Sleep did come easy on that first night, but it didn’t last long.  It was freezing!  Overnight the temperature completely bottomed out.  I’m not exactly certain what the temperature read -- because I wasn’t about to walk my frozen butt over to the cook tent to find out -- on the thermometer, but I would venture a guess and say that it was well below freezing.  At least it felt that way! 

Mark and I got up long before the sun rose and started a fire in the wood burning stove.  We found that it still got cold at times even with a roaring fire and despite the stove glowing fire-engine red, so we took turns adding wood and stoking the fire at regular intervals throughout the night. 

Note: This same routine would be repeated each and every night for the entire two weeks that I was in camp.  To say that this country takes a long time to “warm up” is quite the understatement.  Thankfully, Monty and his crew always made sure that we had plenty of wood to burn each night to keep warm.       

We crawled out of our sleeping bags around 9 a.m. on Monday morning and sat down to a hearty breakfast with all the trimmings -- bacon and eggs, fried potatoes and freshly-made pancakes.  There was always plenty of food to eat and it was darn tasty.  Kara did a fine job as our cook, and we let her know it on a daily basis.

The plan for the day was to run up and down the lake by motorboat and dole out bait at as many bait station locations as we could before the sun went down.  Our first stop was at a good-looking spot that Monty called “The Slew.”  This bait site overlooks the edge of a narrow marsh that runs the length of about two football fields.  A tangled maze of evergreen trees adjoins the swamp and creates a dark and shadowy stage for the bears to perform their best version of Bait Barrel Theatre for patient hunters.

Monty completely filled up a 55-gallon barrel with a special concoction of blended popcorn and molasses, dog food and sunflower seeds.  He then topped it off with a frozen beaver carcass and securely attached the top ring of the bait barrel with a large lag bolt.  The reason for placing the beaver in the barrel is so that the bears can smell it through several small, ingeniously-placed holes, but they can never get it out.

Monty explained, “It simply drives those big boars crazy!  They can smell that rotting beaver in the barrel, but they can’t get at it.  They just keep coming back and coming back for more.”

The next bait site was The Marina.  The site was named by several of Monty’s former clients for the ease of approaching the area by boat.  It was also one of the most productive bait sites on the entire lake.  Mark liked the look of the area, so he instantly laid claim to it.  I wasn’t worried in the least bit.  After all, these sites were some of the best-looking ambush locations I had ever seen for hunting black bear, and I was anxious to see the next one.  We quickly filled up the barrel and got out of there.

The next site had my name written all over it.  It was located at the far end of the lake where the woods curved around the outside edge of the water.  In addition, a small creek separated two larger bodies of land, creating a natural isthmus.  Any bear venturing around the lake on a leisurely stroll would pass by the bait within eyeshot.  I imagined that all it would take was a friendly breeze blowing the odor-laden scent of bait-barrel goodies toward an approaching animal, and I would soon have a bear within easy bow range.  Furthermore, the muddied paths leading away from and past the bait site were some of the most impressive bear trails I had ever seen in my life.  This is where I would choose to be sitting for the duration of my hunt.