Lousy Fishin'

Remember when you got all excited about the anticipation of an upcoming event? It's not supposed to happen to sixty year olds but I still have the bubble gum brain of a teen-ager and the thought of Minnesota fishing gives me that thrill.
In my garage at the Minnesota lake home are seven rods and reels, three tackle boxes full of literally a couple of thousand dollars worth of fishing lures and a nice fishing boat with all the accessories; live well, fish finder/depth finder(broken) plus every other little gizmo known to catch lunkers. Eight days ago I made a beeline for Ten Mile Lake in beautiful Hackensack, Minnesota. The wife and I have owned the place for fifteen years and since my retirement two years ago I've spent a lot of fish time up there catching--very little. The lake is large, about 5,000 acres. It has a water clarity of 24 feet. This means the fish can see me before I put a Rapala on my line. It's spring fed and cold; not conducive to angling. Even so, you should visit some time. We're in the north woods. You'll see bear and deer.There are more deer in Minnesota than there are mosquitoes. I can find wild deer in Catholic churches---going to confession.
In this part of the world I've waited for a porcupine to cross a road, seen an American Bald Eagle swoop down on the lake to snag an inattentive northern pike. I've skedaddled away from a skunk ambling toward me. I've even cleaned egret poop off my newly stained dock. I've pretty much done it all.
After arriving at the 'Up North' place I opened up the cabin for a good bout of catching the world's tastiest walleye.
Ten minutes in the water and on my first cast I brought in a three pound largemouth bass. Excitement filled my body as I fought the fish and worked the net to land that evening's dinner feast. It was exhilarating! After three more days of nonstop casting, trolling, trying every trick in Al Lindner's fishing book I'd had it. Nothing happened. Now, I like a good challenge as much as anybody but three days of catching nothing was more than frustrating. In the language of today, "it sucked". I jumped in my Mazda and headed east. One thousand miles up and ditto on the return drive for one three pound bass. Doesn't seem fair, does it? We've a bass pond thirty yards behind our Ohio condo. If I catch nothing there I can walk home and I don't have to use any gas, either.
I'm selling the lake place.