In a minute or two (except for a few) the guys agreed to the scheme,
With deposits paid, arrangements were made for that "trip of a lifetime" dream.
Throughout the spring, the singlemost thing on everyone's mind was the trip,
And when the time came to pack up the plane, we'd escape the rat race's grip.

The part of that trip we'd all like to skip began in a rusty old truck,
Ten hours on the road, transporting that load - hoping for a run of good luck.
The traffic was fast and the miles flew past - what a pleasant, relaxing ride;
Just speeding along (it wouldn't be long), but a cop pulled us off to the side !

Once up in the air, we just didn't care that our gear was so poorly fit,
Or the weather was bad - the guys were just glad (until the nauseas hit) !
Suffice it to say, bags were handy that day, much to the pilot's delight,
We readied the camp, lit the old Coleman lamp and settled in for the night.

Seems each of the boys heard every noise - things that go bump in the night,
The hoot of an owl, a bear on the prowl - monsters for sure (well, not quite).
Before six o'clock, we were all on the dock - set to leave the rustic outpost,
We went over the rules, established the pools - the first, the biggest, and the most.

With the rising sun, the morning begun - a day far beyond compare,
So we ventured forth, far into the North, without really knowing where.
From the crack of dawn the crew paddled on, wherever the canoes could glide,
Until we reached a pool, clear, deep and cool - ending a tortuous ride.

Then, taking a break, we stared 'cross the lake - a glorious vision to see;
Calm, pristine and blue with an island or two - the way we heard it would be.
A mist hung on the pond as if it belonged in some primordial scene,
And, believe it or not, each of us thought this a place where no man had been.

The shore of the lake, disturbed by own wake, revealed itself in degrees,
A granite-strewn edge with a forested hedge - a marriage of rocks and trees.
Just further along, though nothing was wrong, the haunting cry of the loon,
Demanded we pause, simply because we'd be leaving - albeit too soon.

A large weedy bay seemed to each of us say, "Fish anywhere that you'd like",
But, unlike the past, a hopeful first cast was grabbed by a gargantuan pike.
Each of the guys took several tries at getting the beast in the net,
And between me and you, everyone knew it to be our biggest fish yet.

The fishing was great and well worth the wait - trophies, we boated a bunch;
Photos were taken, the boys began makin' a fresh-caught, hearty shore lunch.
Potatoes and fish were heaped on each dish - golden and sizzlin' and good,
Soon each of us knew (as we usually do) we'd eaten far more than we should.

The end of the day, I hated to say, arrived and we started to pack,
Not wanting to leave, we gained our reprieve by vowing one day we'd come back.
Departing the lake, near the canoe's wake, the loon swam back into view,
Its long, lonely call reminded us all that our fisherman's dream had come true.

Back at the camp, though the night air was damp, we languished around the fire,
Enjoying the flame (we all felt the same), - a life of which no man could tire.
A few rum 'n' cokes started the jokes and secrets that no one could keep,
The Northern Lights shone almost 'til dawn (when we finally did fall asleep).

The next thing we heard was the song of a bird, though not the call of the loon,
But the drone of a plane - toward us it came - to take us away much too soon.
In packing our stuff, there was hardly enough room on the plane for our gear,
Winging away, I heard someone say, "We'll go back - maybe even next year."

And so it began, an annual plan to get away from it all;
Fly into some spot that's not fished a lot - alone with the loon and his call.
Few things can compare with the grandeur there - a majestic wilderness scene,
And each time we leave, we want to believe this a place where no man has been.