cattails, suspended in winter’s grip, welcomed our arrival. Without a wheeler or a snow machine we were forced to trudge across the frozen expanse in search of our sp...