Light traffic with some heavy Tool, Rancid and NOFX helping keep me awake. Needed some toothpicks for the eyelids, they were constantly shutting. Pulling the big load across the Province to see friends and head fishing. Campfires, big meals, boozing and fishing on the agenda, the boat was stuffed and the coolers jammed with as much ice and frozen food possible.

Purchased breakfast and lunch to go from Antrim, made pit stops outside of Mattawa and Matheson, as well as fuel fills in North Bay and Kapuskasing. Leah too had picked some crab apples from the tree out back the yard day before, so she sent me off with some muffins. The day one destination as always was StevieZ’s in Mattice and I know the drive would have been done in near record time had I not stopped outside Temagami and helped with this…
.

.
G1 driver hit the guard rail bottom of a hill on a left corner. Likely the vehicle just followed her eyes to what she was looking at. Had to have happened maybe a minute before I arrived for the first fella on scene was out of his vehicle beyond the crash and waving down on coming traffic. Made me second to arrive and once the road was safe I helped three people and their dogs from the over-turned van. All were shaken and stirred but none seemed in trouble. The young driver when finally coming down from her shock began to cry, “DAD’S GONNA KILL ME!” I think Dad will be happy all in the family are OK..?

Amelie treated me as always to a great meal, meatloaf and some wine. Both her and Stevie were kind to listen and let me ramble on about things I can’t hardly remember now. When exhausted talking is about the one thing that can keep the engine running.
.

Day 1. RICH MEN NORTH OF RICHMOND.

Snuck out of Mattice ’bout 5am. The sun wanted to rise in my rear but westward was grey and more rainy the further along the miles. A quick Timmies from Hearst and its relief at Klotz Lake, the drive through to Nipigon was a rather uneventful five hours. Replayed Oliver Anthony’s YouTube hit a few times on the stereo and for some reason wrote in the notes, “Sad Songs Say So Much..?” Must have had an Elton moment. Seriously though, this YouTube guy, what a glory story that is!

Timing was fantastic! I was just filling up the boat with gas when Keith pulled up at the PetroCan. My Thunder Bay buddy would be hanging out with me the first four days of the tour before he’d have to go back to work and StevieZ would take his place. Initially the dates were based on some guiding I might do but that didn’t happen. It so worked out that these two fellas would keep fine company instead.

Keith sent me over to a nearby baitshop for worms. Hadn’t been there before, had a bit of a go finding it but once I did the sign on the house said “open.” Up the stairs to knock on the locked door no one answered. Had walked right by a fridge in the yard plugged in with an extension cord. A note on it had some prices and requested patrons use the honor system by just leaving the money in a box. By the time I figured some shit out the baitshop owner stepped out on the stoop. “Hey man, I figured it out,” I told him. “Just saw the open sign though and thought I’d come in to pay you.” “Naaah, you can read right? Ya just leave the money in the box,” he says. “This box here,” and I point like an idiot to the only box on the fridge that has the signage on it to leave the money in that very box. Just then another dude pulls up so I open the fridge. “Any leeches,” the other guy asks. “Just what’s in the fridge maaaan,” baitshop man replies. Well shit, I’m looking in there at four of the smallest, poorest, sorriest cups of sixteen worm packs I’ve ever seen and so I says, “no leeches in here but I’ll take two worm packs and you take the other two” But then I ask, “hey are these six bucks,” because I’m stupid like that after reading the sign that says worms are six bucks. Baitshop man answers, “for you five bucks!” And right on tilt or some shit I laugh and say, “you know what buddy? I’m gonna give ya six anyways.” To which he sharply replies, “fuck you!” Well I just laughed, paid the stupid box on the fridge and laughed some more.

Readied the boat at the launch while some familiar faces kicking about came over to say hello. Keith and I were both chomping (or is it champing?) at the bit to get out a fish the afternoon. We had enough time to play and opted for lakers first then some specks come sundown. It was a good plan which boated four greys and a speck, most of those were Keith’s to reel in.
.

.

.

.
Keith did BBQ ribs for dinner back at the trailer that evening. Campers about were quiet quick as some rain threatened to come in. Around a short fire we chatted about Arctic char fishing and everything Nipigon too. Some lethal Irish whiskey did us both in.
.

Day 2. STORMY DANIELS OUT THERE!

There was no rush at all come morn. Soggy, soupy rain had settled in and a cold that could see your breath, if that makes sense? Having slept in a trailer I was a little discombobulated too. Luxury living at camp, wasn’t used to that, rather soft and didn’t want to get out of bed really.

Big fronts threatening the day Keith and I would wait around to find the worst slow to arrive. Eventually we said to Hell with it and rode out to go fishing around 11am. We wouldn’t last long, just two hours before a fierce Stormy would bare her wild ways on us. However, we did manage to get good action during the foreplay.
.

.
Back at camp we scarfed down some chowdah and margaritas. While chillin’ we had visitors Tyler come by awhile and Justin too. Tyler had just returned from a trip of a lifetime fishing the Sutton River, can’t say that didn’t make me a little envious… but only a little, it’s a frig of a trip really. Justin was up for a couple weeks with his young son. Enjoying every minute the two were picking away everyday at up’ing their laker and speck counts. Cool to see.

Through the afternoon I’d visit with some other folks like Noel and George who had been out fishing chinooks in the river. Keith would tie some jigs and both of us would charge batteries, fix rods, putter and live out the day. Come evening Keith offered up some of the best smoked chili I have ever had. Big hearty chunks of smoked beef and sausage in a bean-less chili broth that was done in the smoker too. Texas chili he called it, just amazing!

The rain would stop so we could enjoy a fire. Talk of suckerholes, lobsticks, and some of my old days in Attawapiskat, Keith was kind to listen and share.
.

Day 3. KEYS DOWN THE SHITTER HOLE?

Keith and I wanted some fish bad by now. Because we’d sat out most of the day before we hatched a 5am wake-up plan to be first up and at ‘er.

Big breakfast sammies and tar thick coffees for fuel, neither of us got too far too quick from a shitter near the launch. Moments of panic set in when Keith returned to the boat with a tale of woe. Dropping his pants he’d heard a clankity-clank noise and believed his truck keys had fallen into the poopy pit below. He admitted this is actually his “greatest fear” in life. I mean, he actually admitted that THIS is his “greatest fear” in life… and yes, I had to concede that it could actually be right up there near the top of my greater fears too. It’s a pretty darned good one if you think about it because imagine, be stranded in the wilderness and possibly die or, have to sift through the deep, thick, foulest, aged excrements of wonder to be saved. Tough call..? Wasn’t his keys in this case though, just the suspender buckles on his overalls jingling on the toilet seat.

There’s some honest self discovery when heading north. I do it all the time, like ALL THE TIME, and still have plenty to discover. So this morning we set out to discover speckled trout with a plan to go lakers in the afternoon. Keith who had been putting most of the fish in the boat took a back-seat to me early on, popping four little gems until he redeemed himself with one speck, the biggest one, was a grand start!
.

.

.

.

.

.
Keith’s wizardry has been seasoned like a fine cheese. It reeks passing the nares but is delicious to the tongue. He’s got some old cheddar ideas that he serves up just right. This was his speckle fishing to me, a little bit raunchy but right for the occasion. Can’t get twisted into details without giving away his magic but just trust me when I tell yas, it’s a slew foot and slow play ya just don’t see coming until the next thing you know, you’re down and he’s up out-fishing your ass. Was working good enough for him that as soon as the cosmos gave me a hotspot to call for a lifeline, I rang StevieZ and asked him to pick me up some lures before coming to us in a few days.

We finished some chili for lunch back at the launch. A weird old guy was bugging round, interrupting conversations, asking and talking about too much. Some days I’m friendly, some days I’m not in the mood to be friendly. But then Tyler showed up again and it was great chatting with the lad. He’s been a busy boy around the Nip and parts and about to get busier back home with a little one on the way. Hard to imagine that, starting over with my girls… in many, many, many ways I’d be happy to try it over again. They’re great daughters today but I wouldn’t mind more time and chances to right a few wrongs and take in more hugs.

Keith and I tallied up seven lakers that afternoon with the best maybe running around 13 pounds. Something Tyler and I talked about was the lack of fish size this season. I explained were off the four year big fish cycle, having had great years in 21 and 22, and also wondered if the holding late summer conditions had anything to do with it. Pressure too maybe? The place has certainly been busier than ever I told Tyler.

If I think about it, pre-Covid there had always been some rarer moments on the lake which saw heavier traffic. Spring is especially busy with laker, walleye and of late more pike anglers. Have seen a few new websites for Nipigon guides and hear of different names now too. Shit, I may not be local to the place but have certainly put in many trips over the past 15 years, and stayed very connected to the place when away.

Neil, Ayden, the Carrolls, James, Tyler, Adam, Gord, Kyle, Chad, Barry, Darrell, Muzzy… just a few guides off the top of my head as I write. Five years ago it was Gord some, Muzzy and Hardcore maybe doing a little too, Chad too I suppose, and a couple other dudes not overly busy. However, one more seasoned and very much the busiest guide on the lake is a man who rarely ever gets mentioned. He does zero promotion of himself, has no advertisements and yet beyond all these others has likely put in more time on that water having grown up in the Greenstone. Rob Lindsay at Onaman River Resort is a working, fishing, guiding machine who probably spends about 50 to 75 days on the lake a season hauling in more lake trout and specks than anyone. Rob’s may just be the best there is of the Nipigon guide bunch, and been around all over that lake more than most.

Popularity for fishing Canada’s sixth Great Lake has surely increased. Guides have shared with the Lindners of In-Fisherman shooting numerous shows, the Fishn’Canada boys have dropped some waypoints, Angler & Hunter, Izumi (I think?) New Fly Fisher, Chronozey back in the day and certainly other T.V. along with many YouTube offerings have aired. Leagues of American fish-keepers visit the lake annually as well, possibly more anglers from there than our own country fish Nipigon during any given year. A century of Field & Stream and other younger magazine publications have spread lengthy word across our continent in regards to Nipigon’s great fishery. British Royalty and other wealthy sportsmen once visited, to stay at The Royal Windsor in the earlier days of angling, Nipigon’s popularity shared globally at that time. The World Record speck era which was tough on the fishery eventually helped contribute to the near collapse of brook trout, this did take many years to repair. Pressure on the fish and other hurdles may be greater now as well. Hydro dams for decades have had an impact on fish, fluctuating water levels commonly affect spawning habitat. Climate change may be increasing the water temps as some are seeing more pike and walleye inhabiting shorelines once owned primarily to the colder water specks. Commercial First Nation’s whitefish harvests are practiced at all ends of the lake during winter and I have witnessed some troubling by-catches a time or two.

Nearby resorts, campsites, parks and hotels host thousands (yes 1000’s) of seasonal anglers, and a city two hours away along with the locals of the lake all add to the bulk of recreational angling pressure. And nowadays, there are more guides introducing anglers as well, not only by showing spots and tactics which years ago took much more time and effort to acquire but, by fishing even better with new electronics and gear. Lake Nipigon experiences its fair share of fishery challenges and pressure but keep in mind, it’s huge, deep, fertile, protected, managed, extremely under-developed, relatively uninhabited, rather remote and allows only about half of any given year for fishing. If you’re not enjoying it while at the same time improving and adapting your fishing, then Nipigon can be a challenging spot which in the future, may only become more so.

Sunburnt eyes had me crying late afternoon. The strain to retie a leader was all I could manage, just dying on a north wind that slowed fishing to a stand still. Pike sucked, barely tried but sucked anyways. A few more speck spots coughed up nothing. I did mention we caught seven lakers, apparently the last seven of them in the whole lake.

Keith created a masterpiece back at the trailer. Sausage stuffed pork chops and perogies… my Lord! Around the fire I shared a few tales of being on shrooms back when I was young and fun, otherwise the stories sang like old country songs… until we talked about girls. Yes, girls from back in the day cause that’s what boys talk about sometimes when girls aren’t around. We love girls… and in the bush I often dream of coming upon like four of them at a time, stranded some place and very happy to meet me.
.

Day 4. HOMER. DOH!!!

Another whopper of a breakfast munch to start the day right. Cold, dreary and later to get rolling, Keith and I expected moderate SW winds and sun.

At the launch some Yanks were putting in. Newbies to the lake their plan was to drive out there, find a camp and fish the week away. Ambitious. They mentioned to Keith that it “doesn’t seem people want to give much information about the lake.” Allegedly it’s fished out, perhaps that’s why?
.

.
I’d get on the horn to StevieZ and Bren when cruising through a one-bar cell range but otherwise the morning was pretty slooooow on specks, lakers and even two seconds of pike casting. For shits and giggles and because Keith has been rather intrigued a few times, we decided to hook-up the LiveScope and scan about some spots.

The toy is cool to use and see but at times is too much a distraction which steals your fishing mojo. Off a lake shoal scanning forward mode and then later while trolling we watched our lures on the Garmin and, watched how fish behaved to our offerings. There is definitely a learning curve for when scanning, driving and fishing. Minnkota remote in one hand, LiveScope pole in the other and one rod ready to cast or drop. Spotlock is your friend, wind not so much.

Keith had to go home mid afternoon, the fishing sucked anyways, just one laker for our efforts, the last one in the lake apparently. Once he was gone I had decided to make camp out on the lake, but first I had to visit or navigate many people hanging around the launch.

Nice to talk with Noel, George and Justin, all of whom had stellar lake trout catches for the day. They were gracious to share what spoons had been working. We’d been pulling the same but our heads were too far up the Garmin’s ass to pay good attention to actual fishing. I also met a Curt, nice fella who has an actual cabin on the lake. Annoying old weird guy was around again too, I think he got the hint after trying and prying to make small talk around the dock for a few minutes. Just brushed him off, no eye contact, cause if ya do he’ll tractor beam suck ya right into his mothership of odd.

Couple hours the new camp was set and it left me with a sunset to play for specks. Nada nothing for the effort. Called it a bit early actually, made some ravioli for dinner and tucked away soon after.
.

Day 5. THE WAIT, THE WONDER.

Heavy rains took the morning while I waited around the launch for StevieZ’s arrival. Justin was about too, we had a nice long visit and some extra coffee.

Eventually after lunch around the time the skies were clearing, The Agent of Mission Fishin’ Impossible fame, the one, the only, my right hand and funny man Stevie Zebco rolled up in his wife’s “Milf Mobile” minivan. What an entrance for such a strong supporting actor, like fuck dude!?!

Deep in the back of his Milf he had laid plenty dry wood to burn for his fires. His rod was ready to go too. In that box there was plenty packed, some bits hung about a little dirty and disorganized butt most were tucked up neat and pretty. All-in-all the Agent had done a good job keeping his full load from making a mess in his Milf.

Big hugs for the lug and Stevie proceeds to drop a bomb. “Got some bad news. I gotta go home Thursday morning.” That’s in like three days instead of the expected seven. “Yeah, have to attend a funeral, my uncle passed away.” Ohhh shit I thought, or said, or thought and said. So after some deliberation as to our best approach to fishing and camping at this point, it was decided I’d be breaking that camp which was just set-up and instead pitch our tents and stay at Keith’s trailer. That way when Stevie goes home, Keith would be returning with his son Kaden anyways, and I’d have company. Besides, come the weekend Keith’s wife and daughter were to arrive as well and it’d be full on feast and festive then. Roll with the punches I guess, but poor StevieZ, he’s had some bad luck with the lake trips of recent trips.

Six hours fishing was what remained of the day. We got on with lakers and off on specks. Went three and three during threats of thunderstorms. Stevie was a total wreck too. Broke a rod, snapped off a bunch of lures and line, bird nested his spinning reel. I think he probably cost himself a couple hundred in lost and destroyed gear just out of the gate. Holy Hell! Anyways, I called Keith to let him know the change in our plans as well, and he was of course, as always, most accommodating. Here’s Stevie with his hands full when things went right a moment.
.

.

.
Water temperature up to this point was parked on the sucky line at 60-63F. Bit too hot for specks, bit too cold for pike. Sure, fish will bite in most anything but I find these temps are shite for both. If it gets hotter the pike might rock, drop down into the 50’s and the specks will roll. Lakers however, they’re hit and miss but when hitting it might be on the troll, jig or cast. Well, not so much the cast in the 60’s.

After spaghetti Stevie and I sunk into our lawn chairs to enjoy a raging warm fire and the drink. Bit of a NW breeze, cooler air temps, he started up his little Honda genny and we charged some batteries. Was good to get some boat and fish time with my buddy. Our annual ice trips we usually have breakfast together, then a late supper later and crash out. Rest of our time is in separate ice huts. Spring trips too we certainly get to hang out more with our wives around, yet we’re not fishing together all day. Just good company to have in the boat.

Talk of highschool sweethearts right up to getting old, the flame burned lower. Eventually I slid into the trailer and Stevie took to the tent. At 5:20am I woke to a click-clunk sound that repeated itself. Keith’s batteries were getting low and the fridge pilot was out. Ferfacksakes!
.

Day 6. SHORELUNCH.

All wet.

Woke around 8am. No rush, sogged out! Noel and George kindly offered to help assess the fridge, that’s how I ended up knowing it was a battery, generator, push-a-button kinda issue. Not my castle to rule but FFS the last thing you’d want is the King to return to rotten food.

Very few people on the lake today. In fact, a couple boats launched and retreated pretty quick. Stevie and I stayed out and plenty seas were rough. Fished leeward sides of shorelines and picked apart what calm pockets we could for specks. Thought about trying pike but the shallower you went into the flat bays, the colder the water got, just wasn’t feeling that.

Stevie and I talk a lot about wives, women and other horndog shit. Not gonna lie, after a week away you get to missing things. Truth be told though, you’re spending hours and hours in the boat together and the conversations end up being about a million different topics, it just that with that one, (and the fishing) it comes up more often. We’re men who love women, plain and simple… and shit, I’ve been working my adult life with plenty of women over the years, and yeah, they talk about men quite a lot too.

Good handle on things in the morning. We broke some of the camp down to take back with us but left the tent and gazebo to dry out. In the meantime we toured about where we could for specks. Had just been telling Steve about this one spot where I’d only ever seen one trout caught ever, on the first trip to Nipigon, and nothing since. Well, a cast later I hooked into this.
.

.
That would end up being the big pike of the trip at 44 ½ inches. Skinny but mean, it gave me the gears on light trout tackle. Released it and just like that another fish hit the lure. Quality speck! On a roll.
.

.
Stomachs growling we toured off for a nearby protected beach. Lunch on shore is pretty well something I stop for everyday. Stevie and I would share some of my premade seafood chowder this day. Loaded with cod, scallops, shrimp, clams and crabmeat there’s also potato, carrot, onion, green onion, mushrooms, corn, bacon, butter/flour rue, milk, shrimp and chicken stock, pepper, white pepper, dill, bit of garlic and lotsa love. While I cooked, Stevie played with his toy, but not too far away, it was windy.
.

.

.
Surface temps on the water were cooling off. Many places on the big lake have drastic temperature changes due to prevailing winds. The stronger the winds the more quick the change. The hard blows this day were pushing the hot water away while colder was circulating in. This is not like the turnover at the thermocline when bottom flips over to top but rather just what occurs at the surface with water mixing. It happens on every lake, everywhere, but on Nipigon the degrees of rising and falling temps can be huge because, just under the surface is always a lake that remains quite cold.

The specks were beginning to roll a little more now that the topside had fallen to 58-60F. Just that bit cooler puts them closer to their comfort range while slowing some pike activity. Got a few more nice ones in the evening.
.

.

.
The lake calmed right to flat around suppertime. The wind had gone south to north a time but then died. I made remark to Stevie how it seemed crazy we had the place to ourselves, not another boat seen since morning. A weekend just ahead I figured we best enjoy the tranquility now.

Ate lots today, other than the chowder we split a big beef wrap and some cheese and crackers. Now and again I’d dip into some licorice and Stevie his chocolate nut mix. Come supper we were still hungry enough to eat five fajitas a piece. Washing it all down, beer, rye, gin and scotch.
.

Day 7. STEVIE BIG JIG SHOOTER.

On the water for 9am. The old us, like 6 or 7am, the new me… frig that! A young horse runs fast, an old horse knows how to run.

First spot surprisingly all to ourselves was a dud. Stevie played with his toy while we remained fishless. We were on tour anyways, the day was calling for calm and we needed to investigate some things further out.
.

.

.
Our plan turned out to be shit too. Water temps warmed as we approached what we had hoped would be an active area for shallower or deeper staged lakers, both weren’t happening. We booked it outta there and on to greener pastures.

A very hot sun turned me lips, nose and ears rather crispy throughout the day. It was calm, the stable flies emerged and set out to attack any exposed ankles. They’re soooo annoying! Before a late lunch Stevie and I did some trolling for lakers and drilled into a good five. Breaking for a meal, while cooking some stew Stevie knew what to do. Like those damn flies he sent up the drone and buzzed some anglers fishing in the area.
.

.

.
Through the afternoon we went for the jigs. With the advantage of LiveScope we scanned plenty of fertile water holding bait and active lakers. Will admit we were both horny to play and it was sometimes tricky as to who was going to drop or cast onto what? Like, whose turn is it? How many chances do you get before it’s the other guys turn? Will add though, what an advantage for finding, positioning and presenting to fish. It has been Stevie who has for years been craving and raving over this tech but me who has always been reserved. For one, it is expensive. For two, it was shittier five, four, three even two years ago but is improving and, for the longest time I questioned the overall advantages. Stevie has always kept on me, convinced of its pros. Today, the more I use Garmin’s LiveScope the more it impresses me. Can’t say I pull it out often but on tough bites and when searching fish it has helped me put more walleye, pike and lakers in the boat.

The afternoon was a riot and one we won’t forget. Stevie’s been holding out for a sale on the transducer and box but I think he’s finally given in. He has to have it. The jig game was just too much fun. Being able to target the bigger fish showing on screen proved a success. I managed a decent one of three caught but the Agent crushed his first open water lakers with two of three being 17 and 20 pounds. There is something to be said about the cost of that happiness… a cost I swallowed and one he surely will too, very soon.
.

.

.

.
Lakers and gar are two fish which I’m confident with understanding and catching. The big deep greys are predictable enough and when you find them, 9 times out of 10 they present themselves to you on sonar with recognizable behaviors. Standard 2D sonar play from the boat or ice, jigging or trolling, it often doesn’t take but a handful of marked fish to know what you’re in for. In recent years one of the more eye-opening tactics came from Keith. A Great Lakes salmon troller he added a new element to the game during a tough bite a couple summers back. That’s what LiveScope is doing as well. Adding more! The interaction is real time on the vertical but now totally present within a horizontal field as well. Fist bump to Stevie on his jiggy piggy PB, we sped off for the launch after a great day.
.

.
Keith and Kaden arrived later on to the trailer and we had a big fire. Lots of booze, so much so Stevie considered setting his oldest daughter up with Keith’s boy Kaden. It was awkwardly funny… although, it may have been me that suggested it. They’re both good and smart kids.
.

Day 8. A HARD F$&# POUNDIN’!

Now we’ll get to the title of this day in a bit.

Mountainous Dews on the boats come morning. Stevie had to depart for home, the funeral, the teetering despondency of all that is that.

Remaining behind with Keith and Kaden, two boats set out under sunshine across a calm lake. The hope was to run awhile to a laker spot I’d only ever fished in spring and early summer. For late summer, almost fall fishing I had no idea what to expect.

We put lines down around 10am and trolled in search of lakers. Nothing to be seen. Some bait balls scattered at various depths here and there, no arcs I decided to relocate nearby. On each of three old waypoints rounding a bend the lone rigger rod fired. Two for three came topside, neither anything to brag about. Within about an hour of switching things up though, was suddenly a decent 3 for 5 with the laketrout dancing their ways up to “Don’t Worry Be Happy,” “Born On The Bayou” and “It’s A Long Way To The Top.” Good song choices on the Spotify I had the tunes blasting out there on the lake and my party shirt on. When Keith and Kaden caught up, even they started tuning into fish too.
.

.

.
We beached our boats together for a lunch on shore. It was like, my fifth chili meal in a week and it was kinda just too hard to really stomach. Ate as much as I could before tossing the rest.

Early afternoon the south winds were picking up but we tucked into a calm bay to cast for pike. A few snot rockets hit the line despite the water temps in there being the same or colder than the main lake. Never a good sign with pike.

Splitting off from the fellas I chose to go back to try LiveScoping and laker jigging. It was a move which paid off, managing five greys to the boat and several more lost. Admittedly I was under-gunned for it, preferring to drop faster, smaller offerings on lighter line. In winter I’ll use 15lb main braid and to a 15lb floro leader. This set-up also stands up to Arctic char on work trips to Nunavut. In many ways I’m confident with the test being enough but on this day I hooked into a fish that just destroyed it. Who knows if it was a big foul hooked trout or an even bigger fish with the lure in its mouth? When it decided to take a run it ran so hard like a fresh chromer steelie or sea char and it split my line at the uni-to-uni knot. Damn!… Got just the pic of this average fish instead.
.

.
Cooked up some ravioli which Kaden raved about. Back at the trailer Justin popped over for a couple drinks, he was planning this to be his last night of a two week trip. More and more people started showing up in camp and outta nowhere wandered over this dude. The weekend was upon us and he was nearly three sheets to the wind. At first he seemed rather friendly funny but after listening to this Southern Ontario boonies bush yokel ramble for what seemed like an eternity, I swear it turned into Chinese water torture. His words, his semi-drunkedness and his lack of self awareness in seeing that everyone wasn’t making eye contact and keeping their responses real short, all just wanted him to shuddup. I finally had heard enough. “You said you were camped out on the lake, maybe now that it’s getting dark and you have to get back you should slow down on the booze some?” “Ohhhh well let me tell youz I rode those twenty footers in here today. The lake can get real big but I’ve had it before and am good and ready for another hard fuck pounding” he boasts!” We’re all kinda chuckling at this point though, cause the spoken yokel English language with a slurry exclamation on “a hard fuck pounding” is a special voice one has to let marinate to appreciate. The fact that he was kinda drunk, rather peacockstruck with himself and oblivious to actual wave heights he might survive in the dark it was young and wise Kaden who asked, “do you think Dad we should give him a ride?” My answer would be no, he can sleep in a mud puddle on dry land and the rest of us can enjoy our whiskeys but, I says to him, “where’s camp at?” His reply… “well, you know that island out there with the bay on it? You go to the end of it then you take a right, no a left, yeah a left and we’re on the beach there. But, I’m supposed to be meeting a guy here tonight at 8 o’clock who I met here at the launch last year.” “Well, it’s getting on past nine now and the lights almost out so you best get heading on.” Thank God it got through to him.

He lived, we saw him again a few days later when he wandered into camp again but that time, as nice as he tries to be, he made a quick exit. I can talk a lot but this dood just talked a lot of dumb, incessantly.
.

Day 9. VIDEO GAMES IN THE GALES.

A few other boats started out early in the morning but most either retreated to one calm area or packed up for home. An offshore wind had to be gusting 60 maybe 70K at times. A small fetch by the launch, even it was bumping two footers just a kilometer from land.

Began with lakers on the only bit of real estate I safely could. Bouncing around the Terrova sometimes worked hard at 10 to hold position and the main motor idled nearly all day. The LiveScope in such conditions did well to spot some of the many cruising lakers that were scattered all over the water column in 60 to 80fow. The first drop was magic! Marked a big fish cruising up twenty off bottom and rang his bell on the drop. The fish inhaled it before giving a few soft chokes and head shakes. Pressure applied though, it suddenly got mad and went to bottom and would not move.

I pulled and pulled some more, kept best on it I could. Was using the same rod again that lost the big fish the other day but this time I’d beefed up the lead to 20-pound. Bouncing a bit in the waves on Spotlock the laker below slowly took line. Didn’t run at all but just walked it off the reel like it was going a couple blocks over to the corner store for a pack of smokes. There wasn’t much I had left on the Shimano to stop it either, so I pushed the anchor button to off and started to turn and drift quick with the wind and waves. Sitting on the deck to better balance I then tightened up the reels drag a little to harder work this trout. I tugged onto that fish with more power just then and it suddenly gave this huge hammer head shake and snapped the line… right at the uni knot between leader and main again. This fish eclipsed the other one that had ruined me. First one a round one fast swinger, this one just a calm powerhouse. I was pissed off to lose another tank!

Ended the laker run at 9 for 13. None huge but a respectable pair around 15 pounds. Wasn’t about to set up tripods and shoot photos on that roller coaster. By end of a late lunch too it was too much out there in the waves so I chose some calmer shores nearby and ducked in for specks.

Several other boats were working or had thoroughly worked the small area already. Arriving I wasn’t sure my place a minute but then saw an opening and took it. Started on the cast like everyone else was seen doing and that produced nada. Soon as the tiller geared into troll mode I had three quick hitchhikers along for the ride. Smash, smash, suuhmash!
.

.
Nine lakers and three specks on a tough wind shortened day, I’ll take it!

Back at the trailer Keith’s wife Darilynn had arrived. She brought Timbits. Another lake lover Chris had also come into camp and was setting up his rig for an early morning departure. His plan, camp out on the lake some place for the week and burn fuel like he’s one of those Rich Men North of Richmond. For the night though, Chris would join us at the campfire and say many funny things, one being, “I remember when I was kid reading the first Solo Roady, I was maybe like seventeen..?” Made me feel kind of old right. Yeah, I’m nearing the big 5-0 FFS and my fiery reds are falling to ash, but there’s still breath in my lungs and some people think I’m hardcore. Haha! Chris even said that when he saw my toothbrush and paste in the boat, “hardcore.” The first Solo Roady was 2013 though and Chris realized he would have been about 21 at the time, me 37. That 2013 trip he talks about… that was one to remember. I took that trip to really think about my work life back then, and made a decision to return north on contracts. Worked out great!
.

Day 10. ME, THE KID & ASPARAGUS PISS.

And the weekend arrives with high traffic, congestion, horns beeping, banging and clanging, talky talkers conversing before sun-up and a shitter house that come first breath could melt you from the inside out. Best laid plan was to poop pronto and punch it.

Kaden would be my wing man today. Keith and Darilynn off in their boat, I was looking forward to reuniting with their highschool boy. Couple years ago we did a morning together and he had a banner time catching a couple specks and a laker over twenty pounds. His hope was that I would save the day again this time around because his dad, well he’d sorta been in a slump since his return. Shhhhh don’t tell him I said that. Some oldie pics here of Kaden…
.

.

.
The water temps were the coldest they’d been yet. Had a good feeling the specks would be on. Most areas were likely taking a weekend shit kicking already but I got thinking of a place that no one had touched the day before and, maybe none had visited since. We took off for that action.

A quick troll put some in the boat. Lost a two and caught two. After hitting a pair in one spot we came back on it to cast. I had a follow out but Kaden had a bigger follow to the boat. “What do I do, what do I do,” he asked. “Keep it in the water, keep it moving, drop it deeper some if you can.” The fish had to have made two dozen swipes at Kaden’s lure without getting on. Two or three times I cried, “it’s in its mouth, set the hook!” Finally Kaden did and he nailed his second of the day. He loved that! Great start, said he has “never done that before, and that was so awesome!”
.

.

.

.
Satisfied we changed up to lakers. Kaden was especially curious about the LiveScope and jigging game. He’d never jigged up a laker so before getting too crazy with the big electronics I gave a bit of a crash course while on standard sonar first. Explained some of the nuances that go along with vertical jigging, watching fish behavior on the initial drop and subsequent drops if need be. Went over lure confusion, “the freebie,” ground and pound, gauging fish response, good and bad lure movements, just stuff really as to how I see and respond to what’s being viewed on 2D sonar. It’s an easy game like Missile Command sometimes, other times it’s Chess, but one thing it doesn’t have to be in a boat is a game that unlike on the ice, you have to invest a lot of time into for any one fish.

Kaden was interested in all of it and took direction well. After some drops he was putting the theories into practice and asking or calling out his next moves. On what I was viewing as a tougher jig bite with most fish belly to bottom and only few floating feeders up higher and non-aggressive, Kaden managed to come through and catch his first jigging fish.
.

.
We’d go four lakers on that bite before relocating. Where I had been seeing fish stacked prior to the temperature drop, they were no longer around. Setting out in search I stumbled upon a new-to-me hump that rose from 60fow up to 30. There on the structure were some shallower fish, right on the top and off the sides. First drop on a decent arc and I popped one.
.

.
After a short and shitty stew shorelunch, later that afternoon we switched to specks. The MNR alongside the OPP were out on the lake checking boaters for what I heard was just about everything. They’d started their way over to us at one point but veered off. Maybe it was my good man C.O. Nico who spared me the time and effort? Kaden and I weren’t having much luck with the specks anyways, and both of us were running short of steam under the hot sun but we kept plugging away at ‘em. One lone whitey taken off the Second Button Shoal was the only fish taken casting.
.

.
Finally we’d go LiveScope some more lakers for the slow evening bite. Me and the kid picked up another two but they didn’t come easy. However, Kaden was just happy enough to see how the new tech showed fish and before long I sat up on the bow to enjoy a snack and break while he took full control of the MinnKota and Garmin. No fish were caught but he was confidently dropping on ‘em with just the right ideas in mind.

That night back at the trailer we celebrated Keith’s birthday in fine fashion. Steaks, short ribs, salad, taters, garlic bread and cake it was a full on gastrogasm. Keith’s friend Clay (a commercial & bush pilot from the Sioux) came into camp. It had been a long day with an early wake up call, the fire was a low and slow burn like the fishing had been, and eleven days without a shower my skin was crawling. The booze was quick to the head and during our meal all sorts of oddities were spoken, in particular, asparagus piss. Now “some” say; and they know who they are, that you have to have the “trait” that makes your pee smell weird after eating asparagus. Some say there’s no trait at all, asparagus piss if for everyone. All I know is, asparagus piss has a pretty interesting smell to it, so much so that I find it rather intriguing. Greasy fried and burnt out I fell hard asleep after playing so hard and thinking so much all day.
.

Day 11. FULL SCOPE.

Had decided to call it a trip and make this the final day of fishing. Expected to be hot, hotter tomorrow, even hotter the next day and it was best practice to pack up all things next morning while dry. For this day however the hope was to catch some quick specks on the sunrise, maybe probe a few offshore weedbeds for a picture pike, chase some lakers and then repeat whatever fishing was going best.

At the launch a rando was curious about the fishing, asking questions. Where do you find such and such, can you do such and such. He wasn’t directing much at me but rather other randos waiting around. The weekend and all it was busy first thing. Before I could answer he’d answer his own questions, and another guy would pipe up with the most ridiculous accounts of catching millions of monster fish during the past days. It’s crazy to me what some will say and what others might believe yet there are days magic certainly happens. Sometimes I’ve told such stories myself, the kinds that people might raise an eyebrow too and call bullshit. The website, words and photos as my proof will often resolve any of their questions. Yet, here I am often skeptical of those who tell tall tales and never have any proof of it.

Picked up four quick specks on the morning bite and another in the late afternoon while trolling lakers. Nothing of size but rewarding nonetheless.
.

.
On a search for lakers I found several of the jigging grounds were completely void of fish. It was late morning, maybe noonish that Keith with his boat full of family mentioned that while he was speck fishing he caught two lakers. Yes, that’s what I’ll do then, go shallow. It seemed weird to do this because surface temps under the hot sun were warming and not cooling but in some areas, the thermometer was only 52-59F and while during the few days earlier the lakers took advantage of new pastures to roam.

Started on a troll in 20 to 40fow, long-lining and bang! Fish on!! Moved along further and again, another laker. The next hour or so I had a snack, relieved myself some place and spent time mapping out the structure of the area while still trolling. Mr. Rando Inquisitivo from the dock that morning shit-hawked me awhile too, loved to punch right in front of me on the troll line. Finishing, I went back to the two waypoints I hit fish, trolled by and popped two more on each. Now I had spots to cast and when first side-scanning one of them I was blown away once seeing the stack of trout. LiveScope down it was even more impressive, motherlode!

Before taking a first cast I had six lakers on the day and under three hours pushed that to about 25. It was totally awesome scoping fish and making the perfect casts and presentations to them. The once vertical jig game only was now open to the whole wide aqua world. The horizontal play again made every moment interesting and fun.

Much of the time I was sitting for the casts but now and again on the screen I’d know the fish was about to hit and that got me standing for hooksets. Keith, Clay and Kaden eventually came over to the same area and during the last hour I was sometimes scanning and calling out to where they should cast. The full scope turned what would have been fun fishing already, into even more funner!

Back at the trailer that evening Keith and Clay managed to first fix the busted recoil on his generator before we’d all settle in for a big fish fry. I had kept a small laker day before and Clay brought walleye. Two different fish crisps, lemon, tartar, macaroni and potato salad we relished another perfect meal.

Around the campfire Clay and Keith shared incredible stories of moose and fishing in far off, remote fly-in only places. I shared of Great Bear Lake and the trout there, and some rough sea experiences. A delicious rum to sip; Bumboo or something like that, before some GlenLivet, we were toasting a good time, and me a great finish to the trip. Excellent company to be in.
.

Day 12. DROP THE MIKE.

Fishing was slower for me overall, about one an hour specks or lakers. Very little pike to bother with and the specks were rather pressured, small, and generally off for the most part. A late summer the lingering conditions weren’t as advanced as I would have liked but that’s how she goes sometimes. Forced to adapt. Oddly in the river the chinook were early and big fish biting well, but the lake itself seemed conditional to other elements. Didn’t much care though, from onset I knew this would be a different go than normal, a little out of my comfort zone and much more social. Had a great time with Keith and family, Stevie and others. Good people, campfires, amazing food and great weather made this one a trip for the books, as did learning a variety of new things on the water. Did sting snapping off those big lakers although we surely boated a tonne of them this season including Stevie’s best jigged fish and Kaden’s first too. Laker fishing was quite amazing actually, and so was the new toy.

Said my goodbyes in the morning, blazed some tunes while packing up and hit the road. On route home I bumped into an old friend, Mikey. He was heading up for a week as I was heading home, so told that stranger he better let me know how he does out there. His new boat in tow he had high hopes of exploring and banging out some pike, lakers and specks. Got me thinking as I drove on afterwards, how much that place sinks into everyone who visits, and yeah I might be responsible for that with some others. Nipigon turns over new and old faces like it does its fish and foliage each season, endlessly, like its rocky shorelines. There are many ways to both get lost and find yourself there, each experience something to remember.
.

.
Thanks for reading and thanks to StevieZ for the cool drone shots!
.

Bunk.