The Kinnickinnic runs through River Falls, with quaint shops by day, and booming honkey-tonks by night. The lights and music occasionally foul-hook an angler, and the three of us found ourselves pressed against the brass rail of the appropriately named Deep End Saloon.
"Which part of the river you boys fishing?" the bartender asked. Or rather, shouted.
Bob told him.
"The best fishing is at night. There's some ungodly big brown trout down there. But it's too dangerous in the dark."
"Then how do you fish it?" Bob asked.
"You can't," he said. "Why do you think they’re so big?"
I looked at Bob. You could see the wheels turning...
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