Zero to a thousand miles an hour. Brakes. Idle two seconds for a breath then back to a thousand miles again. That’s been this summer season when taking into account Pym, Plummers, the new full-time work shit, the kiddies out of school, friend and family gatherings, and then finally the capper… The Nip. Fish at home much, nah! Well, like six times maybe. Put in some time fishing… Hell’s yeah, from June 21 to Sept 21 will likely be 30 days in if I get out a few more times. Didn’t miss bass or fishing around home much. Did a little though, and best day was hitting a grand slam on the Miss. Didn’t have valley fish time with the sched, and trading local waters off for big week long trips was seriously worth it. End of the season came and basically put the kids on the bus, kissed Bren goodbye and left for Ontario’s NW at 8:00am last tuesday.
I’d been more pumped for the Nip than maybe even the Arctic. Spent more time by far preparing anyways. Saddest part in the end was not having Grant at my side. It was in the plans, but not in the cards. Decidedly, I didn’t fill the man’s seat. Instead, I began preparing for more runnin’ and gunnin’ on the water. Prepared to camp at a new site and fish new waters awhile, but also take some days for the old. Using four different map sources and whatever intel I could scrounge up, a cool booklet of my own was created to help navigate and lead to new potential. Turned out to be well worth the time and effort.
.
DAY 1. RUNNER’S UP.
Driving the full 18 hours Keith and I arrived at the launch at 2:15am. I slept in the truck three hours, Keith slept in the boat. Road up had much improvements over the year and it was smooth sailing, except that I had both boat guides snap off, one at hour six and the other in the final minutes of the tour. Quarter inch galvanized steel elbows… what the fawk is up with that?
I searched for the second guide along the road awhile and that put our launching back a little. By the time our gear was dumped and we were fishing, it was 10:30am. By 11:00am on the dot, I had two specks, the first a 20 1/2 incher, the second a long 24 1/2 inch, and by length on the chart weighing somewhere within 5.9 – 6.4 pounds.
What a start, Holy Miz-to-the-oly!
.
.
.
Over the next 2 1/2 hours before heading back to camp to set things up, we nailed a few more. Keith got on the board with a 22 followed by a 20.5 and I nabbed a 19 then 21.5 incher with no decent photo. It was wicked shit considering… water temps were still not favorable for the season. In fact, one day the temp dipped just into the 50’s at sunrise but, otherwise it was mid to high 60’s this first day and the following five.
Not really prime speckle love juice H2O, but we were drinking it up.
.
.
It was hot and the trout bite slowed. Bluebird skies, dead calm, sticky. Quick retreat back to camp but not before stopping off to hit up the local pike whore house to see if any fat slobs be lying around horny in the beds.
Turned out a fat slob was working the door.
.
So this fish was really a weird omen for us. I had selected a lure which I figured no other RB’ers would have used the week before, and I had confidence in it. We pulled into the spot and my very first cast was met with a topwater explosion as soon as the lure touched down. Thought for a time it was an average high 30 to 40 incher until it came closer to the boat and I pulled up hard to raise it. That’s when it was evident this pike had serious mass. Never netting pike, it eventually settled enough to grab, and looking up I noticed some dumbass had run his boat right stuck into a shoal trying to get over and see what we were up to. What I was up to was getting a relaxed on-deck length of my second longest pike ever, and judging by it’s girth, my heaviest. Upon release, this fish kicked out of my hands and was gone before it even touched the water.
.
Keith and I casted around and got a few more. I was just awestruck over what had happened. To start a week with a first cast pike like that it was just, odd. Kinda like on Kesagami with the boys in 2010, when the first hour of the trip coughed up my PB there. Told Keith at that time of this Nip pike, I could quit pike for the week and be satisfied. Keith replied, that’d be just fine with him. Said he’d rather chase the specks first, then lakers, then pike. For the rest of the trip, we fished pike off and on for maybe a half hour total. Specks are my first choice on Nipigon too.
Three hour siesta for Keith, I washed the nads and pits Pollock style in the frigidly but tepid 60’s and settled for a beer. Knew if the eyes shut this early they’d stay shut the day. 5:00pm rolled around and we got our asses in gear again.
Hitting the familiar we picked up some more smaller fish before decidedly making a run to a shoreline I hadn’t cruised since fishing back with BIG & WIG. Boat just off plane coming in and the rod not in the holder much longer than a minute, I had a screamer. Like the pike, turned out this fish would be a runner-up to my PB too. Short in stature but by measure 6.5 lbs.
.
From my doorstep to 36 hours into the trip. 18 hours driving, 3 hours sleep and camp made, 7 hours on the water, and two runners-up for PB fish. FACK!!! No wonder more people are getting boners. It would have been more than satisfying to end the trip after day one.
Midnight Keith abruptly wakes me in my tent. “BUNK, I CALLED YOUR NAME LIKE SIX TIMES!!! THERE WAS A BEAR AT MY TENT!!!”
Next 10 minutes I watch Keith as he moves his tent next to mine, freaking out and relaying the story about how his heart was pounding into his throat as the bear sniffed out his shelter. “How’d ya know it was a bear Keith?” “Cause it was FAWKING BIG,” he replied. It was his first encounter. “HOW COME YA DIDN’T ANSWER ME WHEN I CALLED?” Keith questioned. “I was wearing earplugs.” “WEARING EARPLUGS?!?!?!?!” “Yeah dood, I don’t need to hear shit like bears sniffing around my tent or squirrels chirping in the morn when I’m trying to sleep.” I gave Keith some Gravol to help settle his stomach and mind.
5:00am I woke suddenly. Not more than likely 100 meters or so away an entire wolf pack howled for about five minutes before just suddenly stopping. I could hear the pups playing, whining and nipping. That got my heart going, it was awesome.
.
DAY 2. WAKE AND BAKE.
No wind and it’d stay that way all day. Woke a little cool but was warming quick. Keith and I had plans for a big rip to all new waters but before taking off I had to pop a saweet sunriser then later that morn on commute pop the poop cork on a nearby island. Keith being the nappy guy he is, takes any opportunity to shut his eyes.
.
.
.
The Bomber blazed out into the deeps of the big lake. It was kind of our reprieve from the heat to make the runs. I was curious about an area I had heard nothing about other than reading, specks be out there. On route back would be another stop that it was said if the specks are on the shoal they’re there thick, most times they’re not there though.
Upon arrival we found some of the most speckie looking shoals one could imagine. Deeper into bays, the cabbage beds were more vast than any I had seen on the lake yet, by a looong shot. It was the specks we kept in mind, but for about ten minutes we couldn’t help but release a few pike. Amidst the weed growth would be these perfect circular boulder shoals, or in one spot this maze of shoals within a narrows surrounded by cabbage at the in and out. It all looked perfect, it was where I read that the specks should be, but possibly the immense heat and flat calm of the mid afternoon had the fish hiding. A cow moose interrupted the whole thoughtful process when she came off an island which two other moose had just previously evacuated minutes before. Gotta be a safe spot for them from wolves or something. Two cows and a calf. I wished this spot panned out for trout as it had a well protected campsite and too much area to thoroughly fish in a day. Next time, especially if pike are in the plans too.
.
.
A cluster of small islands with a huge nearby reef was the next target. We fished the shit out of it on the troll but never got a sniff. It was in outerspace and the specks were somewhere slipping through the stars. Intergalactic bullspeck!!!
.
A few last stops on route home with some new water to check produced one 15-incher for Keith as it says here in my daily notes. Two shoals deep into a bay and nearby a river, that I noticed on Google Earth, were producers for others I learned, but not us, not then. Water was 73C in those shallows and that being the warmest I’d ever found on the lake. We made haste for home after spending a full 12-hour gruelling day in search mode under the hot sun. My scotch knocked me out.
.
DAY 3. FOR GONE.
Another scorcher with water temps 63 warming to 68F. Fish were scattered about and we had to work again, especially seeings as it was entirely new and different lake we were going fishing in.
This day we found a few while eliminating alot of water, and by days end on route back to camp we took some time to stop in and enjoy the company of my buddy Dan and his friends, later into the night. During a few meetings, all fun all the time these guys were, until it came to debating all the new Nipigon internet anglers versus them with their 75 plus years of hard time fishing the lake. We kept it light over healthy dosings of drinks, and everyone examined both angles with a smile. Anyone could justify either’s points, and often it was just ribbin’. I have some moral obligation to Dan and it was important to me he understand any misunderstood trangressions as well. “It’s in the past,” he affirmed. And with that he gave me some peace of mind. Dan truly gave up the grail that many want to and are sipping from, including me, then and now. I’m grateful to him for his kindness.
Nothing too huge on the day either, a plump 22 incher was my best and Keith got a 17. Didn’t find much water I could say I was really nuts over, but did find a couple little gems to pocket and, a mint looking spring pike spot if ever going early season.
.
.
.
DAY 4. NEW HOPE.
.
Even though it was a warmer south breeze that built up early and stayed the day, it was a welcome breeze nonetheless. In the sun again it burned down on the land and even had one island smoldering on fire for a few days in a row. It was to be another day of exploration for us, and so starting a little slower, packed and ready, we took off on an hours ride. It was important to get away from the crowds near our camp, we had six boats working in sight of our tents by 10:00am.
The night before we had made a $5 bet with Dan, Dan and Grumpy Joe; whose name was actually Crabby Colin, for whoever caught the biggest speck on the day. We’d report back on our way home and stop in for a drink.
Fishing started slower but eventually we found a wicked-ass shoreline. If Keith didn’t have rubber hooks he’d have picked up four in about an hour and me another two. Instead of six we got two. Must have been a glitch in the Matrix, but these things happen from time to time.
.
.
We fished out that spot and made haste. After trolling some shoreline a time, Keith remarked how it had been awhile since we last got a fish. Doink!!! It was just the right thing to say.
.
The big lake when it’s calm and fishable still always holds this sense of danger over my head. For one, it’s remote. Motor breaks down and you might not see anyone for days. Wind and waves suddenly pick up and it could trap you out there, for days. Great Lake guys know and respect this I’d bet, but still… half the time they are a radio or cell phone call away for help. Not necessarily on Nipigon. No phone, that’s for sure. It’ll take a long time I think before a long run out onto this lake will be a fully peaceful experience. You don’t have to go far from any launch on the lake to feel out there and on the big water. Having a few safe harbors thought out can help ease the mind.
.
.
.
Trolling past some interesting structure in the evening, Keith continued on with his rubber-hookedness and lost what was very likely his PB at the side of the boat. His PB is 23.5 inches from last year, the fish he lost was close or better, poor guy. It was a tank and a tough day of lost fish for him.
.
Awhile later on route to camp we stopped to try where Pat, Thom and Gord did so well, unfortunately the old man was watching as another boat was already working the water there.
When we got back to Dan and company it turned out they were all skunked for the day which meant a 21 3/4 incher that I picked up was best fish. I let them all off the hook for the cash but kept the prestige, even though Dan released a vile 53 inch pike that afternoon. He has no love for pike at all, even giants like that.
.
Keith cooked up mini cherry pies with some sort of iron pan thingy I’d never seen before. After getting buzzed on sugar and malt, we crashed.
.
DAY 5. EARLY BIRDS.
Dan had been saying that the serious anglers come out for the last week of specks and back at the launch I had noticed four trucks from Minnesota, one from Ohio and five not including mine, from Ontario. Six campers there too, people tenting near us and all the nearby cottages occupied. It was sunday now and we wanted to be the first to pound our nearby shores for biting fish in the morning, because it was supposed to be roasting out again come afternoon and we were heading to town then for fuel and food.
First to bat before the neighbors woke up was us. It paid off with a 21″ for me and a 20 for Keith by the time a second boat arrived. Both thick shouldered fish and in nice color.
.
.
.
In town pretty much every human with boobs was looking good to us. Keith cried like a wee baby when he saw the Beer and LickBo were both closed. We got ourselves some ice, a little food and a couple hot showers that came free with our fuel purchase. Clean shaven and smelling like roses it was eerie to me how many women at the grocery store flocked to the cash to view us fresh meaty men. In Nipigon I’d be an 11 minus 1 for the pot belly, Keith would be just a 9 because he’s forty this year and over the hill.
In town I caught the forecast. On route back to our lakeside camp we discussed our plans to move to safety either that night or early next day. It was Sunday, and by Tuesday morn it was looking like it could get rough our way.
Back on the lake the air was cooler than in town. Keith popped two more fish too. It was the second day he had the hot stick but at least this day they were all staying on the hook. This fish for him was just a gorgeous and solid specimen.
.
After a quick supper at camp we hit the water again but this time for just a first and short effort at the lakers with the riggers. The fish weren’t on the jiggin’ shoals and biting as far as we could tell. Nothing much water-wise had changed since Pat and company noted the same the week before.
After setting up one rigger and one dipsy, the blue skies began to dim a little and a cool north wind quickly blew in a purple haze. The kind of haze you’d see before a blizzard smokes your ass, but this was no snowy experience, as it was thick smoke completely blanketing the entire sky around us.
.
At it’s thickest the wind kicked right up and it went from flat to three footers. We were trolling back towards camp and thinking of calling it quits when it began to lift and before we knew it was clearer and calming again. The smoke really only lasted about a half hour around us. Wasn’t long after, the dipsy with a big ole Canoe spoon fired. Nothing to get excited about, but it was a laker.
.
It was an unsettling night once we quit. The wind was whippy from all directions, weird sounds played with my head, and at midnight exactly, the wolf pack howled close by for ten minutes at the nearly full moon. There was a strange nervous energy… probably what some would say is simply, lunacy…
.
DAY 6. TAKE COVER!!!
.
This was the last bit of calm…
Got up and got out. Hit the water first again at 07:30 for a quick two hours and were rewarded with a couple beauties. Dan’s friends still on the lake showed up about 09:30 right when we were getting off to begin packing up camp. They got a few for the three of them as well. Our plan was to break camp and have everything reset elsewhere by noon. Then we were planning an hours run back to our Day 4 spots to hammer some fish there. Truth be told, I had it in mind to take everything we had and move to a more sheltered spot out on the lake but it’d mean trailering the boat first.
By the time we had everything in the boat to shuttle back to the launch, the wind was blowing up the lake pretty good, and once getting the boat on the trailer it was clouding over. Shit was coming in quick so we worked fast to set up camp at the launch. Keith no sooner had his tent up and mattress inflated when we got talking to some old fellas.
“Yeah, we moved over to here off of the lake because it’s supposed to start raining tonight and be blowing hard tomorrow,” I says to the guy. “25-30 knots SW switching to North overnight. Wind warning in effect. Waves two meters. Thunderstorms all night then rain all day tomorrow. Temps heading down to 3C. We got the nautical forecast on the radio here if you want to listen,” the old fella says to me. So I listen… AND FAWK!!! It’s noon and starting to spit rain on us already and Dan’s buddies are back saying it’s getting a bit much on the lake.
“Keith. Pack up the tent. We’re going home,” I tell him.
Supposed to fish till Wednesday morning, it’s only Monday at noon, but the lake and weather are shot for two days at least and there’s no point sticking around in pure cold, windy and wet misery for a shot at Wednesday morning. Kinda made our run into town the day before a complete waste of time too. Could have been fishing it out had we known the weather in advance. Ahhh well.
We’re done. 48 hours of total time on the water. Alot of running with $200 in fuel to the Yammy. A speck graced the boat every two hours per total time on the water. Spent 23 hours on old water and 25 on all new. Took on more challenging water temps with Keith and had solid results. I got a giant pike and we got smacked with six insanely great sunny weather days before the lake decided to take some time away. I was happy to be going home all in all.
3055 km’s, 40 hours driving. $700 to the Chev, $200 to the Lund and 13.8 miles to the gallon on the roads. Stopped in to see and sleep a night in Mattice at Stevie Zebco’s and he says hello to the Bogie crew. His second babe is on the way. I love that guy, he’s the best. So is Keith for putting up with me ramblin’ on for a week.
Nipigon specks are a fish worth going the distance for. Truth.
.
.
Bunk
.