I had rigged the CD’s from the start and Bren was none too happy about it! Ohhhh friggin’ well, it’s a 16 hour drive and there was no way in Hell this time around I was about to endure Tina Turner pre Private Dancer or, any BeeGees deader than Stayin’ Alive. We pulled out of the driveway at 7:15am pointing the compass west to Nipigon. Missing out on a perfect sunny gar fishing day, Doc and Woody were especially on for the morning and they kept us in good enough spirits.

Up through to Mattawa, North Bay and Temagami we made great time. Pulled out a couple special Harvey’s coupons in New Liskeard and ate one thick fart maker of a chicken wrap. Liking to haul the big rig too, taking the wheel Bren drove the next hours through to Cochrane, when from there I slid us on home into Steve and Amelie’s base in Mattice.
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THE SPLOOSH DOUCHE.

The Blues won Lord Stanley that evening. While visiting I sipped on some 18 year old Highland Park and caught up with our hosts. See, I surprised Stevie this year. Up until days before our departure I hadn’t come to any conclusion on where we were heading on Lake Nipigon. But a last minute call to my friend Rob at his resort was the deciding factor. All of us early to bed, I slept about four winks and woke with spicy bad guts just after 4:00am, then just tossed and turned a couple hours more. Eager to get along though, we snuck away sixty minutes before Steve and Am did. By about noon, our remaining drive would see us arrive safe and sound at Onaman River Resort.

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Not off on some charter, Rob was right there in the driveway to greet us. I always enjoy seeing him and finding out what he’s been up to and working on. It is incredible what he has in him to run that big a show out there kinda right off the grid. The Resort looked mint! All the cabins occupied. The changed camp area is more open to breeze and the new shower-house much nicer than the old. Off to the side along a treeline we noticed his floating cabin sitting high and dry, when I mentioned it to Rob he just had to give us a viewing. He built it entirely and finished so much with fine detail, it was slick!

Bren and I were packing and unpacking the truck and boat when Steve and Amelie rode in to begin the same. Plenty of daylight left, we took our time finding a suitable campsite and setting up home. With thunderstorms rolling in come early evening it was good to have everything ready and in place, and we did! So all that left time for in the end was a spaghetti dinner, short campfire and a long scotchy scotchy scaaaaaahhhtch… Mmmmmmmm that’s good.
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MAN OVERBOARD!!!

Loons and other bird noises, chippels and squirrmunks, all could have been delightful to wake up to but naaaah, instead from half a mile away Stevie’s snoring entirely muffled all that natural orchestra right out. Rain through the night the morning came still and damp with threats of even more to precip to come. At 5:30am I flicked the switch on the buddy heater and took a good dose of heat to dress myself to. The older I get the more I like that kinda comfort shit, and Bren who totally mummifies herself in blanket layers, well she certainly didn’t complain about the heat either… until it was “too hot!”

Feeling fun and punchy I could have picked on anyone, a fresh air sound sleep the battery was full. This trip had COLOSSAL plans if the weather would co-operate. With the exception of a day or two to fish familiar waters, this time I wanted to find, see and do soooo much more than usual. Not just talking gastroenterology here, butt, big runs and lots of gas was fully intended for “Bambalam” (aka, my boat) and for each and everyone of our foursome to get as far away from everyone else out there on the lake. And, hopefully get into some serious good fishing.

Well, guess you gotta start somewhere eh…? Into the rains, at least the lake was glass.

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On new waters “Dory” (Steve and Amelie’s boat) and Bambalam parted ways. They wanted lakers to start, Brenda didn’t care what we fished but I was more into seeking out specks or pike. First shorelines were uninviting to trout appearing more suitable to toothy fish, and that’s exactly what we found stacked up within minutes. Bren’s first fish was a 38-incher! We caught a number of others about the same size although because it started raining pretty near as soon as we began fishing, the camera didn’t come out often.

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At some point and time Steve and Am did temporarily abort the laker hunt and in turn got into their first couple pikers as well. In the pour, here’s Amelie with their best.

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Shortly after the noon hour the rain let up but the cool air and clouds remained, this only helped make the pike fishing better. Rather than them being all lazing and warming in the sun, watchful and spooky of things odd like us about them, they instead took to roaming about more under the dimmer light. On Nipigon if I could choose the perfect pike morning it’d be calm and sunny, the midday into afternoon be cloudy with some slight wind and ripple, and the evening be a mix of sun and cloud with a light breeze too. OK! Admittedly I was just making that up on the fly here, but under review it could very well be right on. Bren and I through the afternoon found another new area bloated with pike. The boat would move 15-20 feet on the trolling motor and one, two, three, maybe four would boil and dart away spooked. Long casts fooled many pike, and BIG pike too. Over the couple hours while fishing, eating and taking a break to just dry out, we boated four over forty inches, two each, and Brenda getting the best nearing 44. Fish 35-40 inches were abundant, the said, conditions were just right!

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We’d packed some turkey wraps for lunch and after scarfing them down we started picking our way back to the camp. On route the specks were non-existent, we gave it a whirl for a couple hours anyways. A 4:00pm thunderstorm brought Bambalam and Dory together again so we decided on heading to shore for an early fajita dinner and to wait it out. Couple hours passed and when the rains let up I invited all into my Lund for a special treat. We took off again, leaving Dory beached behind us, and sped off to a pike bay I figured would have a few waiting. Turned out, they were doing just that.

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The hour was 7:00pm when we started and by 9:00pm eleven pike 40 inches and greater came over the gunnels. Guessing it would be pandemonium I didn’t pick up a rod until things slowed down around 8:30pm or so. By my count, there were four triple headers, a forgotten number of double headers and I was absolutely spent while on my knees grabbing fish, releasing fish, measuring fish and photographing fish. Amelie crushed it with seven over forty and a fat 44.5 incher new personal best. Steve picked up a fat 44 too. Bren took long fish honors with a 45 incher then followed it up with a 41… and when I finally took a turn, there was one more forty incher waiting. It was a magical night all together in the boat we’ll never forget, at times total chaos… and somewhere in the midst of it all, while reviving a fish Stevie got himself a little too far past the gunnel when he suddenly slid over and fell in the lake. Two of us couldn’t lift him back in and so although I often find that ladder annoyingly in the way off the transom, for the first time I was happy for it being there. I had to snap a pic. Our superstar kept fishing too. And awhile later, Brenda slipped on the shoreline and slid into the lake to her bum too. Fackin’ crazy kids man!

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It might honestly go down as my favorite time on the trip. We didn’t photograph everything because once you catch fish a certain size you’re kinda like, why bother taking pics with smaller? That said, sometimes we would, but on this evening everyone just wanted to keep casting and catching big fish, and besides that, I was too busy at times with anglers hooked up and waiting in line for me to judge their catches size then unhook their fish. Smiling as I write now, this one pike day totally made up for the tough piking we had the year before. Best part was, two of us didn’t get wet and had a dry and warmer ride back to camp.
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MOTHERLODE PIKE.

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Stack a couple thick slices of fried buttery back bacon on a toasted everything bagel loaded up with cream cheese and add a little mustard… that’s what breakfast is EVERY morning on Nipigon. The big fuelwich sunrise is what I prescribe to anyone starting early for a full day of fishing and adventuring on any great stage. We were slower to get moving though, tired from the day before and the cheers that came afterwards, but it was around 9:00am under clearing skies when we set out to new waters in first search of early morning pike.

The lakes smelt had cycled into a huge die-off. Unlike anything I have EVER seen, floating dead smelt were everywhere washed up on shorelines or adrift on the expanses of blue. Hafta admit, it got me scratching the noggin’ wondering how all this easy food was affecting fish other than the pike. To add to things, the lake now calming, sun arriving, seasonal mosquitoes, blackflies, midge, early mayflies and other stupid insectivoidinals hatching, how would all this screw with our fish God’s heads too? I mean c’mon Nipigon! Why don’t you just blow all your load at once over this one week so my lures become totally ineffective and my usual awesome fish karma just goes straight to Shitsville. To make things even more challenging, the water temps sucked! Correction, the water temps sucked for specks! Obviously where warm for pike they were good and, 46 to 51-ish is right in the wheelhouse for lakers. But alas, we’ll get to those fish later cause on this morning, the agenda was search out new pike… AND DESTROY!

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Sometimes we get a little side-tracked though. On Lake Nipigon, especially the northern half, large colonies of pelican are the norm. Rare around the rest of Ontario, it seems the Greenstone hoards much of the best populations. Been up north elsewhere in many a places and never before had seen them around, not even on the south end of this lake. They’re quite the big deal! On calm flat days you’ll spot the sun shine off one in the distance and now and again you’ll think it’s a boat way out there far away. But nope, it’s just a big beaked pelican floating along doing it’s thing.

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It was a real beauty of a morning out there. First couple spots we tried for pike were a “swing and a miss.” Those fish had to be close by but, one condition caused by another resulted in their absence… and that’s all I’m going to say about that.

As time passed on searching, we were getting warmer.

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Had high hopes for a final stop in mind. A large area as we crept in deeper and deeper the water temps just kept rising and rising. We found a bubble bath, shallow, soft-bottomed, a bit of sparse new weed here and there, it screamed perfect! Dory and Bambalam were at first too fixated on moving, covering ground and probing into the back alleys… and that’s when I noticed fish pulling out behind us into the deeper water. Once realizing this, we turned back on them to cast the belly of the beast, and that’s where and when we found soooo much goodness waiting.

To note it right I will say… this day, or in fact, this 2 1/2 hours of fishing, was the most exceptional big pike fishing I have ever experienced. We slid into this spot at 11:30am and left it behind at 2:00pm. We were done, we were spent! There were still fish to be caught sure, but for that time being we’d had our fill and maybe just figured we’d go try the next challenge. Brenda as she always does keeps a count of fish caught while I tend to note the big ones. So incredible the pike fishing, I resorted to jotting down the over-forties we boated. Bren’s shorter casting managed just six pike total with two overs at 46 inches and 40 even, while after catching 14 pike myself, eight were forty plus. 45, 44, 41.5, 41.5, 41, 41, 41 and 40 and, there were not any pike caught less than 36 inches. Later on when trolling specks, I’d catch another forty.

Over in Dory, Steve and Amelie were hammering them too. Am kept Stevie so busy dealing with her pike that he barely got to fish for himself. He would pick up a couple trophy forty-plus’ers but Amelie would catch and release four of her own, the biggest one of ’em stretching the tape to 46.5 inches. Best part of this short and memorable piking nooner, nobody fell out of the boat.

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Dory veered off to a cluster of smaller islands in search of specks. Brenda and I cruised along the shorelines of two bigger islands looking for the same. I mentioned getting a large pike on the speck gear but for Bren and I that would be it. After a dinner time coffee break, a laker troll on some new waters before calling it a day we came up empty there too. Steve and Amelie on the other hand did find some specks. Going 3 for 4 Stevie would admit that each island they tried had a fish on it but overall the speck fishing was slow. Water temps barely at the 50F mark they were somewhere warmer yet, and we just had to find more of them wherever that may be.

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The bit of wind in the early evening settled and the lake turned flat. Later at camp, chicken Pot Pie for supper, a tall rum and fire, within just a drink and the big meal I could barely stand or keep a thought in my head. At bedtime I settled into the tent and as usual within seconds of the head hitting the pillow was down for the count. The others often laugh at how easily I fall asleep, that it’s instant really. Well, it must have been because I didn’t even notice that my loving wife had stolen my favorite pillow for herself.
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BALD SPOT.

That’ll fix the big split in the bottom of ‘er!

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The old kicks served me well, made it through Nam and Afghanistan with ’em! Well, no! But Slave and Bear and here and there and everywhere.

Seems like I’m the early riser everyday now. 5:15am wide-eyed. 5:45am ready to go! 6:30am she finally allowed it to get up and disturb others.

Another mint morning! The day calling for sun. Game plan… try an early speck bite, afternoon lakers then evening pike. Steve and Amelie’s plan, try the early laker bite then afternoon specks. Bren and I being up ahead of time we just called out while leaving camp where we were headed.

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Sure was a purdy day out there. Easy again to make the long runs, explore and try new fishy waters. Nipigon is truly the ideal speck lake. It’s many shorelines are perfect for shallow search trolling or casting on proven spots once they’re found. To me, it’s a place that pulls me back for more, constantly. Ontario’s biggest pike, biggest natural lakers, biggest specks and even big walleye too. There’s no end to it’s possibilities and if able, I’d spend entire summers searching it out. The fact hydrographic charting is limited to near none, the shorelines are protected from any new development and, it’s waters are so crystal clear I just dip a cup in the lake all week long to drink… well… I’m off on another tangent really, of how uniquely special Nipigon is.

We fished awkward in the end. Started specks, went lakers, back to specks, then lakers, back to specks, then lakers, then pike. Our route and mood dictated what was next. Everything took a long time to warm up it seemed but, we got it done alright.

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Bren prefers warm meals for lunch and has never been one for sandwiches or wraps, so she warmed us up some chili in the pot. The sun beating down, hat off, I lathered sunscreen on my neck face and ears. I put the hat back on. “Well,” she says, “you should do your bald spot!” “Brenda, I’m wearing a f#$king hat!” “Well,” she says, “you’ll still burn your head.”

Later that afternoon something tore line off Bren’s reel. We were trolling specks in a speck area I remembered Rob had once said was a good for ’em but, can get overrun with pike but, that of recent years has been turning up some walleye. So who knows but we can probably rule out the walleye. Not far away, nature called and Bren went ashore in a calm bay. Big pike were in their milling about but soon as we came within sight they bolted. When the missus finished her biz and we rode away, we barely came offshore and the lake depths plummeted to 200 feet. OK… we’re back on lakers again. It was the right choice too, no sooner got the second rod set that the first rod fired. Babycakes you’re up! Bren made easy work of this one… my girl can surely pump a rod.

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It would be the one and only and we’d finish on the greys before taking one last short crack at some pike on route back to camp. Bren got skunked, I got a few respectables.

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A chowder supper back at camp with Steve and Amelie we traded full reports on our day. Those two rocked it out there! Noticing some deep water the previous day, Steve and Am left camp in the morning to B-line it right back to there and try it out for lakers. Well, they found a good spot! Dory went 3 for 4 on a late morning early evening laker troll combo and they experienced their first double-header lake trout too. That’s awesome! Amelie’s fish was an over 20 but in the pic got drowned out a bit by Stevie’s high teener in the foreground. They also picked up a lone speck along the way too. Not big numbers for either pairing on this day, but just good fish across the board.

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These two like a warm meal in the boat as well.

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A cheap drunk I couldn’t hold my head up right for long. Again, one gin, a sniff of scotch and BOOM! Blow to the brain!! I was playing Frogger in my mind, but the cars and trucks were pike instead. It could very well of happened that one leg buckle and I fall into the campfire but, guess the wobbly stilts stayed straight enough. Made it safely across the highway without getting squished and passed out in a ditch some place.

From an early rise it’s good to put so much into a day that there’s absolutely nothing left come sunset.
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RUNNING.

Somebody’s excited to go fishing…!

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Can’t quite understand some things. Chalk it up to sayings like, “to each their own,” “it’s neither here nor there” or ” it is what it is.” Our mornings and evenings passing by the dock-doers, those just stuck there focking the dock…? To come from far and wide, hours and hours of driving, towing the boats, burning the fuel, getting ready to hit the big Lake Nipigon you’ve been planning to for months and then… launch the boat and fish right in front of the dock, that boggles me. Goofier yet, to actually launch the boat, dock it and fish from the boat docked at the dock. My wife says I’m not allowed to use this word but I will in this case because, it’s “retarded.” Now I’m not saying plunking for some walleyes at the Onaman’s launch, around the corner in the rapids or off the dock is a bad idea for a little meal or fun here and there. But to spend ALL day there, to never be seen anywhere but right there, to drive up the thirty mile dirt road and slide that boat onto Lake Nipigon and only fish a piss-in-the-winds distance from the launch, is absurd! It’s not rocket appliances either to know that the guys doing it are meat-hunting the shit out of the walleye right there. Catch one, too small, catch another, just right, into the cleaning station, into a cooler, back down to the dock, repeat. It’s lazy, and certainly lacks adventure and personally, I think Rob should make that area catch and release only to Onaman guests. And heck too, we were in front of the office with the truck running when a boat bigger than mine came up the hill from the launch. Three from the States, “youz heading out there now,” they ask? “It’s getting big, we were down there at the mouth, three footers building to four. We’re gonna go fish somewheres else.” Rob looks at me, “go check it out for yourself,” he says. So we launch, drive down there and it’s one footers building to one and a half, nary a whitecap to be seen. Five minutes offshore from there it’s glass. Some guys just really gotta give their balls a tug. Personal comfort, maybe they’re better off safe than sorry? Constant marine forecasts are given on the radio. At Onaman’s Resort Rob prints the weather each morning and posts it on the office door. Our entire eight day trip the biggest waves were two footers and for six days it was pretty well glass. Why boats don’t venture much beyond the mouth of the river, beyond Humboldt Bay too, is a mystery? But I’m actually quite glad they don’t. Nipigon is a gorgeous big beast, holds plenty trophy fish from top to bottom, and those folks who will pull an 18 or 22 footer, pimped out, expensive, quality big lake rig and use it only to stake out their own personal space on the dock and catch a quota of walleye… well, “it’s neither here nor there,” really. And I guess “it is what it is, for to each their own.”

Our run this morning was worth it. Straight back to Steve and Am’s laker spot, my buddy proved he wasn’t lying even one bit about their catches day before. Not even five minutes in, lures down, tug-tugged and yep! Stevie’s cock and balls are in check!

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Our turn, I got a smaller one first before Brenda was interrupted while slicing up a morning snack. Admittedly Stevie had it dialed in pretty good… we were always on the same page though. Past four trips he and I have gone we’ve run things for lakers a little different than the norm. Came on to our chosen program by accident really, but it’s worked for us ever since. If you like, you can contact me from here at this site and I’ll give zero details at all while politely skirting around any questions about where, how or what we do out there on Nipigon for lakers, specks, pike or anything really. Haha! But a helpful hint though… cut your orange slices longitudinally, not across the equator. Trust in that! My Bren hoists her first ever Nipigon laker in the true trophy 20 pound and over class. My girl’s a keeper!

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After lunch Dory and Bambalam ventured off together. Another area I’d wanted to explore appeared it’d have some pike fishing, was known to be good for specks and, some old map I have showed lakers too. The pike were a swing and a miss. “One condition caused by another resulted in their abscence,” did I say that before? Not for long we searched high and low though, a few snots in some passageways clogged up progress for finding bigger pike. While Steve was on a nature call some place else, we took a little break when Bren and I and were joined by a mangy moose for a time. That was cool by us!

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The pike a bust I asked Steve and Amelie but more so Amelie what they (she) wanted to do? A shorter trip than ours, it was already their last day of fishing. We could stay put now and try out specks or lakers or, we could go on a run to that big pike spot we had only fished 2 1/2 hours those couple days before. Amelie chose the pike, so off we went.

A good choice but the fishing was slower this time around. It was cooking hot out instead of cool. The sun was peeking out now and again. The water was flat, no breeze and it was mid afternoon. I could watch pike either spook from the boat or, just lay there like logs on bottom and not move for nothing. Plenty negative at the time, again it was long casts that made it happen. Brenda wasn’t getting them out there far enough despite me coaching her to fan cast areas and pick new spots to chuck lures to every time. Amelie can bomb ’em though, so can Steve and I’m no slouch either so we all picked forties or better and I managed another five between 35 and 39 inches. We didn’t stay more than an hour though, guess we were just spoiled for pike by this point.

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When finished with pike we decided at first on going our separate ways but then caught the skies coming in. Looking like an enormous wall of water that stretched from the south end of the lake to the north, all of it appearing to be coming from the west towards us, we changed out minds and sped off closer to home.

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The front would actually turn out to be less severe than we thought, kinda sticking mostly to the lake’s main shoreline or maybe it went around the lake. We did get some of it.

Being Steve and Amelie’s last night, she and Bren were especially looking forward to our annual fish fry. That’s right, this has become an “annual” now that we’ve done it twice and enjoy it enough we’ll probably do it again. The skies having chased us back early was just fine, gave plenty meal prep time, drinks, chatter and a chance for them to pack up a few things before morning departure. What a day these two friends of ours had! What a great five days really! The Agent Stevie Zebco was a rookie to all things Nipigon, laker fishing and trolling, specks, big pike and such just some few years back, and now he’s killing it out there! Still remember the first time he and I went fishing dinkeroo walleyes together and he showed up with a Rhino rod, Zebco spincast reel all spooled up with old 20-pound mono… times have changed. Amelie is right into it now too. For a girl I remember who was deathly scared to hold any fish when I met her, now she’s rocking giant pike and lakers while driving the boat, long bombing casts, working in unison with Steve and calling some shots of her own out there. It’s totally awesome to have watched it all unfold and continue to get better and better for them. If Bambalam found the pike this trip, it was surely Dory that got on the lakers, and all together we got it done.
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DINNER AND A SHOW.

We said our goodbyes. The morning was overcast to 10:00am but the sun would arrive and it blaze hot all day. Not a wisp of wind except some usual puffs that get going if clouds come in or the hour is late afternoon. When we put the lines down for lakers under grey skies there was a little chop and I said to Brenda, “wait 20 to 30 minutes and when that sun arrives the fish will bite.” It was more or less wishful thinking but it’s exactly what happened. I took the first one, then we dropped one. We ended on lakers around 1:30pm but returned to fish ’em again from 5:00 until 7:00pm. During that stretch we had the same sorta luck, Bren got one in the boat and we lost another. It was stinking hot out there too, we fished awhile in our undies. The pine pollen film on the lake was at it’s thickest too, it was crazy in spots. Floating dead smelt in yellow dust the lake was a sparkly mustard. Fish hitting every hour on this tour was the deal, two for four on the day was OK, good fish but nothing mammoth.

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Now I don’t often or ever pimp shit out there but, I’m going to make an exception this time. Known this guy a good while now, has been kind with his offerings and I feel he is the genuine article. James Meger, aka Meegs Jigs/Lures changed the game for Simcoe whitefish fishing some years back. After some absence from lure making he’s returned and doing much more than before. He has sent me muskie lures to try, small and large spoons and, I’ve fished his jigs too. Well, out of goodness alone he sent up a big spoon with the last batch of muskie lures to test and it was this week on Nipigon that I ran it. EVERY fish but one was taken on his Meegs spoon. Two usual producers got some hits, one caught a fish, but after working through about a dozen and half other options, lakers just kept choosing his creation. Because Meegs is the salt of the earth, a great lure maker with proven results, I told him the spoon already and I’ll leave it to him to sell ya one if you make contact. Find him on Facebook.

Had a short chat with Bren about bug spray. Deet is not something you casually let loose into the boatmosphere. We “might” be OK to put it on our skin but the reality is deet is pretty corrosive stuff that’ll eat through just about anything. In the past a cheap watch, some sunglasses, even a bit of a fishing pole of mine and reel handles have been ingested by deet. So after she sprayed some inadvertently on my Lowrance sonars units giving them a new “starry” look, I took a short T.V. time out to educate.

An afternoon of speck hunting was in order. Why the afternoon and not morning? Well, the surface water temps outside of shallow bays had been so cold below 50F that we found it was seemingly the midday sun and heat that got them going, and so that’s when we took our swings. Rob had been out and put his temp probe down to 10 and 20 feet and reported to me 36F and 34F at those depths. Anywhere we could find the warm water around islands is where we’d often find a speckie or two. It’s funny but, those warm spots didn’t always necessarily face the sun either, sometimes they’d be a bit more east or west. Anyhow, specks don’t seem to get moving around as much below 50F, albeit once the temps surpass that, and start heading upward to the 55F range, that’s when they come on… But here’s a catch! That 55F+ can also start giving the pike a little life too. Water temps sustained in the upper 50F, pike will venture from out of warm water back bays far and wide to begin pursuing specks (and other fish) on what we’d typically think is more specky-like or colder deep shoreline and structure. Add a bit too much sun to some speck places and cabbage might even grow, thus giving pike more homey comforts. Those predatory pike will take run and ruin of things, pushing the specks out and away. Then finally, mid summer warmth sets in and what goes on between the two is, specks take refuge to the cold, darker, deeper shorelines while the pike take what best heat they can, where they can as close by as possible to their prey. So it’s interesting how it starts as specks and pike in cold spots, specks to warm first, pike to follow, specks to move, pike to follow, and so on ti’ll things reverse in autumn. On Nipigon the nature of the two is a game of cat and mouse but the specks, well they’re conditioned to always be a little more active in a lake typically considered a deep, cold water lake. Remember, a pike’s preferred water temperature is 60-70F whereas a brookie’s is 50-60F. The constant changes on the lake day-to-day, season-to-season is what regulates who’s doing what when but, Nipigon’s mean July water temperature is still only about 59F and the lake seldom exceeds 60F during the summer. This in mind, the lake’s climate is often more suited to the colder water brook trout, always allowing a greater range of time and area for that fish to thrive. FYI – I just pounded a gin and 7 while writing this so if it makes little sense, I’m sorry!

Like the pike do, Bren and I chased after some specks too, she even got her first ever on the cast.

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We almost had the lake to ourselves again. For days we hadn’t seen any traffic follow us out there until this one evening, and they did get a little snoopy too. Planning a late exit home Bren and I tried for pike in a spot I’d never visited, had meant to, had passed by a few times but, kinda forgot about. When I arrived there everything about it was pike perfect. Everything! Except that it was loaded with snot rockets. Did see a few bigger fish move but the way the little guys were hammering lures meant one of two things. That the place was overrun with smaller pike or, what I’m thinking is, our timing was off. Because, afterwards when we moved from there over to another pike area we hadn’t touched in days but knew had big pike, other than Bren’s nice 44-incher pictured here, the fish were just followers and scatterers. The bite wasn’t on at all, the lake was too flat, the pike were up high basking in the surface heat and quite skittish… I will return that snot-rocket spot in the future and prove it’s loaded with greats.

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Gets dark so late but Bren and I figured we’d find our way back easy enough. Dinner and a show Nipigon style, the place all to ourselves.

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LEGENDS.

Rob was busy catering to guests in the office while some other usual suspects were still hanging by the docks hoping their next cast would be another cooler fish. It was a dead, calm, bluebird sky day. We hung about camp awhile, tending to the site and not leaving ti’ll early afternoon. Things to do, people to see, some newcomers from Pasha came in to launch their boats, and one fella walking by hollered out, “hey! you Moosebunk?” Well he got me first try. “Read all your stories man, AWESOME” he said! “They help you out any,” I asked? “It’s why we’re here,” he replied. Rob doing some paperwork on the steps outside overheard, head down eyes up he grinned a little, even though they weren’t customers of his.

Most blackflies had buggered off now with the dragonflies thick during the sunny hours. Mosquitoes weren’t too bad this day either, despite the air so still. Brenda gets bothered by ’em more than I do, most people do in fact. It’s blood type eh, or should I say, blood type A. While some folks were shuffling about the resort midday with headnets on and full length clothing, I’d be in shorts and a T just chilling. Mosquitoes are attracted to type O blood most, then type B, then A. If I remember right, I’m a rare A+… or maybe it was a rare AB..? Anyhow, it’s rare the mosquitoes will choose me first if my wife is around. That’s it baby, you smoke those little fawkers out!

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When we finally drove down to launch we noticed the guys in from Pasha only went down to fish just right there, right there in front of the launch! Drove all that way and then some with the boat and didn’t even need the boat. Bren and I made haste to a laker and speck spot Rob had mentioned earlier. It was but wasn’t new water to me, I’d been around that hole before but never really got balls deep into it. We started off cruising some sunny shores for warming specks and did actually find a bunch of them. Problem being they weren’t biting. Guessing they didn’t like type A either, I dunno? They were cruising in a school and bolted once we came over. Not really expecting that I kinda screwed our chances, spooking them deep. We turned about and tried a cast or two but they were no dummies to that. A little further down the same shore I hooked what would have been my best for the trip but I wanted to be a showboat and get some action shots, which cost me the catch. When we finally rolled up near the laker spot connected to, that’s when I noticed three other boats working it. Hmph! Well, well… Ummmm, OK Bren we’ll give it a shot, we got laker mojo going for us this week right!?!

But we had nothing. We fished there, there and elsewhere too for nothing! Bren got nappy out there, or maybe it was there. and my stinging eyes were bleeding they were so suffering sunburnt. Handfuls of Skittles fixed us both for a little while. In a far off distance I saw Rob making a B-line to the laker grounds we’d been beating up the past few days, he’d later tell me that a couple bit there for him too. Again for us it was a late start to fishing and an early finish, I think because I had concluded that tomorrow would be the last, really long day, that with the weather looking amazing again, we would take full advantage of it on a distant run. She zipped up and we made plane for home.

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Arriving back at the launch we figured hey, why not try our luck? One fish caught, a true trophy something or other that in the very least, kept the skunk out of our boat this day.

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Bren washed up after the long day while I fried some sausages and homefries. Once Rob returned at sundown I found myself over there awhile, hadn’t really seen him in about three years I think it’d been, yet we keep in touch. He’s not much for the drink, but he did take one swig of my scotch when I first poured. And that got us to talking awhile… lots of things even including the scotch notes honestly. “The Tomatin 12 year old is smooth and silky, having been matured in traditional Scotch Whisky, ex-Bourbon and ex-Spanish Sherry casks. A rich, fruity aroma is the prelude to sweet flavors of ripe apples, pears and a subtle hint of nut before the long, pleasantly oily finish.” Reads a bit girly sorta? But tell you what, tiniest little sip and you’ll actually taste those apples.
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DUST RIDERS TO APPLE SAUCE.

Day we arrived had a late rain, second day it rained half the day, one day there was threat of rain but nothing much happened, otherwise six days had been calm, mostly sunny and perfect on Nipigon. Our final day would be the best of ’em yet. Bluebird skies at Onaman Resort, Bren’s ready!

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Had struck a deal with Rob, I include him in some breakfast back bacon, sausage and eggs and when Bren and I get back late he’d have dinner waiting for us over at his place. What a trade! A great night sleep as always in the tent, we were up early, raring to eat, make good on that deal and get on the lake. The dust riders were out in full force this morning too. These are the guys who can’t walk anywhere around the resort at all so instead just drive about doing laps while kicking up dust. One fella I swear put on a 1000 miles in the yard between his trailer and the docks. What in the ever loving fawk he was doing, nobody knows? Every time he went around the dust would come up into the air and eventually settle on you, your stuff or in your lungs. And while it is a steep hill down to the launch and all, how bout taking that as challenge instead of a deterrent to bettering your fitness? The furthest two points at the resort from one another can’t even be a quarter mile, so get hiking it! That’s just my two cents cause I got tired of being looked at by the same few gas guzzlers coating me in their lazy dirt. We were out of there early and it was a good thing cause the ride would be damn near to the other side of Nipigon and that was just far enough to get away from the dust.

To the RIVAH!

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Mentioned Meegs already so, CHECK! Bren and I had to stop each way coming and going on route for a couple hours of laker fishing. Went 1 for 2 around the noon hour, this time instead of a Meegs catching the fish it came on a W—–MS spoon. If you can’t guess what lure that is you have no business fishing lakers or on Lake Nipigon. lol Then later on our return we stopped another couple hours and went 2 for 3 then. Bren got’er done out there, but I got’er more done than her! (she pays me back tho) Some nice greys on a beauty of a day it was a scorcher under that sky.

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All week long those water temperatures were rising. Main lake the surface when we arrived was 44-45F ish. Out in the blue zone now, we were seeing high 50’s low 60’s. That said, just below still had to be cold and all it’d take is a bit of chop to stir it back down 10 or 15 degrees. Along the shorelines though was even warmer, mid to high 60’s. We’d only caught a handful of specks this trip, despite seeing some we should have caught or returned to. Truth be told they kinda ended up last on the list of things to do. Pike and lakers so on, I think the gang and even myself just wanted to catch fish this trip. As said, we got good specks the year before but struggled on the other stuff, so it was nice to have that change. The specks too where proving tough but now that the weather had turned the heat up, I took Brenda back to a spot we had hit five days earlier. It looked great then but was too cold and cloudy for action, this day the sun would be beaming on it and the temps had to be right. They were waiting there for us…

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We’d trolled some shore and shoals, turning back once or twice to re-hit spots where we hooked up with fish. Two more the size of Bren’s pictured above came aboard before we stopped at a large shoal where we worked some casts. Getting around the backside and into a bit of a pool I glanced down to see dozens of specks scurrying and fleeing the scene. They were again all a bit on the smaller side from what I could tell, and I did manage to hook one and lose another which proved this right. Brenda kept plugging away at ’em too, and once we moved back towards the front of the shoal and more to it’s deepest side along some big boulders, she hooked up! And man-ohhh-man did she ever hook up!

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After a week of practice Bren handled the fish like a champ! When it got anywhere near the boat or net it sped off, peeling line. Finally landing it, Bren let at a woohoo! “A sparkly trout!”

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A thick, thick specimen and Bren’s first ever trophy-sized speck. Would like to find this one again in a few months, or even next year. Congrats to Bren, she was amazing all week and as always.

Two fellas in the cleaning station were filleting a couple enormous northerns when we arrived back at the launch. Too important to use a parking spot for their truck and boat, they just kinda half left their rig in the way of the launch. An easy enough work around I was already pulled out when one finally asked if we needed him to move. Following morning, after Wilf emptied the trash there, he was talking to me and mentioned those big fish. “I get it bud” I told him. “Meat hunters! They’re gonna catch their limit of every species they can and take ’em as big as they’re allowed.” In this day and age, that says something about the types you’re dealing with. For a decade and some Wilf has taken out the trash from the fish cleaning station and I’d wonder if that maybe sometimes just breaks the old fella a little? The endless days of summer he used to spend on Nipigon with his son Robert growing up, at 80 years he’s surely seen and felt more than most with the lake. “Who wants to eat ten pound walleye,” he’d challenge? “Cause some guys are keeping ’em!” What bothers him more than that are the bigger specks that go to the knife. Prime breeders of all species, the future of Nipigon’s fishery, taken by greedy anglers who can’t just scale things back a little. It’s a tough job being the camp fish cop when deep down inside I think he loves the lake so much that he just wants Nipigon and Rob to be well and good when he finally leaves it behind. But I told him before departing come next day, that at nearly half his age he’ll still likely out live me. We shook on it.

Now rewinding to our return to camp that evening, after a quick wash-up, stow away, shuffling of bags and things, I wandered over to Rob’s place. A bone in ham roasted in the oven with potatoes and corn. His hired help around camp, Marie was waiting there too. Short on scotch by this time in the trip, Rob found the same bottle of rye he shared with me about three years before, not a drop missing, and I poured as much as I stiffly liked. When Brenda arrived dinner was served. Absolutely delicious, the mentioned food was perfect but even better was the homemade apple whiskey apple sauce to brush over that ham. The meal was soooo worth having cooked breakfast for.

I am a lucky man who didn’t come into luck by luck, but I could still take it as luck anyways. To surround myself as often as I do in nature, with great fishing, and have such good friends and my incredible wife to share it with, some things had to have been done or gone right along the way. Marie and Brenda off to bed, leaning against the counter I stayed late until my knee started to buckle. Within just several drinks and the big meal I could barely stand or keep a thought. I was playing Frogger again in my mind again, but the cars and trucks were pike instead. It could very well of happened that one leg give and I fall into an imaginary campfire but I guess the wobbly stilts stayed straight enough. Made it safely across the highway without getting squished and passed out in a tent beside my girl, already long asleep.
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CHIPPELS AND SQUIRRMUNKS!
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She’s a well oiled machine my Bren, and she reads minds too. Packing up and breaking camp she figured out everything just how I liked it from the get-go. You can see her in the tent there folding up the bags and mattresses, seemingly in more of a hurry to be on the road home than me. I was a bit hungover. In time it all got stowed away for the tour.

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Wandered over to Rob’s place where Wilf and Marie were hiding in some shade. “Hey! You know Fisher Girl,” he asked? “Ummm, no, don’t think so,” I replied..? “Now I’m trying to think where she’s from? Robert knows! They just launched and left for the lake,” he continued. I had seen a couple cuties go by earlier, “got no idea where they’re from Wilf, but I wonder if she knows Moosebunk,” and I laughed. Wilf looked at me strange, “OK, I’ll bite, who’s Moosebunk,” he asks? “That’s my name online… See, everybody and anybody is a celebrity these days,” I said with a grin. “Take care of yourself young fella, and I’ll see ya again Wilf.”

Continued on looking for Rob. Busy at cabin 2 he was preparing the ground getting ready to pour a concrete slab. He certainly has plans this man, more cabins, his own new summer house there and, to maybe one day sell, but for now his to-do list sounds long enough that it’ll be a decade before that day ever arrives. I miss Nipigon from the minute I prepare to leave it, and it’s a bit harder too when you gotta say goodbye to a bud that you might not see again for a year or more. In his truck I left him the notes off the Tomatin. He always has an invite to my home.

Forty pike over forty inches for 15 hours fishing ’em. Twelve double-digit lakers on the troll. Bren’s big speck and more, the fishing was everything I’d expect of Lake Nipigon. Our girls Bren and Amelie put a real beating on us this year too… We took the slow drive out to the highway just sitting quietly in the truck as we went.

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The scotch, wine, sangrias and moonshine did flow once reaching Steve and Amelie’s place in Mattice. After swapping photos from the trip and speaking of plans for next year, the others taught me how to play Cribbage. A great game… and great hospitality too. Love ’em both!

Early next morning we set cruise at 109 and made it home to our girls by supper.
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Been some time since writing a trip report, a bit rusty but many thanks to any reading.
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Bunk.