Little Anglin' Anny

jgloverwork - What can I say? I'm a woman of many talents ;-)

Great report! Definitely going to look at booking my own trip with Taro.

Bill - you're absolutely right. It's a laker - I should have paid more attention to the tail of the fish, but all I could think of in the moment was it sizzling in my trusty pan!

Hello to my fellow OFC'ers. I'm brand new to this board and happy to be connecting with this wonderful community of fellow avid anglers. Even though I'm new to the site, I'm sure I've run into many of you in the fish cleaning huts of the Muskokas, Kawarthas and Haliburtons or browsing the aisles of Bass Pro Shop - as you'll soon learn, I'm a total tackle junkie! While I love making excursions with all of the latest and hottest gear, I make sure to take it back to the basics a few times a year. Simply put, there's nothing more pure than an afternoon alone on a remote lake targeting trout on a simple rig from a canoe. That's why it was recently time for Anny to hit up her favourite Algonquin back lake hole to try for a tasty shore lunch of fresh brookie goodness! After almost a full day on foot and in the canoe, the mighty forest pines opened to reveal my secluded destination. The water was clear as glass and the morning sun crested over the far shore as I gnawed on another slab of habanero beef jerky (good for the belly, skin and soul). I pulled out my customized pink polarized specs, loaded the fishing gear, camera and tripod into the canoe and slid into the water. As it was promising to be a very bright and warm dawn, I was constantly monitoring water depth and temperature. After about 20 minutes of surveying the water, I found myself perched over a spot that my gut told me promised greatness. Local friends have told me that the most productive colours this spring have been blue, pink and chrome, but as I went to grab my favourite pink-speckled spoon, a neglected perch-colouration Little Cleo caught my eye. In no way am I a superstitious angler, but something in that moment told me that I had no choice but to tie that Cleo onto the line. On the third cast against a steep drop-off in 75 feet of water, I felt a tug from the depths. I leaned back to make sure that hook was really set and whispered triumphantly "Fish on!" The rod tip lurched toward the surface of the water and line began to peel off the reel. After a series of mighty runs and head shakes, I pulled this beautiful 3.5 pound Brookie to the surface. With breakfast in the boat, I paddled back to shore, sliced some lemons and coated the fish in my homemade, paprika-infused olive oil and tossed that bad boy onto the embers. As the fish roasted away, I again mounted my camera on the travel tripod to capture this shot of my solo breakfast in the woods - there's nothing more satisfying than proving that you can live alone off the land! Thanks for reading my tale, and tight lines! L.A.A.