Hancock rock is not on the map, neither is what we refer to as teacup lake, but if your still alive after getting to the top of Hancock rock, you look below into the outfall of a lake, the liquid tannic waters flowing exit perfectly cut through the hills revealing the teacups handle, the lake basins rim, the epitome of a ladies tea service drinking vessel.
To which there, right then and there, one should mightily refortify oneself with some liquid courage, the decent is not for the faint of heart, a misstep and your suddenly going you know what over tea kettle, and the up we just finished, as arduous as it is, the downhill into the lake, lets just say between the four of us, we’ve left plenty of knee, backside and elbow DNA on the trek slathered with pompous pride.
What makes it all worthwhile, is the settling in at the lakes edge, our very well and oft used fire ring of lake plucked rocks, three exceptionally placed and comfortable rocks to perch upon, and believe you me we do. And its comforting. The so familiar.
Its second nature in each of us, to know our spots, the holes that never don’t produce walleyes. We know when to come and when not to go because of gnats blackflies mosquitoes horseflies deer flies and the like, which we don’t like, so we don’t go when we don t wont a fly in our soup, or coffee, or pancake batter or heaven forbid we actually start to drink tea.
--The trout whisperer
