Algonquin Park May 2006 Photo Essay

[passthepitonspete]

This is Page 3 of a five-part post, and is the beginning of the May 2006 Algonquin Park photo essay.

 

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We reached our destination lake and with [yet again!] nobody else to be seen, we nabbed the primo south-facing campsite and quickly set up the tarp as the bad weather closed in. Along the way we had stopped to fish a rapid with spinners, and we kept two of the three 13-14” specks we caught to have for supper that night.

 

 

Now here’s a great campsite setup! Our big-ass tarp is angled into the north wind, and is low against the ground on the windward side to keep out the rain. The fireplace is directly under the highest corner on the leeward side so the wind blows the smoke away from us when we’re sitting underneath on our padded bench. In case the wind changes direction, all the suspension cords on the tarp can be adjusted for height and tension without having to climb any trees, and there is a clothesline running beneath for drying stuff. To the left we have coaxed a few more hours of life into an ancient plywood table precariously balanced on rickety legs, which annoyed us continually by collapsing at least once every meal, usually at the most inopportune moment.

 

Having a tarp [Voice of Groucho Marx: “…and knowing how to use it”] is fundamental to your comfort on any canoe trip. Sure, you could use the camp stove to cook in the vestibule of your tent, but why would you want to? It’s so much nicer to hunker down under your beloved tarp and cozy up next to a roaring blaze while the rain and snow pour down viciously but powerlessly around you.

 

Proper tarp erection [insert Groucho Marx Voice again] is something of an art and a science, and not as easy as you might think. Tarp Theorists frequently spend too much time on the job, turning it into a “science project.” The legit Tarp Pros know how to get their charge up fast, and get it right the first time. While maypoles can and do have their place – usually right where you’ll walk into the damn thing – the Better Way is to bring enough cord to connect to any tree within fifty feet of the fireplace. Positioning the cords properly is all about angles and vectors, as any pool shark or Dipsy-Diver fisherman can tell you.

 

 

The next morning, I awoke in my bivi sack from the not altogether pleasant feeling of snowflakes impinging on my cheeks. The previous year at this site, Ian and I found that the water in the pot had frozen solid overnight, but fortunately it wasn’t so cold this morning.

 

 

We were feeling pretty encouraged by the consistently good fishing so far, and were really looking forward to exploring the lake. My dad cooked up some cheddar smokie sausages for breakfast, one of which still remains on the grill. He taught George Foreman, you know. I made the coffee using my French coffee press which you can see sitting on the table to the left. I’ve wrapped it in blue closed-cell foam and duct tape which keeps the coffee scalding hot for half an hour, and the insulation also prevents breakage each time the table collapses.

 

Note: If it appears to you as though the “evening” campsite photo and the “morning” campsite photo were in fact taken at the same time, never for a moment would I imply, suggest or otherwise [HINT] that this is precisely the case.

 

 

We set out trolling and casting the shoreline, seeing what we could catch. We were fishing one of the more remote lakes in the park, so one hopes it doesn’t get too much fishing pressure. It didn’t take long before we started connecting with specks, most of which averaged 18” x 2 lbs. You can see the rod holder behind my dad that we have mounted on the gunwales of the canoe, which makes trolling so much easier. The only disadvantage is you don’t get to feel the fish hit, so when the fishing is hot I squeeze the rod between my legs when I’m paddling.

 

 

Fish were scattered all over the lake, but we did locate two definite speckled trout hotspots, both of which were off of points. My dad caught the biggest one which was about 20” though kind of skinny at a little over 2½ pounds, however he threw it back into the water before I could take his picture since we were fishing the windy shore and were about to get smashed on the rocks. Plus it was too early for supper.

 

Favourite brook trout spoons were of course EGB’s in all colours, along with a few obscurities we tried like this little red and yellow Dardevle and a similarly coloured Len Thompson.

 

 

We caught the occasional lake trout like the six-pounder you see above, or at least I did. For whatever reason the lakers seemed to be selectively avoiding my dad’s lures, though he had no problem nailing the specks. Cool backlighting on the fins, eh?

 

 

This chunky eight-pounder was the biggest trout of our trip this year, but I guarantee you that you can catch much bigger ones – and plenty of them – swimming round these lakes. Our Algonquin record is a beauty 33” x 18” 16¼ pounder which you might remember seeing in an article I wrote for Cronzy’s Ontario Fisherman Magazine. We’ve both caught lakers up to thirty pounds in Lake Athabasca, and the 31-pound pike in my profile photo came from Athabasca as well.

 

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Edited April 22, 2007 by passthepitonspete

[snag]

Hello,

 

anybody?

 

alone, so, alone......

 

I think I'm on page 3

 

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Edited April 23, 2007 by snog