If you read my column last week, you remember me explaining to you the soaking my brother and I took as we flipped over our canoe in the boundary waters. Well, it’s time to continue with the rest of that story.

After we both treaded water and pulled the canoe back to the dock it was time to climb out of the water. That was probably the most embarrassing part — to stand there like a wet dog. The laughs continued.

We started to drain our gear while the others finished packing up. My tackle bag was so heavy with water I could hardly lift it. What a mess. My license was rendered unreadable so hopefully a conservation cop would believe my story if I was checked. I was sure he would have heard it before.