Moosebunk

What Bill said...... plus a trophy EVERY time. lol.

Combine tonnes of work fatigue with weekend beers and you have an accident such as Randy. Hehe!!! Glad ya haven't blown yourself up BBQ'ing yet........ oooops......... ....jinx.

I didn't think Father Time aged in the grand scale of history and space.

It's a start.

I'd be passing by waaaaay too much good water to get to the Pickle, but that said... the summaries you posted prove how much you enjoy the place. On the other note... Kesagami... it's kind of too bad you didn't enjoy it there. The lake certainly can be a nasty one in a blow, but it's fishing once you get onto them is top notch. Thanks for the posts.

Nice! Welcome! You'll like it here with your kind. Plenty of "grey"beards like Lew, Terry, Roy, TJ, Wayne and even Randy from Sturg and that other guy who's gettin' up there... Solo... and Clemens, and Misfish, the Plumma Clan... heck... there's dozens more too. Most fish with a hook and sinker or gang troll for everything... and if you have any questions about life before the Great Depression, just ask Lew. Any questions about boobs, ask TJ, or beer and speckled trout we got DanC, another "experienced" (nice for aged) fella. I'll go enjoy your report now.

I've had to play catch up here Wayne. Sorry for that, but not sorry at all to hear surgery went well and Jen is recovering. You and your family are wicked awesome bud. Jen and you all certainly a testament to hope and strength. Glads I knows yas. Let that be the end of sufferring and the page turned. Wish you all a great summer from here on out. So deserving of that, and some peace.

Hadn't tried it Bill. Problem with experimenting so far, it's failed. PP is still best on for me. Thanks for the review.

Got some time at home to pop up another 20 fish shots that didn't make the report. Thanks all for taking the time to read. This report will be a cool one for the group to reflect back on over the winter.

This is one I've only browsed so far... But I can imagine once settling in for the TJ read, it should get fun. Looks as though you took full advantage of your stay up there TJ... great vacation dood!

Meeeeeeegwetch Gang!!! I'll post some more pics up later maybe... or tomorrow night. When I get a chance. When the kiddies are out of school the local fishing settles down for the season, but the summer vacations make up for lost time on the water. Mike, Freighters have been there for at least 5 years. Speeds vary but I did GPS us going upriver a couple times, and, I have the same 20 footer and used both a 15-2 and 15-4 strokes noting speeds a million times back in the Moose. Against current, 9.9 Merc this trip about 21-22km/h. 15-2 Merc 23-24km/h. My old Johnson 15-2 22-23km/h. My Honda 15-4 24-25km/h. 15-4 Nissan 26-28km/h. (interesting motor) The 14 foot Nadens with new 9.9 Yammys last year on Kesagami ran about 21-23km/h if I remember right. And when Pym had a 14 foot tinny with a 9.9 Merc on it in 2008, the Canoes were always a hair faster either way, but especially against current.

OK... that one hurt me arze sittin' and doing up. More fish pics on maybe a page 2 if the whole thing loads for yas.

My pleasure, Steve, Amelie, Mike, Carl, Grant and Norm. Hearst Air has been providing trips of a lifetime into places like Pym Island on the Attawapiskat for 34 years. Nothing has changed. Thanks again Melanie, Mike and George. http://www.hearstair.com Appreciated.

DAY 4. SUPERNATURAL. Attawapiskat is a buzz word these days thanks to the many on the net who have sampled it's fine fishing. The keepers of the river, the Mushkego and Ojibway have kept it sacred to them for generations, it's riches over the last centuries only recently exploited in good, bad and different ways. "The Ring Of Fire" is the name the developing world now calls the land north of the Abany River. Gold, diamonds, timber and other riches from the forest floors are now well sought after. We love it's bronzeback pike, golden walleyes, clean air and solitude, but as is with anywhere on our shrinking planet, industry will have it's way. The Attawapiskat won't be wild and free for long, it's fish will be dammed, it's life will be tamed, yet while it still remains the way it always has for the time being, people should experience it. This day, we experienced it. Waking to sheets of pouring rain by 10:00am the skies broke a little and the tap shut off. A window perhaps? Norm called it a "sucker hole" and was a tad bit reluctant with our request. We wanted the big tour upriver to The Rapids, he warned that if we go, we were not coming back early when the taps turn on again. Stevie Z captained a canoe with Mike, Carl and I were on our own, and Norm had Amelie and Grant for the day. Around 11:00am we set off for the two plus hour trek to Oldguy Bay and beyond to The Rapids. Our destination, but a dozen or so kilometers below Beteau Lake. Three canoes moving like a snake, 54 years of river traveling experience lead us through rapids and rock gardens that sometimes made the hair on your neck stand up. Norm has many times in his life traveled by freighter canoe from Ogoki and even Fort Albany, all the way upriver to Attawapiskat Lake and Landsdowne House, and as well, all the way down the entire 740km long stretch of the Attawpiskat. Hearst Air's freigher canoes for the Pym camp were picked up at Landsdowne and driven downriver to Pym. His knowledge and experience reading water comes as naturally to him as sleeping and filleting fish, and having him share such things is of true value. The frieghter canoes are the ultimate boat for the job. 20 feet long, sturdy enough one could stand on the gunnel without it tipping, flexible enough to often slide unscathed over rock, and agile enough to paddle or maneuver by power through places where any aluminum boat just has no business safely being, the Norwest Canoe is the genuine article for the Attawapiskat. They have double to triple the payload capacity and three people can fish from one as or more comfortably than two can in any 14-16 foot tinny. Less clutter, less accidents, more room for safely handling fish. There's a reason why in every Native Northern town, there is only one kind of boat found for river travel to hunt, trap and fish. And besides all that, they're way cool. Before the rains fell again as Norm predicted, our group had caught a good few fish at OldGuy Bay prior to pressing on. Stevie Z did things with his canoe he'd never ever even tried at home with his own. It blew his mind and Carl and I got to watch his every move through the rapids. Awesome. Once the downpour began, fishing and staying dry became impossible. We tried for fish at what is said to be the best walleye spot on the river and a great pike spot too, but this monsoon pounded so hard we gave the same little effort with our lures as did the fish. Norm had no rain clothes, but even us that did were still mostly soaked. To head back downriver in retreat, Stevie climbed in with me and Carl took over the other boat. Dodging rocks and hitting big waves with the current was one gnarly ride home. STEVIE Z. Stevie is one of my best friends in life. I have never seen him mad or even rarely upset. His level head balances me well when needed. His calm helps with any storm. At 15 he was forced to become a man and caregiver in his own home, and rather than be bittered by circumstance he simply accepted his role. Now he's the proudest papa I know of his littlest treasure Neve. Taking on a huge set of rapids, joining me for a long, hard, saddening walk off our winter Kesagami camp spot, jumping in for any fishin' mission on the river or with a gang of friends in the backwoods, Stevie Zebco is the agent of amazing, and always the happiest man in any room. We got back to camp drenched and hungry. Fajita night with cheesecake for dessert was warm and well received. bull eatin' grins, beers and stories about the Windigo, Sasquatch, Polar bears and the visiting dead entertained our imaginations into the stillness of sleep. DAY 5. ALMOST LOST. Grant and I headed out early morning to face the cold front. The winds up, a little cloud to be cleared, the air chilled, it was said that morning between us that this wasn't to be a numbers day, but a big fish day. It didn't take 15 minutes for me to lose a mid 40 range fish boatside. We rode off to the Bermuda Triangle and did a milk run by the Eagle's Nest, it was in Bermuda Grant lost a mid 40 of his own... boat side. Rubber hooks, short nippers, it was so far a morning of "almosts," except the one teenage pike that was to be kept for the cedar plank. The group gathered back at the cabin late morning and a plan was devised to all head through the Pow down to FishTrap and make our way back up the main channel. Along the way it was Amelie who again had the hot stick for eyes, as she just stuck with what works and danced that jig to perfect results. Grant's two-stepping didn't pay off at one spot when his rod stuck the anchor rope before a toss, and the whole outfit plunged below. Touring back up hours later, we had all caught a few pike but no trophies on the afternoon. Rounding a corner we did spot another prize close by, and this one of many seen on the trip, finally gave enough time to capture with a pic. Cedar plank pike smothered in fried shrimp and scallops with garlic butter, dinner finished early so we could all get out and take advantage of the evening bite. Norm took Amelie and Mike on a trolling run up at "The Three Sticks," Carl and Steve ran upriver to another trolling run at the first "Beaver House," while Grant and I slipped into "Silver Sticks," then the "Bermuda Triangle." The cold morning had warmed considerably through the day, the water was calm and the mayfly hatch thick again, and into the sunset the surface dimpled everywhere with feeding fish. The pike in Bermuda were on the move. Grant's week-long lure combo of the Top Raider, the Johnson and the Slop Master did much damage. While the flies hatched, the suckers slurped and the pike frenzied, this was his day. GRANT. A manager of minds Grant is the guy who can bring the peace, the comedy, the care, the experience or the excitement into any situation. His humor sometimes leaps beyond that of mere mortal comprehension, and to be around him when he is "on," is to witness something genius. But, Grant isn't always the nuts, he's often to me, the reason. We learn off one another, share and truly enjoy our differences and similarities. There's no ego in him, no selfishness, and so that makes it easy to let go of your own. What I'm trying to say is that, he's one wicked big brother to have and he compliments any fishing moments. Upriver Amelie plucked her best pike of the trip, downriver Grant and I slayed into dusk. The day was almost lost to us for big fish... almost. DAY 6. PLUCKIN' EYEBALLS. Bluebird skies again, just like the first couple days. Stevie Z and I with Norm, Carl and Amelie, Grant and Mike. The plan, Mike and Grant wanted no part of any upriver shenanigans so they opted to stay local. The rest of us had visions of weed beds coughing up giant gators between camp and the shorelunch spot to the west. It was a tough bite again. Mornings and evenings giving up fish, but high sun and clear skies were making the waters stingy through the day. Come afternoon we were just on the prowl spot to spot plying for anything that would move, and eventually we came on a few different holes that gave up several bushel loads of walleyes. This was finally some fun work (except for Steve losing his biggest walleye) and we got more than our fair share needed for Grant to do up a feast fish-fry that evening. Norm's company was a real treat this day, and our guide and friend shared many personal stories of his life growing up in Ogoki with his dozen other siblings. We liked Norm. We all do for sure. Quiet and intuitive when required, out-spoken and respectful when a part of it all. A mechanic, a guide, a new father again at 54, and a heckuva big-hearted soul, he's one of the more interesting people from the north I have met in life. His skills with the knife, the fish, the motors, the boats and the river are all enchanting. He's proud, rugged and gritty and made a man of the bush, for such a short stature he's surprisingly well grounded and durable. His tireless work seems to not phase him. Up at sunrise to clean the boats, mix and fill the gas, clean the grounds and feed "Pike," bleeds into 16 to 18 hour days of guiding on the river. Need fish cleaned quick, he does a half dozen walleye in five minutes with nothing wasted. "The Dood" Norm is all performance all the time. Meegwetch Norman. This day and every day were all yours, really. You're an asset to the Attawapiskat. Congratulations, enjoy your wedding and new son Eric. Teach him your ways and that'll be the right way. DAY 7. UNBELIEVABLE. Grant slept in nursing a swollen head, while Stevie Z and Amelie snuck out to use up some more of their rubbers at the walleye holes. Carl, Mike and I started at the Silver Sticks right in front of camp. It was a lazy morning... A couple 30 plusers on the ultralight for me, we decidedly moved on to Bermuda where fishing got hot real quick. Johnson spoons for the guys and my NorthAM spinnerbait, Mike was on fire and picked up two trophy fish on the morning. Carl sadly lost his, Mike another that shook off on a tarpon leap, and myself and Carl had follows from two giant pike that just wouldn't commit. Teenage tough fighting pike were all in a huff too, many charging and exploding on all our baits. It was that perfect storm of crazy pike feeding and it lasted just a couple short hours before we thought we might have stung every fish sulking now in the Triangle. Wondering what happened to Grant and expecting we mow down on a big lunch of walleye and spuds at camp, we left the fishing to head back around 11:00am. Above the dock outside the cabin was Norm at the picnic table, his head real low. He'd been on the SAT phone with his wife to be, Norman's friend and brother-in-law's daughter; Norman's 12 year old niece, had taken her own life. Norm could not hold back the tears, nor could he come to grips with his own guilt and remorse. Needlessly apologetic to us, riddled with sadness, upset by not being of use this final day and at home with his family, Norm took the seventh day for himself while we offered all condolence and understanding. It was terrible. Five hours around camp, after the lunch and seeing that Norman was wanting to take Grant out for a time on the river to get away, Carl jumped in with Steve and Amelie, leaving Mike with me. This worked out grand for him and I, as Mike was of the mood to say, "whatever, wherever Bunk," and I had plans to try a trolling run at the Three Sticks and do some drop-back probing of some island spots. Wind pushing against the current flow and the sun just right, the cabbage edges falling off into the deep trough of the main channel, presented a "slick" on the water indicating so precisely where to line up for the trolling runs. The upriver passes gave nothing but each downriver shot produced a walleye or pike. For me, it was being so zoned into the river at that moment which was the truly remarkable feeling. Still high on Pym waters we were heading downriver when I told Mike that a fish was waiting for him on the backside of a coming island. We plunged the lures behind the boat and motored right towards and onto the target. Mike got another trophy fish to reward his karma. The final day was his. MIKE. The big man of few words Mike seems to have the knack for blurbing gut-wrenching one-liners from out of nowhere. Ultra easy going, full of funny stories, and always game for a fish adventure, sharing the long drives with Mike and spending more boat time than ever, gave me the chance to further crack into this guys usually quiet shell. Verdict, Mike is uniquely good natured possessing a curious cleverness. This trip was redeeming for him I know it. Mike knocked fish up, down and all around the river this summer, and it was a joy to share in such a grand finale with him. Mike also takes the reward for catching the skinniest big-headed pike we have ever seen. Before the sun would set Mike and I ripped back to camp to check on things. Grant was back early with Norm and it just wasn't right to see the Slop not out casting the Top Raider into the dusk. Mike gave up his seat quick so the next short hours Grant could beat Silver Sticks and the Bermuda Triangle one last time. Later that night at camp Carl treated us to a bedtime feast of moose steaks, venison chops and goose sausage. All of which Carl knows I surprising enjoyed. Norm joined us as always and found his appetite for the game too. Ti'll the late hours Stevie, Norm and I stayed up sharing stories and getting further and further intoxicated on scotch, wine and beer. It wasn't only the end of an unbelievable day, but an unbelievable trip as well. More pics to follow...

Attawapiskat's Cree have told it is a young and wild river, it's currents fast and free unlike it's parents the Moose and Albany. With the breaking of it's spring ice it constantly changes and grows into something new, the rocks, sands and shoals reshaping it's spirit each year. A land once submerged under an ancient sea, "Attawabiskat" in Algonquin meant, "rock bottom," in reference to the limestone bedding upon which the river flows. I once called it simply, "The River That Pike Built," and it was this summers trip which proved this yet again. The quest for the devilish and giant mistahi-iynkinosew (pike) forced some of us to "rocky bottoms" in more ways than one, while during those same days the mikosow (eagle) soared us to new heights and revealed more about the rivers kinosew (fish) and nipiy (water) than we had ever known. A week shared with friends in the world of the "Pym's Pike Playground On The Attawapiskat" was an experience we won't soon forget. The legends are right, it is a wild, rocky and ever-changing river, full of life. The Pym Island stretch of it for a week this early summer, all ours to enjoy. Barely off the float plane from last years adventure the fellas were quick to start asking about 2011 fishing trip plans. Grant and Carl I know wanted Pym's pike and waiting in the wings were the always ready, willing and able Mike and Stevie Zebco. Getting to work seeking options for this gang, they were presented three choices and in the end it was to be what everyone really desired, Hearst Air Services Pym Island Camp on the Attawapiskat. Our sixth man in would turn out to be a woman this year, Amelie, such a welcome new addition. The morning of June 23rd Mike and I, and Carl and Grant departed in two cars from my place near Ottawa at 6:00am. By 5:00pm we had arrived at Stevie Z and Amelie's home in Mattice, just outside of Hearst. A heavy supper and short night sleep there, we were up, through the Timmies, and at the airbase for 6:15am that next morning. DAY 1. PYM PATTERNS. The day was grey but forecasted for sun where we were headed. The 7-day forecast written down proved perfect for the first six days while away in Pym. The two hour flight had us stop and drop other excited anglers in at Quantz Lake, giving us the chance to see this big body of water rumored to be loaded with walleyes. On touch down our old friend Norm was on the dock to greet us, along with the previous group of anglers waiting to head home. The Pym Island camp is awesome. A huge 3-bedroom and 1 main room space with electricity, hot running water for showers and dishes, a floor freezer, a fridge and freezer, propane oven and stove, BBQ, satellite TV, enormous dining table, couch, shower house, large deck, stereo... you name it, it's got it. Our gang just walked in that morning and within the hour were set-up and feeling right at home. Ten miles is a moccassin to our Guide Norm, (aka The Dood) and anything over ten is a moccassin and a toenail, a moccassin and a half, or if under, just a heel of moccassin. Plan for the day, we'd fish a moccassin up river. The Attawapiskat was a whole new flow the minute we left the dock. In 2008 water levels were five feet higher than normal during the same time of year, this year, it was five feet lower. Clearer, warmer and shallower now, river rocks and obstacles in places were fully exposed and before traveling too far it dawned on me that many spots some of us had fished in 08, were now high and dry. In fact, as the week went on I learned that 90% of the areas where I caught my own trophy fish last time, were now non-existent. Previous expectations had to be quickly disposed, this was to be an entirely new fishing experience. Gridlock, gnawing noise and thick smoggy air gave way to the soaring birds, the mikosow (eagle), kahkakiw (raven), kekehk (hawk), ohow (owl) and niska (goose), and the roaming animals, the moswa (moose), maskwa (bear), atihk (caribou), mahihkan (wolf), and the mahkesis (fox). Surrounded by wildlife peering at us from the shoreline shadows and bluing skies, we likely missed much while focused on one thing, the river’s kinosew (fish). That first afternoon was the eye-opener. Instead of warm water shorelines in eddies and bays, this trip was fast becoming about deeper cabbage beds in mid-river and off-shooting channel slack waters, and also the back-sides of islands and river-bends. Any cabbage key for pike, and current and eddies over rock for walleye, the pattern was far more typical to summer fishing, rather than early-to-late spring. Everyone began to dial into reality and so the fishing day finished with all catching and spotting some great fish. If one person could call day one theirs, it was Amelie. AMELIE. Stevie Zebco's lovely wife, Amelie and I worked together in Moosonee for a couple years before my departure. A new mom with a new nursing career in Hearst now, she's always been the epitome of awesome. A tough poker player, Rock Band Pro, compassionate professional, loving mother, and a precisely witty friend, we can all say how much of a pleasure it was to have her along with the boys this trip. And, for a girl who wouldn't touch fish almost the entire week, she sure beat the water's pike and walleye to a pulp. There were many times she made us howl with laughter at the dinner table, smile in the boat, and even feel humbled when she often jigged up the most fish caught in a day. She sure put a dent in her "box of rubbers" this week, slipping new ones onto a jig with almost every river eddy that held biting walleye and pike. Two lures for Amelie were almost about all she used, a white double-tail 4" Mr.Twister and a Johnson Silver Spoon. The Queen Slayer, we enjoyed her company immensely. Grant slipped away with Norm after supper to try his luck. The fishing nearby the cabin is likely the best to be found anywhere along the 80km stretch of fishable waters there are around Pym. The sun having nearly set and while enjoying a 15 year old healthy serving of chilled Dalwhinnie, Grant returns... THE "INCIDENT." 40 sumthin' year old male patient presents to the cabin smelling of ETOH, B.O, deet and fish (in that order) while having a pleasant yet urgent demeanor along with a marginally altered mental status. Chief complaint, "I got a huge fuxpletive treble from my Top Raider stuck in my arm..!!!" On exam, it is noted that the patient indeed has a large steel treble hook from his Top Raider fishing lure embedded into the medial aspect of his left forearm. Small amounts of sanguinous discharge ooze from the entry site yet the patient states repeatedly, "I DON'T FEEL PAIN!!!" The single hook is sunken in about as deeply as it can be and the point has nearly rounded and resurfaced. Patient's tetanus is up-to-date and he is apologetic for not getting a pic of the giant pike that was previously thrashing his arm all about while it was once attached to the other hook of his lure when at boatside. His anxieties are quickly medicated with a shot of rye and a Coors Light chaser. Partially sedated, an unfocused pic is taken of the wound before surgical intervention is scheduled. In the cabin OR, the area is prepped with alcohol and 5cc's of 1% Lidocaine is injected to fully freeze the wound site. Feeling nothing minutes later, Zebco assists by forcefully pushing down on the skin around the hook point while I pull up on the hook. Once the barb is through and above the skin, the hook point is cut below the barb and the remaining hook removed back from the direction which it initially penetrated. Patient is pleased with the outcome, while onlooker Carl pukes several times in his mouth. Assisted by Amelie we dilute Hydrogen Peroxide 2:1 with purified water and irrigate the wound with 10cc's, only to observe Grant's subcutaneous tissue begin bubbling, a little. Assisted again by Amelie we re-dilute the Peroxide to about 10:1 and flush furthermore with approximately 80cc's to achieve better result. Observing closely, one can see the irrigant enter the lower puncture site and exit out the other hole atop, a full wound cleansing is the result. First sterilizing a needle driver and then following aseptic technique, the wound is closed with two #3.0 Prolene sutures. The patient tolerates the procedure with more Coors and laughter, while Carl appears to be dry heaving from his mouth while a cheeseburger emesis ejects from his nasal passages. Most of us remain in stitches the whole time through surgery. Fish hooks and vomiting are fun. Amelie dresses the wound with Kleenex and kling, reviews signs and symptoms of infection as well as wound care, and gives the patient follow-up appointments for a dressing change and reassessment in two days, as well as suture removal come the final day of the trip. The patient expresses that his hand is numb for a few hours into recovery, but in the end, the surgical site heals beautifully six days later, full sensation and use of his extremity is restored, and no one ever suffers... except Carl. That night a symphony of snoring and digestive noise rumbles through the cabin. Full on cheeseburgers, booze and Pym life, we're off to a pretty wild start. DAY 2. HUSTLER'S. I woke 6:30am to get the kettle boiling and french toast and ham on the stove. This was my day for some R&R with Norm and Amelie, the trips prep already a little taxing, being chauffeured downriver through the Pow Island channels is an exciting notion. The boys, they were headed downriver on the main channel and planned to meet up at the FishTrap. Breakfast right through to mid afternoon Amelie and I caught numerous walleye, she picked up her first trophy pike and I nabbed three of them. The fishing was just what the doctor ordered. In the shallows off the backs of some islands we could spot schools of suckers and walleye swimming about, and even the odd sturgeon would clear the surface. Amelie had hooked into a mid to high 40 inch pike that got the best of her at boatside. It was a very impressive pike. Upon meeting the group later that afternoon we were all parked and fishing on a small creek inflow when I nailed my fat giant of the trip. Grant, Mike, Carl and Steve had taken quite a tour downriver on this day. Carl was a madman speed demon on the river, and unbeknownst to me had some mad skills with the canoes too. Bluebird skies and high heat made fishing a little tougher for them through the afternoon, and the evenings mayfly hatch didn't help either. In all though, Mike broke into his week with a trophy fish, as well as Amelie and I, and the others got some pigs too. Day two was probably my best day, lots of eyes and pike with the bigguns too, so I'll claim it. MYSELF. Alot of fish for me came on Lil' Hustler inlines and spinnerbaits, NorthAms spinnerbaits, Rapalas, Flipping jigs with big 6-inch grubs or shads, and 4-inch YUM pink/white grubs on 3/8oz Jig-a-Joes. Surf N' Turf supper with all the fixins is a second night favorite. I was fast asleep before the belt could even be loosened. DAY 3. END OF THE WORLD. Norm, Carl and Mike, Steve and Amelie, Grant and I. That was the days pairings and the plan was to head all the way downriver past the Highbanks to the "End of the World." The group had shared in this, and by sunset on this day we took notes of the many fishing spots we'd now named. With over 80km's of river to fish and two lakes (one seasonal but big at 11km X 5km) there were some interesting holes we laid claim to. End of the World, Highbanks, The Chute, No Name Bay, FishTrap, Pow, Everglades, Silver Stick, Bermuda Triangle, Trappers Cabin, The Fingers, Scottydog Creek, Torpedo Bay, Shorelunch, Waterfall, Oldguy Bay (in memory of our late friend Trevor), The Rapids, Carlzeddy, Pink Rock and Sucker Islands. Under variable clouds during a long excursion through miles of shallows, swifts and small rapids, we all found ourselves at the End of the World and about as far as we needed to go for the day. On route down that afternoon Mike and Carl were having an absolute slay day on the eyes, and Carl managed back to back solid gold bars. If there was a day for Carl, this was his day. CARL. Nicknamed "The Gouin" for the trip, our smallest but mightiest member in the group had us chasing him at times all up and down the river. Our second trip together, there are just not enough adjectives for admirable to describe this dood. Personally, it's his energy, his drive, his good spirits, his passion to chase big fish, his help and committment, his jerky and pulled pork, (and now moose and goose too) that draw me to Carl and have me enjoying his company more and more as I get to know him. He's got that similar edge too... the one that pushes himself and others to do better and try harder. Pike Blankets he was last year, coaxing his fish with the Sexy, this year nothing much changed except the addition of big eyes off a jig-tipped Williams Wabler. Another staple dinner for our trips is the walleye tornado night. A "weather event" as Grant put it, was moving in on us that evening, so the supper seemed quite befitting. Our little camp nuisance one minute and buddy the next, Grant's aptly named pup, "Pike," even got himself a taste of the goods before bed. Continued...

Mine is all over the place too. Just the way they be methinks... it's same as a buddies too. Tilt of the boat to the bow or stern will play on how much fuel the gauge reads. Good way to know what's actually in your tank... have the boat level on the trailer and read the quage. Now ya got me wondering though Guido...

Bravo Wayne! That made my morning right there. So great to see you and Leah get some much needed time away with friends and fish. You made the right choice obviously, the gathering looked to be a blast, and the pics portrayed that perfectly. Best wishes too, bud!

Sometimes I think you're an absolute nutcase Mike... to have a cottage that far away and make those gas guzzlin' drives like you do. But then I remember the cottage, the feeling of slipping into those backlakes, (and watching Bill take rapids in reverse ) and the rewards of fish once in there. MAN! Skud hit the jackpot though!!! Nice.

Sounds like the perfect 1 1/2 hours to me Jacques.

It'd be great to do that. Winter project in the future maybe. Nice work and results DOC!

Quality big pics. I like that sticker too... "take a fish boating." Sounds like you and the Missus did well to take a school of them boating.

Spotless and solid PB eye. Congrats.

Ha! They're pretty solid fighters Roy and it's an enjoyable all visual experience from start to finish. It's addictive for sure. Thanks for the reeeeeplywoods doods!

Moose - where I lived. Bunk - who I am.

It's such a great time of year getting to read all these kinds of reports. So true about the daytime walleye bite being primetime. Found that the case many days on the northern waters, not all though. Sounds like a pretty cool spot loaded with eyes. Bet your happy to get another crack at it so soon.