by Greg Koelker
It is a sparkling and gloriously cool (47 degrees)sunrise here at the ranch this June morning. Bo chased three deer out of the yard. I checked the rain gauge; it had another half-inch in it since yesterday. Ellen came in from watering her plants, and I suggested that it is so fall-like, we should go cut a load of firewood. For a moment, she looked at me like I might have lost some of my marbles out in the yard, and just said, “Uh, no.” Anyway, it is Friday, and nothing is on the agenda today. So, what to write about? Got it. Why reinvent the reel, uh wheel? Here is a relatively timely redux of a June Journal from 2003:
Grouse Hollow Journal for June 18, 2003
Shell Lake holds some secrets, but sometimes, just sometimes, it allows a peek into some small mystery of its deep, clear waters.
Last week, Jake Ekern and his new daughter, Alyssa, made the long trip from Winneconne across northern Wisconsin to his folks, Dave and Deb Ekern’s home in Shell Lake. I motored the Jeep north for three hours up Highway 53. Jake and I spent two days in his grandpa’s runabout, unlocking secrets and filling the livewell with huge slabber bluegills, rockbass, perch, and walleyes.
Jake, a former valedictorian, scholar athlete, all-star quarterback and pitcher from Shell Lake High, former star student teacher of mine at De Soto High, and now a darn fine fishing guide, and I try to make this fishing trip an annual affair in early June.
After loading the cooler, tackle boxes, ultra-light fishing tackle, and half a dozen containers of live bait, we idled out across the slightly choppy sky-blue lake in bright sun that would only occasionally be relieved by small puffy clouds. There is a no-wake rule in effect within 100 feet of shore on Shell Lake as the water is up some nine feet from normal due to exceptional snow melt and lots of rain.
Some luxurious lakeside homes look more like military outposts with their sandbag battlements. The Ekerns tell me that many lakeside homeowners can’t get flood insurance and many have water on the first floor. To top it off, Shell Lake has no natural outlet. Some pumps are supposed to be moving water some seven miles to a river, but that relief will take months due to technical difficulties. Meanwhile, for many here, lakefront property has a whole new meaning.
After a short ride, we baited up slip-bobber rigs on light line with small leeches and tried a couple of islands that were only visible because of their weeds. We had little success, so we moved clear across the lake to a spot – sorry, but I am sworn to secrecy as to its name. We had some luck there two years ago and Jake had caught a dozen nice bluegills there the day before. We caught a few gills. They were all orange bellies in the nine-to-10 inch class, but it was slow. Jake grabbed the paddle and slowly moved us along the shoreline into the trees. Then it happened. A window opened in the water back in the timber, and my bobber slammed to the bottom. I fought a huge blue gill into the boat with my five-foot, ultralight pole and then cast out again, only to have the bobber immediately disappear. A hookset brought back another nice fish. We dropped anchor and started filling the livewell.
The sun beat down on us. The wind picked up. The fishing was hotter and faster than both. Man, oh man, what fun! We had doubles several times. We threw back fish that would normally have been part of a panfish dinner as the day slipped by. The only break in the fun came with snags, re-tackling and lunch breaks.
There were snags made by downed trees, willows and water plants. Racing, plunging fish have a tendency to wrap the line around all sorts of things. I actually almost had to take a nap, as I was getting so worn out fighting not only huge blue gills, but nice sized rock, smallmouth, and largemouth bass, too. We finally quit panfishing at around 4:30 p.m. and headed in to clean our catch. It took an hour to filet, wash and bag the slabbers we kept. The filets must have weighed close to six pounds!
Later, we went back out to a sand bar in the lake to try for evening walleyes. The night before, Jake and his granddad, Duane Ekern, caught two limits (of three) and many more walleyes on the spot. Of course, the Koelker walleye curse held up. Jake got a couple of nice walleyes. Not me – I caught a couple of slimy bullheads and some ringed perch. We headed in at sundown. After cleaning Jake’s catch, it was 10:30 p.m.
We visited with Deb, Jake’s mom, rubbed on some seriously needed sunburn lotion and crashed.
Tuesday morning brought rain and wind. Most people in their right minds would have slept in or gone out for breakfast. Not being most people, we went fishing. After coffee and Kix, we donned rainsuits and hit our panfish spot again. We fished in the rain and wind all morning catching dozens of fish and keeping another nice mess of supersized panfish before we ran out of bait, realized that it was rather cold out and called it quits.
The best part about fishing with a friend is not the fishing, nor is it eating crispy, golden filets with fried potatoes and beer. Those things run second and third, respectively. Jake and I discussed the problems of the world and more, caught up with each other’s lives, and had a great visit. The experience, the time together, that’s the best part – the great fishing was a bonus. Thanks to the Ekerns for a great trip.
Until next time, get out…
Remember to clean and refill that hummingbird feeder!
Enjoy.
Until next time, get out – El and I want to congratulate our nephew head coach Tony Liebried and his Potosi/Cassville Chieftains on a great baseball season, ending with a silver trophy at state. With 370 teams playing spring baseball in Wisconsin, finishing in the top 10 at State is an amazing thing. We and the entire PC community are proud of you. While we have lived in Vernon County for 49 years, (El and I grew up in Cassville.)
Anyway, with all the Dairy breakfasts and celebrations, there is plenty to enjoy yet in June 2026. I know now what’s for dinner here tonight. Fish fry!
Pray for peace.
Greg Koelker is a lifelong resident of the Driftless region along the Mississippi River. He is the acclaimed author of the “Grouse Hollow Journal,” a column that celebrates rural life, nature, family heritage, and the traditions that bind communities together. While technically focused on the “outdoors,” his writing often explores broader themes of community values and education.
Add comment