Believe that for most it’s escapism… the desire to withdraw from daily life, routines and responsibilities to engage is something else. Be it peace, challenge, happiness or whatever, seeking it as deeply as one may choose. Maybe the vibe or convo on the patio isn’t for you and so that vacancy at the end of the dock calls over for a quiet cast into a different state of mind… Yeah, could be as simple and tranquil as that, or maybe, maybe you’ve visited the end of this dock so many times in your life that now fishing is like a pack of cigarettes, an addictive routine where truly “the tug is the drug,” and you’re hooked bad but in a good way too you know..? Whatever it was or is, hopefully it balances and brings you joy.

It was a “giddy-up 4:09″ morning wake up jingle and I don’t much care for that sort of thing. Stiff backed, groggy-eyed, I made my way downstairs to the fridge and freezer to pack all cold necessary for the trip, then of course struggled greatly with heavy coolers carried out to a very loaded truck.

Antrim served some favorite breakfast sandos, coffee and lemon cranberry muffins and hitting the road supplied with turkey and egg salad sandwiches too, Bren and I planned no stops along our haul north to Mattice.

A C.N. Rail strike in effect the trucker traffic was intense. The drive wasn’t much longer than usual; less than eleven hours, and sometimes it was surely nice to have diesel torque for the tow, especially when having to blink out left and hammer-pass six transports trucks at once.

Bren too did a little driving from New Liskeard to Nellie Lake outside of Cochrane. Spotty cell reception I napped but then woke from time-to-time to admire my friend Seth’s beautiful Tree River char pictures on FaceCrack. He caught 41 on his week long trip, boasting some incredible numbers and big catches.

Reaching Mattice and our friends StevieZ and Amelie many hugs were dished out, all especially pleased to see each other. Emma had only just a week before arrived home from her long 3-month hospital stay at Sick Kids in Toronto, holding her so tight and even thinking about her and the family’s ordeal can still well me up today. Their nightmare was at its end… a relief for everyone.

We’d play a very long game of Rummy 500 which after a tasty but heavy carb supper had me struggling to stay awake the whole time. Nothing left in the tank this day, rest came easy.

By early evening the following day Bren and I had finished our drive and made camp on the lake. On route I received messages from my friend Keith and an online buddy Cohen who spotted me on the road earlier. At the launch we bumped into some regulars and shared pleasant greetings… Not overly tired yet, by the time Bren and I ate supper it was decided to forgo any fishing for the remaining daylight hours but instead just enjoy some fireside drinks and an earlier retirement. Love, love, love sleeping in a tent.
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SPECKS START MY HEART.

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The misty sunrise was like as glorious as teenaged morning wood. It was up, shining, beautiful and full of possibilities. Bren and I had slept a wonderful, restful, 8 ½ hours, and a little Buddy Heater blast before exiting the sleeping bags loosened our joints forward into a world of warmth, quiet and calm around us.

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Coffee in the mugs Bren’s breakfast routine of yogurt, granola, fruit, eggs and choice meat is a pretty serious spread for camping but, she packs that feast into her before I can get bacon and eggs onto a bagel into me. Usually she’ll have dishes done before I finish the last bites too. She’s like the best little camp champ, staying busy going from place to place, seeking things to do and begging for food all the time. Haha!

Got started with specks of course. It’s fall time and all are biting but it’s the brookies which boast their biggest and most beautiful selves at this time of season, best get it on with them first.

For three hours that morning we fished a couple of different spots managing four for me and one for Bren. Of course, as is often the case, Bren caught the biggest fish nudging out one my 22.5-inchers with a nice 24.

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Very few people were seen on the water that morning, only Justin and guide Gordie Ellis were out troutin’ about. I was finding that water temps weren’t all that great yet for specks, the leaves on the trees seemed a little behind color schedule too, random pike were nowhere to be found at all, and that felt weird.

After breaking for lunch I caught the weather ahead. Wind, monsoon, hurricanes, calm, wind, wind, major cold front, wind… something like that. What did look okay were some windows and the overall wind directions. Confining but doable, always thinking the fish and boat safety first, Bren would be just as happy to soak up sun in the lawn chair, peel birch bark, sip margaritas and weave beaded Christmas tree ornaments.

Come afternoon we boated out to see what the lake trout were up to. Those water temps as said earlier, expected the fish to be more deep than shallow but after searching about came to find they were sorta both. Dropping the LiveScope while presenting some offerings, much like I used to more with 2D sonar, I studied the fish behavior awhile only to surmise sooner with the scope that the trout were in fact fucked up in the heads. No rhyme or reason as to what would entice a bite. No clear path for a best presentation. A laker would hit this way or that in total random and sometimes, many would just run away from offerings as if they’d seen a ghost. A tough situation sure but being day one Bren had motivation, I rarely ever stop having motivation and so we smashed ‘em mostly on a bottom ground and pound.

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Small fire that evening Bren and I enjoyed a cheesy, shrimp and spinach ravioli while watching the clouds rapidly whip by overhead. Just the two of us it seemed as though she was having a good time so far, something I tend to worry about on these loooong fishing trips she’d rather us shorten. Gotta keep the spirit up, nurture good energy and of course, keep her piling on that wood for our fire.
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MISS JIGGY

The skies roared thunder and the rain pelted the tent during the wee hours of the morning. Not a drop inside, cozy in the bag after another long ten hour sleep, we woke to a soggy landscape with a big blow-up brewing.

Bren had much on her mind these past months. I think the depressive and stressing Covid years plus empty nest plus my often being away for work plus our aging and depleting energies and various future hopes, she had reached a point where her work life was feeling no longer the right fit, maybe it was less engaging too? I mean, any motivation for her doing management had passed, there had been some burnout awhile, she felt increasingly disconnected and what she seemed to long for now was something more-or-less what I have. Work on my terms, no management responsibilities and stresses and just sticking primarily to patient care; essentially core nursing with an added bonus of more freedom and autonomy. Case-by-case patient care, something I have always enjoyed until occasionally monotony to different degrees begins bringing that satisfaction down. But, my path gives the luxury of being able to shift in and out to new places, balance work loads and scheduling and, place myself into experiences working with different people for which I know will fit the job and mood. Plus there’s this huge adventure to travel which can keep things exciting… Despite Bren loving her clinic, her NP Lead role and having a great deal of respect for her colleagues and atmosphere for which they all created together, I believe time caught up to her and after many internal struggles to choose a next path Bren was merely hanging on by a thread at this point. She woke up and said “I’m resigning today,” for which the always too logical me replied, “no you’re not! We’ve discussed this a dozen times, not until you have another job. Work towards ensuring that first.” Because that’s what I had always taught our daughters and it’s also a rule that has served me well for my life. You don’t quit a job unless you have another one to go to. And so Bren and I started the first hours of our day, in the boat, fishing specks, rather muted for any conversation. Sooo. Thank. God. The bite was soooo hot that morning we pounded ‘em one-after-another to lighten moods and take our minds off resigning each other. Haha!
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Bren hooked three of her fish boat side just jigging. Following brookies came in on her lure, didn’t commit and the first time it happened I told her to just drop that lure back in. She did, she did so too shallow, the fish kept swinging to it but it wasn’t until saying she’s gotta drop it deeper did the fish hit. A few fish later Bren was an old pro at it, catching three while jigging. During the earlier part of the morning I’d caught a biggest 23.5-incher, still bested by Bren’s 24 from the day before. Well, that early afternoon just prior to a hot chowder lunch break, Bren caught another 24. She definitely had the hot stick for bigger specks but I was still staying ahead for numbers. We popped ten good ones in three spots over four hours. Great therapy!

Saw only two other boats all day and knew who they were. Lake temps were plummeting, having dropped from 64F day before to 49F this afternoon. Big winds pushed the hot surface water away. This changed the fishing of course. The specks were on the bite, the lakers were on the move and the pike were still brooding over their dismal lives in the dying weeds.

We found lakers shallow now. No inbetween like yesterday, they were shallow and they were still proving tough. Before dropping Bren off at camp for a bathe and sun soaking, she’d make sure to get the nicest fish of the bunch we caught.

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After a short return to the fishing grounds the winds were proving to get annoying so I motored back to camp with plans for dinner. While heating some meatloaf our friends Keith and Darolyn arrived. Unpacking their boat Keith added to my supper with some homemade spicy dill pickles that were both HOT and delicious. The rest of the evening we just skipped any fishing choosing instead to sit close by a small fire, drink our spirits and take in a faint northern light show. Good company.

Today she started to “come to blows,” tomorrow the monsoon then the hurricane… Wolves howling in the night, an owl asking “who who” and maybe even a stealthy black bear sniffing out my piss warning stations around the camp, didn’t matter the bumps in the night nor the troubled days ahead, we’d get through this all just fine.
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OMINOUS SKIES & FISH FRIES.

Other than a brief spattering of sunlight on the dawn this would be a day for looking over your shoulder. Another very damp morning, humidity high, Keith and I chirped about the breakfast tent forecasting the coming soaker ahead. We would not stray far today and we expected a big supper cooked under shelter, sooner rather than later.

Bren in good spirits we hit up some specks for a few hours before breaking at noon for soup. It was a calmer morning, the fish biting pretty consistent but certainly slower than day before. Admiring our daughter Leah’s bead work on Brenda’s fishing hat got me thinking of our girls back home. We recently had a wedding in the family, not for either of my two, but it brought everyone together and gave us the chance to spend time and photos. My how these two have grown into such beautiful young women, I keep this picture close with me now.

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As said, the fish did bite some and we caught our way through some decent brookies up to 22.5 inches. With a planned fish fry later in the day we had already harvested a laker but kill us for doing so, Bren wanted to keep a brook trout and so we did. Lakers are quite tasty but specks, they’re tastier.

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Rules on Lake Nipigon are one brook trout over 22-inches. This gives anglers the opportunity to keep a trophy and/or harvest a bigger fish that has had a chance or two to spawn. It’s a rule which has greatly helped increase the numbers of fish since years of their decline in the past. I don’t begrudge those who take one however, when we take one to eat I’d rather it be as close to 22-inches as possible. If eating go as small as ya can, if keeping for the wall… well, that’s another discussion.

Jigged lakers for a couple hours in the afternoon and it was pretty slow. Keith and Dar did a bit of that and trolling to pretty much conclude the same. It was 3:00pm while in a back bay relieving myself that some fast approaching clouds coming over the tree line caught us ill prepared with some first drops of rain. In a flash a heavy downpour was laying chase to quickly engulf us while we raced back to camp. Soon thunder and lightning would come crashing down and once reaching shore our boat plus Keith and Dar’s were tied up quick and we B-lined for the cover of the gazebo.

The following four hours a relentless downpour continued. Slight signs of letting up a minute, only to then bring another half hour to an hour of intense rains. The old gazebo pop-up has seen its fair share of storms actually, Tuck tape sealing a number of small holes now, but it’s worth the weight to bring camping as it so far survives the wind and does real well for keeping us dry too.

Bren and I opened the bag of Jelly Bellies that afternoon, snacking on sweets and sipping spirits with our co-campers. Under shelter for hours it turned into a great visit. At times some would attempt to find a spot for drying clothes but that wasn’t happening. Eventually as said, around 7:00pm it began to let up, periodically not raining at all and so that’s when I got together the laker and speck fish fry. Of course, everyone loved this and filled their stomachs full.

Overnight the winds were to come again but this time in a not so good direction. Keith and I both did fret about it some, where and how we should tie the boats down for this impending doom. Some years in the past on different spots strong blows have surprised me in the night, causing me much stress while the boat takes some licks. I just wanted to sleep soundly… besides this, overnight wasn’t supposed to be as bad as next morning anyways. Still, I went to bed early.

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SLUMBER JACKIES.

There were people in every direction screaming in terror, some running but most hiding behind boulders strewn about on the sloping side of this volcano. A transparent yellowy acid lava flowing in both streams and bouncing glob balls came down onto the people, it was like this death goo had a mind and it was stalking prey. I stood tall behind a high stone, un-phased but concerned for a fellow to my left. He was very frightened, so sad, the exposed skin on his shoulders and upper arms singed, bubbling, smoking before scaling over in tarry scabs. The burning was moving over him slowly, painfully, he was doing his best to manage but crying and peeking frequently to his left from out behind our hiding place. Some lava flowed by us a stones throw away, a young girl was fleeing to outrun it but she too was already inflicted, burning, leaving a smoke trail behind her. She tripped on a stone falling hard on her front, for only a second she agonizingly cried out before the lava swallowed her up like a pat of butter in a boiling pot. The man next to me watched this too, he turned to me, frowned and I think accepting fate suddenly stepped out from behind the stone. A rush of ooze crawled over in a flash, enveloping him and he disintegrated. His suffering ended quick this way.

This terror continued. I looked to my right and watched as globs of lava tumbled down the volcano side chasing more victims. First, another young girl tripped to her demise same as the other had but just then several globs; three of them, were seen chasing a very agile and dodgy kangaroo. It was a fast race scene headed all downward and away from me, and oddly the globs were morphing in and out of their gelatinous states and into a wolf pack of three, all hot on the kangaroo’s heels, nipping, barking, salivating. Running out of places to go the kangaroo giant leapt like a champ off a cliff and fell forever out of view… When I turned to glance back to my left the man who had once been there was replaced by an alien like form of the yellowy gelly lava. A translucent head of oily colors on a swiveling neck with no face or eyes, I felt it staring deeply into me. I woke up, heart pounding.

Had been a very windy night but the tent was warm inside from the sunrise. Damp clothes and everything else were pretty quick to dry up. A large, full breakfast our crew was in no rush to do go anywhere. The winds were going to hold us tight at least into the late afternoon.

We all enjoyed this time. Together the gang all collected and cut wood like Lumber Jacks; and Lumber Jackies as Darolyn would quip. We played cards. Keith and I chatted plenty about fishing, boating and adventures in the wilderness. Bren collected stones and birch bark for crafting and searched for Labrador tea. I took some pictures, snacked, fidgeted with fishing gear and trimmed brush along a path to our privy. On occasion when Bren wasn’t looking, I snuck handfuls of the Jelly Bellies she must always lord over.

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Darolyn had pre-prepared some perogies the night before, they only needed heating and onions for dinner come evening. The new kitchen setup for these two is pretty damn slick! Keith provided the meat for supper, these enormous sausage meat stuffed pork chops which I love. Cooked slow over hot coals they were perfect.

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We didn’t really notice until the sun was beginning to set that the lake had laid down. A very nice day on the morrow we’d skip any remaining chance to fish and instead cheers to good food and drink, stoke a bigger fire and stay up star gazing. The cosmos put on quite the show, there were shooting stars seemingly every few minutes but the biggest thrill was a fireball both Keith and I witnessed. It was amazing, the first I’d ever seen! Just this intense red, orange streaking orb 10, 20, 50 times larger than any plane or star, it shot across the sky headed north and away from us.

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TRIANGLE TOUR.

Few folks reading this will remember the old upstairs Publows pool hall circa late 80’s in Perth, Ontario. Well the place had been redone, cleared out of the billiards tables and arcade games, walls painted white, cupboards old style white-washed wood, tables with floral plastic table cloths and those chairs with plastic covered foam seats on metal frames… those little rubber feet cups on the ends of the legs. Yes circa 80’s for sure, maybe even 70’s.

Entering the room a number of people turn in their chairs surprised and happy to see me. I make my way around the floor shaking hands and greeting so many familiar faces they all blend into one great sense of warmth and admiration. Dressed to the nines in my full suit I am the fittest I have ever been, so vital my strong pulse drums the beat which everyone in the room seems to be grooving to.

Sitting down to a table with an old friend; one of my oldest in life, Tawnya, I nod to the bartender in the back and he promptly delivers a hefty glass of scotch. The party around me is turning up the vibe, chatter and smiles in every direction, I lean over to engage Tawnya’s company. “You are so rich Drew” she opens. A moments pause to ponder her meaning I reply, “Well I’m happy, and to stay happy I never stop chasing after it.” In a blink everything and everyone in the room vanishes and the walls turn stained panel caramel.

The lights dimmed, emptiness, quiet I begin to walk out and down the stairs to leave. At the bottom in front of the door is a smaller fella I recognize from highschool. Didn’t know him well back then, he was kind of a shithead. True story, this one late night after the bars closed in Perth I had been walking home with a friend when this guy; Steve was his name, bumped into me outside. We turned to each other and both asked, “you wanna go?” We unanimously answered yes and it was immediately on! At that time too I was older, finished College. Had quit smoking six months, no booze in that time either, and been working out everyday since, high protein dieting, had put on seventeen pounds of muscle. In essence I was jacked, healthy, but that night had pounded at least a dozen pints and a scotch or two in celebration with friends. That’s why I wasn’t driving home. Anyhow, so this poor fucker didn’t realize what he had done, testosterone peaking, and as he picked up a for sale sign’s wooden stake off some lawn and came at me, I stepped into him on his first swing blocking the blow and got a hard left fist follow through into his face. My friend Fraser stood back and watched along with Steve’s buddy, Fra believes he counted fifteen more unanswered punches in succession after the first landed. I left Steve in a heap on the inside lane of four lane Wilson Street. Threw his shoulder into a street sign and kicked him in the face once he was down. Never rocked anyone like that before or since, never laid such a beautiful one-sided beating on a person before, and later that night ended up in the E.R. to have my broken knuckles attended to.

Well, leaving the old Publow’s pool hall and meeting that Steve again he looked up at me coming down the stairs and when I stepped into him this time, he shanked me right in the kidney with a little jailbird shiv. I woke up!

Obviously another very vivid dream through the night and won’t torture you with anymore in this story but… what’s the message here, “no matter the good one day something bad is gonna catch up to you?” Despite chasing happiness all your life be prepared, the end is gonna come?” Am I gonna die from a quick stabbing today or a slow gelatinous oozy, acid lava bath of suffering tomorrow?

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Darolyn was scheduled to depart about noon and Keith’s and my friend Craig was coming aboard our ship. While they were to sort out that business I planned to just get out there, somewhere. Take a tour or stay close, let the fish dictate things on a day that was expected to be sunny and calm.

Caught just one speck in short order that morning. With the nice weather some other boats were about and just after pulling up on spot number one so did another three anglers. Plenty places to fish out there on a calm day with anything accessible that’s kind of annoying but, in some cases also understandable. We chose to leave and try another spot but a boat was parked there too.

Fuck it! Decided we were going for a long ride out near the middle of the lake. Try some lakers out there, specks too. Boating out it in the blue zone the calm hadn’t caught up to the waves still rolling out in the deep, a tad rougher than expected. Slower to arrive we still did and in time the waves would begin to chill out and make our laker efforts a little easier.

Before a mid afternoon lunch Bren and I would pop eight lakers jigging. The action wasn’t what I’d hoped but the caliber of fish wasn’t too bad. My fishing was more sonar and Livescope connected while Bren would just drop to bottom when told it was good time to do so. Once the jig was down she’d keep up with keeping up, jigging that sucka until something bit. Blind on bottom versus video game dialed its cool the numbers ended same, I probably fished more and she caught the biggest.

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By about 4:00pm we were off on a grand boat ride in search of Keith and Craig, some alien life or any biting fish we could find. The lakers were going weird, bite slowing considerably. Knew of some new areas to try so a half hour boat ride away we went.

Passed some anglers on a spot I’d had report a week earlier was holding lakers. They were jigging away. Bren and I would stop there for a look but not cram their style for long. Besides, there were fish but very few up and eating. The area wasn’t as good as what we’d left earlier and I’d say both weren’t that active at all. Took a scenic tour to look for Keith and Craig.

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The fall colors further out on the lake were really beginning to show, Nipigon is a beauty. While we cruised back towards camp we stopped a number of times at speck and laker spots to check in and do a little fishing but sadly the bite was right off.

All the way back to camp we met up with Keith and Craig who had stayed more local to fish in the short time Craig had been with us so far. The bite was slow for the boys too so we chose to just go back to camp for 730pm before the sunset. It was a good ten hour tour this day with the fishing being sorta tough. This I have seen happen after big wind storms a number of times, it’s like an adjustment period can be needed before they get going again.

More shrimp ravioli and some campfire warmth on a perfect night, DJ Craig entertained with old country tunes and some special gin and tonics which he does masterfully provide. Keith had also been back to the launch to pick up his daughter Kali who would join us for the night and days fishing tomorrow. We all went a little later than usual, Bren having great fun up well past her usual bedtime. The stars continued shooting.
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COUNTRY JAMBOREE.

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From Keith’s visit to the launch local news made it back to camp. The MNR was about and laying fines to any squatters who had overstayed the limited time. $650 charge for each day past due camping on Crown Land. Nice folks I know got hit with it but honestly they A) know better, and B) the rules are in place to thwart people from doing exactly what they were doing. Lesson learned, play by the rules next time! Heard word that a couple of old friends from back home whom I’d brought to Nipigon in the past, they launched and went out onto the lake separately in their own boats. To where I could guess..?

Another big wind day was going to limit our movements. By this time my shorts were so fish slime and dirt stained they were becoming stiff enough to limit my movements too. Keeping local Bren and I did okay for the fishing. We broke the day up into three parts, having lunch and supper breaks at camp. Bren’s hook ups struggled a bit today, she caught no specks for sure and maybe no lakers either. She seemed to be running out of steam and after I had mentioned that we may need to break camp and leave a couple days earlier than originally planned, well that turned into her hope actually. This day and tomorrow were same but then coming in late evening was another hell storm of wind, a huge drop in temps to nearing zero and possibly 20-25mm of rain. To sit around a day or two through that, essentially to only wait for the departure day, my best idea was to wake tomorrow, break camp, take all back to the launch and load the truck, by noon go for a fish and by 700pm leave for town and get a motel. Don’t do it this way and wait until the following morning, well… be trapped by wind and suffer a cold super soaking. For me, it’s always hard to leave but, sensibility keeps you safe, so sometimes you’ve gotta know when to throw in the towel.

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Kali caught the biggest laker that day, a new PB about twenty pounds. As said, I did okay albeit finding the fishing really tough. The fish were on point, Bren and I found lakers so stacked that on LiveScope set to 75 feet forward, at any time there might be upwards of two dozen fish on screen. The chop was big though, trolling doing little and waves that would splash over the bow. We resorted to drift jigging, taking pass-after-pass over the school of trout. Often a drift would catch nothing despite presenting to dozens of trout over a one hundred yard drift. I tried a bit of everything there was in the tackle box for the job and yet sadly, the fish were just really stupid stubborn and lock-jawed that day.

After a late afternoon solo speckie cast which landed a couple then an uneventful evening pike fish, finished and at camp Craig’s Farmers Organic gin filled my cup and us boys rambled on a little about “the sport of fishing” with some talk of fishing journals. Bren and I resorted to potato chips, Jelly Bellies and alcohol for supper, made simple. Class acts!
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THE LAST WALTZ.

The morning went off without a hitch, just as previously described we would, we did! Got camp packed up dry which is always nice and clean making for less work later back home.

On schedule, by noon we found Keith and Craig bobbing about on the lake. Trolling, jigging, wondering, the lakers were still being dicks. The huge concentration we’d found the day before had spread out, the one’s they were fishing day before, did the same. Had to search and did come across some.

Bren really wasn’t all that into it anymore although she did pop two and lose a couple as well. I did better nabbing four over a couple hours before eating a little lunch then pulling out to another area.

Good for size, time was pressing on and we needed a couple of lakers for a planned fish fry back at StevieZ and Amelie’s next day. The fish being caught so far just weren’t the size you’d want. The clock winding down, the winds picking up and the fish getting tougher and tougher to coax, I worried it wouldn’t happen. We’d lost some perfect lakers too, and did release one early that should have been kept, but again this is what I was dealing with.

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Keith and Craig boated on by us around 430pm. They were done, calling it a trip and heading home. We said our goodbyes on the water and as I tried for another half hour to get fish to bite decided to do the same. Besides, I hoped to get back to the launch and find them still there for a more proper send off. Two great guys, Darolyn, Kali and Kaden they’re T-Bay family and wonderful company. Made it back just in time for handshakes and hugs.

On the dock cleaned just one laker, then in an empty parking lot other than my old buddy’s trucks, Bren and I tore down the boat for trailering the sixteen hours home. The clouds were flying in, the temps cooling and you could feel a big change a coming. Bren cooked some quick chili for supper on the tailgate, cracked a margarita and rationed out the portion of Jelly Bellies we were allotted for dessert.

An overnight in a motel we showered long times, twice! Get the camp crunk off. Next morning sat in the local Husky enjoying a big breakfast, watched Guide Gord Ellis stop by the pump to fill his Lund up with gas before taking his guest out to what would likely have been the river being such a windy day.

It rained from Nipigon all the way to Mattice and back to StevieZ’s place. That evening we did finally enjoy our fish fry with them and their kids, despite missing out entirely on the annual couples trip this year.

Emma had come nearly full circle. If having read the previous two Solo Roady reports you’d be up-to-date on her recent troubles and the very, very trying times Stevie, Amelie and family had endured over the summer. But on this day I sat across the table from Emma to play a game for the better part of an hour and while doing so she laughed, teased me sometimes and competitively excited beat my ass for a win. It has been our relief and in that moment my joy to have sweet Emma back in good health again.

An easy and special Nip trip this one turned out to be.

Thanks for dreaming along,

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