North with Doc: Doc Da Vinci

Doc and I were working an incoming rapids on one of Knobby’s fly-in fishing lakes. I was on the fast side. Doc was on the slow. Anchoring was out of the question, and boat control was tricky. I slammed the engine from forward to reverse and back again to hold our position.

I thought I could finesse a half-ounce jig out of the speeding current toward the calmer pool. I was wrong. Somewhere down there among the 2.5-billion-year-old rocks was my brand new jig sporting a chartreuse twister tail. It no longer had my line attached as I had yanked the rod like Aunt Lucy pulling the starter rope of her ancient Briggs & Stratton for the first yard work of the season. My line went...

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