I have a boat. Nothing remarkable about that. And while I love to take it out and fish, there also is something to be said for fishing from shore.

Maybe it's because I spent most of my life fishing from the bank or in waders.

In college, I did a lot of wader fishing. There was one lake in particular, Lake Poinsette near Watertown, S.D., that was a favorite.

That, and Lake Thompson near De Smet.

I've said it before and I stick by it - fishing is as much as who you go with as it is whether or not you catch anything.

Back in the day, my college roommate and I did a lot of wader fishing. He told me he used to own a tackle shop somewhere, and at the time, I had no reason to doubt that he did.

I liked fishing with Jim. He knew the spots to hit and would invite me along out of pity, I suppose, because I was from "up north," as he called it.

Most times, he would catch a fish or two more than I did. Oh, I would get my share of walleyes, so getting out-fished never really bothered me that much.

But Jim was the kind of guy who would let you know - again and again - that he caught more fish. You may know the type.

As roommates, I guess that was his leverage to get me to fry up the fish so he wouldn't have to. Didn't matter. I was a better cook, and as the cook, you get to sample dinner as you go along so it had a way of working out for me.

If I couldn't catch more fish, I sure could eat more than him.

There was one moonlit night on Poinsette, however, when I did happen to get the better of him.

It was a spot known locally as "The Outlet," where water crossed under the highway through a box culvert. Jim took what he called the "prime spot" on the lake side and I sneaked back to the other side of road out of sight.

It was one of those nights where there wasn't even the hint of a breeze, and although we were separated by the highway, we could carry on a conversation without hardly raising our voices.

So calm, Jim could hear the splash every time I hooked another walleye.

In the same way kids dream about hitting the game-winning home run in the bottom of the ninth inning in Game 7 of the World Series, I aspired to out-fish my roommate just once.

It just so happened that on this particular night, the fishing kahunas were smiling on me and I had my limit in less than an hour.

So, I did what anyone else would do - practiced a little catch and release as I stood there, stringer full of 16-18 inchers tied to my waders.

It was of particular delight to me when every so often, after the splash of yet another walleye interrupted the night air, I would hear from across the way, "What! You got another #*@;~ fish?"

I should have taken the high road earlier, but I caught three or four more fish before telling Jim that I had my limit an hour ago.

Consequently, when I did, I also asked, "Do you need another fish or two? You can sure have my spot. I'm done." You can imagine his response.

But for a guy like me, those kinds of stories are few and far between.

The only one I have that is better is the time I was fishing with a buddy who also did some guiding, and Icaught two walleyes on the same lure.

It was a crayfish-colored No. 9 Rap, and one fish hit the front treble hook and the other hit on the back one.

Granted, they were only 7-inch fish, but still …

Just goes to show you: No amount of planning will ever replace dumb luck.

Oh, and that night on Poinsette, I didn't have to cook.

(Reach reporter Brian Gehring at 250-8254 or brian.gehring@bismarcktribune.com.)