We should have known that Mother Nature’s payback for the unseasonably warm weather was coming.

Saturday, May 20, 2000

We should have known that Mother Nature’s payback for the unseasonably warm weather was coming. We should have known that all the reports about excellent fishing were overrated. And we should have known that packing our long underwear was more vital than packing the sun tan lotion.

Yes, it was another lousy Minnesota fishing opener. Yet, this one stings more than any of the previous ones.

Everything was perfect until two days prior to the opener.

This spring’s weather had been unseasonably warm, bringing with it an early walleye spawn and logically more active fish for the opener. It was going to be the opener of all openers. The one people would talk about for years. The one that would produce the trophy.

Well, nothing went according to plan because Mother Nature delivered the granddaddy of all cold fronts a day prior to the opener.

So instead of good fishing and warm weather, those of us lucky to be in northern Minnesota on Saturday got cold temperatures, wind chills, lousy fishing and snow.

I would have rather been on the Mill Pond than fighting the wind, snow, waves, rain, sleet and cold – that’s how miserable it was.

If not for the gracious hospitality of a couple of other crazy fishermen, Saturday would have ranked right up there with the worst days of my life. But some good card games, a batch of Buffalo wings and some good conversation made the day downright pleasant.

And as a former baseball coach once told me, the sun actually did come up the next day, offering another chance at getting it right.

While my fishing partner – one of the half dozen or so Scott Johnsons living in Austin – and I didn’t get things right on Sunday (no walleyes), we did catch a few nice northern pikes and enjoyed the sunny and snow-free weather.

On the way back to Austin Monday we relived Mother Nature’s fury and discussed plans for next year’s trip.

"Maybe we should go the weekend after opener next year?" my fishing partner asked, hatching a plan to trick Mother Nature. "The weather always seems to be better the week after."

After several miles of silence, we both came to the same conclusion: There just is no beating or tricking Mother Nature, and we will never again forget our long johns on opening weekend.

Neal Ronquist’s column runs on Sundays