Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

I don’t know how many days we have been at Wollaston Lake Lodge; because, truthfully, I’ve lost track of time. The staff says it’s Day Four, because the lodge’s calendar is broken into four-day weeks. Guests usually stay four days, which wreaks havoc with a regular calendar and makes specific dates and days meaningless.

So if it’s Day Four today, then tomorrow is Day One. The current guests leave bright and early and are replaced by new ones. Except Earl and I signed up for two sessions. So we’ll sleep in during the “bright and early” departure and be ready to greet incoming guests around 8:30 AM.

I remember our first time here three years ago. It was all new and impressive: the rustic lodge with every amenity; the comfortable cabins; the gourmet meals; and the real reason people come: the fish. But there is an advantage to being a return visitor; you understand the rhythym of the lodge’s routine better, because it takes a little getting used to.

For instance, the schedule is such that guests arriving on Day One settle in early enough to get a full day of fishing in before evening. This is a plus, but it can also be tiring, since everyone has gotten up at 4:30 in the morning to catch the charter for the lodge. Returning guests understand it’s a long day, and plan accordingly. For us, it meant going to bed early a couple nights before arriving.

In addition, there’s shore lunch — on top of a full breakfast — followed by a three course dinner with wine.
It’s difficult not to gain weight on those four days, because missing any of those meals means missing wonderful food. This morning, for instance, there was banana French toast and blueberry pancakes on the menu. I didn’t go fishing or I wouldn’t be writing this, but I’m positive shore lunch included fresh fish (caught this very morning), French fries, onion and mushroom sautee, corn, baked beans, and lodge-made cookies for dessert. Or maybe it was teriyaki fish stir fry, all prepared by your guide while you watch.

Of course, there are the wilderness annoyances too. Black flies leave a mean bite, sunburned faces tell you who didn’t use enough sun screen, and it’s always the really BIG fish that got away. Regardless, those are small prices to pay for forgetting one’s homeland routine and having to ask, “What day is it?”