She is sitting beside me in the passenger seat taking pictures of every road sign, bridge, tree and rock that she sees. Now and again she giggles then turns to jot something down in her note pad. Behind the wheel I’m getting annoyed cause every red light along this lousy stretch of highway between The Prior and Pembroke is forcing me to a halt. Not only that, the passing lane speeders are putting the hammer down to avoid me getting by before they slam the brakes on at the merge down to the single. Doc and Woody on the morning radio show do kinda lighten the mood though, one of them reminiscing about how he was the teams lawn dart goalie as a kid. “What are ya writing now,” I ask Brenda? “Nail-biting, small bladder, foul mouthed driver,” she replies.

It’s a different kinda vibe this trip to Nipigon. My tenth year of making the annual trip, for only the first time Bren is along. Something I look very forward to every summer, this time just started too weird. First off, she didn’t seem very excited at all. Tweaking something at Cross-Fit in April she further aggravated her injury while fighting at The Ontario Open BJJ tournament in May. Since then her left arm has been nearly useless, painful or numb because of two pinched nerves nearer to her spine. Up until two weeks before our departure she was still on the fence as to whether or not she could go. Basically, she has no casting arm and would even find it painful to play fish on the rod.
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A DIFFERENT KINDA VIBE.

Not only did such questions of my wife’s usefulness, or lack thereof, loom overhead, but my playlist for the drive was about to get seriously altered. Yes, I had to put CD’s into the case which might likely lead to even more suffering… but I will get to more on this later for we may play a little game?

The server I always get at the PetroCan in North Bay is really friendly and if ever stopping in there for some B&E do ask for their toasted homemade bread, it is quite scrumptious. After fueling truck and bellies, starting out on the 11 North the rain hit and pretty well kept up the next seven hours. Zep’s “The winds of Thor are blowing cold,” was my choice for facing the weather, temps plummeted from 28C to 10C over the afternoon drive. The thing about traveling the long haul from home to Nipigon is I do quite like it. Only ever once, as a passenger, did I not enjoy the drive and driver. You see, along the way at different places I get to thinking about people I know. George and Nic in Deep River, John at Rolphton, John at Mattawa, James in North Bay, Jennifer for climbing the Temagami tower, Wayne and Leah in Temagami, different folks in Cochrane, Dan from Smooth Rock… it could go on. Heck, we stopped for dinner in Kapuskasing and Bren bumped into an old college roommate and our friend Sylvie. Breaking up the drive I almost always stop in Mattice to stay a night with “The Agent” Steve Zebco, Amelie and the kids but this year we would not only do just that, Steve and Am would follow us out the next morning to join us on the trip.

A two vehicle convoy we set out together the next morning. As always, we would stop at picturesque Klotz Lake for the roadside photo.

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The new rig was trailering nicely. The box full and truck weighted down, fuel mileage was about 1.5-1.8 liters more per 100 kilometers than what it used to be pulling my smaller Rebel. Still, I could only imagine what Stevie’s Titan with those big ass tires was burning.

Lunch in Beardmore at Cindy’s Diner came early because we were making great time on a perfect day. When we arrived at the launch a short while later it was heavenly. Nipigon was completely glassed. Both boats took little to no time at all getting fully loaded. Could not have had any better conditions to start our twenty mile run out onto the lake.

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Narrowly missed one shoal about half way along the drive. Forty feet of water came up to five in a real hurry. I had anticipated it some, having mapped it from Google Earth onto a topo print kept in a personal map book of the lake. But even at that, thinking I was far enough away from where I could see some birds which looked to be standing in bird ankle deep water some hundred yards away, I was reminded early to take caution. Nipigon is not for the unprepared.

After maybe an hour we found and settled upon a great and protected campsite. Brenda unable to carry much she was still a harder worker than me, other than carrying much. Ha! With solid teamwork by all our home away from home was up in a couple hours, right in time for an early fajita supper before an evening fish.

The girls enjoyed the scenery.

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BEACHED AND BEATEN.

A nice fire the night before, somehow much of it’s smoke blew into our tent and lingered with Brenda and I overnight. To the yapping of one energetic squirrel, we woke rather dry.

The weather we had printed off from two sites had been calling for SW winds and light, instead we woke to a heavy NE blow keeping us shore bound until after lunch. All years passed, my handheld radio would pick up Environment Canada’s Marine Forecast on channel 3, but this year that would never happen. Sucks not knowing what’s ahead of you when you could be driving yourself straight into Hell on any given day. As it would turn out, we would bump into other boaters unable to get the forecast as well.

The morning around camp I can’t for the life of me remember what we accomplished. Maybe the woodpile got a little more stocked, maybe some food got eaten, and for sure we took naps. Evening before we were also quick to note the fitting on Steve’s 5-pound propane bottle and hose would not connect to the Coleman stove. I did bring four 1-pounders but all decided it better to cook more on the open fire for the week. End of the trip, we burned two of those green bottles out and that was all.

Around 11:00am the wind really kicked up hard, rattling and knocking things around in the kitchen. Waking and peeking out the tent I saw Steve’s boat had come offshore, turned, clinging by it’s rope and sideways, bobbing in the waves towards my boat. Bolting from comfort and down to the waters edge I yelled for Steve’s help on route. His skeg had just barely, four or five times come into contact with my own boat, scratching up the sides. A real big “FUCK!!!” was my initial response. Had I not looked out from the tent at that moment I couldn’t imagine what an hour or more could have done for damage. We were lucky my timing made this minor in the end, for both boats actually, and for damn sure it should be a lesson. Winds change, don’t be lazy, check your shit out, every time!

After a shitty beef wrap creation we all pushed off our separate ways to fish. Steve and Am stayed closer to camp, trying different islands while Bren and I made our way along the shoreline. Not expecting much, having fished all that water before and quite unsuccessfully, I chose to just skip long stretches and bounce from point to point. Didn’t take much time and we had traveled pretty far, and all the while the winds were dissipating nicely.

In a calm bay nature called. The shore there was super sandy and shallow well out from any landing. Moose tracks were found in the sand. Hopping out the boat was secure but while crouched down the beach in some alder bushes mid poop, Bren jumps out of the boat and pulls it up a little further onto the sand. “What are ya doing,” I yell out. “The boat was moving,” she replies. It wouldn’t have had she stayed put.

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We were beached! The transom sitting on bottom. How one tiny bird with a busted wing could do it, I dunno? For the second time this day I was pissed off again. Have never done this even once myself, so lesson number two, as the Captain of your boat, take command of your passengers. A totally innocent little thing done unknowingly can become a big deal. For about fifteen minutes it was a struggle to get that boat offshore. I mean, it was a real, shitty, struggle. It was stuck. Bren couldn’t lift much with her bad arm at all but getting her upset enough she threw a rope across her shoulders that had been tied to the transom and lifted the rear end with her back. Just this fat and angry 200+ pounder at the bow had enough bull horns to push the boat off while she lifted. From then on out, don’t think Bren pulled the boat up onto shore anymore without say so first.

There was some awkward silence for a little while…

Through the late afternoon and into evening we trolled some new islands for specks and inspected a back bay for pike. Bren dropped a fish but redeemed herself when finally getting a first ever speckled trout. All those years living up north she had never caught one before, and these pretty, hard fighting gems were quick to make her smile. Steve and Amelie off some place else were doing just fine too, for they both picked up some shoreline trout. Another first it would be for Amelie too, to get a Nipigon speck, cause I remember her catching an awesome searun fish in the past. For myself I couldn’t buy a speck this day, and even the bit of pike fishing was tough.

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After a very late start and even before a normal days end, we all retired back to camp a bit early. Some chicken-pot-pie-stew, beer and spirits and ridding the tent of one jurassic sized mosquito hawk, the waters had calmed flat again. Within a smoke free tent breathing clean fresh air, we fell into our comfortable comas.
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ONE STORMY, FOGGY, FAWKER!

Everyone rested, we moved through the morning routine like psycho cross fitters or sunrise joggers. Dressed, fed, lunches made and ready for school our Mom’s woulda been proud. Bren tells me first thing how she just looooves her air mattress too. She laughs at me cause a couple times the night before I had to wake and lung inflate. Of that mattress, “you don’t need the double,” she remarks. Ughh, girls! Get me outta here and on the bus man!!!

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The big plan for the day was to fish all new water. This trip in fact, probably 75% of my time was spent exploring for new fishing spots. We would start the early morning trolling lake trout, spend the late morning and early afternoon on speckie shorelines then, switch over to try three new giant pike bays I had in mind. All seemed brilliant to me.

The laker fishing sucked… although Brenda enjoyed some treats.

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The speck fishing sucked… although I enjoyed one treat too.

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Along our route we found a beautiful island campsite with a privy and marked some territory there. Good location close to all three fish species and a nice protected beach. Just not much space for more than two tents though. Another boat was in the area fishing either pike or specks, not sure, but that’s where I got my fish too.

Around 1:00pm or so we took off touring for pike. First back bay was a beauty, the water warming up as we got more and deeper into it. Steve or Amelie were quick to raise a fish, Bren too. Our boats crept in further only to find it bend in around a point, where at it’s end it did open up into a huge back, swampy, channel. And that’s where we saw another boat already there and working the water, so we left.

Our trip to the next spot was interrupted when my cheeks took a pelting from a few big rain drops. Amelie and Steve following behind, we pulled into a little cove where we expected to wait out a passing thunderstorm. That wait lasted from 2:30 to 6:00pm. It hammered down for over three hours, the thunder rolling through the whole time. Under an umbrella with Brenda, while Steve and Am sat lifelessly still in their chairs dawned in full rain gear, the forecast for all of us was pure dreary dreadful. Through it all the heaviest fog would build too, becoming so thick awhile that our friends could barely be seen if a stones throw away. When after all that time the storm gave us an opening we had begun to leave the cove and I questioned if we should continue on further from camp to the last and best pike bay or, call it a day. I was heavily outvoted but in all honesty, just fine with that. Fish weren’t likely biting anyways. We’d probably just endured 30-40mm of rain and were rather damp as well. The fog seemed to be lifting.

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Just up on plane we caught up to that heavy fog again in no time. A good half hour run back, Stevie and I both knew where we needed to intercept with a previous GPS track but otherwise the course setting in a straight line to get there would take us over a pretty shoaly crossing. Of course, half way, watching the sonar for depth I’d too long taken my eyes off what was barely visible ahead when I suddenly scared myself silly. There, a rock pile to my left, too close, I stopped the boat quick. Bren says, “I thought you saw that?” Had we kept our bearing the depth would have been just fine to pass by, and I may have not even noticed that serious boat wrecking, life ender. But, you never know what lies beneath new waters, do you?

On the way back we got another sucker hole too. Skies lifting a short time. I wished people could see what we did in that sky. The clouds in the distance rolled up thick as dough and spread across the horizon in what some might describe as an apocalypse. Couldn’t get pictures in time to do it justice, the flat foggy water began to froth and churn in seconds, something big was coming in and we had to make haste.

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At camp Steve tied three ropes to his boat instead of one. Huge SW crusher would bear down on us for a couple hours causing a total cease fire of our fishing fun. It would of course let up entirely too late to go fishing again. The nice thing of it was, we had cold booze, delicious chilly, no skitters, a kinda warm fire and each other. Around camp Steve improved our view with a little landscaping while the girls cooked and dried laundry. I drank and pondered the fishing. It was like being home minus our cellphones and other people. Hurray!
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PEA SOUP.

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Bye geezus folks it was soupy out all day. ALL DAY!!! Around 3:00pm it let up but still the fog lingered ALL DAY. The morning run was about ten miles through the tickovit where we laid down the rigger balls and snap weighted spoons to try for big greasies. Again, we got screwed with that plan, even though we knew this time we were in good laker waters.

This was the first full day of fishing though, ten hours in fact. All other days were cut in half due to Mother Nature. We wanted to fish pike and even planned many of our days around timing things right but unfortunately we were getting rocked by weather fronts that so far came in from every compass direction. We’d look into the shallows and often find waters cooler than the main lake. The pike temporarily vacated from spots of easier pickings and instead sulking out in deeper water. There were a couple spots though, that when we entered we’d spot a few fish lurking about. One such area this big, black pike I spotted several times. The thing was nuts big, a high forty even fifty inch fish that was thicker than most anything I had ever seen. Told Stevie about it but kinda just down played it as a bigger than usually big pike, didn’t want to free his Willy for free Willy. And the forage where this pike lived was totally sick too. Not on this foggy morning but later in the day and during another time I would have chance to see what was actually around in these bays. They were thick with suckers, perch and quite possibly, even whitefish. Just thick with schools of bait swimming around the shallow muck, dead grasses and sand. I’d see that pike though, cast to it; or even not cast to it, and it would bolt away like a missile. This thing was nuclear spooky. All week long we would hope for the right timing and conditions to change, to pull the pike into our chosen spots, warm them up and get them feeding. But so far, this wasn’t happening at all. Inner pike questions were killing me… needed the 411 on their behaving.

But lakers weren’t easy either, we hadn’t caught any. Again… all the unstable weather? Late spring conditions playing a role in this bullshit? Maybe..? What was it? All we could do was keep moving, looking and working water. Not sure what the girls thought of the constant monologue back and forth between Steve and I; or I in my head, but it was so far one of the toughest “fishing” trips I had ever had on Nipigon. Not having that working radio forecast was a kick square to the nutsack too. Just more on edge, looking over the shoulder and mildly testicular pain nauseous.

For the second day I caught the only speck. Slogging it out paid off. Best of the trip a 25-incher with a 15.5 girth oughtta get me about 6 1/2 pounds worth of happiness. And it did, I got me a moment of swag. For any curious where exactly I caught it though, well I caught it in the fog.

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Come early evening we re-entered into the shallows to try for pike. It was still near impossible to move fish, if any fish were even around. Did see blackie in there and for a brief second had hope while watching it rocket out of the bay at a kajillion miles per hour. Threw a long cast anyways, but it just didn’t get T-boned by it like I had envisioned. Stevie caught one though… I think just one. And nobody else got nuthin! Not even this spider.

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We’d been given’er the whole day. Dropped lines at 9:30am and called it quits when some rain started up at 7:30pm. That rain and fog really dampened the day. No pike show, no lakers, one speck. Back at camp, Bren’s amazing fire making skills got more soggy wood to ignite up again. Steve’s lungs made it grow. Some baked potatoes cooking on the coals for the next nights fish fry, we made sure… I made sure, to fill the tin cup up to five fingers. Then the sunset rolled in perfect, of course.
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LUCKY SHIRT.

Woke to a glorious morning, spirits were high.

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Ruffled through the clothes bag and felt it. The right time for the Imperial shirt. If this doesn’t change the game, nuthin’ will!

For nearly as long as I’ve been going west to Nipigon there have been spots on the map I stare at. The day seemed to be starting right but with the cards we’d been dealt for the first half of our trip, taking off on a distant run to the unknown still brought a little chill down the spine. I wanted to fish this place though, fish an area I’d only heard of but had never been. Side by side, floating over dying rollers facing the big water Brenda quickly put all humming and hawing to an end and made up our minds for us, we were doing it. Boy was it the right call.

An easy trip across the lake we landed safely. “Mark this spot on your GPS Steve,” I asked. “We can meet back here later if we get separated.” From my book, Stevie snapped a phone photo of the map in my book. “I’ll start that shoreline,” he decided. A big shoal highlighted there, it figured on being a good choice. Bren and I went the other way.

Within no time at all Bren had lost her first speck and then caught a pike. Not far behind I caught a speck too. Only an hour passed when I radio’d Steve to see how him and Amelie were making out. “If I haven’t seen hundreds of fish I haven’t seen any,” he replies. Well, that to me sounds like an open invite so Bren and I shuttled over there quick.

Stevie was right, there were schools of specks everywhere. They had caught a couple and were catching a couple more when we arrived. Both Amelie and Bren wanted specks on the menu that night and Steve had already caught a 22 incher legal to keep as his one. We just needed one more. Over the past decade I’ve only ever kept two specks, one for the wall and one DOA for the pan. It would be a very rare treat to enjoy specks tonight. The fish actually wouldn’t come too easy though, they kinda required some slow play. Unresponsive to trolling as well. And unfortunately for Bren her arm wasn’t taking nicely to the casting either. She had been doing OK this week in small spurts although pike fishing would wreck her right quick, but now with all these specks around we had to break from the casting and get back to trolling. We chose to leave ALL those fish and go troll elsewhere. We could always come back.

With the risk came more rewards. Boating more specks I picked up an over 22 as well, the table was set for everyone.

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It would all be good speckle water. Didn’t really matter where we trolled, covering shoreline would give you that chance hookup. With only the morning and into mid afternoon spent so far, between both boats we covered a fair bit of ground yet in reality, were only scratching the surface of this big area. Around 1:00pm after Bren had cooked us up some stew, we met back up with Steve and Am. They planned to continue on along a shoreline while I had a small creek, small back bay and a certain point I wanted to check out. We parted ways.

Headed straight to that back bay. Hell, first sunny day in a few days, lucky T-shirt weather, all I wanted to do was see if they’d be up and sunning themselves… maybe, just maybe even biting. Came off plane, turned the corner into the bay and shit! Another Lund already parked there fishing. The guys looked at us, no waving hello from either party and so we left. Fawk our pike luck… but who cared today, the specks were biting everywhere! Moved along to that point of curiosity and POP! Speck on!!!

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Bren and I spent a beautiful afternoon together enjoying the best sun and some fish. A couple primo shoals that would have been great to cast we passed on by for her comforts sake, but she did make some efforts. The previous days for sure had me kinda glummy. Specks were real slow, pike and lakers non-existent, weather just aweful for it, but on this day it made up for a lot. Brought the energy up. Got me hoping for better fishing ahead.

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Around 3:30pm we opted to head back closer to camp. It would be too long to wait for evening and that speck shoal to get active again, and besides, we’d caught plenty already. Steve and Am wanted lakers and I half wanted them or some pike too. Figuring the 4-6pm hours can be good for deep greys we worked out that plan. To fish them out front of a good pike bay for a couple hours and then at 6:00pm we’d head into the shallows together.

The plan didn’t work. Geebus crispies the plan didn’t work. Two hours, two boats, no lakers. To make it worse, out front of that pike bay, at 5:50pm a boat comes out of nowhere from around a point and goes screaming down into that pike bay. I radio Steve, “did you just see that?” Laughing about it he answers, “yeah!” “We just got greased,” I tell him, “so lets pack up, get in there and grease them too.” And we did. They maybe kinda had that look of WTF on their faces when I pulled in there first but as it turned out, not one of three boats caught any pike. Those water temps in the shallows even despite all that afternoon sun, were no warmer than the main lake. So yeah, even I had a WTF expression on my face too.

Turned out just fine though. They left, never to be seen again, while we all got back to specking. And gotta tell ya’ll, Stevie had a hot stick for specks this day. A good time of it we called it a bit early to enjoy the fish fry.

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The specks had bellies full of smelt. Later filleted, dipped in egg, rolled in half pancake mix, half Original Shake N’ Bake and some choice spices, dropped into hot peanut oil over an open fire and crisped to finish, they were perfect alongside some spuds, beans and lemon. So good, we may have to add an annual fry to the trips.

A day on Nipigon I will certainly never forget… kinda like them all really but this one especially. Lucky shirt I guess. Everyone enjoyed themselves.
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AMELIE’S DAY.

Brenda and I have known Steve and Amelie for over ten years now. The Agent Stevie Zebco goes back pretty far with me in many life and fishing stories, Amelie too. I love these people. Salt of the earth good people, they do great to put up with a nutbar like me on occasion. And it’s certainly not just anyone I would want with me and to share such fishing and places like Nipigon with.

We woke to an even more beautiful day and thought to ourselves, maybe we’ll fish early morning pike for the first time. What… a… stupid… idea… My sidescan and sonar had ’em everywhere in 12-20fow. Scattered just outside the shallows of the back bays they were suspended about six feet down to bottom. Would they turn on any lure, nope! We quickly found it hopeless, not sure Stevie could even see things right? Water was still cold in the bays so with a long full day of heat and sun to come, you guessed it! We figured on coming back that evening to see if the warmth would get ’em shallow and biting.

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Leaving the pike both boats went their separate ways. We’d each speck awhile ti’ll early afternoon then laker troll ti’ll about 6:00pm, then meet up for pike. Stevie and Am stuck to some known shorelines. In fact, they fished where I picked up the 25-incher in the fog. Good areas that paid off.

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Bren and I on the other hand took a run. Some distant islands I’d never seen or fished were calling to that adventurous side. Truth be told, I had never once heard any mention of these islands, ever. And on the map, it’s gotta be an area just skimmed over every time I look because even the names surprised me, they were foreign or forgotten really.

Well, we lost one speck after three hours of searching. Off one of the islands I marked what were figured to be a pile of lakers holding bait balls so we dropped lures later on for them and picked up a small one. A first for this trip. Hallelujah! But, I can’t show the pic because Brenda won’t allow that. She was sunbathing topless again.

After several hours of trolling in what I would consider a totally featureless wasteland of 130fow we inched closer to where Steve and Amelie had spent the day. Finally able to reach him on the radio he announces that Amelie caught her first laker. A fully detailed and tactical report it was a monumental moment both of them and even us too. The fish will actually bite where we think they should on what we think they should. But that aside, it was a fish Amelie was a little too timid to hold on her own. I can only imagine the excitement and chaos in the boat upon it’s arrival. What a big beauty of a catch and to imagine it being a first too..?!

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I took a skunking on the day. Not a speck, pike or laker. Could be a first on that lake to not even get an incidental anything. Bren on the other hand nabbed a few toothies along speckle waters. It was a scorcher through the afternoon but after fog, rain, wind and storms it was another awesome day to be on Nipigon. Plenty candies, a selection of Skittles, Nibs, Fuzzy Peaches, Swedish Berries and Mike and Ikes was rationed well. I could eat ten pounds of sugar in a sitting but thankfully Bren had some (not alot, but some) restraint. To prevent hyperglycemia we poured liters upon liters or water straight from the lake and down our throats. Made me squirt every half hour but did prevent the dehydro.

At 6:00pm as planned we went back to our pike bays but found little. Saw big blackie bolt from the scene again too. The pike this trip were just a total mystery. The bays we wanted to fish were just plagued with cold water and no new weed life. To go a week on Nipigon without a forty incher in my opinion is a complete and total failure and, my angler card should be revoked for being so utterly pathetic. At this point in the trip I thought of quitting them entirely. Guess the past few years have just been too much a spoiling.

All retired happily to a seafood chowder dinner. The boys loosened the belts to relax afterwards, while the women got to their chores. Ahhhh… the way life was intended to be. Haha!

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Good fire poking skills are an admirable trait in the outdoors. Bren and Stevie are winners of this. A toasty toast we toasted to being toasted in the sun all day long, and to Amelie (and Steve) for catching that excellent grey trout. A cozy night all around.
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LOSING IT!

Big blow from the north bent the tent walls right into the floor. It came outta nowhere at 6:00am and put our shelter to the test. Emerging from within, it was certainly cooler, the winds cutting right through the layers of clothes. In no time all were up and moving our kitchen into the woods. Skitters couldn’t even let go of the trees in there to bother us.

A two coffee morning we moped about and relaxed. Nothing you can do against winds like this, I imagined the lake waves being ten footers cause it had to be gusting eighty out there at least. The skies threatened rain but by 11:00am the first blue patches arrived. Passing the time I told Stevie and Am about beaching a few sharks a couple years back in Florida. A story within a story within quite an experience, kinda strange. Coming to trips end the busy days were tiring me out a bit now. Some days ya really feel older than you are, this was one of them. Stiff as a board the lower back, right knee and my neck were quite bothersome, sitting about in the cold wind didn’t help matters either. Took some drugs. But wrinkles and greys be damned, by 12:30 some of the pain quit blowing and the waves settled a little so, we decided to venture out close by and just try our luck in any calm water pockets.

Surprisingly it was down to soft rollers on the big water. Not many whitecaps at all it was an easy opportunity to troll lakers as opposed to playing in closer to rocky shallows for specks. By 1:00pm we set off on a line and didn’t stop pulling laker lures until 6:00pm. Well, we did cast a spot to specks for a few minutes but Bren’s useless appendage got me feeling bad about doing that so we had to go back to trolling. It was about 4:00pm when the port side rod fired. It was a flat-lined spoon on a snap weight set 200 back. The line at first started in a slow pull but then suddenly just went ripping. Looked and thought we’d lost half the spool in a flash and knew that the drag must have been set too loose. I tightened it up, finished getting the other line in then popped the boat into neutral hoping Bren could get some line back on this fish. A cardinal sin for big lakers, going to neutral was my fuck up. Don’t go to neutral for anyone or even yourself most times, not for giants anywhere, and don’t go especially with Brenda either. She’s lost too many big lakers and even a lifetime muskie for the same reason, premature neutralization! My gear though, that drag was a bit too loose to start with and that hook either didn’t get in enough or when it finished peeling off it had it’s chance to spit the steel easier. My gear though again, I know it well and know we together lost the laker of the week. That spot was new and will cough up that fish in the future.

The playlist for the 30 hours of driving to and from Nipigon turned out not all that bad. I have 20 bands/artists that we played on route and if anyone can put 10 of them in my column or Bren’s column, I’ll send ya two boogers and some toe jam with a nice “you’re awesome” letter. Here they are in no particular order… just guess who picked what.

RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS.
PINK FLOYD
DEF LEPPARD
FOREIGNER
ACDC
TOOL
CCR
BOB MARLEY
DIRE STRAITS
THE CULT
TINA TURNER
COLDPLAY
BEE GEES
BRYAN ADAMS
LED ZEPPELIN
ELTON JOHN
FLEETWOOD MAC
FOGHAT
THE HIP
EAGLES
KIM MITCHELL
BLUE RODEO

Back around camp Amelie turned green in the waves so her and Steve went back to shore. A couple hours later they finally got out and both plucked some specks off nearby islands. Awhile later, around 5:00pm in a bay near camp Stevie picked up a laker of his own. Managing to keep his on the line, their boat “Dory” was a real happy rig when his fish came aboard. Heck, they were a real solid team all around this trip. Impressive first timers really.

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Did Bren and I take one last peek in a bay for pike, yes. Were they home? No.

A great spaghetti supper I washed it down with many full mouthfuls of GlenLivet. Got to talking about future trips, mortality, Nipigon’s fabled fishing past as I had read it in some book recently while on an arctic flight, and even talked a bit about my buddy Rob over at Onamans who I would miss visiting with this year. We only get so much time for living though, and this was nearly it for Nipigon in 2018. Everyone in the camp but me had their fingers crossed the lake would see us home safely in the morning. Why not stay another day or week really..?
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COUPLES RETREAT.

Teamwork again broke the camp down with everyone fed and pushing off shore by 10:00am. Eager beavers that’s for sure. Steve and Am were in a hurry to get back to Mattice but Bren and I not so much. Told them to go on ahead after we crossed much of the lake together safely. Had it in mind to fish four or five hours checking out some different island speck spots and take a couple laker trolls along the way. Turned out to be another beautiful day on the lake, complete with fish.

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Happy the new boat performed beautifully out there too. That 90 tiller made my thumb grow double over the week, it puts some strain on with the throttle, push and pull but it’s all good. When we arrived at the launch that afternoon, a fella riding a Harley came over to take pictures and check the boat out. He wants one too, his “dream boat” as he called it, he would like to get out of his Rebel tiller. Hey, a man in my opinion with some good choices all around.

An early dinner at Cindy’s in Beardmore we were on the road to our overnight in Mattice. Next day we stopped in Temagami for a visit with Wayne and Leah but otherwise on route we just hated on each others song selections, ate mouthfuls of leftover candy and junk food and, admired peoples woodpiles and garages along the northern highway right to home.

It’s good to disconnect to find real connections, good to retreat with friends and loved ones even when retreating means retreating from storms, deathly winds and gnarly waves. Get out there and start living a little more outside if you can.

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Thanks again for reading.
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Bunk.
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