Personal Narrative: Seagull Creek Fishing

Blinded It was a ghastly type of day in northern Minnesota, specifically Seagull Creek Fishing Camp. No phone service to be found, television to be watched or people to interact with. Yes, there was the old couple that lived down the bumpy and torn apart road but besides that you would have drive almost three hours to see any civilization. The camp was run and maintained by a guy named Mike Berg. He lived in the town back 131 miles, Grand Marais. He owns three of the four cabins located on the camp, while the other is cabin set as a museum of the camp. It holds some past of the camp and why it was so successful in the past years. After waking up that with the sun just blaring on my face, my hands lifted up to my face to wipe off any eye
Some years it's really tough to catch something, then there was like the summer of ‘07. We caught over 300 fish in that one week. Fishing is really special to me, my grandpa was basically a father figure to me and we bonded through it. He would take me every weekend and fish until the sun goes down. Now that he is gone, I find in myself to keep fishing, since it has become a true love and passion. My uncle has filled that father figure role in my life these past couple years. Shows up to my golf meets, supports my decisions in life, pushes me to be better every day. He is a very careful kind of guy. He is always prepared for the worst, even when we are our fishing in the boat. As the week goes on it becomes more challenging to not sleep in for an extra hour. We really didn't get out onto the water until nine that morning. There was still some fog out on the water, but it was good enough to drive across the lake. See, from where we put in the boat is around twenty miles from where we actually fish. This was always a problem because this would eat up all the gas in the tank. Later that day, it was around four. It takes around 1 hour to drive the boat back to the ramp. I'm starting to pack