Search the Community

Sitting at work yesterday, browsing the forums like I normally do, and I found myself pretty envious after seeing all your picture of the fish you guys had been catching lately, so I called up my old man to see if he wanted to go out after work. He was down for it, of course. He used to fish a lot as a kid but life got in the way. But ever since I bought my first boat this spring, him and I have made it out nearly every week since late April, and he's quickly rediscovered why he loved it so much to begin with. As soon as I got off work I picked up the step-son from daycare and headed to the boat launch, meeting my old man there. The kid had been on my boat once before and loved it, but had never been fishing on it. I've taken him shore fishing before but he's never seen anything bigger than a perch pulled up so I was really hoping to show him something nice this time. We get on the water at little after 5:30 and before long have found our way to spot I know that's usually been good to me. I throw a worm and a bobber on the little guy's line and cast it over a weed bed nearby then my old man and I start casting out. He lasts about two minutes before he gets bored and decides he would rather play with the steering wheel than fish. Not surprising, he's 4 years old and doesn't have a toy that isn't a car, truck, boat, or plane. The kid loves vehicles like I love fishing, haha. I let him just play around as I wasn't too concerned with him catching a perch or something, he's done that plenty now, I just wanted him to see how big fish can get to get him more excited about it. We drift around in that area for nearly an hour, trying different lures and depths and weed lines, but nothing. Not even a hit. Usually this place is good for one or two pike at least but it seems they aren't interested today. We start jumping along the shoreline to other spots I've had luck with before with similar results. Then we get out from a dock and I've just got a good feeling about this place. My dad and I both are using 3" five of diamonds by this point and on our first cast in this spot something takes his lure and whips down under the boat into the weeds. He said it felt like a strong hit and I'm there ready with the net as he pulls up... a pile of weeds. Damn, must've kicked the hook after it dove down. The kid was standing at the side of the boat eagerly awaiting the fish and the disappointment was evident in his face, he was just as excited to see it landed as we were. Now I know we've gotta get one as I refuse to let this kid go home without seeing a fish. A few minutes later and my dad has another hit, this one he's determined to keep. It's coming in real easy and not putting up much of a fight until it gets within a few meters of the boat then it begins to fight like hell, diving deep and bending the rod down solidly. I'm standing ready with the net when it finally comes up and she's a beauty. Net it quickly and pull it into the boat, finally get a good look and we are not disappointed, least of all the little guy who is losing his mind. It's a 30" pike, weighing 4.5lbs. This is an especially nice moment for my dad, as it's his season's best so far, and since this is his first season in around 30 years, it's the best fish he's caught since he was a kid. We release the fish then pick up the rods to try again, huge grins on our faces, and now even the kid is back into it. Not more than 3 casts later I hear the best words in existence, "fish on!". The scene plays out again as my dad reels in yet another fish. Not as big but still nice, 25" and nearing 3.5lbs. Asked the young lad if he wanted his picture taken with it but he ran to the back of the boat at the thought, probably not a bad thing to be a little fearful of those teeth, haha. Tried for a little bit more there without success and decided to go back to where we started off, still frustrated that we got skunked there originally. Shortly after we arrive they start biting, but only on my dad's lure. He pulls up two small ones just shy of 2lbs and quickly tosses them back. I'm starting to get a little frustrated now as I haven't been skunked all year yet but it's looking pretty likely here. The little guy is standing up in the bow with me now and points towards shore and tells me to cast that way. I do as he says as I had earlier told him we were a team so that he could feel included on anything I catch. It was less that a second after hitting the water that I felt that familiar tug on my line and knew I had one. I start reeling as my dad readies the net, but this one was a fighter. Every time I got it next to the net it dove straight down, again and again. Finally in the fifth attempt at netting him we succeeded. Not the biggest of the day but a nice fish in its own right. 28", just shy of 4lbs. I give all the credit to the kid, who told me exactly where to cast and it worked out perfectly. There may be hope for him yet! We called it a night shortly after that as we were already out later than his bedtime and knew I would be catching hell for that from his mom, but when we got home and he wouldn't stop talking about how awesome the fish were, she couldn't even be a little mad over anything that made her kid so happy.

With apologies to The Gruffalo: All was quite in the deep dark wood. A hunter, and his son, shot a grouse.... ... and it was good. Soon to be 6, he's made a few trips last year and a few more this year but this was the first time I've got a bird while he has been with me. My oversized hunting coat barely fit afterward.

The fire on, a warm scotch, and the kids playing upstairs, it's while alone in the basement on some snowy winter night when trips like this one begin... 　 Nipigon's rocky shorelines have been calling me back since first traveling there some short years ago. It has become an annual obsession to return, and a future goal to live out my summer days on it's waters; once eligible for any sort of semi-retired life that is. This spring the hope was to forge something new with the lake and my youngest love, Leah. At nearly ten years old now, my daughter and I have never had any sort of trip together just the two of us. This was to change, and with that I would introduce her to the experience of fishing travel and the passion her father has for just that. Onaman's River Resort on Lake Nipigon would be the destination. Very little information seemingly exists for this outfitter, and what bit that could be scrounged was found primarily through U.S. based websites. Humboldt Bay, Ombabika and even East Bay represent an inspiringly vast section of Lake Nipigon that accesses more remote east and northern compass settings. Some older reading material here at home notes, this end of Nipigon is richest for its walleye and pike fishing, but after further investigation it became apparent that Humboldt itself is also home to good populations of the lake's biggest laketrout. Any of those three species of fish regularly get my stomach growling, then add world class speckled trout into the recipe and what's left is the perfect feast. And truly Nipigon is just that to me, a favorite delectable four species, available in jumbo sizes, and ready to order from one of the classiest natural establishments. Preparing through the spring during spare time I would hit the vise to tie up jigs and spinners. Using mapping software, different hard map sources, Google Earth and any online information, the hand scribbled away drawing out possible fishing locations, marking shoals and pinpointing safe harbors and campsites. No hydrographic charts for the lake, no cell service in this area, no radio station weather forecasts, and limited human contact once out there fishing, it's your life and preparation is paramount, and especially important when your little one is along. My Lund would be doable but somewhat small for this kind of trip. Big runs into bigger water are required and comfort for Leah was a priority. When thinking about someone with a larger boat to invite I looked no further than my friend Len. An 18 foot Crestliner, 150 Merc, 9.9 kicker, Terrova, quality electronics, bimini top and plenty of room for the three of us, I was quite happy when he accepted to come. In fact, I knew he wouldn't say no. He's a man who loves his speckled trout and lakers above most else, so this was right up his alley. Len made it quite clear that specks were the big draw for him, and understanding that he is an organized and meticulous man, there was relief for me knowing that the boat would be in prime shape heading into the big chase. In the late winter my buddy Kevin suddenly lost his lifelong best friend Trevor to a heart attack at age 37. Trevor and Kevin visited Nipion a couple years back and for the two of them it was the greatest fishing trip of their lives. Talking with Kevin during his time of loss I realized he must come with us, so a plan was set in motion to ensure just this. Kevin (Floaty) was over-the-moon excited about returning to Nipigon. A hope to release some of Trevor's ashes to forever flow within the lake, there was certainly an importance and a finality to his personal journey as well. So... ... on the morning of June 28th the boys arrived in front of my place at 6:30am. 　 　 THE DROOL. Floaty was passed out in the back of the truck and drooling on my pillow before we even reached the end of my driveway. Len and I began chirping up front about all things fishy, while Leah quietly stared in awe at the many different ways Floaty could contort his body during sleep. In Arnprior for coffee we woke Float abruptly and glancing at the Wendy's he bellowed out, "that's a huge slushie" just before konkin' out again within mere seconds. Leah laughed about this for hours. She was in good spirits the entire haul. She's never really been a complainer, and lives a life in the happiest of childhood worlds. A saturday driving we were expecting some slow traffic north and we were stuck with just that. It amazes and always pizzes me off to the inth degree, the people who drive 80-90km/hr then reach the passing lane and floor it to 130 so no one can pass them, then they slow'er back down to 90 to hold everyone up again. It's much, much worse south of North Bay too, where more urban hippocrates populate. Dodge Caravans and any Subaru's seem to be the worst for it. Seriously. Six hours into the tour and above New Liskeard traffic fizzled out quite a bit, then later west of Cochrane the road was void of any life, as per usual. Mattice at twelve hours into the drive would provide an overnight rest stop at my good friends Steve and Amelie's. Getting in at dinnertime Amelie had homemade lasagna, caesar salad, desert and beer waiting. God I love them. Kev and Len couldn't help themselves and from infront of Steve and Amelie's home on the shoreline of the Missinaibe River, the boys wet a line for smallies and fallfish. It's a quiet life in little Mattice I suspect, yet there's always been something appealing about that. Sleep was a rather difficult arrangement for Leah and I. Sharing a bed I learned she's somewhat of Circus act all night long. She flips, cart-wheels, stands on her head, sings, dances, quotes Shakespeare and even cries. When I finally drifted off around 2:00am I was promptly flicked in the face by a tiny finger and told, "stop snoring, I can't sleep." Sunrise came too quick. 　 　 MOOSE ON THE LOOSE. On the road around 7:30am with about six hours to destination we hit the local Timmies in Hearst before starting off on that 200 kilometer straight shot through to Longlac. For anyone that has not driven the stretch of road understand this... you could chuck a tennis ball west from the townline at Hearst and as long your aim is true, that ball will roll those 200 klicks to Longlac. Poor Len was beginning to stress that the two hours might just kill him because there'd be absolutely no Timmies on route, he's is utterly addicted. Truth was, no Timmies coffee for a week. Somewhere nearing Geraldton our extra-large double-doubles bursted every seal and we pulled over for a break at some scenic little rest-stop. While waiting, that tennis ball rolled on by. The brilliance of the north route 11 rather than southerly 17 is that it's flat, straight and sees little traffic. To reach Onaman's you'd be silly to go any other way. The west side of Jellicoe there's a road to the right. There's no signage on the 11 for Pasha Lake Camp or Onaman's Resort, just a semi-rough dirt road that veers off into the middle of nowhere for 50 kilometers. We were wondering about it a minute, but Leah says to me, "sometimes dad you gotta get lost to find yourself." Some of the Lindner's TV crew was leaving as we were heading in, we arrived about 1:00pm and spent a couple hours settling into the cabin, having lunch, and preparing the boat. Boys on board, the idea was to take in some late afternoon pike and an evening of walleye. Looking down the Onaman River from the dock Len put the Cresty on plane for the ten klicks to the lake. An eagle followed us out for a ways. Here's a sped up video of the run... 　 　 A shallow area with the possibility of some hazards I urged Len to keep a heading into a specific back bay. Stopping short it didn't take my lack of patience long before I had a remote in hand for the Terrova. A small cut of pencils reaching out from a calm back corner I was certain there'd be a pike just in behind it. Cast... and SMACK... and as I began to play the fish I hear over my shoulder from Len and Floaty... "AHEM!" "AhhhHEM... Leah!?!?" "Ohhh yes, thanks boys," I answered before calling Leah to the bow and passing her the rod. A moment of forgetfulness, that would be the only reminder needed for the rest of the week. All my fish afterwards were hers to reel in if she wanted, and proudly she took pretty much every one of them. Water temps behind the point deeper into the bay increased about seven degrees to low 70's. Forage was abundant everywhere and the odd pike kept pulling us in deeper. Had a feeling about this spot on the map. Over the tall grasses and just around a bend we spotted the first of nine moose sighted during the week, and the only bull. It was awesome but it didn't stick around long, and I barely caught this pic. We turned the boat around to make our exit and it was like we hit a different fishery on the way out. Len first of all pops a surprise tank walleye from about two feet of water. It's a long fish we guess around 9-10 pounds and it sure as heck gave him the business. Lenny wasn't done with just some exceptional walleye though, on a following cast he smoked a best pike. Dood was on fire and it we'd only been sparking the fish for an hour. On a double header that had a couple pike running Floaty and I under the boat, Leah wanted a photograph of us. The pike were really cooking. Rubber hook for Kev he had a big fish blow up and be on and off in a sudden heartbreaker. My hook drove solid into something large too, and it held. When Leah grabbed the rod and the pike took a hard run, she slammed and bent two rod guides over the gunnel before finding her balance, leaning back and lifting the tip high. With some help at boatside my girl had reeled in her first trophy pike. Proud Papa to say the least. This will be one of my favorite pics for life. The bite faded out around 6:00pm and after a little more weedbed exploring we giver'd back up the river towards O.R.R. and played around an hour or two with the walleye. With these fish you can't go wrong, even if just casting from shore. If a boatload of guys were to spend a day fishing just walleye they would probably average about two to four dozen a piece. It was a little surprising that the presentations needed to be tweaked with a little more finesse than normal, but it could have been due to the fact that many boats fish near the camp daily. The walleye fishing quickly became Leah's favorite because she could cast her own lighter rod and even catch the odd fish for herself. Whenever my line got tapped she was right there to reel those in as well. By the end of the week she had me grinning a few times when I'd look over and see her mimicking everything I was doing with the rod when jigging. She sure pounded some gold bars all week and was a natural at posing with her catch. Again, when in her glory and so very happy fishing, I couldn't have been more pleased myself. End of day one at O.R.R. we all retired exhausted and happy. 　 　 SUN SPECK. Just a wee bit sluggish on the 6:00am rooster call. Floaty was always first up to greet me soon as he heard any sort of stirring. Usually I begin quiet with the kettle boiling, but it doesn't take long before pots and pans start clanking and the breakfast bell rings. This has somehow become the routine of every fishing trip. I'm camp beyotch, first up, last to bed and constantly pushing the others to hurry up... though it's probably because I eat more than anyone else, am most fish obsessed and unbelievably driven to be out exploring. Leah started off her days kinda wonky. First few mornings she'd complain her stomach was upset and not want to eat, yet I could tell it was only stress. She confessed teary eyed at times she missed her sister and mom, and the fact her meal times were off and she lost a good chunk of sleep on route, she was tired. At one point while crying she says to me, "sorry to ruin your vacation dad," and that kinda shot right through ya know? She was down in the dumps and had no need for that sort of wrongful and guilty thinking. It would be a little while yet, but once she caught up on her rest, we talked some things through and she began eating better, these occassional short sad spells ceased as I'll note later on, and it was all smiles for the remainder. There's a tonne of shoreline to cover and the speck fishing is rather far out there on the lake. Once bellies and boat were fully fueled we set out to begin eliminating as much of that speckled trout water as we could. Thing was, by the time we got moving and out there on the lake, I'd normally be finishing up my morning speck fishing and switching gears. We toured for about six hours total, following a few islands but otherwise sticking to a long expanse of shore and even trolling it opposite ways. Specks in this area we learned later on from Wilf (father of O.R.R. owner Rob) is that as the spring waters warm the pike migrate out from the shallows along the shore and actually push the bulk of the specks out of bays, and onto rocky offshore islands. As we trolled along for specks catching pike certainly wasn't a problem. Days out on the water are often long and tiring yet somehow on previous 7-day visits we'd manage to find the energy to put in 10-14 hours a day fishing. This trip things slowed down a little; more like eight hours, and I'll confess it took some getting used to at my end. Although, no matter what's going on in a day, it's always nice to step out and stretch the legs, especially in a place like Nipigon. It is afterall a vacation of sorts. Spinners, spoons, jigs and small cranks we ran it all. Along the way we saw some excellent looking speck water and spotted many roaming whitefish and even pike, but the trout remained elusive to the hook. Well... again, poor Floaty actually had a hit and loss we suspected was a good speck. I was running a spoon and a jig on an inside line when the spoon took a knock. Quick hookset and the rod was passed to Leah. This fish on lighter gear gave her every bit as much play as her big pike the previous day, but she managed to get it boatside after being taught a little about pumping the rod, slowly reeling down on the fish, and letting it run when need be. There was no measurement on her first speck, only this picture. After six hours on the trout the gang opted to head back for a time of walleye slaying, before I threw a big rosemary leg of lamb on the BBQ back at the cabin. 　 　 SPINNER There's no rhyme or reason to when and why specks bite and when they don't. Kind of the same as lakers, yet probably worse. On any day in any condition it is my belief though, that your best shots are of course sunrise and set, and the journal would actually record the same. That said, if I was to want an "all day long" speck weather condition I'd probably hope for overcast and a little choppy before choosing bluebird. Funny thing was, when speaking with the owner of O.R.R. Rob briefly about our first day fishing specks, he disagreed. Rob would rather glass calm and sunny as can be, and his favorite hours were in the afternoon. Boggled me a little this did, until he explained his tactics for catching specks. Want to know his secrets you'll have to ask Rob yourself one day. Understanding that when he guides it's more often than not during normal daylight hours on nicer days, it makes sense his style would adapt. There's always something to be learned from others. Quickly evident was that Floaty doesn't eat breakfast, Len doesn't eat breakfast and Leah doesn't eat much breakfast... so like six slices of French toast for me and a pound of bacon was good. We started late to fish but after a 30km. run out onto the lake, we were set-up and fishing specks on glass by 10:00am. First stop was paradise on earth. This area looked worthy of some casts. Basketball sized boulders slowly tapering offshore before hitting a sharper drop to 20-40 foot depths, it was awefully fishy. Working a few hundred yards of this shoreline thoroughly, we spotted whites, a couple specks, caught some pike and even had a cow moose coming crashing through the brush onto a small, cornered beach. Camping there someday crossed the mind. Sun getting high around noon we settled in to deploying Rob's idea on a troll. Floaty needing to work a little on tanning his other half, he was happily in need to kick back and soak up some necessary rays. We cruised for about two hours until 2:00pm, spotting more whitefish, catching more pike and seeing a school of speckles go by. Problem was, we couldn't get one trout to bite. So, because we were told 2:00pm and 6:00pm are the better times for lakers, we shot to the deep and dropped riggers and dipsies for a few hours to tempt them. Leah did some coloring and watched a Barbie movie to pass what she feels is "the boring fish" time. Six total hours of speck-laker shiznitting the bed this day was, we were still trout-less by dinnertime. What's never a waste of time is being out there, seeing what does and doesn't work, covering, discovering and eliminating water, and actually observing fish on spots. To salvage the afternoon we nailed some evening transition pike on route to camp; with Len pegging another tank, then retired to the river for sunset eyes. Rob invited us for a late walleye snack by the campfire to finish our day. Continued...