LOSING TIME AND FINDING FRIENDS
I’m not in the habit of crashing fishing trips, but on a Mother’s Day weekend a few years ago, that’s exactly what I did. And if that trip is any kind of indication of what showing up unannounced to an anglers’ weekend is like, I cannot recommend it highly enough.
The trip that I crashed is a yearly tradition for a group of men—all fathers and sons—who’ve become friends by default because their wives are friends. Apparently, their annual much-appreciated gift to the women in their families is to remove themselves to another state for two or three days.
The group’s destination is in a state renowned for being driven through or flown over—it’s an upper corner of Indiana, from where
