Moosebunk

Got thru some of this mandatory reading at OFC this morning while skipping thru from fall back Hallows eve to out the door to Costco and places. Place on the map looks intriguing and your records of it's history added much to this report. Thanks for the invite on this one too Mike, with that crew assembled I surely missed out... again!

Wicked AaaaWESOME! Great bunch of toothies and grins.

Nice! Jigging skis later in the season is especially fun. Gobi's not so much.

Christine is and has been tougher than most men, all her life. She's straining to hold this fish and crack that smile though, I can tell. This might possibly be the best St. Clair fish I've laid eyes on and Justin's right to get excited for her. She's just an awesome angler and person all around. Congrats again Chris.

http://www.chextv.com/2015/10/07/39004/ In short, P.H. Mayor speaks on fishing. For any interested.

Bravo's RULE! Great addition Simon.

Very nice fellas! Pete takes a seat and nabs a beast. As it should happen every time.

Genius! Well done. lol.

Your OFC name is so befitting Mike. Good fishing dood!

That cottage life sounds like heaven on earth Joey... but that drive would be something from straight outta Hell. lol. No cottage... my parents instead traveled with my brother and I. In earliest memory we camped out. First a big tent, then a tent trailer. Sandbanks, Presquille and Lake Placid. At Sandbanks I had a Honda 50 dirtbike at ten years old. My seven year old brother and I would rip around all over on that bike. Through campsites, down the roads, on the beach, nobody cared where we were. The parents would laze on the beach. Some tunes playing on the radio at the time, Sweet Dreams - Eurythmics, Sad Songs - Elton John, Raspberry Beret - Prince. Every winter we'd go to Killington Mt. Vermont, Whiteface Mt. New York or Mont Tremblant Quebec to ski. Families would group up and it was a riot. Staying at the Hojo's at White Face was the best with all the kids playing together in the pool each evening after skiing all day. When I was 11 we started going south in the summer too. Virginia Beach and Myrtle Beach, and Orlando. We also went to Europe for a couple weeks to Holland, Germany, Italy and Austria, when I was in grade 6. Still remember much from all those trips. The family trips ended for me at 15. When turning 16 and getting a license, come summers I was all over the map. Returned to a love for camping out or staying up in Quebec at a friend's father's remote cottage. Would tour to the cities too, Quebec city, Montreal, Ottawa and Toronto. A father whom surely loves to travel, he passed that on to me. Although my mother would possibly like the idea of cottage life, dad wouldn't be caught sitting still in one place for too long. Although we don't have cottage life memories, our family has plenty memories from traveling.

Thanks guys. June thru early July and October thru November are the busiest months. September you could likely find room. Ohhhh that road, cringed along the way this time. Understood your filth too it's acceptable this time around Alan. I'm sure it'll be spotless next time we play bumper boats on the lake. Judging by these photos one wouldn't think it was windy much at all, but really, for at least part of everyday but one, there were times we weren't going too far. And man, low water too. When I think I've got a handle on the shoals out there they still surprise sometimes. Next year not likely there, thinking arctic char or maybe specks elsewhere for a change... plenty more slime for you then.

Heard of this author... don't know anything about him tho. Now will have to look that up. That'd be all good with me Wayne. This year, your plane wouldn't have liked you very much for setting in down any length of time on that lake. After Labor Day that lake gets pretty busy in different spots for specks. We set-up our camp usually away from the others. That kinda thinking requires a GCS of 16.

A SPECKLED NIP RIPPIN'! Up and at 'em!! Mikey and I muscled our way thru a long, fast full day ride from Ottawa to Nipigon in one straight haul. Having company alongside, the eighteen hours flew by, but when finally landing at the finish it was instant exhaustion. Arrived at the destination, through the darkness a fella walked up to the truck, I rolled down the window to greet, "gidday, names Bunk." "Yeah, I know," he replied, "it's Brian!" Nice to meet this fellow traveler again, Brian, his wife Maggie and I had hung out some on a trip taken once before. Some extra time in the late hours, the three of us enjoyed a few brews by the fire before settling to sleep. Day 1. MOTION SICKNESS. It was a cold, damp, though sound nights rest but both of us were feeling some effects of our big push day before. Mikey knew that I wasn't really into all this either; not yet anyways, and just so far going through the motions, kinda lacking energy and excitement. Little spring in either of our steps despite wanting to be there and eager to chase specks, whipped we put to the task of ferrying our gear out onto the lake to make camp for the week. This was my third trip out to Nipigon for 2015 and the plan was speckles, with some pike and hopefully a laker or two for Mike. Earlier in July on a trip half solo and half with Stevie Z, in very short time the laker thing had been accomplished beautifully, and so to was some great walleye fishing, a little piking and some birding. According to data through the tagging program this was not predicted to be one of the better years for bigger specks. Annual norms; which can be researched in greater depth at Alan Muir's Brook Trout Heaven, interpret that within some areas tested, Nipigon's specks trend through a 4-year cycle. This taken into consideration, along with my own similar although somewhat different findings from 08 to present, I wasn't overly optimistic that Mike and I would come close to bettering our best trips of the past. Taking time at camp I scoped out the area for signs of bear before eventually having all things set-up and in place for the week stay. Later turning our attention to the fish, throughout the afternoon few if any specks would be found, but the pike turned on fierce early evening. Mikey kicked off this first day of our trip with the best and it was just the motivation we needed. Two hungry fellas retired to the camp a little early for some heaping bowls of seafood chowder by the fire. An overall slow and lazy day, my heavy proof scotch served to quickly dim the eyes to any glowing embers that remained this day. Day 2. THIRTY PERCENT CHANCE. After big sleeps we woke to rustling winds. From out of the north, a marine forecast was calling for a gusty warning with 30% chance of rain towards the evening and into night. Judging by the trees gently swaying overhead, it was beginning. In no rush, by the heater inside the tent I warmed up, dried out my wet shoes and socks a little, and woke easy. A better day for energy, once riding out it appeared as though plenty weren't deterred by any weatherman. Speckers here, speckers there, bloody speckers out fishing everywhere. It was a zoo really, plenty just bobbing around on the search. Mikey and I stayed on the hunt. Trolling and casting various familiar shorelines it was apparent September in the north had yet to arrive. Most years past the poplar leaves would have turned yellow and been falling by now. There have been a few days in late August we have woken to frozen water in our cups, but yet the air at nights this season (except a couple nights ahead) were still expected to be well above freezing, and many days warming into the 20C's. Surface temps on the lake were mid 60's in the shallows, high 50's over the deep. The cabbage beds thick and full and only just beginning to decay in places. The whole season was delayed, it was obvious, and this kept the specks scattered off stage, while plentiful active pike ruled the shores. Along an almost forgotten path, Mike found our first. Much of our time in stealth, sneaking around fishing mostly secondary spots away from other boaters, we plucked speckles from here and there to make a good first full day of it. This one catch in particular, I have to thank Mike for photographing just perfectly. Full spawn colors, glowing clean and pristine, plump and halo'd, it is a priceless Nipigon gem of top quality. Earlier evening we were chased off the lake by that 30% rain and winds that switched and blew up hastily from the north. The prolonged warm weather front was about to take a backseat to a sudden plummet in temps, 50+ kilometer gusts and storms. Worried about the boat on shore I rested the bow on a small anchored sheet of submerged plywood, tied both sides and the nose tight and secure, then snapped on the cover. Retiring to the tent as the rain fell harder, I prayed for no northeaster that could bring along a wrecking ball. Day 3. OVERNIGHT HAMMER. Shortly after midnight the tent walls flapped hard. Outside the winds had turned straight down on us. Waves curling around the shoreline to reach the boat, thankfully all was fine. 2:38am sharp I woke again, the tent was really rocking now. Creeping out the door the rain had stopped. I turned the flashlight on the boat and watched as it rolled easy side to side but bucked pretty hard back-to-front with each wave that struck the transom. Standing aside the gunnel, I could hear the occasional grinding sound when the bow pushed forward or boat leaned right. The plywood was out from under the boat and the ropes had stretched some as well, now it lay on the shallow rocks. There wasn't enough force in any way for immediate worry, but overnight and through time I pictured a slow wear and tear. Pants rolled up over the knees, from under the boat I dug out any jagged or big rocks. There were a few, one in particular shaped like a perfect cube with sharp corners. The water level had risen too, so the ropes all needed readjusting, tightening, and the plywood bed replaced. Shortly after 4:00am the winds were ripping. Groggy and surely pissed off with Mother Nature I crawled from the tent, AGAIN!!! The work I had done earlier was holding but, the waves were really knocking on the transom so that the bow was rising enough to almost beat itself on the steeper embankment of the shore. There with the boat, a crisp 4 celcius, soggy in the spitting rain, I stood guard and rode out the next hour or so until the wind and waves let off some. Around 6:15am I inspected one last time. Only replacing the plywood it seemed as though the boat had survived the worst of it. I zipped up the sleeping bag rather tired. 7:30am and from outside the tent Mike hollers, "COFFEE'S READY!" Fingers pushing my earplugs deeply to the knuckles, I half muttered in disgust before turning away and falling back asleep. Over a late breakfast I revisited my night with Mike. "Dude, I had a great sleep," he assured me. A noon start we didn't figure on traveling far but as the day progressed the winds kinda-sorta shifted. Allowed a bumpy and safe passage, we plied lee-sides and tops spots before the breeze really tapered off come evening. Although head-achy and a wee hungover feeling, the lake getting stirred up from the storms did wonders for the fishing. No matter where we toured, Mike and I spent the afternoon laying an absolute hammering on the specks... Mike's favorite meal night we snuck in an earlier fajita supper to provide some extra nourished playtime afterwards. Running about, the specks had scampered off by this time, and the pike had returned to prowl. Before a frosty darkness ahead, under the setting sun, the days fish blaze kept hot while pike boiled on our lures. It was a long and tough one, yet for numbers it was one of the best we'd ever had. No fire, no scotch, only an instant GCS of 3. Day 4. SMOKIN' 'EM!!! Early morning frost rose to a calm mist. The best day forecast, we could hear quite early other boat motors already buzzing on the lake. Mike and I wasted no time as we had prepared to take advantage of glass waters with a full day. Starting off with specks, I wondered momentarily if I had hooked into a giant... I was sadly disappointed. First laker of the trip convinced Mike and I that maybe it was time to drop down some riggers and finally give 'em deep greasy slackers a crack. Game, we did, and it turned out to be a waste of a couple hours... well, except that it was a pretty chill way to wake and sip coffee while watching the sun clear out the clouds. Before morning's end we had the MNR pay us a visit too. Nice fellas, they checked licenses and our things over before we got on our way. The afternoon was spent miles and miles out on the lake. Mike and I searched out some pike grounds under blue skies and cruised some shorelines in search of specks too. Wraps, junk food and vitamin D kept us going strong during our exploration. When Nipigon lays down to allow full freedoms, it is heaven to roam. Chapped lips and burnt necks was worth the sacrifice. Early evening while casting a shallow, boulder-strewn point, several specks snapped hard at our lures, a thick 23 1/2 incher being the best of the bunch. Having never fished or caught specks on this point, it will certainly be revisited some coming year. The middle of this giant lake in view we guessed it best to start back to camp. Along the way, both had it in mind to stop at a few spots for other fish. Turned out to be a wise decision, one that made Mikey especially especially especially happy happy happy before we called it a day. Day 5. DYING BAGEY. Beside the food coolers come morn was some skat. Bear... not sure? Not unless it had the runs a little and was doing the walk-and-poop stroll on the path. There was enough there to be a creature beast substantial though, and I had most certainly heard something night before when heading off to bed. The wind had picked up again. The boat high and dry, the water levels dropped, the boat traffic didn't. With the way things were blowing though, most anglers were circling around nearby to one another and reachable speckie spots were thick with anglers. Much of our day was spent in search of specks and pike, and new weedbeds for pike. The morning trout bite was nearly non-existent and we did in fact struggle. The pike too were lock-jawed, and despite stumbling on the mother of all cabbage beds we couldn't tempt too many out from under the greenery. Finally by evening we had some action. A quick stop back at the launch to reinforce a cracked bunk and scrounge for some things, both Mike and I found ourselves gawking at one absolutely stunning, curvy brunette who was waiting by the dock. F the B trouts, this one was the gem catch on the lake. Ahhh man, we had to get out of there fast though, her boyfriend took notice of us and his arms were as thick as oaks. A second shot at the lakers we dropped heavy balls for a couple hours cool dunkings, and plunked two outta three greasy ones topside. A Matrix spoon down 58 did the hardcore, although we both could have cared less cause now we had women firmly on our minds. A choppy day turned into a gustier eve while we farted around for more specks. Drifting and casting alongside a lengthy shoal, my light rod took a little tap then bent slowly over on itself with a weight that turned scary. A big pike on a small meal was hooked, see it? Wicked awesome fun to play out, Mikey slid the net under and the fish made for a great finish. Day 6. RUN. Laying in the half morning darkness of the tent I listened intently once finding the right position for reception on the hand-held radio. "Lake Nipigon! Wind warning in effect. Winds SW 5K this morning, switching NW 15K with rain early this evening, then wind to north 25K this evening and overnight. Waves building to 1 then 1 1/2 meters." The "K" wasn't for kilometers either, and I didn't bother to wait hearing the next days weather. It was our second last day to fish, planning to have fished this one, the next, then leave the following. Once Mike was up I relayed the forecast to him and it was decided we break camp now and take all back to the launch, that way we'd at least have an exit if the lake got rough. By 11:00am we found the time to get out. For four hours we dabbled here and there for pike and specks but the bite was rather poor under quite ominous looking skies. Too bad really, because the lake was flat calm. One boat approached us early afternoon. Three American's in a rig much like mine explained they were looking for specks. Someone must have told them about the spot Mike and I were sitting on, but still, after they had told me where they had boated from and them unknowingly having passed by countless great fishing areas, I kinda nudged them back the way they came. Oblivious too of the pending weather ahead, these sailors would have some high seas to cross if getting caught miles from home as they were. While circling a new and incredibly perfect looking speckle structured island shoreline I noticed off in the distance the land disappear on the horizon. Moments later a couple islands got swallowed up too. Then, a little wisp of cold stood the hair up on the back of my neck and a swirly ripple of water danced off the bow. "Mike" I said, "we're getting out of here." A race back to the launch the weather was coming in quick. Our shorelines disappearing, the waves building up and the rain beginning to spit, as we rode in for safety Mikey called it. "Let's just pack our things up and head home today." Avoid a soggy night of high winds and rain to possibly just wake and pack everything wet... to his suggestion I agreed. Quick work of it all, six hours down the road in Mattice by midnight, Stevie Z opened the door to his home and we crashed out ti'll morning. By the following evening I gave Brenda one big happy Anniversary hug before putting another rip to Nipigon trip to rest. Good fishing, good friend, a good time. Bunk.

GOTCHYA!!! DONE! RIGHT IN THE HEAD! Cool Simon.

How true and maaaaaaan could I tell all some stories from the E.R. and outposts. 12 days and 136 hours, just in from work in the north and sorting out the muskie, smallie and wally gear. Thanks for the laugh today. And for those who actually opened this thread....

Shooting from a moving boat. That's everyday play in James Bay.

Was gonna say!!! Congrats.

Ummmm, not so much the crappies but... Winter is fun times.

Not sure under Cochrane Air about the up keep of their cabins. Heard good and bad. Recently they absorbed True North Air's camps. Previous owner kept his camps immaculate. If going back with them in future, maybe consider lakes that were once with True North...? For fly-in fishing for a week I'll be honest... that's OK but not really great fishing results you've posted. Cochrane Air has lakes that I know you could do 3 to 5 times those numbers for walleye in a week fishing just the sunset hour.

If the offer comes up again I'd join you Mike. Have fished those waters some too. This week just kinda stuck making a buck 1000 miles away.

Elliot Lake.... Hmmmm.... Doorstep to some great recreation??? Quality of life. Good luck with the planned changes.

Check one off the bucketlist. You're on a roll. What's next?

Can't see the pics at work but it sure reads like you had a banner day Dana! Nice dood! Go for the auroras while karma is good man!

Best wishes to Mrs. Blizz! Get well.

Ate a bass. Geesh! That's a catch.