Amazingly, the temperatures did not improve with the passing days.  With my former fire-stoking cohort back at home, Jim soon became my pyrotechnics partner for the rest of the trip.  We would take turns hurling derogatory expletives at the weather and adding wood to the fire each night. 

Luckily for me, I had chosen a spot on the first day of the hunt that positioned my cot in close proximity to the wood stove, and I wasn’t about to give it up.  At one point I believe there was mention from my heat-starved comrades of me attaining financial gain of untold riches if I simply moved my cot to a different corner of the tent, but without hesitation I chose warmth over cold, hard cash.  My momma didn’t raise no dummy!

With another day ahead of us our feet hit the ground running.  After gorging ourselves on another mid-morning breakfast buffet, we all gathered on shore, jumped in the boats and headed out.  Bob and the boys from Kansas all decided to hunt even though they would be going to their stands earlier than normal. 

I would check the remaining bait sites with Monty and Nolan to see if any of them got hit.  If any one of the sites confirmed that a bear was in the area, I would immediately go back to camp, gather up my gear and get my butt into the stand overlooking the active bait.  However, I had no such luck.  None of the sites, including The Isthmus, had been touched.  I would spend another day fishing.