The West Grand Experience (Part I)

Rabid, Bret, The Mayor, and DEDH

The only thing between me and the big ice fishing trip was two hours of driving time.  Rabid had confirmed his arrival at the grandfather's abode and my estimated time of arrival held like that of a true man, early.  As I powered over the frost heaves of Downeast Maine's secondary roads, thoughts of past times at West Grand couldn't help but aide my duration.

Once pulled into the first pit stop, I was sort of perplexed by the simple fact that Matt Diesel was here as well.  He wasn't due to attend the trip until the next day, things had come up and he decided to pack up rather than spend a night alone at his camp.  From there, the three of us began the descent into Grand Lake Stream.

Uncle Kim, the esteemed and self-appointed mayor of Township 27, met us in the driveway with hugs fit for a bear.  We quickly readied our equipment as the temperatures were quickly dipping below the freezing mark, plus a warm home and a cold beer had been advertised earlier in the day.

It didn't take long for the chatter to enter the bullshit zone as stories were flung like soiled diapers and lies became more believable than the attempted truths.  The air about our evening was about fraternity, that group of outdoorsmen, guides, men, and the fellowship that pulls all of us together.  We were all the same in all of our differences, all here for the experience of life that defines our being.  After several toasts for a variety of important and unimportant reasons, the strategy and preparations were set.  Daylight would arrive in several hours.