For way-out fishing, you might consider the offer of Father Bernard Brown, an Oblate priest who has put in 18 years in Canada's far north and now has established the most northerly fishing lodge in North America—on the shore of Colville Lake, just 200 miles south of the Arctic Ocean. The fishing, he says—and would a priest lie, even about fishing?—is terrific.
As a for-instance, three fellows from Amherstburg, Ontario took 75 trout one day. And another hooked 50 grayling on consecutive casts. The fish average about five pounds apiece, with an occasional trout running to 40 pounds. The fish are so plentiful that Father Brown puts up about 4,000 trout and whitefish each fall to feed his seven white Alaskan malamutes during the winter. When all 75 natives—Hare Indians known to other tribes as "the-end-of-the-earth people"—are in the settlement, 1,000 pounds of fish a night are needed to feed their dogs. But government biologists say there is an overpopulation of fish in the lake, and it should be thinned out.
Colville Lake is covered with ice from early October until mid-July, though sometimes a floatplane can land in open water near shore in late June. The fishing lodge sleeps six, but if enough sportsmen show up Father Brown will build more log cabins. He is an expert at this and has built a church for his mission, a 200-foot dock, some 20 log cabins for the natives and an underground ice house in the permafrost. He is indeed a man of many talents. He serves as a doctor and dentist, when necessary, and is a radio operator. He is an artist whose paintings show a great feeling for the outdoors. And he is a superb fisherman.
BUCK BENVENUTI RIDES AGAIN
Unafraid, unshorn and with an electronic punching bag among his gear, Nino Benvenuti, the middleweight champion of the world, was cruising leisurely aboard the luxurious transatlantic liner, the Raffaello, toward his September 28 return bout with Emile Griffith at Shea Stadium, New York.
It was first-cabin treatment all the way for Nino. The ship's loudspeaker system played songs and marches from his Trieste homeland. The Raffaello's gym was rigged especially for him. His cabin was amidships on the sun deck, where the vibrations are least.
His hair and his 19th-century sideburns are longer than when he took the title away from Griffith last spring.
"Let my hair be," he warned. "I'll cut it only after I've defeated Griffith. I don't want to be a Samson."
As for Griffith: "I'm worried because I don't fear him. But even if what I'm saying seems to be a paradox, I'll be sure of winning 100% only when I begin to fear Griffith. Try to understand me. When one is too convinced of his superiority, the most unpardonable errors can be committed. I have this defect."