Fishing on Eagle Lake

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The mid May morning that Blaine, Roger and I set out on our annual fishing trip to Eagle Lake in the Allagash Waterway was bright and clear. The Ice on the lake had just gone out and it brought the promise of early season Brook Trout fishing. Eagle Lake, remote and unspoiled, is reached only by boat via the portage station at Indian Stream, and the lone building on the shores of the lake is the Ranger’s cabin. When we drove into the parking lot at the portage station, I noticed the game warden examining a fiery red pickup. We got out and stretched, and then Roger said to the warden, “Hey, how’s the fishing?” He spun around as if startled and said, “I’d tell you if I knew, but I don’t know anything. The owner of this truck hasn’t checked out yet, and I haven’t been able to get in touch with the Ranger on my new radio.” “Maybe the fishing’s good. You’d have to drag me out if it was.” Roger said with a chuckle. “Well you boys have fun, I might see you again today,” the Game Warden said. “I might have to get to the ranger’s station to get in touch with ranger Paul.” In a blink of an eye Blaine, Roger and I watched the Game Warden drive down the road sloshing through the mud and finally disappearing around the corner. “Hey Roger, you don’t think those people are in trouble do you?” I said with concern. “Psh no, I’m telling you the fishing’s good,” Roger said. After our trek down Indian Stream and paddle across Eagle Lake, we finally arrived at our campsite. It didn’t take long to set up our tent. We were worker ants scurrying to build our home away from home. We stopped briefly to look out onto the placid lake and gaze at the reflection of the surrounding terrain. As we finished setting up camp, it was nearing three P.M. We... ... middle of paper ... with our friend Blaine and possibly more,” Blaine said. “We found this letter on Paul, here you go.” The Game Warden began to read the letter and by the end of it, I could hear him whimpering. He then turned to the water, looking out at the tranquil waters on Eagle Lake. The storm had receded and the moon was poking through the clouds. If it weren’t for what had happened on Eagle Lake tonight, this place would be paradise. “Paul was a great guy,” the Game Warden said as he looked out across Eagle Lake. “ I knew him really well. Blaine and Paul are safe in gods arms, now and forever.” I sat there staring at Blaine and the Game Warden, nothing was said. Soon the sun began to rise and I watched it turn into a pool of crimson and gold. A helicopter then appeared from the horizon and within minutes Blaine and I were in the air soaring away from the tragedy below.

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