Reverse, reverse, REVERSE! I screamed at my lovely girlfriend, many summers ago. On Benedict Lake, near Walker, Minnesota, on a weeklong family vacation in Early September: we ate, swam, fished, and relaxed.

A small channel of water connects Benedict Lake to the Kabekona Bay, of the famous muskie and walleye waters of Leech Lake. Benedict is a small clear watered lake that supports a lovely little resort nestled in the pines along its north shore. On the sand and rounded rock shoreline of this lake I learned an unexpected lesson that I try not to forget.

For boatless vacationers renting a cabin there came a well-used 16 foot aluminum boat matched with a 25 horsepower tiller outboard. Since my Stepfather is painted red with a sunburn as fast as camera film is ruined by exposure to the sun, a family fishing or runabout boat was not in the picture. Looking back, I recall thinking about all the fish that surely were going to end up on my line since I would have access to a fishing boat.

Out of this resort’s boat I fished with little success. As a shore fisherman, I had caught numerous varieties of fish, but now I was constrained by the vessel, I was out of my element. Just out of high school, and green in the ways of open water walleye habits; I was trying to catch "eyes" on this clear lake in eight to twelve feet of water during sunny and calm wind conditions.

I had had enough of being skunked, I figured that at least the bass and northern pike would cooperate. Spinnerbaits and spoons were the tools used to grab a few bucketmouths and northern pike, nothing to brag about, but a four pound northern sure can brighten any fishless day. With a few days left in the trip, and having regained my confidence, walleye would be pursued again.

Soon I realized the error of my ways; since the resort boat didn’t have on of those fancy electric trolling motors that defined who’s who in those walleye fishing days, I figured out I was moving too fast. So I tried this technique I heard about called back trolling, which was supposed to slow the boat down to just the right walleye teasing speed.

After trying the backward boat driving technique, I realized it must be one of those blinker fluid types of jokes that veterans pull on the rookies. This sure is a foolish system I thought. Back trolling consisted of; trying to keep your bait down near the bottom, read the depth finder, bait your girlfriends hook, snag the slip weight on a rock pile, feel the fish bite, give the finicky walleye line to run with, slow down the boat, hook fish—and drive the boat BACKWARDS—all at the same time!

Impossible, ridiculous, but I did think this back trolling method had some merit.

Light bulb. Instruct my girlfriend to drive the boat, and I will then fish unfettered and detect every bite. Sharpen the fillet knife and heat up the frying pan.

REVERSE! was the last word I yelled as the sturdy boat hull, accelerated into two wooden dock posts, snapping them easy. When the deck of the dock fell on to the boat—the hollering started. "Well I couldn’t think, you were screaming so loud I got confused!" "Confused, if you are going the wrong way heading towards a dock, don’t accelerate!"

After two minutes of arguing about who’s fault this accident really was, the docks owner appeared from a modest sized log cabin positioned closer to the shore than currently allowed by the Minnesota DNR.

Pleasant looking she was, and appeared to be in her mid sixties, and clearly surprised by the arguing. "You kids shouldn’t yell at each other like that, it’s just an old dock," said this fit looking woman with a reassuring tone to her voice. "Don’t worry about the dock, I built it I can fix it, come on inside and we’ll figure out how much those poles are going to cost."

I walked to the cabin relieved by the seemingly sensible nature of this woman, but embarrassed by the public argument my girlfriend and I had engaged in.

After entering the cabin we learned some of its history. Built as a north woods getaway, the cabin was assembled by her father around the year 1908. The logs originated from nearby pines and the fieldstones for the fireplace came from neighboring farm fields. We also learned that the cabin’s inhabitant was a senior member of the Iowa State Senate. It was a very pleasant visit with a real well rounded person, the kind of meeting that makes you feel your feet on the ground. The Senator produced a slip of a recent lumber purchase and guessed the cost of the lumber needed for repairs.

We settled the debt by check, and we were given a receipt from that only trip to Benedict Lake. The receipt was a lesson, and not to fish deeper for walleyes on clear sunny days, but to be good to one another. Little things like docks can be fixed, relationships are not so easily repaired.