HUNGRY FOR IT!

Not a vehicle on the road from home to New Liskeard, total highway Deadsville out there. Bren was sitting straight, perfect postured as always in the passenger seat, subjecting me much of the drive to some rather raunch and dusty playlist tunes. For the first time ever my CD collection didn’t seem to matter, not a one got played. The thought of that now seems so wrong and depressing, reminds me I’m getting old. I mean, some of those discs are classics man, and listening to ’em makes ya feel young again. Does that make any sense?

Like a bored nerd I incessantly flip back and forth between fuel mileage, tire pressure, remaining gas, the DEF guage and speed. Do it so often I bite the nails to their bloody beds watching that front left fucking tire flip-flop back-and-forth just the one PSI. “Ohhh look Bren, when you drive a few hours our gas mileage improves 0.5L per 100km. Great towing job babe!” You know, it’s all the little things we love right..?

Our door to Steve and Am’s is 900 kilometers. Towing the boat and full load the 3.0L inline V6 diesel gets ‘er done effortlessly at 13.7L/100K; so take that you over-inflated diesel gas prices and just shove it Govmint! Along the way me and the missus stopped at O’Brien’s in Kapuskasing. Frugal I was to save for fuel I ordered the bread and water, while as always Bren picked the most expensive dinner on the menu, the steak, and to wash it down the most expensive drink on the list, a sangria! “Take a sip honey, try it, you’ll like it,” she says. “It’s OK babe, you and the truck can enjoy drinking our money away!”

The trips always start with the same preparation, the food! At home in the grocery store then cooking in the kitchen is where it all begins. With Bren along it’s a little different, she’s every bit as particular in her breakfast routine as I, so on her morning menu she chooses the oatmeal for one bowl and some greek yogurt, berries and bran in another. Myself, always the same big ham or bacon, cheese and sometimes egg bagel sandwich, and of course we both destroy some coffee and juice. Beforehand I like to individualize the meat packs for easy cooking and smart storage in the coolers. Soon as the eyes open every morn I’m ready for food, but Bren, she’s one of those folks whose tummy needs time to wake up.

Daytime meals out on the lake are always a pre-made chowder, chili, stew or soup. Within a small Rubbermaid, fitted perfectly into a smaller storage locker on the boat, a single burner stove, pot, two spoons, steel bowl, BBQ lighter, dish cloth, towel and soap are at the ready to serve up hot lunches. Bren and I like it this way, it often gives us a break and the meals aren’t energy carb crushers. All lunches are frozen for travel, strategically layered in the frozen food cooler while camping and, with the right tricks and planning the 7-day Coleman often keeps any final trip meals icy right up to 14 days. I’ll pull an icy, frozen ziploc lunch from the freezer in the morning and while it thaws in the boat’s small travel cooler, it keeps other things cold while doing so. Strategic shit.. not just another pretty face here peeps!

Dinners are a fun part. On any given trip a shorelunch style meal of fresh fish is a given. I’ll often do ravioli or tortellini a couple nights. A steak, pork chop or fried chicken night. Fajitas! When Steve and Am are along they’ll do up some spaghetti, a sausage meal, fish tacos, stir fry… in other words, we eat big meals by the campfire like royalty. Together we have become so good at it as a team, Bren and I one night, Steve and Am the next, and the fish fry nights a jointed effort. Again though, it’s at home first, drawing out a full meal plan, shopping and then prepping, is how I like to make as much effort in the comfort of the kitchen, become less effort while outside camping.

Record time was made to Steve and Ams, we did that 900K in nine hours with fuel and fast-food stops. An urgent roadside pisser I am, the old man bladder dribbles lesser cc’s with an increased frequency by the year but, at least there’s still control for now and I rocked it this roady across, barely stopping. While Brenda, who trained in the arts of holding strong through the cold, subarctic nights of her youth, conditioned herself long ago to avoid nighttime trips to the outhouse. She rarely needs to go but when she does, Holy Hell don’t be downstream or you’ll get washed away. For such a cute little person she’s someone to marvel about. Just love having her along.

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THE PRODUCTION.

Snuck out of our guest’s home at 6am. Bren and I going on ahead, Steve and Am would join us in a few days. Filling up in Hearst I found the cheapest diesel in Ontario at the time, at the Canadian Tire of all places. Such a beautiful morning drive along the desolate stretches of the 11’s northernmost pavement, we felt the sun come up at our backs and dodged one black bear just sleeping out there on the road.

The last miles into the lake were rougher over a dusty mogul run. Averaging 30km/hr to keep the boat from bouncing, I wished I’d taken the mudflaps off the truck cause they were dragging up and pitching stones at the boat. Outside the windows the landscape had changed a lot in just a couple years, the new level of deforestation by the local loggers looked criminal. The roadside was littered along it’s length with downed forests resembling a tornados path, pure carnage and disgust at the hands of man.

But when I turned the corner into Onamans Resort I was wonderfully swept away back in time. A warm feeling I get in the wilderness, and like, when just about to deliver a big hug to a friend not seen in some time. Stepping out of the truck the glorious sun and fresh air struck my face, we were delivered here finally and safely to our destination, and that’s when it struck me, a horde of blackflies crawling all over the skin.

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No sign of Rob anywhere. Damn it, 1100am and I figured we’d just missed him. Wandered over to Wilf’s place to say hello and as he opened the door there he was, the man, the myth, the legend. And old Loki was there too, very aged and unexcited to see me. “You just missed him,” Wilf told me. “He’s out guiding some guys for specks today.” Wilf let me park nearby after readying the boat to launch. Figured I’d catch up with Rob on the return, or maybe he’d come find us for a visit during the week.

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Bren and I would squeeze five hours of fishing in for the day, trying our luck for pike. Spotted were a lot more boats than I was used to, a sign that Covid restrictions were over. A long-ish drive to the first spot, on route two boats pulled out and I was like “SHIT now what?” Floating out on the deep blue sea I pulled out the mapbook, my homemade study, a Bible to the big ones and Science for safe passage. “OK babe, we’re gonna try somewhere new,” I told Bren.

About seven to nine years earlier I had it in mind to explore a very big area on the lake. A lot of options for all three species of fish, for pike at the time when I marked the points of interest there were too many to check out all at once. With many good locales found in the coming years, some of those secondary options got lost. This day with nothing to lose, a twenty-minute run out of the way, we could cross something new off the list.

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Entering the bay the conditions were perfect and I loved everything seen on sonar and structure. The clear, high water around us, the evening air still, perched at the bow it wasn’t long before the water came shallow enough that pike could be seen on bottom, some even sunning near the surface too. Bren and I hooked up same time on first casts, she with a hammer handle and me with a very thick fish about mid forty inches. Getting hers first to the boat, rusty hands fumbling with the fish and pliers, Bren struggled a time to get her deeply hooked fish off. Meanwhile, mine was nearly spent but in no rush, I just let it further play out boat side while waiting a turn with the tools. The minute took too long and suddenly my pike thrashed one last time to come off. Honestly didn’t even care though, was more impressed with how great a start we had on this new spot, totally stoked it was going to pay off.

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There was a full moon that evening. The bay was littered with big pike, many of them spooky and uninterested in our lures. Moving about I would spot at least two dozen forty-plus inchers, one or two in that high forty range, and most were quite negative on bottom, only moving when the boat came over top of them. Bren would catch a nice forty incher and I’d nab 45.5, 45.25 and 43-inchers over the short couple hours. One long giant I saw a few times but couldn’t get it to take, however, I would cast and hook into what may just be the fattest pike I have ever caught. I would come to find and figure later, that there was something rather interesting happening this spring of 2022.

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Felt like a great start and after a long day of driving, making camp and fishing pike, Bren and I retired a little early to grab a good supper while enjoying an evening fire.
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HIT THE ROAD JACK!

Waking in a tent, cool air outside the sleeping bag, animal and bird noises, a light rustling from the wind on the trees, that’s soul food. Forgetting the piss jug and realizing you have no choice but to leave your cozy zen behind good and quick, that’s karma.

Stuck my head out the fly and spotted a whiskey jack in a tree. The little grey jay, air rodent locked eyes with me for what seemed an eternity, I wasn’t sure what it was thinking just then, but it flew away with a chirp. Bren waking up says, “there’s a swollen mosquito in here,” declaring that one of us had been food… Speaking of food.

Mostly cloudy but a calm morning. The lake region over the years has cut back more and more on the marine radio forecast, it’s becoming trickier all the time to plan safe passage with the weather. On our agenda was a very long run to fish a walleye river we had never visited before. It was a chance I’d guessed safe to take.

Over an hours run we reached the mouth of the river and were met by a big group of other fishers. Some were not so eager to see Bambalam on their spot, I have come to get used to that across parts of Ontario.

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Making our way inside wasn’t too tricky. Shallow areas and dark water we picked through unscathed until the main channel of the river opened itself up to us. Beyond there it was easy up on plane to surf along in quick time.

Arriving to what I figured all these years would be the best fishing area, Bren and I weren’t long at all before popping wallys on the jigs. In the deep cavern of the river, the air was still, the sun shining and the blackflies rather relentless. We threw on bug nets and over the next three hours enjoyed ourselves catching 72 walleye. Also got one decent pike for the morning. It was fun awhile and I figger had we been catching some bigger fish it would have been worth it to stay all day but, my figger was the bigger females were still at spawn. The river was very, very cold for the season. After what had been witnessed with the late spawn pike day before, it was obvious everything we were catching for eyes were smaller males. Plenty of milt and of the eight fish kept for a group shorelunch, slicing those up they turned out all males as well.

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We had the whole world to ourselves. Before exiting the river Bren and I stopped for some chili. Back on the lake the wind had picked up, it was a bumpier hour ride before we stopped on the lee side of a large island we hoped to troll for specks. We did see some, a school in fact, but they were lock-jawed to both trolled and casted lures. There was certainly a cold front upon us, the fish and us all getting the chills.

After cleaning the walleye at camp Bren and I pigged out on some turkey fajitas. Feeling beat we could have retired just then but it was 6:30, mix sun and cloud, not overly windy and with a few hours to play we got back to it.

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The pike fishing was rather meh! The temps kept dropping, the wind kept building and after a couple dozen under 40-inch pike, we being the spoiled anglers we are slipped back to camp for a fire and drink. Bigger winds for the morrow were to come and that’s just how big lake fishing goes. I had my girl, we have each other, all the food we need and the fresh air to breathe, whatever come what may can cometh!
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MIND GAMES.

Laying in the tent I was sure I heard a boat nearby. Investigating outside I could see they were working a rocky spot hard on the cast. Two guys, bright coats. What the frig is this I thought? Never seen anyone else out here, let alone all up me arse. I wondered… but they must see the tent and maybe hear us too?

Quietly Bren and I prepared breakfast then readied our boat. I’d glance over in the direction of the visitors time and again, turning away in disgust, mumbling all pouty upset and shit! Our boat tucked out of the way, it would be hard for them not to notice our little camp nearby. Yet, there they remained just pounding this one area. I was ready to go now though, get fishing! Could I just give us away now?

The first look was at dawn and now the sun had risen enough to shine more light on the subject. Retrieving the binoculars from the boat I stood tall from shore and focused on the anglers. Two pelicans spaced out on a rock with a little orange moss is what I mistook all this morning as a reddish boat with two bright coat fisherman. I am… a… moron!

Brenda kindly excused me for my earlier anxious demeanor, and obvious troubled vision. A glass calm finally over me and the lake as well, predicting an afternoon of 60km/hr gusts and storms, we passed by the pelicans and took flight to laker grounds. For the next four hours we trolled about, not spotting the lakers in their usual haunts. The cold, cold water of the spring had the fish rather scattered it seemed. We picked up 3 out of 4 finding that we had to cruise in a little shallower towards a vast flat.

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Bren suffered what seemed like an endless nosebleed in the boat. Just couldn’t get it under control for an hour or more. The thought of having to go to a hospital was almost more unbearable than just pushing her overboard. Eventually she managed to stop it and after losing so much blood was quick to say, “I’m hungry again.” Friends think I eat a lot fishing, Bren’s appetite is never satisfied despite her age old saying, “I only eat ti’ll I’m satisfied.” Well, her and Mick Jagger just can’t get no satisfaction then!

Some really bland bought beef barley soup for lunch, plenty appys for Bren preceding, we tried a favorite speck spot where Bren caught her best some years ago. We also explored a fair bit of shoreline throughout the entire day, in search of new places to maybe make a camp. With Nipigon’s popularity growing and todays tech making the lake safer to navigate, Stevie and I over the years have always kept our eyes out for new areas to stay. This day Bren and I found some work-able ground.

The pike bite didn’t exist that afternoon. The skies greyed, the lake laid flat, and yet I could feel a change a coming with the cosmos. Bren and I had a short window.

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The breeze got swirly, then pecking gusts split the tree tops. The skies were just beginning to fall, darkening clouds coming in on time-lapse. I nabbed a 44 1/2 inch pregnant pike before the storm but had to turn it away quick for our rain gear and umbrellas. The next hour and some Bren and I nibbled on licorice, cozied close together and waited out a storm.

The weather improved again mid afternoon. I was quite disappointed in the pike spot, in the past it’s had days of incredible numbers and big fish, but I sensed this years timing would not be the same. We cruised away to ply other possibilities and sadly those spots were also dead.

Around suppertime another storm approached. There would be no skirting around this one where we were, and with lots of lightning Bren and I decided to just call it a day and head back to camp. A good meal of ham, rice and corn with gin, wine and scotch, Bren and I sat close by a glowing fire and watched the sun set. No bugs, no wind, no pelicans on any rocks to fool my dumb ass, I took down these notes from the day until the dusk began spitting rain on us, and we settled into the tent.

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AMELIE M.I.A.???

Woke with a splitting headache. Bren started her day by nearly slicing off her finger. We weren’t in good shape, she worse off than me. Her finger cut was bad, shaved a good flap off the first phalange tip and like her nose the day before, it bled relentlessly awhile.

Grey skies, warm and calm. After breakfast I finally opened the 7-day “feezer” cooler after having kept it sealed up tight for the first five days of the trip. Everything inside still rock solid. The key to this, is to have used the earlier trip days frozen meal items in the “fridge” cooler, helping keep all things cold in that. Know your menu and what you will need when. That way, all the food in the freezer is left alone and that lid closed much longer into the trip. When you finally start taking things from the freezer, ya do it in the mornings at the coldest part of the day, only taking what you will need for that day and sometimes the next. Seal it up, keep it well hidden in shade and don’t open it again until some following morning. If you store what is in there layered, so that the first items retrieved are at the top, this helps the frozen food stay that way even longer. Again, you can turn a 7-day cooler even in the heat of summer, into a ten, twelve, maybe fourteen day ice box.

Bren and I lazily trolled along some morning shorelines still holding ice.

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We had tried for lakers a short time and lost two fish so we moved on to specks. Again, the water temps still so seasonably cold in the mid 40’s I didn’t feel overly confident in this bite, that same feeling I had with the pike and walleye still in some weird, super late pre-spawn, on an odd feed pattern. But, within minutes of firing up the new Suzuki Six Kicker Bren popped a speck, and we continued to do so again and again as we made our way down the shoreline.

It had been a good late morning ti’ll early afternoon tour, I think we boated about 7 or 8 fish until coming upon a sandy parking spot for lunch. Eager for chowdah we beached and jumped out to stretch our legs.

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Finished our meal we were back on the troll. An eerie fog was rolling in from the north, it would envelope us before too long. But, just before vanishing out of sight we heard a boat motor in the distance, it was coming closer and closer. Before long I could see it, I could see that it was Stevie! YES!!! They made it safe and sound, the note I left back at camp helped them find us.

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On approach there was no sign of Amelie..? Stevie made it but no Amelie! We sank a little in our chairs just then, it didn’t make sense? Stevie was quick to report that Amelie came down with a bit of a sore throat, was fine but, she got Covid! “FACK!” My first thinking was she should of still come, no better place to isolate, but Bren’s first thoughts were that there was no way she could leave the kids behind and worry about them maybe getting sick. It was her call, a good call, but I could tell it was a big stress on Stevie and a sad reality for us. The gang wouldn’t all be together but Stevie came ahead, and rightfully so, to make sure we wouldn’t worry and bring the other half of the suppers we’d need to make it through the trip.

Stevie brought a change for the worse with the long range forecast too. He wanted to get fishing this day knowing that plenty rains and winds lay ahead. He took off to go explore specks awhile too, then we’d meet up later for some evening lakers. Bren and I were done with pike, it was a trout effort day. And as we got moving again the good bite remained. Bren popped some big back-to-back beauties and by 4-oclock we finished up with eleven fish between us. Mostly hers!

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For hours Bren and I kept coming back on how bummed out we were that Amelie wasn’t there. Stevie would be totally welcome to join us in our boat anytime of course, and later he’d admit to being happy doing both solo and together. A chance for him alone to really run-and-gun should the weather co-operate or, jump in with us on the days we couldn’t get too far. Finishing this day under hot, hot, bluey skies the surface temps on the laker grounds shot up about 8F degrees from morning. Didn’t help us much catching fish but Stevie in the distance sure enjoyed working on his tan.

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We called it a little earlier than Steve. A big walleye fish fry in the plans, I wanted to get to supper before the southern thunderstorm tracking in got onto us. When Stevie arrived he gave a good chuckle, slipping on some steep slippery rock and sliding into the lake… right where Brenda, myself and he have all fallen in before. Although he brought a hanging shower to camp to set-up, he didn’t need it this day.

The fish fry was as you’d expect, perfect! A nice fire for a short while, the rain crept in again at sunset and we slept very well.
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100% OF 60%.

The very first of all things elemental to our creation, hydrogen, it is no wonder that we are drawn to the water. Except when it’s in the form of rain, except for that! It pissed down on our moods all morning. Stevie just got here and we wanted to fish! Fifty kilometer winds and 70K gusts on a switch from south to north, there were few distant places to venture that wouldn’t at some point cause treachery. Camp bound for now.

By noon the rain had lightened a little, and not a moment too soon. Stevie seemed to be getting just a little too cozy around camp so I told the two of ’em in the nicest way to cut their shit out and get in the friggin’ boat! Haha.

We stayed close by camp working pike and speck spots. They’re not the greatest nor most consistent areas to fish but, they do hold their chances. Truth be told we did come across a pike that all of us together saw. It was a biggy, probably 47 to 48 inch class. A shadow that got the read on us before we could figure out how best to approach it. The pike swam away from shallow sand, into sparse grass and cabbage before slipping into the depths. Would have liked that one in the boat.

The shorelines around camp are quite rocky and pretty. Again, always looking for new, suitable camp spots it’s just so hard to find decent real estate to land even one boat, let alone two, plus have enough level, soft and clearable ground to make something on. Of course all of that needs to be unexposed to the lake’s wrath.

While snacking on candies Brenda managed a nice trout. We were working for our fish this day and I think StevieZ was even more excited about the catch than she was. At least, I think that’s what he was getting excited about..?

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Away from camp we were for seven hours but in that time we spent a number of those under umbrellas. Did the best we could with what we had and despite keeping rather windbound there was still a significant amount of water to at least try out.

Back at camp we reinforced the kitchen tarp. The biggest winds expected to come in overnight, we secured all the boat lines tight and put stones in our boots to keep us from blowing away. The morrow was looking like, by our best guess out there with the limited intel we had, to be a day totally shore bound.
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HOLDIN’ FORT.

Time is not actually a measure of time at all. It is a measure of motion. And so I suppose unless you’re moving, you’re probably not really using any time at all. That seemed the perfect logic to justify my laying motionless, taking up no morning time whatsoever during a sleepy dream state in the tent.

But no matter how hard I try to sleep in when camping, I can’t. There’s only ever been one guy I can think of who would routinely rise before me, and that’s Patty! The Pat of reports past. He could always set a pace in motion that would speed up the time and tire me out sooner than I could myself.

Through the night I had to get up and secure parts of the shelter. Gale force winds were howling through camp, lifting and throwing this and that. We nearly lost the tables a couple times. A boiling pot of water spilled off the stove, a close call. Trees could be heard falling over in the forest behind.

We took the opportunity to get some shit done and dried out. Often during trips, on the right days such as this, when you’re stuck but it’s sunny enough, I may as well dry out the boat. My parking spot out of the crazy winds and sun shining down just right, steam was seen rising from out of Bambalam once able to shed some layers.

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While I did a bit of this and that, Bren and Stevie did some choring too. Off in the woods with the chainsaw, Steve trimmed up a dry trail that could get us back and forth to the make-shift shitter without having to walk shore and get our feet wet on this high water year. Bren, the fire master, picked out and broke wood that she deemed best for a blaze later. Always something to do around camp.

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Two breakfasteses this day, a chili lunch and some nap times too. The boat completely dried out, it thanked me, felt lighter on the water. By evening the winds were down and easy breezing from a good direction. Stevie coming with us, Bren and I took him for a good tour over to our day one pike spot. We had hopes!

A good many giants were still there swimming about. Tougher to see with just the extra little ripple on the water, most of those I did sight just weren’t interested in biting at all. We had to work for fish there, they were still off. This spring, all of the main hot spots, my best in that part of the lake, were crap! In hindsight I wish I had of checked out several other areas which may have held warmer water and sooner, but what we did work with should have had that too. The pike were lethargic, hardly moving on baits or spooking out of the shallows. They were there but most of the real big ones I saw showed few signs of post spawn stress. And then to slap some pregger females not yet spawned out but wanting a prenatal lure snack, that kinda showed something delayed was going on from their usual nature. However, from what Stevie and Bren boated it did appear that the pike love dance was happening, some were getting aggressive on each other or were recovering now.

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Rule of thumb with me when pike fishing, photos of fat 44’s or otherwise better than 45. Will shoot decent pike caught while targeting other fish though, if it helps tells the story or it’s not my fish at all. Struggling, I’ll succumb to whatever may be biggest, if a picture was even taken. I’m still in the hunt for a 50-incher… STILL. Come so close with some fish, but it is a tough Ontario pike to find. It’ll happen eventually, until then I’ll be highly skeptical of anyone else’s catch. Haha!

We were away from camp for about four hours with a couple of those to cast pike. Not even expecting to fish the day it was good just having the chance. Since Stevie’s arrival he had so far fished some good conditions on the first half day but otherwise we all had to either wait out weather or fish second-class and beaten waters the rest of the time. But that was about to change.

Bren got the flames started before a big fire night to come. Her and Stevie’s wood pile was fully stocked, and we made the best of it. A heavy spaghetti dinner and ceasar salad, like most evenings the food along with a gin and 7-up cocktail followed by an after dinner scotch, I’m friggin’ toast. That said, both they and I did make it all the way to the sunset.

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GRANDSLAM!

This was the long run, a day of interstellar travel beyond our usual dimensions. A dead calm solar system, StevieZ gladly took Bren and Olaf passenger behind Dory’s windshield, so they could travel warm while me faster to the far away wallaxey!

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930am we all threw the first casts out. The walleye fishing was immediate and silly good. A better average size than what Bren and I had been catching days before. After just two hours I caught my fortieth fish, Steve had forty too and Bren a solid showing of 21. That’s 101 walleye in two hours amazing! We kept some for a second fish fry night.

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In all honesty it’s enjoyable fishing like that and yet I have been spoiled over the years but, I kinda tire of it quickly, Bren does well. There’s little challenge and it’s been done time and again. However, in the brief hours spent this trip, it had been a long time and it’s more than enough fun to make it feel like everything else come rest of the day is really gravy. And so we were like, OK, let’s just go explore now, try a new laker area we’ve never fished, new speck spots and maybe some pike too. Being way far off in a new area of the lake, the weather was prime enough to travel safely and really find a feel for some uncharted waters.

Bren and I dropped spoons in a spot I had marked lakers. Never fished it, not even sure how the intel came to be in the books but, it was a small hole in a big area that was adjacent to some good structures and a feeding flat. We found lakers and Bren reeled a smaller one in. That was mint, now were on the board with lakers and walleyes.

Stevie snuck away in one direction for specks, we tried another. It was a win for both boats. Casting and trolling Bren caught a few and me nothing. That was OK, she had the hot color on for that day. While exploring we passed by a number of places that I had never seen, always wanted to check out, were quite scenic and cool but I just won’t share the pics. Haha! Also we checked out two more campsites, prime locations to awesome fishing too. Again, not sharing. Haha! When we and StevieZ met up he was glued to an awesome spot. The shoal was loaded with cruising whitefish and big speckled trout. Trolling and casting he had already popped a few, then we got one too. The fish on top turned a little spooky with both boats but I can see the whole area being incredible with a little chop and overcast skies. Perfect for casting really. Again, not sharing! Haha.

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Now having that high sun and calm water got me curious of a speckle spot a good shot away. Had to begin making our way back to camp and I think we all wanted an early evening crack at lakers again, followed by sun set pike. Again, both boats went their separate ways. Bren and I pulled up on another big speck shoal and spotted a few roamers about. Got a hook into one!

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We’d scurry along under the hot sun and eventually find Stevie trolling naked over laker waters. Cheeky monkey! He was excited about seeing some fish in a new spot on an old spot but pee’d off he lost a giant. I “hung” around with him awhile, Bren keeping her eyes on the water, but we didn’t catch nothing in quick time so we made haste over yonder to another place. Getting the lines out there we hooked up nice and twice but sadly Bren’s came off. Mine didn’t! Stevie was actually in his Fruit of the Looms and not really buck out.

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Clouds would begin building to the west early evening. The final plan was to try a favorite pike spot we hadn’t even touched yet. Heading on over and in there it wasn’t long before Stevie and I were leaving. Both of us were like, WTF?? The place is generally loaded with fish and I wouldn’t believe that even had one boat been in there, that it could really be fished out. But no boats had been in there, that I was pretty confident. So, where were the fish? Well, we moved along the shoreline into another spot that usually isn’t happening quite as awesome and yeah, we hooked a few pike. But they weren’t anything to write home about. With enough time left we took off for one last chance. It was water I’d seen other boats, including my own but, it at least holds some fish. Well, working the spot it certainly wasn’t gang-busters either. A number of timid followers and boils that missed the mark, yet Bren, Stevie and I got’er done with some good fish.

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Grandslam Bambalam! Bren and I both caught walleye, pike, lakers and specks all in the same day. Those tours on the lake don’t happen that often, I’m not even sure when the last time it was that it did? Maybe never? Think maybe several times I had to replace the walleye with a whitefish.

We had sausages for supper, but not the ones we had out under the sun earlier that afternoon, ya know what I mean jelly beans?
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PARTY TIME GO!!!

Big thundastorm woke us early and for several hours it pounded down. Had a great sleep, always nice sleeping dry and warm in the tent while the skies fall. I sat in the tent looking over some pictures before finally rising to greet the day. Under the pop-up a big breakfast came next, then I condensed all the remaining ice, cold and frozen food into one cooler. Day ten and the frozen food was still frozen and cold stuff cold.

Bren cleaned birch bark she hoped to save for arts and crafts while Stevie napped on and off during the coming hours, he was bored… And kinda bummed too cause his favorite laker bite had been slow and the weather really beating him down for fishable hours. Bren and I were fortunate to have those few extra days ahead of him, the lake was best then.

The boat cleaned, tent cleaned, kitchen cleaned and forest too, I ran out of things to do. Switching on the radio the forecast announced, “squall warning in effect for Lake Nipigon. Take immediate safe harbour.” Yeah, it was just that kinda shitty a day out but at least the rain had long stopped, gave Bren and I the chance for some Gin Rummy.

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While Stevie was back napping mid afternoon Bren and I snuck away nearby to try for pike. Painfully slow we both casted many lures for about an hour. Knowing they had to be around though, I switched gears after awhile to super slow, throwing out some rubber that could be hopped back to the boat. On the first cast it worked mint and I hooked the second super chunk of the trip. Like, really impressive chunky kinda fish!

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Back at camp Amelie had messaged Stevie on the SPOT. Apparently they were calling for wind, wind and more wind all week except for tomorrow morning. That’d be our chance to leave.

We had some pasta for supper and got into the drink. Bren was surprisingly game to fish the evening but us fellas were content with being buzzed by the fire. Sunset came quick.

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Someone had found a big stump to burn and in it, an ant colony. Turned out be quite entertaining watching 100’s of ants vacate their burning building. Little doorway holes were billowing smoke and in some spots the ants had to file out of them one-by-one. Every now and again you’d see one make it out alive, catch its breath and then try turning back in to save its friends and family… but none could do it, not for long anyways. As the inferno raged below the stump, there were ants climbing to the highest points for safety but alas, the heat just too unbearable many chose to jump off the cliffs to kill themselves. It sounds all morbid but shit, they’re just ants and I was feeling the burn of some whiskey and gin on the brain.

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THE BREAKDOWN!

And so we ran like the wind!

With afternoon a 34C high, 42 humidex and gusts figured to hit ’bout 60km/hr by a best guestimate and Amelie’s intel, we ate, packed and made haste for late morning. On route to the launch a number of boats were passed by heading out the other way, so maybe we were wrong about the weather?

Five minutes left in the run back, one of those boats gone by was Rob. Missed him again by only too short a window. At the launch and once ready and packing up, I knocked on his door and met his friend there. Diane was really awesome, and sad too that we missed Rob.

The drive back to StevieZ’s was smooth until just outside of Hearst all the lights on the dash lit up and the computer suddenly flashed, “electrical stabilization control” then, “limit to half power” or something like that. But instead what happened is the truck just stalled while driving and with a narrow shoulder and transport behind me, I nervously pulled over just a couple kilometers outside of Hearst.

Black Betty wouldn’t restart. I called StevieZ quick, he was already at home and from there he got on his way to come pick up the boat. The truck however would need a tow to the dealership in town. A very friendly NAPS officer happened to be passing by and so he pulled over to assist. Turned out he worked some time with Bren’s brother Joe in Attawapiskat. We had a laugh, it is a small world after all.

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Back at Steve and Amelie’s I’ll admit Bren and I were nervous as to what was going on with the truck. Nothing we could do about it until morning, that evening we enjoyed a great meal, some drinks and cards with our friends. We were sad Amelie couldn’t make it this year but overall Bren and I had a great trip, and I think Stevie had an OK time too. “You can plan a pretty picnic but you can’t predict the weather” eh! I’m sorry Miss Jackson.

I got low on the fuel gauge when I was coming into Hearst and thought that may have had something to do with the Black Betty dying on us. Maybe that didn’t help but, what the dealer found in Hearst was, the fuel filter wasn’t quite the right one for the truck. Canadian Tire like 10,000km’s back put some other kind of replacement in. Yeah, before ya say it, I know, I know!! Anyhow, the mechanic in Hearst just said, “seen this happen before, it’s testing fine now.” And it’s been running the past three months no issue. The GMC/Chev dealer in Hearst was awesome to us, putting Black Betty ahead of a long line of vehicles waiting. Bren and I were on the road by noon next day, maybe earlier, and at our doorstep well before bed.

Drive Time.
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Trip Odometer
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It was a good run this one, and we’ll all be happy to do it again… but with Amelie there next time.

Thanks for reading,
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Bunk.
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