Joe Stranger to Hugh Isdatguy asked, “so what the bar tab come up to?” “$4500” answered Hugh…

Joe and Hugh are a fine example of the perfect fishing lodge guest. Rich guys! Happy to be there, likely wanting to catch a few fish or a big one but, end of the day they’re totally down, care free and willing spenders at the bar. $4500 ain’t half bad either, personally heard upwards of $7000+ for a thirsty foursome. Any Lodge loves these guys, and there’s little doubt Joe and Hugh will always go home happy and fished right out, ready to re-book their next excellent adventure, on, the, spot. And there’s plenty other types Lodges must be pleased to host too, such as the wealthy, the inexperienced fisher-folk and wealthy, the hardcore anglers but wealthy, the wealthier repeaters and, the wealthiest filthy wealthy of ’em all… But that’s not me and Bren! Joe and Hugh you wonder? They’re fifth cousins to Peter The Rabbit, total nobodies to anyone in particular in our life but, they are for the moment going to be characters in the beginning of this.

When any big fishing trip comes up every year or two I beg, steal and borrow to make it happen. Kids, bills, kids and bills, I’ll live in the same green cargo pants, beer and comic shirts and worn out ball caps for months even years, just to save extras bucks along the way. My fishing gear, other than the big boat I guess, is mostly mid priced, mid range stuff, and a lot of lures I try to make myself for cheaper. Would be smart to re-shingle the roof about now, put some new tires on the truck, help out a little more with some other bills, but there’s just one issue with that, I’m a fisherman! Totally screwed for life too.

And as so, an expensive fishing trip I’m guessing might mean an absolute huge heaping shit tonne more to me than it likely does Joe and Hugh. Living through the days up to it, trips often on my mind, this can surely alter the course of life’s usual cruise controls. So because of that, and because a die hard fisherman, that I hope, plan and even try to execute so strong and perfect every one of the moments which have been earned and pinched for… And when my wife Brenda is joining me, all of this doubles.

Now whether or not I’m someone preferred, well-to-do or important, Plummers Arctic Lodges on Great Bear and Great Slave Lakes doesn’t make me feel like I’m any different a customer than anyone else getting the same great experience and service. In business for their 75th year, Chummy, his father and his father’s father have opened up the remote of Arctic Canada to any adventure seeker willing. What inspired them to do so still to this day, just can’t be all about business and big bar tabs… right? Cause Hell, this is a third generation family company that began with a canoe, a zero plus one or two horsepower motor, the open sea and much the same kind of hoping, planning and executing which must have meant an absolute huge heaping shit tonne more to all of them at one time as well.

For Brenda’s and my fifth trip to Plummers in 11 years, we would be joining with new and old visiting hopefuls at the self-guided Arctic Circle Lodge on the eastern McTavish Arm of Great Bear Lake. Having been there two years before, friends Brody, Len, Seth and his father Al teamed up making a group of six required to fully book the lodge, entirely to ourselves. There was much excitement for this, much hope and planning. You’ll see and read plenty about all of these fellas in this story ahead but it would be impossible to recreate their experiences to the detail that can be given for Brenda and I.
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SLURP AND BURP.

Not sure if it’s because Bren’s Native or what, but it seems to me I’ve noticed more than once how Air Canada stewardesses pass her by too often without giving much attention. It’s palpable, rather odd, but it was really no more strange than the two yuppie seat thieves who knew they were taking others spots but then acted all surprised when the ticketed occupants arrived. “Ohhh, we’re sorry!” Yeah right you are I thought, your seats are right there, in that three person row beside that dood there. That’s where you are, so why act all surprised and sorry when you were scheming to change from the second you sat in their empty row. Flippin’ weirdos!

But I was in the right seat, ahhhh yes Mr. Bythebook Goodfella. And there between the crack of my chair and Brenda’s I had this easy glimpse through to peek on the two little kangaroos snacking behind us. They were cute lads, cute until the food pouch ran out and the endless chair kicking began.

And there Lenny was a couple rows ahead, SUPER stoked. Bren thought it was cute how excited he was. Happy, happy, happy on route to the NWT for the first time. And with Brody coming in from Iqaluit to Yellowknife later, Seth and Al already a flight ahead, we were all on time to the big dance, ready to rock and roll.

All landed safely to check in at the Chateau Nova where it was there Seth and Al were waiting in the lobby. Big talk, big plans but bigger appetites we set off to Bullocks Bistro for dinner and drinks. The “Slurp & Burp” was delicious, a combo plate with large, perfectly cooked portions of buffalo and Arctic char. I washed mine down with an Innis & Gunn. Everyone enjoyed the meal, Bren even bought the T-shirt. We stopped for tourist photos and booze on the way back to our rooms, bunch of hoodlum heads on the edge of the “Knife.”

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Brody would arrive later to say hello. He’d quickly depart to buy liquor, possibly hit up Harleys and sometime in the middle of the night return to the hotel to catch five minutes of sleep. The animal, he was the one who actually brought the rock and roll, the rest of us after a meal and some travel were geriatric sloths by comparison.
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NO POWERS, LOST HOURS.

Seemed we sat an extra while in the Nova’s lobby before the shuttle was ready to pick us up. This wouldn’t have mattered and didn’t really, for when we arrived at the airport our plane was grounded indefinitely because of… get this… the facking INTERWEB being down. Yep! Pilots of new, all airport personnel too, can’t file a flight plan in this day and age without the INTERWEB. But it was actually a bit of a problem elsewhere, and a bigger problem than we donut scarfing, Timmies coffee hounds first thought. Like, it was across Western Canada a problem. See, Norwest Tel, NorTel, SaskWontTellNorWellToTellTheWestTell, or whatever the fawk the lesser have-not Provinces call their tin can and string network, it was all down after some squirrel got up on a pole and chewed through the wire. And there and then the world came to a temporary end, with no amount of jet fuel, Duracells in the GPS and brass on anyone’s balls to get a plane in the air just like they did circa 1990’s.

So there I sat, playing WarCraft with my man shaft, chucking dollar bills at imaginary strippers, half hard and dreaming of getting some… And after hours passed it was announced that some old timer coming through in his crop duster was planning to stop in at the airport, take a leak, and then kindly pencil in a flight plan to fax on over to Ottawa getting us our bird in the sky. And byjeezus it worked! Cuz we’z wuz airbornz!!!

Arriving at Plummers Great Bear Lake Lodge always feels good in the feels man! Cold, crisp, icy Arctic air, just how ya like it best in July, the best warmth that hits your core comes from the fellas who say hello. Truth be told, sometimes I have wondered if some of the guys who work for the Lodge and are on my FaceCrack think shitty of me, because maybe I write too much long-winded honesty to relate to..? So it’s always an appreciated surprise to see who comes forward with welcome. Well, Cody the trout slaying beast was the first for a big handshake and gidday, followed by Scotty who’s Great Bear Hugs are simply the best of all. Gave my congrats to Newlywed Manny but not totally sure he knew who I was. Then, Terry the man gave a nod and hello down at the dock before lastly in my excitement to board a next boat shuttle over to the lodge, Pike Mike reminded me of my manners. Sorely missed in all this though, was Tony.

We entered the main lodge to sit for lunch. Informed the float plane was down in Yellowknife picking up groceries, we would see to more hours lost waiting for it’s return to take us our final leg to Arctic Circle. At this point we just kinda conceded that the day may be a fish-less one, so we got to making ourselves happier enjoying other things. Brenda played pool with Al. Brody and Len explored this place they’d never been. We all did some shopping and, Brody picked up his parcel of select lures that Scotty had so kindly set aside for him. Spirits lifted.

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It was around 5:30pm when the plane would be ready for us to board. An overcast flight, on route everyone was still glued to their windows taking in all that they could. We made the dock and lodge at Arctic Circle a half hour later.

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Cooks and caretakers, Dean and his wife June were there to greet us. One of Dean’s first comments on the dock, “supper is ready if you want it now or later, up to you guys? Fish then eat or eat then fish?” We all chose eat then fish, and by the time we had unpacked a little, picked out and tweaked some chosen boats, then put some rods together, a delicious chicken-pot pie, salad and lemon meringue dessert were waiting.

Seth declared seniority was mine so I got to choose a boat first. Well, it so happened one Alumarine had a brand new, week old 20hp EFI Merc with the biggest and best net stowed. Because the only Lund was out of service, that was the next choice boat. By 8:00pm with Brody and Len following us along, our lines all hit the water together.

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Trolled into a narrows. An area Brenda had popped a thirty-plus two years earlier. She picked her purple spoon, which she calls burgundy but it’s both, I picked a home-reno fashioned into my best proven Meegs imitation. It took four minutes to catch the first laker of the trip… a nice one too!

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Being that it was getting late and everyone knew that come morning we were going to rip out a ways for a full play day, all boats kinda limited themselves to just a couple hours. An 8 to 10pm evening fish. It’s been my experience that’s not usually an overly productive hour but we stuck it out for a bit until Brenda popped a nice trout of her own.

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Back at the lodge the booze did flow. Al particular to Fireball, Brody and I the single malts, Brenda her wine and gin, Lenny only about the smoke and Seth who only stays high on life with fishing, it would be that everyone caught a few lakers and buzz this long but shortened day. And in the dim living room light before retiring, it was Seth who told the stories of other Plummers catches. From the record of Bull, the truths of Alexander and the lifelong pursuits of Aivars, I think we all sat in wonder and appreciation once Seth opened his archives. Great Bear is a Hall of Records, all interesting to learn.

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“LOTSA BOATIN!”

Bren wouldn’t have it any other way, she’d long decided she was “Strokes,” I was “Putts,” and the count was on! Little Miss Celebrity can have her way. Day before at the hotel a first timer to Plummers came over to introduce himself to Bren. “I recognized you from some pictures,” the fella said. “Read all your stories too,” when he looked to me. Shortly thereafter, while at the airport another couple fellas having recognized Brenda also introduced themselves and, come afternoon another gentleman greeted her just the same at the Main Lodge. She sorta giggled proud to me when we woke that morning, “I’ve never had that happen before!”

Before breakfast Seth and I were looking over the maps, albeit we already knew where we were going. The perfect forecast for the day, the next and the next, he and everyone else wanted to hit some big fish water hard!

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If Bren and I were team “Strokes & Putts,” the amazing thing come top of the morning was team “Cheech and Chong” were up and ready to face the course with us. Had confidence, yet still didn’t quite know how strangers to one another Len and Brody were gonna click putting them together? Already it appeared after 24 hours they were gonna pull the tour off just fine, likely both win a “green” jacket too. Through the week I’d try and think of names for Seth and Al’s team, The “Givin’ers!” “The GotGetEms!!” “Full Throttles!!!” Just that, we never really got those names right into the rotation often enough, so they just kinda remained Seth and Al.

This fine start we all left together from the dock. An easy run over the glass, we put the Mercs to full twerk and gleamed a stream of V-wakes for an hours push to find us some big, forbidden, greasy fruits. A glorious beginning!

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Water in some places fell as low as 37F. In the spots we would fish the temperature rose to the low 40’s and 50’s. Didn’t take long to start popping fish either. First few lakers in our boat were actually butterflies, one quite a big one too. Next came some redfins, some square-mouthed and some normal, but it took a little while yet for the bigger greys play. That was until B-Rod broke the ice!

My northern buddy, my room-mate and quite likely one of the most talented fawkers I know at anything he tries, not even holding the rod right yet and likely rookie reeling against every peeling, he just gone done and did it! Was with him last year when he caught his first and only ever iddy-biddy lake trout, and we now got to witness the joy of him landing his biggest fish ever. Can tell all one thing, after this fish he became officially hooked on big fish fishing.

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Our sonar had crapped out after the hour drive. Why it did, don’t really know? Evening before it was working, next morning it’d be a wreck. Handy thing was the boat already had a small Garmin on board so I just put mine away and hooked two other wires to their 12V terminals. Fishing in these parts ain’t rocket appliances, with the colder water temps you’re trolling and casting in 5 to about 30 feet of water, liking to stay in the 10-25 range usually myself. With the sun high, calm and gin clear surface, much of the time you can spot shoals and obstacles to avoid too. Where a sonar and GPS becomes an advantage is seeing bottom structure and depth, knowing surface water temperature, boat speed and, obviously tracking your location.

After Brody’s nice one the flood gates suddenly opened and everyone started swimming in fish.

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Midday the Plummer’s float plane came in low, half circled, we waved then it buzzed away. A safety check we’ll call that! The lake still glass, the warm sun a treat, we’d heard the week before that the group in Circle faced cold, crappy, windy, wet conditions pretty well every day. Our first full crack was just perfect, giving us the chance to tour safe and comfortable.

The fishing on this spot actually wasn’t quite what I remembered. The size average was awesome, but it felt like I was working sloppy seconds, the numbers not quite being as astronomic as once before. But get this, Brenda and I were still on track for a FIFTY fish day. Sloppy seconds or not, that’s incredible.

Len picked up a big greaser, Seth and Al were hookin’ ’em steady too. It was early afternoon when Brenda and I rode over a shallow shoal into some depth and both our lures got screamer creamed simultaneously!

We admittedly had a wee bit of a rough go of it. Keeping the boat creeping slowly forward Bren and I held both lines tight into our fish this way. BOOM! BOOM! RIP! Head shakes were better controlled in gear. Her fish came up to the surface first and gained a little momentum to shift across and in front of mine. At some point our lines twisted together, but just a once over, and we worked that out like old pros. Soon as the fish played themselves tired some, I popped to neutral and we began the second phase of bringing them closer. I’d have to say it’s important with big fish and probably more so a big double header, to use the boat during the initial fight. Staying idle forward keeps the line straighter, tight, and tires the fish plenty, I do the same with big musky. Once you start singing the Pointer Sisters neutral Neutron Dance, you don’t want these fish “just burning” ya, you want control, you want them obeying. But shit, Brenda and I had that all pretty well worked right until we both needed the net, and that’s when that giant musky hooped-heavy mesher actually turned tricky. Brenda wanted her biggest fish so far in the basket, I was of the same mindset, but I couldn’t manipulate that big net easily with only one hand and two big fish off each side gunnel tying us up. “HELP! LENNY!!! BRODY!!!” The fellas not far away came to our rescue in a flash. Brody netted Brens fish on her side from their boat, I was able to then net mine. It was soooooo awesome! Brody was quick to call out Bren’s as the bigger one but I think it was both Lenny and I same time who cleared our throats, “AHEM!” The reality check here, my beauty and I just double-headered two cracking beasts together with our friends alongside. Never ever gonna ever forget this one!

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“Speed? Depth? Line out?” Post release Lenny and B-Rod were quick for details. A peeky eye, Lenny’s pupil dilated to the spoon I was using, then the two hunted back onto our track. Good on ’em lads! I’d do the same greasy bastard shit too. Ha!!! So after taking a minute with Bren to collect ourselves, I tossed the winning lure aside and slipped the Meegs on instead. I pulled a 180 and followed my GPS line to the inch when almost on top of where the two big lakers hooked up, my rod took a healthy big buckling again. This round of fighting went much more smoothly. From a good distance away, Brody must have been watching because once the net came up he sent his drone into the air and captured all the action. Boating lakers like this doesn’t happen everyday, so my Lord does it feel good!

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As the afternoon went on the bite peaks kinda waxed and waned. After all the travel to get there I was slogged and Bren took to napping a little with rod in hand. Seth and Al were around one minute and gone the next, working waters that hadn’t seen much consistent traffic. Brody and Len on the other hand must have noticed the same calm surface dimpling we had too. Feeding fish taking bugs up top likely. They put their stout rods down for a time and instead cast the shallows for grayling. Brody could check this species off his list now, and I know Lenny’s little, itchy, grayling love affair would have him giddy with the scratch.

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5:30pm rolled around and we figured half hour left before starting back to the Lodge. Brenda’s rod folds to the cork! “Big fish babe,” I always ask. Usually same answer, something like, “ummmm, maybe, could be.” That shit doesn’t help, but when and if I have to ask it’s honestly because I’m figuring already that it is big, and my lure is half way reeled back to the boat anyways.

Her fish came quick at the boat and like that it was a piss-with-a-stiff-wind aways. When it surfaced it’s head thrashed violently and it coughed up a partially digested, seven or eight pound lake trout. NOT KIDDING! Ever deadly!!!

Chum scum debris clouded the water and that floating whale carcass vomited there was just too far to reach with the net. Wanted to scoop it up actually, that way I might be able to jam it back down Brenda’s fishes throat and get some extra pounds on what I was for certain would be her new best laker. But there was no time, because her fish was going ape-shit and pulling her over board. Loosen the drag, I thought. But, loosen the drag a little is what I should’ve actually said. A laker easily as big as the one I’d caught earlier but with probably five more pounds, it poked it’s head out of the water once more, hard nodded at my girl and then spit her “burgundy” purple Husky spoon right out at her. Ninja dust the fish vanished. Facking bummer babe!

Now the Brenda of 2011, rewinding to her second big fishing trip which happened to be at Plummers too, well, she lost a giant over at Prospect with our guide Eddie. You can find the “Awarded The Arctic” report here at the site. But back then when Brenda lost the fish it was both Eddie and I that cried, internally, and eternally. And Brenda see, she just shrugged it off like an “ohhhh well, tee hee, giggle and toot,” or even a “shoot but dems de brakes!” And there is also a particular muskie of a few years ago that still makes me diarrhea when thinking about her losing it… Yet sometime after that big muskie though, that’s when maybe Bren kinda changed a little. This fish here and now, this big pukey gnarly arsed Holy Mackinaw threw Bren in a funk. Stole a tad of my girl’s flo-jo it did. She sunk into her chair, the bottom lip slid out a little, like cheese falling off a cracker, and this was both good and bad I thought, seeing how much she deeply wanted that fish. Then I piped up, “well, maybe ummm, ya shoulda loosened the ummm, duhhhhraaag a little?” Ummmmmmmmm note to self… never pipe up again.

When it came time to leave I tracked down Seth and Al who were up around a point. Approaching them both it was obvious their motor was causing some trouble. Dealing best with biologic parts my useless contributions as to what might be the mechanical problem had long already been thought of by those two. Seth was dripping sweat, he’d been pulling the cord for who knows how long? Al on the other hand was curious and stumped. Told me that they didn’t want to risk maybe changing the gas tanks on route back so they did it now. After priming, the motor wouldn’t start. Stupidly I thought it might be a hose issue but the bulb was full. Then Al wondered if it was flooded and so we pulled the cowling, he popped a hose and leaked some fuel out. Finally it was concluded that it was bad gas so, keeping an extra 5 gallon in our boat for anyone in need, we topped up their original gas tank and got to pull starting and trying to run any bad gas out. In time it worked! Water in the fuel was the culprit.

Not wanting to shut down again, Seth and Al hit plane and waved goodbye. Their boat the slowest, team Cheech and Chong were holding back a minute with us Strokes and Putts. I sped away next for a couple minutes but then slowed up seeings how those two weren’t quite ready to follow. And that’s when the new Merc alarmed and went into limp mode. Now what in the ever loving could be wrong with this motor? Lenny rode on over and I told him what was going on, I hadn’t shut down yet. Being familiar with Mercury motors he hollered to just kill it thirty seconds to reboot the computer. I did, and it worked! Just a feeling of uneasiness remained.

Everyone arrived back to the lodge in time for dinner. Dean joined us awhile, his personality always happy and accommodating. He and June were a solid pairing to run the show, and her stir fry that night was great! Most of the gang ate, hit the showers and zonked out good and early. Brody and I stayed up a little too late for me, hammering through repeated multiple phalanges of Ardbeg. That scotch might be so gross it could actually be bottled sea water and sheep piss, but after a few it’s strangely addictive. A fifty dirty dangles day it was!

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BOAT PLUGS.

Seth was running away with an online writing contest Plummers held back in 2011 until I caught wind of it and overnight shattered his dreams. That’s the long and short of it, a bit harsh but whatever. Oddest thing that came of this was during it’s running I received a FakeBook friend request from him. Now, call me suspicious but, what? Why?? What was he up to? So, I didn’t accept right away, can’t remember when I did, but eventually messages were exchanged and it seemed right quick that the 2nd place finisher was maybe a solid guy afterall and I should give him the benefit of the doubt.

Over the years we have stayed in touch. In fact, he came up from Fargo to hang out one fall at our place. We fished big Lady O’ Quinte walleyes, a little Larry skis and one day went backwoods for splake. The things I gathered of Seth were his super polite manners, his inquisitive mind, a freedom with information, and super power recollections. As he would later one day admit of his memory he, “is a steel vault.” And that’s where I think we kinda jived on the same wavelength, for some have said to me too that, “you’re a fawkin’ sponge Bunker!” Of course optimistically taking that as best to mean, having good memory like Seth does… right?

The one other thing Seth and I share passionately is a pursuit for big fish. We like to challenge ourselves and both truly relish in the journeys taken, but as much any rewards earned. There are a number of past and present Plummer’s guests like this in some ways, guys like Ball, Bull, Aivars and certainly more, but I think one day Seth will be in there too, if he’s not already on his way there now. One day, he’ll have a real drink, actually smile with a fish, usher some other guys to go on ahead to a hot spot first, because he will have done damn near all of it on that lake, with damn near everyone, and the steel vault will be so very full enough of riches to retire him happily content. Everyone will know of Seth as a lifer to the Lodge, as much a memory or more than most passing through.

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Brody had been up earlier than all that morning snapping pictures before breakfast. Calm and perfect we were planning a shorter run than previous but without any expectations of where we’d end. Together all were going to explore new waters and see what happens.

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And many things went down this day. First off team Cheech and Chong counted 36 fish a piece in their boat. Seth and Al, Strokes and Putts, our boats tallied 39 total each. Further doing the math that was exactly a 150 lake trout day. But alas there was no real size to be had. Brenda lost a 20 plus and Al had a 40 or better clamp down on a hooked 5-pounder, until it came boat side and Ninja dusted. It released it’s meal and Al probably grew a few extra grey hairs at that very moment.

We would ply a lot of water though, see many places. A gin clear bay full of small fish, Lenny and B-Rod could cast and hook-up. A big reef extending off a point to a small island, we took time surfing around and over it’s edges popping teener cherries. This one bay of sandy warmth, passing in and out of it’s shallows proved productive.

Line twist woes for some odd reason started to bother. Until having to shorten and repair a long leader I’d been happy with day before, now it was wreaking havoc. Only thing I could do to help was tie a ball bearing swivel top end and keep a barrel snap swivel at the lure. This trip I took along a Salty rod holder too. Off the furthest corner of the transom to 135 degrees with the gunnel and aiming back, this position worked mint! The lure pulled loaded the rod some and so when a fish hit there was just the right amount of punch left with a tight drag to drive a good hook-set. Most of the time it’s a rod-in-hand affair on Bear but having the option for a break to free up a hand, munch a sammy or flick a booger is nice.

The chills were in me all damn day. Blood alcohol from the night before maybe a little too thin? From the first ride out I got into shivering and for whatever reason the bones couldn’t shake it. Lenny and B-Rod on the other hand, were staying hot with fish-after-fish-after-fish. Shit, sometimes they’d take a break from pounding fish and just climb up a mountain, snap some pics, launch the drone and have a smoke. They were on fire with the fish, they were the most energetic team on the water and they left no stone un-turned all week. Later on that evening back at the Lodge Brenda would ask them what their secret is, Brody answered by saying, “we just stick to the basics! Throw the lures behind the boat and troll the shorelines.” We laughed at this, and Brenda announced then and there we were changing their team name from “Cheech and Chong” to “The Basics.”

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Len was doing donuts in front of the lodge while bailing out his boat. “Dood!” I called over. “You know if you just pull the plug up on plane it’ll drain. No need to bail!” Love that nut!

After Sheppards Pie us not so basics got to mulling over maps and strategically planning our next day. Seth, myself in agreement with any who might have been listening, decided we’d fish our separate ways until 2:00pm but then all join up for a fish pounding over in a favorite numbers spots we’d not yet hit. The topics thereafter switched to Seth working on Brody for a future Trophy trip while Lenny had been at him already to join on a Main Lodge and Tree River tour next year. Best I could offer was an “I dunno lads” to any and all of it, thinking about that roof back home that needs shingling.

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BUMPING BEANERS.

Gin, wine and scotch, again Brody and I had been the last to bed night before and this morning I was wry necked for it. After breakfast everyone went their separate ways, one boat north, another kinda west, the other south. Brenda and I found ourselves alone in the world, fishing up our heels on spots I thought would rock, but turned out totally sucked!

The breeze was from the southwest as it most often is, this day again like every other, perfect!

The Merc was acting up worse though. Reached a point that three outta four times coming off plane the engine would alarm and slip into limp, tried getting tactical but it wouldn’t have it. Because we were spot hopping a lot, pull starting it nearly every time was mildly annoying… sometimes when it’d take up to ten pulls, that was moderately annoying. Brand new motor eh!?! The good news is that it always started again and it trolled slow speeds sputter free and smooth. By the end of the week I just got used to limp, even after jotting this day in my notes, “piece of shit Merc!” Could have switched out motors anytime I suppose, so that only tells ya how much a nuisance it really was.

Now the pictures of the day before and this one coming in from different cameras at different times kinda discombobulated the usual fish flow. I don’t know what was what for pictures, and can’t pass along everything. By 1:30pm I picked up a 20 and 21 pounder, photographing the latter and some other teeners I thought were pretty. Seth and Al had a number of twenties and Al caught his first thirty, having a good go of’er, Seth even smiled for his first time. While “The Basics,” they pounded big numbers on an experiment and I think Lenny picked up a thirty-ish fish during that testing too.

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On schedule all the boats came together to our intended meeting place and for the next several hours everyone kicked the living shit out of beaners. So many smaller biting fish I pulled my lure away from dozens after catching a fill. Bren’s stick was a little slower though, she’s stubborn on her colors, always picks the odd ball spoons, and sometimes she pays the price.

All day long everyday we nibbled at the different sweets June would prepare. Pie, brownies, cookies, muffins, cake and pudding, with each sunset came an extra permanent pound. It was delightful! And when the steak dinner rolled around on this evening, everyone tired from their day and craving some healthy nourishment were lined up to load our plates.

Later digesting the meal Brody shared with everyone some videos he had already put together. Did I say he is a whizz kid? Drone footage, underwater GoPro shots, action, scenery, it was impressive that he was getting all that he was, while at the same time fishing out of the boat catching the most fish. Al, Seth, myself and Bren laughed about it, but we were much in awe too. Al especially couldn’t believe how through all that green smoke team “The Basics” (formerly known as “Cheech & Chong”) being newbies to the lake, could be outdoing everyone else. Lenny’s answer, “we become one with the fish!” Fack you know! He’s onto something, cause between the two of them and all their cool footage coming together, we began to wonder if Len and Brody should start up a new T.V. series, “Back To Basics Fishing.”

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BREN’S DAY!

Over breakfast we talked of return trips to Plummers. Len, Seth and now Brody very horny to get back on the Bear train in 2020. I’ll admit it gets me excited for them, especially Lenny right now who’s already booked 2020 and for years has spoken of the Tree with me. It’s something I’ve always wanted for him because he actually needs it in his life. We were almost there together, much of this group was booked, but that unfolded before this planning of Arctic Circle.

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We learned Plummers is hosting over 700 anglers this year, nearly half of them going to Great Slave Lake. As I have said, it has been our great fortune to experience both lake’s main lodges, the Tree, Arctic Circle and one short month of me guiding at Slave. Each trip brings about something new for us. Greatly inspired by every visit, I have written much online and in five publications, made countless social media posts as well, the many moments along the way. The past decade has seen a little more than 100,000 views of those online stories, and this not including the center-fold exposure from the Globe and Mail and, readers of the other nationally printed magazine distributed internationally with Bass Pro Shops. Yet, not too many emails are received asking ahead of time for information on Plummers, being that the web has plenty of that already floating around. Instead, it’s now and again that I’ll find a hello in my inbox thanking me for writing the stories, and some saying how they chose to try there; this lodge or that, because of a specific report. Yeah, at times they might ask about guides, tackle, tips and expenses, travel or other things too. Most everyone appreciates my writing for its raw honesty, and how the pictures and words bleed together into an experience which readers have often said they can feel a part of. It can’t be faked, it couldn’t have the same effect. The photos are what they are, supporting the truth, and the words have never held any of that back. If it comes across as egocentric sometimes, well that’s because genuinely it is! It’s not your story, it’s mine! No ads, no sponsorships, no reason to bullshit anyone. Probably why most people connect and like it, probably why a few degenerates hate it, but if anyone knows about it, either way they keep coming back to it… But for certain, beyond all this babble-speak spewed forth, without question, I’m very pleased when readers say hello! Always have been, it’s humbling! Plummers and its fishing especially, is one great topic between anglers, it’s always exciting to talk about it and I’m willing with anyone reading to offer guidance and give honest opinions.

Yes, another glassy, hot day in the forecast. Resting our day one spot which coughed up the biggest trip fish so far, the gang unanimously decided it was time to fly back there. Brody’s droning was fun to watch, ya never knew where he was gonna pop up.

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It was a slower morning for the fishing and at one point when Brenda needed a pee, her pants were half down before I spotted the drone cruising our way. Good for a laugh.

Seth and Al would appear and reappear, they were always doing that. Brody and Len were passing us by on a regular criss-cross. For the most part we were all picking away at different pockets of fish, the water in the area fluctuating it’s temps six degrees or so depending where. I was gibble-gorked again, bloated on cookies, boozed out and fish fried, and probably plenty of us were feeling the weight of the weeks activities too.

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If you’d been following along with the “Strokes and Putts” you’d probably notice the short game was winning each hole. That’s because “Strokes” is stubborn. She’s stubborn on “her” spoons, “her” colors, her damn love for burgundy despite the spoon being purple. To her credit she almost knocked a big, burping, behemoth right off the course a few days earlier but after repeated attempts to even stay in the game she now needed a strong urging to switch clubs.

“Bren, put this lure on” I’d beg. “BREN! My love, try this spoon for just a bit,” I’d implore. “BREN!!! For fawksakes you’re getting creamed here, listen, listen to me, this is what they want, put one on!!!” Didn’t matter how I asked it, she’d womansplain things to have her way or just ignore… and she did it all trip so far.

So what changed this day, I dunno? But she agreed to put on colors she “didn’t like” because it was obvious that she was really hurting now to catch fish. Once she did, Bren’s rod started buckling two to one over mine, took her less than three minutes to hook up too.

Len and B-Rod had zigged and zagged past us just a minute before when Bren loaded right up to the cork. Brody could see it from where he was and later told me he thought, “she was either snagged or into a big one.” He started snapping pictures from afar when realizing the latter. I didn’t need to ask but did, “Bren, this a big one?” Her usual, “ohhhh… ummmm… feels heavy… ummmm, can’t really budge it,” was the typical no help but help enough response. Didn’t even need to ask if I needed to ask anyways, you know what I mean?

Not one for standing right away she was pretty fast to her feet this time. Judging by the fact she was leaning half beach drunken limbo into this fish, both weights teeter-totter counteracting any clear-cut winner or loser, it was obvious and to the point that Bren was locked into a biggun!

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It’s most nerve-wracking for me anytime she has a big fish on the line. I wonder where her drag is set, what she’s feeling, and sometimes even think of past mistakes she’s made when the fish has fooled her. All we both want is that laker in the net.

This fish pulled off a good amount of footage on initial peel. The line counters have a max drag of 22 to 24 pounds and if I was to guess, Brenda keeps hers about same as mine, somewhere around 18 to 20. Whenever anything similar weight to drag hits, there’s weight of fish plus momentum and it’s strength, so we “usually” feel a short pull and stop, or, two quick short pulls. Five to seven feet line on average is all any initial strike will peel off for fish in and about the 18 to 20 pound range. So when along comes a first pull that sings forever, or two hearty pulls, having either-or which steals 10, 20, 30, 50 feet of line, it’s not a guess that at the other end is a 20 plus trout, unless it’s foul-hooked, it’s a fact. I couldn’t see Bren’s counter, a first rip she said got her for twenty plus feet but then the second came with headshakes and a drag-sock-drift-peel taking what sounded like another similar amount. When that savage round one play came to a halt, we were good to go Pointer Sisters and Bren do the Neutral Dance!

NEUTRON DANCE!

My girl ain’t gonna take it any mo!
But the big fish wants to stay below the boat.
Rippin’ some drag it’s trying to get away,
Rod buckled over Brenda says “no not today!”

Whoo oooh!
Whoo oooh!

There ain’t no lunkers just falling from the sky.
and this fish on has her heart won’t rob her blind!
Ready with the net it’s swimming over this way!
“You fack this up Drew your dead meat,” I heard Brenda say.

Say whaaat!!!
Say whaaat!!!

And it’s hard to say
just how some fish gonna play.
And very hard you’d find
if that lunker snapped your line.
Ohhh I’m just praying when doin’ the neutral dance!
I’m just fishin’ doin’ the neutral dance!

WOO HOO! Brenda did it!! B-Rod sent up the drone and THE VIDEO IS RIGHT HERE!!!

BREN’S BIG LAKER VIDEOOOH!!!

She earned every inch and pound of her new best laker. She’s caught some good ones in the past, lost some even better ones too, so this lake trout just looks and feels awesome getting one GREAT fish BEAR hug on!

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That monkey off our backs the afternoon was all chill time. Kept cruising awhile but by 3:00pm or so it was obvious the bite had slowed a lot. The thoughts of bigger fish still possible, everyone also knew there was a chance for the wind to pick up around six o’clock so an executive decision to make our way back closer to the lodge was made. At 4:00pm we all booked it but once closer to home went our separate ways, spreading out to try new shorelines.

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The wind didn’t pick up before dinner, it in fact grew even more still. Brenda and I rolled into a south facing bay we knew no one had touched, no one we knew had visited but, appeared on the map a great spot to trap warm water. I was right! On approach the temps climbed up from the low 40’s to almost 50F along the shoreline facing the evening sun. An aquarium before our eyes, trolling along a sandy shoreline in 10 to 20fow lake trout swam past us by the dozens. Very few biters in those particular calm conditions, most seen were smaller anyhow. The odd zig-zag of the boat would pick up fish and surely, if we wanted to, moving off the schools and casting to them might have produced better. But because it was nearing dinner anyways, Bren had that giant fish under her belt already, we were much more relaxed to just take things in.

Back at the lodge over drinks with the gang Seth was impressed. “Bunk, you’ve been in that spot three times now and all three times caught forty plus pounders.” He was both right and wrong, but I accepted that! Have actually caught two, Bren caught one. We have lost one other though that was certainly in that range, and caught a 39 pounder as well. All things considered, that result kinda impressed! Trips to Arctic Circle being self-guided, I have taken a few pointers along the way but it’s still all new big waters that so far have been navigated well. Each year I spend about hundred days fishing and have done so for the past decade, some of those times for bigger fish than these lakers. Having any chance to do my own homework, safely plan and prepare, challenge and apply learned skills and experience to such great stages as Bear, Slave, Nipigon or any water for that matter, well it’s the kind of fishing that at this time in life I want to do most… Bren and I in our trips with Plummers have about eight days guided at the main lodge on Bear and, another seven days guided at Slave. So fifteen total guided. At Circle we can spend longer days on the water but by end of this trip will have about thirteen days in so far. Examining the big fish fishing we have experienced in the NWT, our five best lake trout “guided” have been 33, 28, 28, 25 and 25 pounds. “Unguided” we’ve done much better though, with a 47, 44, 42, 39 and 36 pound fish, Bren also losing an easily over forty earlier in the trip. To throw some extra numbers into the mix, during the brief time guiding at Slave for 20 days, guests of mine caught trout at 47, 39, 36.5, 36 and 35 pounds. Part of our improvement is that we’re better experienced big laker anglers today than we were yesterday but still, the bottom line for us is that we’ll be just fine unguided, and I’ll always be happier as the Captain of our fate. To finish, it’s totally awesome that Plummers has an unguided opportunity with Arctic Circle Lodge for similar, like-minded, experienced anglers. When our own plans come together and we can make magic happen for ourselves; such as that which happened for Brenda on this day, our friends free to be there alongside, that’s some amazing shit for all involved! And that’s why we choose Plummers.

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HIGH TECH.

Everyone sun burnt and played out all crashed early the night before.

Coffee was quiet.

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We’d discussed plans in the evening prior and began to go over things again. My understanding was “The Basics” were going north, Seth and Al headed down to he lane, while Brenda and I were going to work. Having heavily pre-mapped out an area of interest Bren and I hadn’t fished before, it was earlier in the week I recommended to Brody and Len they give it a try. Well, they did and did well. So with them instead heading north this day, Seth and Al pointed down the lane, I figured now was our chance to try there. But all that changed right after breakfast when Seth said they were headed there first thing before going elsewhere and poof! Ninja dust they were gone.

Now I was in a funk! Yeah, there’s plenty water but our day had been planned for one thing and now I was left having to switch up. Seth and Al were going to B-Line right to the prime spot which isn’t all that big and better fished by one boat for the trouble of going. I thought, well maybe we can go down to the lane instead but part of me didn’t want to and, because Seth and Al were planning to go there later Bren preferred I don’t snake the spot.

Through the morning I just kinda scrambled and actually wasted a lot of time pissing, moaning, exploring and second guessing options. As noted in the journal, “I made all the wrong choices.” But what actually set off the foul mood most was having turned on the damn phone to check emails the night before. Days had gone by and I just ignored the stupid thing. After I had read the messages and got shitty news twice over, it set in wrong and made for bother.

A grown pouty little bitch it wasn’t until Bren and I stopped in this picturesque cove for a late lunch rest, put the rods away and took in some sun, that my clouds finally lifted. Even in the most remote paradises while on vacation, during this day and age work woes coming off satellites can still find you. Won’t let the phone do it again.

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The day seemed to run short of time too fast. A planned fish-fry back at the lodge, the group pretty much voted 4 against 2 to put Seth and I (against the fry, lol) up to cooking for all. For days on end I’d been pulling lures away from beaners and eaters and that afternoon for hours do you think we could catch a suitable shoreluncher..? NO way!!! The bite was super slow, the fish far too small and, I had said we’d boat two just in case someone didn’t bring one back but, to also insure Dean and June would be included in the meal. Funny how that goes eh?

The Basics who had gone north made a game of it. $5 to whoever caught a laker between five and seven pounds. I don’t remember who won but they surely had the right idea. Everyday for these two was an adventure. Brody loves to hike, climb and run. The youngest he has the most give’r. Lenny boy, well my good buddy is just more the easy-going and up for whatever kinda fella. For sure he brings personal fishing goals to every outing but he’s pretty chill to just let things flow.

The two guys had been doing plenty climbing! See if you can spot them in the second picture down?

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One other really cool thing these two had been up to was scouting and fishing with the drone. With something like a five mile radius Brody had his eyes in the air as much as the battery would allow. These two yahoos would be trolling along in an area and if the bite was slow Brody would send up the drone to look at nearby shorelines, islands and shoals without actually having to boat over. Not only that, he was also running the drone above and ahead of the boat to view spots they were coming up to. The next picture down as an example, Brody later explained to me at the lodge just how they were working with the drone. Lenny driving, following Brody’s instruction, they cut in shallow over this shoal because the drone was able to spot that little deep hole in behind some rock hazards. Directing Len to do so, the driver took the safe line through and where X marks the spot a 21 pound laker hit Len’s spoon.

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Without the drone the hole may have been entirely overlooked, or, had it been me boating by I probably wouldn’t have taken the chance on that line because of the visible hazards and unknown depths beyond them. Gotta hand it to these two, they were having incredible fun in the coolest of ways together. And, they both took the daily time outs necessary to accommodate one another’s wants out of this trip. We would change their team name again back at the lodge this day. No longer “The Basics” formerly known as “Cheech and Chong,” the fellas had graduated big time to team, “High Tech!”

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Coming down to the wire I hadn’t seen Brenda get so excited over a six pound fish all week, she even pulled out the net for it. Bout damn time we got that eater, I took it right to shore for filleting but first slit some gills to bleed it out. That’s when I sliced my finger good. Ohhhh this fackin’ day!

We finished the job and rode back to the lodge, bandaged and beaten.
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Seth and Al caught one shy of fifty fish and the High Tech’s put a couple 20 plusers in their boat. Everyone back earlier to the dock there was a tonne of fish to be had! June and Dean had done some other food fixins up ahead of time which made our work easier. Brody needed to finish slicing and dicing and did, while fish to flour to egg to bread crumbs and spice, Seth and I figured on just frying up the whole lot of it all. The rest of the gang salivating and hovering over now and again, yeah… spoiled lot they are!

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And it was a good feed of fish which everyone enjoyed. The dent we put in the heaping tray of fillets was quite impressive and the extras June packaged up to head out with our lunches next day. After the meal Al and Brenda slipped aside for a few games of Cribbage while some others retired to our drinking chairs. Brody’s bottle of ArrrrrgghhhBEG shite was down to it’s last drips and my GlenGoyne was quick to goyne, goyne, gone! Good on the lad he also let me spend his money on an Oban treat which left plenty room still to swill, while in my flask was some back-up Scapa, just in case we dried all bottles out.

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A DOG DAZE.

We rose early, had extra coffee, did some clothes packing and got ready for the water. Dean had said before leaving that the plane would be in at 4:00pm to pick us up. Looking like an 8:00am to 3:00pm fish we decided to cruise out a half hour away, get trolling and throughout our day likely just work shores on the way back. Seth and Al who were off the dock first, blazed trail to a spot that Brenda was hoping to go, until I steered us away. Didn’t think they were planning to start there myself, following behind it appeared they had changed their minds.

We veered off to some old and new scenic routes I felt had solid fish potential, alotta water around Arctic Circle to be had on this bonus final morning

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Bren and I once finding ourselves on top of some beaners stopped and popped the area for a few. We were facing the vast expanse of the McTavish Arm and wondering about all the different points of land jutting out into it. I wanted to fish them all, and to cover every inch inbetween. The possibilities in that right? The deepest part of the whole wide Great Bear very close by, our boat literally stuck in it’s throat, the belly of this huge beast in Arctic Canada wanted to swallow us in. If a Merman I’d go see what swims down there in the bowels? What century old fish remain, heavy with time, digesting away? But just not on this day.

Brenda and I left our fish to slide over and try something new. As we pulled away the water temperature just kept falling and falling. 48 to 45 to 42 to 38. Yowzers that’s cold! Yet fish will still bite.

Moving into a neck down that came over a shallow shoal, on the other side a steep shoreline facing southwest appeared to have promising waters. Anything that can catch the daytime sun’s rays, stand to collect the usual prevailing wind’s waves but also be sheltered from big chop, has a likely chance of holding warmer water that can often collect fish. In this instance, that chance indeed turned fact. We found 46F out of 38F.

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Trolling in another aquarium it was so clear I could see bottom in more than forty feet of water. Along the cliff edges, the boat less than thirty feet offshore, the depths in spots were upwards of a hundred feet. Bren and I again could watch cruising lake trout go by the boat, but by holding our steady straight bearing just taking everything in, very few had interest in biting the lures.

Satisfied with the exploration we returned to the beaners because we at least knew they were biting over that way. Seth and Al arrived as well. Quick hellos the two blazed on by for greater prospects and I believe Seth caught himself a nice one. Bren and I content to stay, we fished a couple points several times over, picking at a few and eventually catching a couple decent fish too.

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We were out of cookies, out of all sweets, out of sandwiches and leftover laker nuggets. Stomachs grumbling, time tricking down, bluebird afternoon lull in the action, it was 2:15pm sharp when I said to Bren, “OK, we’re heading back.” “Fifteen, twenty more minutes,” she asked. “Just fifteen then go!?!” I wouldn’t have it. Only because I wanted a good hour to empty the boat, break down rods, pack gear right, get changed, pour a gin and pick my nose.

Already back at camp Brody and Len rolled in behind us. Chatting at the dock a minute there was no sense of excitement, no quick mention, but then finally one of them brought up Len’s big, best, badass fish of the day. A new personal best actually! Captured on video and with photos, he had a bit of struggle hugging the big greaser but he got it done! Awesome stuff Lenny! Buzzer beater fish after a great week of putting up big numbers.

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Big numbers. Yep! Some big fish on the week too. Every boat picked up a thirty pound laker or better, Bren and I a couple over forty. Plenty new bests to go around. Excellent hosts in Dean and June, Arctic Circle is a quiet and special spot in this world. Brenda and I would toast to all of that in the lodge before the plane would arrive and fly us out.

Back at the main lodge dock we were told to get into the dining area for supper was waiting. Treated to a second steak night, lotsa fixins, soup, dessert, we arrived as the other few dozen guests were finishing up. Curious anglers stopped over to our table and asked how things went, everyone in our group had something good to say. Again, we did well, and in admitting our numbers and sizes of fish some might have rolled their eyes but the proof is here and now. Arctic Circle is said to be the best numbers and I’d have to guess it is. Where Trophy Lodge is the place for giants, Main Lodge the ticket to a generous mix of lakers, all fly out options and the Tree River, Circle surely is a place for amazing action and 30’s, the odd 40 and maybe even a 50 pounder to show itself. Team Strokes and Putts I know caught the least number of fish this trip but 212 lake trout is nothing to be ashamed of. Forget not that many times over I pulled the lure away from small fish and shook ’em off on purpose. Two years ago we reeled in more, catching 285, so that kinda tells ya the place is consistent for 100’s of lake trout per boat, per week. Seth and Al, Team High Tech, without their wives along who won’t change up to working lures, those pairings surely did better for betting 300 or so fish per boat. Yes, that is a dig at my Bren! 😀

So many beaner boners with the odd teste tuggers, Arctic Circle is ridiculously hot fishing.

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A good nights sleep and a big breakfast that followed, Lori, then Terry and lastly Scotty kept us all entertained a good while before our flight home that next morning. On the airstrip Manny came over to show us hunting pictures but then realized we weren’t the same guests he’d guided all week, he laughed and scurried off. Quite the characters, all here cause we’re not all there. Never sure how things will work out and when we might return, Bren, myself and surely everyone in our group made enough great memories this trip to carry us on for a good while.

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Thanks Plummers Lodges, Chummy, Dean and June, Seth, Al, Lenny and B-Rod!

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Thanks Brody for the wild and incredible drone footage, videos and pictures captured and contributed here. Anyone want to see or hear original music, polar bears, arctic whales and wildlife should check this dood out at YouTube. Brody McGee.

And thanks again to any who follow along here at the site.
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Bunk.
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