Last minute hatched a plan. “Must get out camping this weekend.”
Had heard of good water levels on the Cheepas River. Hadn’t been there since spring when a buddy and I made the rip and prop tear up through endless miles of shallows to fish the few deep eddies and pools the river offers.
Who better to come with than Bren.
My wife coming off the nightshift she had found a willing sitter the night before and, when she got home she dove into bed that morning for a four hour nap then woke at noon so we could hit the Moose and begin the twenty mile trek to the mouth of the Cheepas.
Arriving it was obvious there was tonnes of water in the Cheep, but yet the Moose was still so dry water only trickled through narrow channels, over debris, rock and sandbars at the mouth of this trib. I had to walk, wade and pull the full boat alone up through and over some pretty skinny shit. At a point sometime between one temper tantrum and another I lost one paddle overboard. Eventually though, sweaty and tired, we got through it. Just inside Bren dropped the anchor long enough for me to jump back in, start the motor in shallow drive and proceed to get the fawk out of that mess. From there on it was the smoothest sailing I have ever experienced on ANY trib coming into the Moose at ANY season. Full out, hammer down, weaving through the turns and ripping up any swifts and rapids, it was perfect.
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Never ever, even with that kind of water, did I stop checking depths in the areas I remembered to be shallower. Best be safe… especially with one paddle, a 300 pound canoe, about a 500 pounds of payload and home 30+ klicks away.
The Cheepas is a really scenic river. It’s smaller than most others giving it a more intimate feel to travel upon. Have known a couple people to agree that there are those who think the river is haunted. With a lot of poplar lining the banks when the winds blow the tree trunks creak when they sway and their leaves rustle, unlike the needles upon the usually dominant black spruce stands. When it’s calm… it’s dead silent.
Pike and eyes are at home on the lower reaches and it’s said trout can be found waaaay up. My best walleye this soft water season of five pounds came in the spring on the Cheepas. Hunters use the river more for Moose and grouse and it’s nice that gill netters seem to leave it alone. Could say, since first exploring the Cheepas in the spring of 06, I’ve grown to really like escaping there.
We toured up about 3 to 4 kms to our second spot. The first spot that is usually great, was not. The second spot usually shitty, was great. Bren got into a few surprises right off the start… walleye..?
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I picked a couple snakes too. Fall fishing for eyes usually sucks for me. Never really had much success on the Moose and French but this wasn’t either of those bigger rivers.
We pushed up further and further on the river. From the time we got into the Cheepas around 4:30 I figured we had until around 7:00pm to find a suitable spot and make camp. The fishing remained consistent along the way, we picked up mainly small pike during our brief stops. Bren did continue to find gold.
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We were fishing at the train bridge over the Cheepas at the exact time the train pulled up and stopped there on the tracks. After it pulled away we could see two people in the distance standing on the bridge and waving to us, so Bren and I went over to say hello.
There are cabins at the train bridge and some weekenders catch the 5pm Friday train out of Moosonee and get dropped off here. On Monday when the train rolls back on through around 1pm, they flag the train down and jump back on to go home. It’s an easy way I guess, but not really do-able for a lone angler out of Moose Factory with a boat that would need carrying to the riverside.
Bren and I left the young family behind to find a spot private to us.
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Finally we found some good space with a nice view a few kilometers up from the train bridge. With all the rain the rivers edge was pretty saturated but a spot within a spot proved flat, drier, devoid of rocks and the perfect size for our tent. Bren was quick to tend to getting the tent up, the air mattress inflated and all the sleeping bags and bedding out. The sun down and in the last bit of light, I was in the trees looking for dry tinder, then chopping the few pieces of the sadly wet wood I had brought. We’re a good team.
Bren had switched gears and got the Coleman going to heat up our Chili supper.
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The tinder took quickly. Redneck note to all campers out there, the lint and dryer sheets people normally throw into an empty soap box beside the dryer, well, this super dry waste compacts a tonne into a bag and weighs nothing. Helps make fire… yes it does.
Building slowly wet onto dry in a pyramid, before long Bren and I had an awesome fire with a center of glowing hot coals. I broke out my two faves, some Jelly Bellies and Single Malt.
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The night air dropped to near zero but we were good and warm in three sleeping bags. The patch job on the air mattress held up too. I had pissed my couple beers all around the camp to ward off visitors, but a beaver coming by sea did happen on through in the darkness, giving a couple startling tail slaps on route.
No frost in the morning but stiffed boned anyways we were up about 8:00am. Started with the essentials first……..
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……. but afterwards got the much needed layer of fat on. The ham and egg muffin with cheese. GULP.
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It was a grey morning. Looking off to the west you could see a line of clouds that looked to be rolling over itself on route to us. The breeze was picking up but it was out of the east though. We ate and packed up camp.
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While loading the boat the strangest orchestra of honking erupted over the treeline above. Bren’s like, “what’s that?” “Geese of some sort,” I asked back. “Bren the grand goose authoritarian master says “THOSE AREN’T GEESE!!!” Overhead a flock of sandhill cranes were circling around low like drunken vultures. Had never seen anything like it, and think they were calling out for other cranes to join them heading south. I snapped a pick of about 25 of them but all totaled there were likely around forty birds. Never seen a flock of cranes myself.
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9:00am we were back in the boat pushing up river again but, we didn’t go too far. I had one spot in mind to go to, we fished it, yet wouldn’t go any further because the next 6-7km or so was just straight away with few eddies and pools. Bren got back to business as usual, working hard got her tongue hanging out too.
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Turning around we toured back past the train bridge and when fishing a little incoming creek I got a SPANK… a good solid hit on the current seam.
On a 4 1/2″ WW 1/2&1/2 this skinny 22″ walleye makes the net.
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On our way off the Cheepas we kept at the fish. Again, we had to leave some spots that were producing in order of staying on schedule. Figure Bren who caught the most walleye (but not the big one) should get the shot of her catch.
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These were the first walleye we had kept for us since March on Kesagami, and they should make for a good and proper Thanksgiving meal.
We were at the river mouth by 1:30pm and after a feed of chowder we scraped through the mouth, knocked the motor a few times, then hit the chop of the mighty Moose.
Last stop was a bay I had been to a few days earlier to troll for pike. Bren had never trolled before and within one minute she was saying it was stupid, and she was a caster and that’s her thing, and yada fawking yada yada. “I’m stuck” she then says. “Reel it in Bren it’s a fish.” “OHHHHH it’s a FISHY, it’s a FISH!!!” she shouts in between huffing and puffing to bring it in the boat. “Like trolling now?” I asked.
We worked the Bay for an hour and got a couple double headers and about a dozen small pike. Bren got into it more with every fish.
The Moose was windy getting home but surprisingly not kicking up as bad as I believed it would be. By 5:30pm we were home and a half hour later into some PizzaHut.
Total count Bren 7 eyes and 8 pike, me 4 eyes and 18 pike. One lost paddle, another 100km for the war canoe, one busted Abu, one lost spoon, 20-30 less yards of 30lb Stren, the beginning of a throat infection today and some wind burn.
Awesome outing on the Cheepas yet again.
Thanks for reading…
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Bunk.
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