Still rowing after all these years

Characters come to me in all shapes and sizes.

And it just so happens that some of those people I've met over the last 40 years I have truly come to envy.

I made the decision not to tell you where this takes place because the subject of this column asked me to keep his private life intact. But he didn't object to my writing about his lifestyle and decades-long traditions. He just doesn't want people "tramping" all over his land and offering suggestions on how to live a better life.

Stig is a nickname given to him by one of his late brothers. He's proud of his Norwegian heritage and the family he helped raise.

Stig is the epitome of the old-time outdoorsman. He's rapidly approaching the youthful age of 92 and looks like he's barely scratching 50, save for the full head of white hair.

His grandparents came to this country long before electricity and automobiles came into being. They settled in northern Minnesota, with the grandpa working in the Iron range. The family subsequently migrated to Wisconsin to find a larger homestead. The years rolled by, and Stig grew into adulthood.

Stig met a lovely woman who enjoyed fishing as he did. They married and raised four children. Stig's wife passed away in the late 1970s and his children moved to the big cities.

"I fished before and I still kept at it, especially after my wife died and the children moved away," he said.

The unusual aspect of this tale is that Stig never owned an outboard motor. He crafted a 16-foot wooden boat out of lumber he converted from trees on his property. And because Stig believed almost every "piece" of water contained some kind of fish, he made sure he slowly rowed his boat so as not to miss any potential hot spot.

Looking like a giant Alaskan King Crab on steroids, Stig's watercraft glides along the surface of his lake while sprouting two 20-foot bamboo poles. These tentacle-like protrusions serve as his primary trolling devices. He ties a couple of spinner blades on each line and then hooks the largest minnows he can catch from the creek near his two-bedroom log home.

"I mainly go for crappie and walleye," he added, "and once in awhile I'll hook a muskie or smallmouth bass."

Stig's arms rippled with muscles. His shoulders are squared back and his white hair gives this elderly sage the look of someone who stepped out of a Scandinavian travel brochure.

Stig used to make hand-carved furniture in order to bring in some cash. He now fishes more than he carves.

Because he's completely self-sustaining, Stig eats everything he catches.

"My fish basket is usually full at day's end," he said, "and I always throw back more fish than I bring back to the cabin. The local game warden knows I don't play no games with that poaching stuff. I'm a good boy."

He and one warden became good friends many years ago. When Stig took him fishing one day, the warden urged him to take the officer's 6-horsepower outboard and use it on his boat.

"I told him I didn't need no motor to fish the lake 'cause I was perfectly happy with the oars," he said.

During the long, cold winters in his part of Wisconsin, Stig straps on his homemade snowshoes, grabs an ice chisel, a broomstick and some line. He walks across his lake to a deep hole and drops a minnow down to the bottom. The broomstick is his rod, with a reel mind you, and in a short period of time he's hauling up fat pike which will go into a pickling jar.

"I enjoy the ice fishin'," he said, "but it's the rowin' I really like. After all, a young fella like me has to stay in shape, just in case some young lass has her eye on me."

angler88@comcast.net