Lamar brought over his maps and information showing that the only thing on Reed Lake was a Provincial Camp ground, which included both a boat dock and an outhouse - all other amenities had to be brought in. We didn’t own a tent so Dad went down to the local rental agency and rented a small camping trailer, a 14 foot boat and small outboard motor.
We drove up there in the fall of 1964 and spent what was mostly an enjoyable week of nice weather, good fishing and great adventure. Lamar’s map showed us that Reed lake was big - twenty miles long on an east-west axis, and ten miles wide. The camp was mid-way along the southern shore. The western half of the lake was dotted with many islands, and the eastern end was open water. Lamar instructed us to stay on the eastern half and to fish the river flowing into the western end of the lake.
We drove north into Minnesota, then west across the rolling plains of North Dakota and then on north into Canada. We followed Canadian Highway 10 to a point halfway between the villages The Pas and the end of the road at Flin Flon. From there we headed east on Hwy 39, a gravel road, more that 60 miles long, to the camp at Reed Lake. It was the longest gravel road I’d been on, and it seemed to go on for ever. It was rough enough that the back bumper on the trailer shook loose and broke off on the way back over it.
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