The first time Marlys and I came to Gunn Lake, it was over a crooked road that led to Morehouse Landing. That was the name I remember my Dad, Harry Barcus, calling it. I found out later that it was a famous logging camp on the shore of Gunn Lake. It was a little sister to the big camp at Fly Lake, just a mile down the road. We launched our boat and found a camp site in the woods across the lake from Morehouse Landing. We caught some blue gills and some small Northern Pike. We pitched our little tent and set up a camp site for the night. I threw out a line with some bait on it (I believe it was some small angle worms on a hook). The next morning, I retrieved my line, hoping I had caught a fish. When I started to reel the line in, I found it was tangled up in the weeds. I began to realize that the fish had taken my bait and had probably swallowed the hook and was all tangled up in the weeds. With the tangled mess I encountered, I was expecting a good size black bass or a northern pike. After struggling with the weeds and fish, I finally landed a three pound bullhead. We had fish for breakfast!