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Easing back on the throttle I tacked into the waves making for the lee of a mid lake island. Aaron Shirley as always was poring over our map as I slowed then stopped the boat in a sheltered cove. “Well” he said, “what do you think?” It was our first afternoon on Lake Saint Joseph in far northwestern Ontario and we were attempting to formulate a game plan. We’d flown in earlier that day with Slate Falls Outposts based out of Sioux Lookout and were on the hunt for fish. Sioux Lookout in the heart of Sunset Country and surrounded by water is an odd dichotomy. Signs of civilization like a new looking and very busy Tim Horton’s exist, but it has a definite frontier town feel and it’s my kind of place. We had dinner at the Fifth Avenue Club the night before. A tired old brick building with a surprisingly fresh look inside and darned good food. At the back of the building was a wooden door with a small sign above it advertising nightly dancers. Not something we were interested in, but the option was duly noted. Grabbing my old metal thermos from the bottom of the boat I poured a cup of coffee. Surrounded by wind whipped white caps with low dark clouds racing by overhead our initial foray on this inland sea was a challenge. “What I think is, I need a break”. Grabbing the map from Aaron I studied it while he casually dropped a jig over the side of the boat. Almost instantly his rod arched under the weight of a thick walleye. Never one to question why I grabbed my own rod, lowered a jig and hooked one of my own. The fish it seemed had found us. The lake we’d been told is a bonafide fish factory and it was living up to its name. Almost 100 kilometres long and over 154,000 acres in surface area it’s a mammoth body of water. I’ve always been partial to big water and Lake Saint Joe is an absolute giant. Looking closer last fall I researched every single operator on the lake before settling on Slate Falls Outposts. They operate the only camps on the remote western end of the lake and by all accounts are a first rate operation. Over 95% of their clientele is repeat which speaks volumes and in speaking with owner Verne Hollett they’re also extremely loyal. Having dealt with a large number of outfitters over the years, some good and some bad - it was obvious I’d found a gem and booked the trip for late August. Aaron, always up for an adventure was immediately on board. Not long afterwards we filled out our group with good friends Jimmy Valeriote and Rick Filman, both great guys and even better sticks. Sometimes the cast of characters can make or break a trip and this motley crew of fish hounds was first-rate. It bode well… An Engaging Exchange And Angry Wavelets Having talked with Verne a number of times on the phone I was looking forward to meeting him in person. We were slated to chat at his office before flying in to get the lowdown on his operation as well as the lake. Some people, for reasons you can’t even quantify instantly put you on guard. Verne is not one of those people. He is honestly one of the more likeable, intelligent and witty people I have met in this industry. And he can talk. The following two video clips, 10 minutes in total, were edited down from 45. That was 45 minutes of straight gab without stammering or missing a beat - all of it fascinating. The man could easily have another career as a public speaker… It was easy to see that Verne runs a first class operation and why his customers keep returning year after year. On our end the little talk only heightened our desire to get going, all of us were eager to fish. Rick backed our loaded rental van up to the weigh scale and we set about ridding it of its cargo. It’s amazing to me what you can stuff inside a full sized mini van and we soon created a small mountain of tackle, food, drink and duffle bags on the dock. After helping to load the plane I settled into the co-pilots seat while the boys chattered happily in the rear buckled securely into their small folding metal seats. The plane, a Dehavilland Otter was also a contradiction. Bright and shiny on the outside, austere and functional on the inside. The quintessential work horse of the north, these planes have carried me to many an adventure over the years. Glancing over at our pilot - Verne’s son Clayton, I was momentarily taken aback by his youthful appearance. The apple as they say doesn’t fall far from the tree and Clayton was just as impressive as his old man. He very well may be the youngest Otter pilot I have ever encountered. After taxiing up Pelican Lake for 5 minutes Clayton eased the throttle forward and the old plane roared to life, lifting us off the lake and heading northeast to Lake Saint Joseph. This part of Ontario is awe inspiring, almost more water than air and the flight in was a good one. As often as I do this it never gets old… Slate Falls operates two locations on the lake, Root Bay at the extreme west end (a single cabin outpost), and Eagle Island 25 kilometres to the east. Eagle Island has three guest cabins on site, each one operated independently of the other each as a distinct outpost with total privacy. There’s also a caretaker on site to clean and gas your boats, stock the wood box and take care of any other need you might have. Verne had us slotted into his largest central cabin and it was impressive to say the least. Lots of comfortable furniture both inside and out, solar electric appliances and lighting, bathroom with flush toilet, 3 bedrooms with great beds, docks with actual boat slips and excellent boats with Honda outboards. It was clear we wouldn’t be suffering. We had a somewhat late start fishing that day, and as mentioned the weather played a role in the outcome. Every forecast had been calling for severe thunderstorms with copious amounts of rain and wind, and unfortunately they were correct. Weather in mind, Jimmy and Rick stuck closer to camp while Aaron and I pushed the envelope. All four of us started directly in front of the camp at a couple of rock humps and picked off a number of fish, breaking the ice quickly and taking the edge off. Jimmy and Rick, typically much smarter than us, caught plenty of nice fish without straying too far. Being greedy and wanting more we pushed onward about 10 kilometres down the lake battling a fierce headwind the entire way. Eventually Aaron and I found ourselves next to the aforementioned island with its pod of hungry walleye. We probably should have just stayed there but of course we didn’t. Looking closer at the map after boating 20 or so walleye we eyed an enticing neck-down area. Compression points are always good spots, they’re a natural migration route for the fish and tend hold concentrations of them. Besides that we knew it’d be totally protected in there, an appealing thought. Battling the waves once again for another 10 minutes we finally entered the narrow confines of a lengthy channel between an enormous island and the mainland. Throwing out diving crank’s we began a zig zag trolling run and began hitting fish consistently. Here’s a short video of some of the first days action… Thoroughly enjoying the sport we were oblivious to both the time and what was happening around us. At first. “Man!” Aaron said, “look at that!” Sounding both incredulous and mildly agitated I swivelled in my seat to look behind me. A massive dark cloud was rolling towards us like a tidal wave. Disturbingly tiny bolts of lightning were shooting out of it almost cartoon-like in appearance. Suddenly the wind died right down to nothing and angry little wavelets appeared on the surface of the lake. With the extreme low pressure pushing down on the water it almost looked like it was boiling. In all my years I’ve never seen anything like it. Battling headwind to get to this spot I’d assumed the ride back would be easier. Wrong. In the moments it took both of us to don our lifejackets the wind did a complete 180 and we were right in the teeth of it again. It was already 8:30pm and growing dim, it had been a very long day and we both wanted to return to camp - badly. Five minutes in a virtual wall of water descended on us blasting me directly in the face and the lake transformed into a boiling cauldron of rollers and whitecaps. Aaron, no stranger to big water and waves sat bent in the bow with his back to the deluge. He glanced up and shot me a grin as I tacked over to a nearby island. That was our saving grace. That part of the lake is dotted with islands and I was able to dart from one to the next escaping the worst of the it. Not a straight line back to camp but a safer one and it was with huge relief that we finally eased into the boat slip. From start to finish it was about a half hour run and by the time we tied off at the dock there was 6” of water in the bottom of the boat. Jim and Rick naturally concerned, offered words of encouragement from the shelter of the porch, drinks in hand. We were not long before joining them. Bacon cheeseburgers, caesar salad and a movie capped off our evening. Yes, a movie. I’d brought a tiny portable projector with me, bluetooth speakers and a bunch of flicks downloaded to my phone. With a bed sheet tacked on the wall and the lights dimmed the quality and size of the image was amazing! Aaron set things up just as dinner was served. Did I mention we wouldn’t be suffering on this trip? Heartbreak Ridge And An Open Window The next day we awoke to grey skies, warm temperatures, high humidity and very little wind. While not as volatile as the previous evening, this system had the look of one that had kicked its shoes off and was here to stay for a while. Still, we were undeterred. Loading both boats with provisions for the day we donned our rain gear and all of us headed north to Johnston Bay. The Cat River pours into the lake here and studying the map it seemed an obvious spot. Aaron and I were both keen to target some larger pike, but the question was where and how? It was late August, we were on a massive body of water and the weather and barometer were not in our favour. “As much as I love casting” Aaron said “I think we’re going to have to troll”. Great, we were on the same page. Not just blindly dragging a lure around the lake though, we had a few key spots in mind. Key spots for me boil down to one thing: deep water directly adjacent to structure of some kind, whether a rock pile, weed flat, main lake point - whatever. Of course there was an unlimited amount of spots on the lake just like that so we had to break it down further. I was looking for spots that were adjacent to an obvious spring spawning bay. I have a number of theories when it comes to big pike, especially on large northern shield lakes where they’re not likely to be chasing schools of baitfish suspended over deep water. One of them is these large predators aren’t going to stray too far from their spring haunts - especially when deeper cooler water and lots of food is easily attainable. In most of the far north pike waters I fish small walleye are the number one source of protein for larger apex predators. Hanging out in the cooler depths they’ll slide up onto these shallow walleye laden shelves and mow down like a fat man at all you can eat buffet. Of course they can still be caught in deeper water and sometimes that’s where you have to target them. Often if I’m fishing a hump that for the sake of argument tops out at 15’, I’ll troll a lure that runs at 15’ directly adjacent to it, sometimes far out into the lake. When the big girls are on the prowl they’ll often suspend laterally off these pieces of structure. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve caught large fish trolling lures that run 15-20’ deep over 40 to 60’ of water. In my opinion these fish weren’t chasing bait, they were relating to a shallower piece of structure, cruising the fringes waiting to pounce. We had a rough game plan in mind, but no specific spots for a starting point. For the moment I was just following my nose. Arriving at the entrance to Johnston Bay a prominent point beckoned. It might as well have had a flashing neon sign on it saying “fish here!” We did. Jimmy and Rick continued on past us to troll and jig a pinch point about half a kilometre away while Aaron and I readied our trolling gear. Both of us snapped on substantial lures, 8” Depthraiders that trolled at roughly 18 to 20 feet on a long line. I was on the inside, Aaron was on the outside and it didn’t take long. As soon as we cleared the point Aaron had a heavy hit while his mouth was full of sandwich. Bread and lunch meat flying everywhere, he battled our first quality fish of the trip to net. I love it when a plan comes together… We made another pass across the point and this time I hooked up, although mine wasn’t nearly as big. For the next few hours we worked our way further into Johnston, a large piece of water almost a lake unto itself. Slowly and methodically trolling and occasionally casting every likely looking piece of water, we caught a lot of fish. Mostly small to mid sized pike, but a lot of girthy incidental walleye as well. Jim and Rick broke out the jigging rods and and were laying a beat down on the walleye. Based on the amount of commotion emanating from their boat they were having a grand old time in the process. A deep trench where the Cat River poured into the bay was particularly good, with the fish literally falling all over themselves to snap at their jigs. It had been raining off and on all day, and it was raining when “it” happened. We were trolling a large open expanse of the bay parallel to a large underwater ridge that topped out at 14 feet roughly 400 yards to our left. The ridge ran for a good half kilometre and was literally crawling with walleyes. Exactly the type of structure I like. Rod in the holder I had a bump. A quick check of the graph showed 40 feet of water so I knew it wasn’t bottom. I quickly reached forward and grabbed my rod, sweeping it forward in an attempt to trigger a strike. The second I dropped the rod back a heavy fish slammed my lure like a sledgehammer. Now I don’t say this lightly - that was EASILY the heaviest hit I’ve ever had in my life. Instantly popping the boat into neutral I leaned back into the fish and it took off. Aaron can attest to this, but it peeled off 50 yards of line in the blink of an eye, as fast as any steelhead I’ve ever hooked, and there have been plenty. This was not just a fish, it was a gargantuan fish, perhaps the fish of a lifetime. In full panic mode at this point I stood to gain better leverage when the unthinkable happened. The fish surged powerfully again ripping off another 30 yards of line and my 30 pound braid snapped like sewing thread. I was stunned. It didn’t rub on any rock and I’m pretty sure there no weak spots. I ALWAYS check my line religiously while fishing and often retie if I suspect the line has been abraded. The power of that fish will haunt me for a long long time. Literally sick to my stomach it took me a few minutes to shake it off before I could continue. That spot now has a name - Heartbreak Ridge. Like every avid angler Aaron has experienced his own share of heartbreak, but upbeat as always he put a positive spin on things. “At least we know there’s real giants to be caught Mikey, and we sorta have things figured out. Don’t worry bud, we’ll get more!” As it turns out he was right. At the entrance to the bay Jim and Rick commiserated with me then bid us adieu. They headed south back towards camp leaving Aaron and I to our own devices. At that point it was 7pm and the sky was growing even more ominous by the minute. The flat sheet of featureless stratus cloud we’d been under all day was starting to break up. Small openings in the ceiling showed massive dark bottomed towering cumulus clouds billowing thousands of feet into the air. The wind, calm all day had begun to pick up a bit - something was happening. Following a hunch I navigated several kilometres away to another large bay. The map showed a number of islands clustered right at its mouth with deep water directly in front of them. As we pulled into the first spot, a reed point right at the mouth of a saddle between two of the islands we heard thunder rumble far in the distance. “This” Aaron said “could be our chance.” With a front rapidly approaching we both knew there might be a small window where the big girls slide shallow and feed. The second part of this equation is of course picking the correct spot. We found out soon enough the answer to that question. The first decent pike caught casting… After landing that one we worked our way into the saddle - 8-10’ deep, tons of cabbage and lined with reeds on both sides. If you look up “prime pike location” on Wikipedia you’ll see a picture of this spot. Grabbing my second rod rigged with a weedless spoon I casted towards the reeds as thunder once again rumbled - this time a lot closer. If a large pike is shallow and on the hunt they don’t often pussy foot around. Normally if you put your lure in front of them they’ll smash it. Seconds after my spoon hit the water a large fish hammered it moving a bathtub full of water in the process. Instant pandemonium. While Aaron scrambled to reel in his line and find the video camera the fish was racing around the boat in a semi circle sything large swaths of vegetation with my line. “Good fish bud - grab the camera!” I was in a state once again. At that moment the fish cartwheeled completely out of the water right in front of us and shook the hook. Our best guess was 42 inches, thick and very fat. At that point I just laughed. One thing was becoming abundantly clear though, these large late August pike fight nothing like their early spring counterparts. Their metabolism is at its peak, they’re muscular and strong as heck! To this point they’d been kicking my butt. It was however pretty gratifying to see your ideas bear fruit. There’s zero doubt those fish had slipped onto that shelf to feed as the storm approached. Small windows of opportunity to catch them shallow exist, but you need to place yourself in the right spot to take advantage. Thunder rumbled once again this time a LOT closer. Not wanting a repeat of the evening before we packed it up and headed back to camp. Thankfully an uneventful trip this time. We’d kept a few walleyes this day and back at camp we fried them up to perfection utilizing the newly built cooking gazebo that Verne had provided. Good man that Verne. Aaron had brought along his own special breading for the trip. I’d enjoyed it a couple of years previously on our trip to the Attawapiskat and it didn’t disappoint this time either. A homemade concoction that he’s developed over the years, I can tell you it’s darned good. Funny thing is he refuses to give up the recipe, I kid you not. The man will gladly pinpoint his favourite steelhead pool or give you gps co-ordinates to a prime walleye hump, but he won’t divulge his breading recipe. Priorities. Facing The Front And A Hole In The Wall Arising early in the pre-dawn gloom I quietly set about brewing coffee while the others slept. That’s one of the nice things about Verne’s cabins. Unlike most of the outpost cabins I’ve visited this one had complete walls stretching all the way to the ceiling creating total privacy and blocking any unwanted light or noise. The only exception to that rule was Jim’s unearthly nightly emanations which could likely be heard through 3 feet of titanium coated concrete. Jim himself was the next to emerge looking disgustingly refreshed. “What’s shakin’ slim, is the coffee ready?” I wanted to punch him. The rest of the crew soon joined us and with coffee in hand we surveyed the situation from the cabin porch. “Wow” that was Rick’s only comment as all four of us scanned the lake. The trees were bent under the strain of a heavy west wind, dark clouds scudded across the sky and rain lashed down in waves. Worst of all it was cold. The temperature the previous evening was 18 celsius and it was now 6 with a projected high of 7. “We just can’t win, can we?” Aaron grouched. No kidding. Still we forged ahead with our plans, none of us willing to concede defeat. After a much more leisurely breakfast than usual we prepared ourselves to battle the tempest. Long underwear, fleece, Gore-Tex, rubber boots, wool hats and gloves. It was hard to believe this was August, but as I learned long ago you need to be prepared for anything in Ontario’s far north. Heck I can remember seeing snow in July once. Jim and Rick headed east riding a tail wind to fish walleye in the shelter of some islands. Aaron and I headed west directly into the teeth of the gale. Not far down the lake was a major bay, one we’d been told was a spring hotspot. Key for us, its entrance was sheltered by a maze of small islands and channels and we knew it’d be a calm haven - relatively speaking. Once again tacking into the waves I slowly made our way over there, our tiny aluminum boat being tossed around like a cork in the massive swells. The final scene from The Perfect Storm flashed before my eyes as we forged onward surfing the huge rollers. Arriving at our destination and prying my fingers away from their death grip on the throttle we began to fish. As bad as the weather was there were still fish to be caught, and catch we did, although nothing big. Not too surprising considering the enormity of the cold front… Discretion, they say is the better part of valor and after punished ourselves for the bulk of the morning we’d had it. You know it’s time to quit when reeling in a fish becomes a chore and we had reached that point. Reeling in a small pike I twisted the hook out of its mouth with pliers then packed away my rod. “That” I said hunching deeper into my rain coat “is it for me, I can’t take it anymore!” Aaron concurred. Back at camp we stoked up the wood stove and hung our wet clothes to dry, instantly transforming our cosy abode into a steaming hot sauna. This was more like it. The only photo I have from this day is a huge bubbling pot of butter chicken simmering on the stove which we all enjoyed later that evening with warm nan bread and a caesar salad. Highlight of the day for sure. The next morning saw Aaron and I studying the large wall map in the cabin. Once again a slate grey blanket of cloud covered the sky and the wind was blowing strongly, although this time from the northeast rather than the west. On the plus side it wasn’t raining and the temperature had climbed a wee bit. Even better according to the updated weather forecast I’d received on my Delorme inReach device it was supposed to clear by the afternoon. Finally a forecast in our favour! Wind always plays a large role and looking at the map I once again had a hunch. Several kilometres to the east of camp Moose Island spans almost the entire width of the lake creating some interesting options. As noted before pinch points and neck downs are natural hotspots, especially so when the entire flow of the lake is compressed into several such small areas. Beyond the obvious these would be natural migration routes for fish. Just south of Moose Island another large island lay parallel. According to the map passage was restricted by shallow water in the middle and there would almost certainly be weeds. With a strong northeast wind we knew the wind would be pounding into this spot, always a good thing where big pike are concerned and we made that our starting point. Navigating east past Moose Island through a deep cut called Geislers Gut on the map, I rounded a point to my left and rode the waves into the back end of the large bay. As predicted it was lined with reeds with 8’12’ of depth in front and plenty of cabbage. Best of all the wind was stirring things up nicely. There are certain times when you just KNOW it’ll be a good day and both of us had that feeling. “My esox senses are tingling Mikey!” Aaron said with a smile. Easing up to the first reed point on our left I popped the motor into neutral and we began to cast. Almost instantly Aaron hooked up… We pulled several more thick pike out of that spot before finally continuing on. Feeling pretty good with ourselves we headed east out of the bay to a prominent point at its entrance that jutted way out into the lake. Another obvious spot that begged to be fished. With the wind still pounding pretty hard that piece of structure was just loaded with walleyes and we caught them at will. Not on purpose mind you - they were slamming our 8” trolling lures with gusto. As fun as that was it wasn’t what we were after and we continued on. Heading north past the point the northern tip of Moose Island beckoned. At its apex another tiny island created two minuscule channels where all of the lake’s water flowed through: North and South Hole In The Wall. The wind was blowing directly into our chosen spot as I slowly cruised into the south Hole In The Wall. Glancing at the graph I could barely contain my excitement. “Dude, it’s 30’ deep right here!” At that point we were maybe 50 yards from the cut and closing fast. Right at the entrance the bottom rose like a wall to an 8 foot flat lined with scattered cabbage. Making things even better it was an intimate little spot. I’ve always found large pike prefer to utilize confined little nooks and crannies as ambush points if they have a choice and this spot was exactly that. Directly adjacent to deep main lake water, wind pounding right in and a perfect shelf for a big fish to slide up on feed. We both suspected the large marshy area in behind was a prime spring spawning locale to boot. This tiny expanse of water had it all. Once again it didn’t take long. Casting a copper and orange Doctor spoon that he pilfered from my box (they’re an all time favourite of mine!) Aaron hooked up instantly. This short video is kind of funny. I’m blabbering away about the spot and the fish when Aaron suddenly realizes just how big the fish was creating instant panic and a call for the net. I obliged… I’ve already said this, but I can’t tell you how gratifying it is to succeed on such an overwhelmingly large body of water, especially when faced with such tough conditions! At that point we were on a high. We fished that entire spot thoroughly picking off numerous fish but no more giants and we pushed further east, happy to explore more of the lake. The other boys joined us enroute after I’d messaged them. I had two Delorme units with me which allowed us to communicate with each other while on the lake - a big plus especially for safeties sake. By that point the skies had cleared and we enjoyed a banner evening of angling, basking in the long awaited sun. Continued...