Every April it was the same thing. “You should come on up with us smelt hunting,” the guys would say. “It’s a good time.”
“I’ll think about,” I said those first couple of years when I got a teaching job in Prentice. I always had things to do and didn’t have a lot of time. Finally, in 2002, I joined the smelting crew, as we called it, and headed up Hwy. 13 to Frog Bay near Bayfield to partake in the yearly tradition known as “smelting.”
After that first year, I was hooked, or netted, I suppose.
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