Unforgettable Rivers. Fishing the Missisicabi & Ekwan.

[Moosebunk]

Lost to the WWW through time are some old reports I once greatly enjoyed passing along. With the cold and rain this afternoon there was down time enough to re-upload the necessary photos and pop 'em back into their old saved texts. These particular three fishing experiences are from 2005 & 2006 to rivers rarely ever fished, if even traveled at all. They are unknown to most, but never forgotten for me. If you hadn't already viewed them years back, enjoy 'em now!

July 2005. MISSISICABI RIVER. A WALLEYE HEAVEN.

WHOA!!!

First off I was pretty well wrong about where we were headed. Had thought it was to the Harricanaw River, but as it turned out, the Missisicabi is it's own flow further east to one of the least traveled areas of Ontario. Weather was expected to be great and real hot for 4 days. We left Moose Factory at high tide and made our way to the muddy saline ocean of James Bay, where we'd cross the southern expanse towards the eastern shoreline and Quebec.

Super Paul brought only the compass and overshot the destination just a little to the north, he enjoyed my GPS thereafter. Note the mud of the Bay.

Once we found ourselves inside the mouth of the Missisicabi River after crossing a vast shallow sand flat, we passed by the Moose Cree's established Goose Camp on route to camp.

Abandoned for now, inside each cabin are a couple of rooms, a wood stove and some form of seating.

Paul and I took off before long to try some fishing at a nearby creek mouth. While taking time to put some sunblock on and tie up a jig, Paul took those same few minutes to boat seven walleye. Shortly afterwards I got my first, and the two of us continued in shallow drive upriver, trolling jigs in 2 to 4 feet of muddy water. Taking advantage of high tide still, as we troll up the river we catch countless walleye, and stop now and again to cast the places where we have double headers. When stopping for lunch Paul catches about a dozen or more within this nice pool, while I take 10 minutes to heat up two bowls of chili. Haul the boat up through some shallow rapids, it's only a couple kilometers left to travel, and by this time Paul has filled his stringer and I've kept a few along the way too.

Dead fish lie everywhere in the water and weeds. The water is so hot and shallow this year. On the Moose River back home the same thing is happening to the fish, and MNR says it's simply the heat. Most of those dead fish are sucker with a few pike thrown in. Anyways, we arrived to our camp site and set up by around 4 pm.

After supper it's back to the walleye. They are right there only 100 or more feet from our site. The hot lures turn out to be 3" pumpkinseed curlytails and my olive, orange and red bucktails on 3/8 oz heads. Here's the biggest of mine for the evening.

Lots of great fish this evening, but the bite shut right down once the mosquitoes came out. Ohhh well, walleye that only feed during sunny times I guess..? Paul and I finished the day having caught by our best guess 50 or more walleye each.

Braided line was getting out-fished 10 to 1. I stuck to mono using only the 10-pound test I had, after Paul schooled me while I was trying with braid. These Mississicabi walleye were insane though, leaping out of the water at times to grab your jig, and getting hooked 3 or 4 times, over and over. I caught a bunch of fish when I accidentally let my jig fall in the water when I set the rod down to take a leak. IT WAS SICK behavior for walleye.

Next day we got back to it. If there's one guy that knows weather, fishing, hunting and water it's Paul. The few times I've gone out with him he's astonished me. I have sooooo much to learn, and I will... but Paul's eyes... man he sees everything before I do.

Mid afternoon we went back to camp to get out of the sun. Turned out I was burning right through my thin white shirt. We took a swim and cleaned up. The water was like a hot-tub but strangely I learned that over the sand it was hot, yet over clay it felt like 10-15F colder, and the same too around any big rocks. That must be how the fish survive the heat in this shallow water? Most of our walleye were taken out of light current areas in just 2-4 feet. Anyways, after cleaning a bunch of fish too, Paul says to me, "can you smell that?" I look up river and a haze is building from the east, smoke is in the air. As it turns out, 31 forest fires are burning between Kirkland lake and the east coast of James Bay, where we were. But, fires a burning we weren't going anywhere, and after a little siesta we headed back out for the evening bite.

The bigger fish were out to play. We hadn't lost a lure to a fish or a snag yet to this point, and that was after about 10 hours of total fishing time. Now we were giving them up more frequently, but it was because we were changing tactics, fishing our lures across and downstream instead of mainly up. It worked. The addition of worms to my bucktails was increasing the numbers too. I only fished bucks and Paul stuck to the plastics, and we stayed pretty even. That was until I caught a bullet and bigger fish nearing sunset.

BEEEEEE UUUUUUU TO THE TTTTTTTT!!! BOOO YAH! Happy guy was I.

Paul and I finished when the mosquitoes came out at sunset. Orange bucks in the sun, and black bucks at sunset reined supreme. Paul finished the day a dismal 30+ walleye and myself, after a slower start but fast and furious evening, caught 40 or more. It got really annoying because these ravenous walleye were actually kinda tough fighters. It was like they were starving and none to shy to fight for a meal.

Saturday morning I was up at 4:45am. We packed camp and were in the boat by 6am.

When we moved down river about 3 kilometers or so we found no tide in. For the next 5 kilometers or so we paddled, poled or briefly ran shallow drive through 6-inches to a foot of water. It was slow and tedious, but by 8:20am we hit that first creek which we had stopped at on our way up river three days earlier. With the tide completely out I figured the fish wouldn't be sitting there in that knee high water... MAN WAS I WRONG!

I took a second to put some sunscreen on my face and neck again, tie on a black bucktail and snap a worm. Paul had already caught 6 or 7 fish. Just AMAZINGLY, after 13 minutes of fishing in water I lost count at around 17. (10 for Paul and 7 for me I thought) Just 13 minutes of fishing. We stayed for just over an 1 hour and Paul and I would be low-balling it at 25 walleye each. CAN ANYONE EVEN BELIEVE THAT? Am I wasting my time with this post? Without a word of a lie the fishing was this amazing. This true. I died and went to heaven a thousand times on this short trip. This place called Missisicabi, the real thing, a true walleye heaven.

So at the end of our trip, exhausted, dehydrated, sunburnt and smelly, chased by fire, paddled out and with a long ride across James Bay home, we revelled in the fact that Paul and I just caught like 220+ walleye in a couple days worth of fishing.

Bunk.

[Moosebunk]

August 2006. MISSISICABI RIVER. RETURN TO WALLEYE HEAVEN.

YEAH!!!

This is going to be the favorite summer report, as the journey to this place I call "walleye heaven" is to me filled with everything that is the essence of the James Bay. I also get to catch a couple hundred walleye with a buddy, and that ain't so hard to take.

For the second year now my friend Paul has invited me to go along with him to a place very few have traveled. On Wednesday August 2nd, he and I started our long weekend early by waking up to catch the morning's high tide at Sand Head, near the mouth of the Moose River at James Bay. Calm west winds and warm sun, at 7:30am we were loaded, launched, and motoring under the quiet power of Paul's 40HP Yammy set on the back of his 24-foot Gee-Man.

Hitting the Bay you could faintly smell the salty breeze that would help push us all the way 80 kilometers east across the shallow, muddy, saline ocean. I couldn't sit still, often neglecting my duty to watch for floating logs and other drifting motor munchers.

After two hours full out we hit the sand flats about a mile off the east coast of James Bay, and a little south of the channel heading into the river. Paul was pretty quick to find the deep water though, and before long we were inside the mouth. A few Canada's lined a sandy bar on the way in, and after a couple miles traveling up river we spotted our first bald eagle. Before long we made the Moose Cree Goose Camp and to our delight not one cabin was in use, and neither were any of the teepees or tent frames. About 5 more kilometers up river we arrived at our campsite and had everything set up by about 11am. On the water, to fish with the river to ourselves, and no one around for likely fifty miles.

Paul using his standby 4" white Berkeley grub, had his first within 20 meters of our camp after we set down for a troll.

I was only moments behind with a decent first of my own, picking up this eye on a red Waveworm.

For the next five hours or so until supper, Paul and I hammered fish after fish. In fun, he was up on me for sure, which is usually the case early when we're out. Paul is definitely a better morning and daytime fisherman. By 5:00pm I called a time-out to travel back to camp, clean some fish, have dinner, and rest before the evening bite came on, and before the tide came into bring us up some fresh fish. Here were a couple keepers.

Water levels were up this year compared to last. Finding fish in the same holes took a little adjusting for Paul and I. The water temps were mid to high 70's and we were finding 90% of our walleye in slightly swifter current areas holding in 18 to 36-inch depths. Some fish were back in the 4 to 7-foot holes, but not many. The walleye like last year were shallow, but then again, I don't think there is a hole on that river that would exceed 10 feet even with the tide in at this time of year. It's not like they have to hide either, when water clarity is 16-inches at best.

Back on the water at 7:30pm, Paul got right to work. I was finding it hard to keep up as he had this "hardcore fishing machine" energy about him this trip. His white grubs kept kicking a$$.

But, the evening bite is when I tend to shine, and I took big fish honors for the finish.

That evening we tried to figure it out before hitting the hay. "How many do you think Paul?" I'd asked a few times. "This day... probably around 120 walleye," he'd answer, but go on to say he had me by twenty fish at least.

5:00am the next morning I woke to the sound of my stomach and the shivers. Paul woke about 15 minutes later to the call of two sandhill cranes flying west along the river. I made my way down the bank to the boat to get some bagels and ham, and greeted the morning fog.

After a quick breakfast we were back on the water. This morning we were going to use the incoming high tide to travel safely back down river towards the Bay and try some spots we can only travel to and from while a tide is in. So much of the fishing here seems tide dependent. Fresh schools of fish can move into the river out of the Bay with the incoming tide. Other fish already here can move around easier, or feed off the rising shorelines and food being washed into the river. We in turn can catch fish more easily with a low tide though, when they're schooled up in and oxygenated shallow swifts or condensed holes. I find it cool to know I'm fishing slightly salty walleyes too... not so saline as the ocean itself, but salty nonetheless.

After 3 1/2 hours trying new spots that produced last year, we'd actually caught nothing. So, we headed back to our holes upriver and slayed them for an hour before lunch.

At noon we broke for some homemade chili. A usual preprepared quick and easy shorelunch.

During the afternoon we did some trolling. We just troll jigs as nothing is as effective. I tried the fly rod and after 20 minutes or so catching squat and watching Paul catch about 5 or 6, I put that away for good. Also tried my rod spooled with braided line, and for the second year in a row remained skunked with that. Walleye in these parts either don't hit, or detect braids way too well... it's weird. Back onto 8-pound mono, Paul and I just kept the numbers coming. Only a couple dozen the entire trip would have fallen under the 12" mark and most walleyes were in the 14-20" range with maybe 2 dozen or so stretching into the 20-22" length.

By 5:00pm a big thunderhead was approaching out of the west. Paul was talking on his satellite phone with his wife and she told us back in Moosonee the power had flickered out due to very high winds and a storm. As the first few drops fell on us I asked to head back to camp for supper. We had some time back at camp and actually managed to cook and eat a big walleye meal when the rains started pelting down. In the trees we were OK, a little buggy and damp maybe, and after an hour it all passed. The sun broke out by 7:30pm when we started out for the evening bite, and again, that evening bite produced bigger fish. It was nothing short of awesome.

Sunset came quick, it was another nice one.

End of the day it was probably a liberal 50/50 split for Paul and I. That's about 50 eyes for him and 50 for me. Plastics took a bit of a backseat to bucktails. Yellow Gulp at the end of a pink and white bucktail had it's moment during the afternoon, as did Berk pumpkinseed grubs and a dark green with red fleck Waveworm. Heck, maybe I could have just put sh!t on a jighead and caught 'em? But, the heads needed to be 3/8-ounce cause 1/4 and 1/2 heads those fish wanted nothing to do with. They were hungry for some specifics I guess..?

A pecking woodpecker in the tree above, next morning we woke to Hell. Hoping to pack up camp and make our way out onto the Bay to travel southward to the Harricanaw River where the walleye are fewer but bigger, wasn't going to happen. A cold front with gusty winds and drizzle was hammering down on us, coming in from the north-west. Maybe Paul would have tried, but the river was kicking up pretty good nearer the mouth when we arrived there around 10:00am. I certainly didn't want to brave big waves coming across that shallow ocean.

Back-tracking instead to the Goose Camp near the mouth of the river, four incoming boats that had traveled east with the prevailing winds and waves came into greet us. Friends from Moosonee. Howie; whom I fished the walleye opener with, arrived with his wife, as well as a couple other Paramedics, and a pilot and their kids. Howie reported it was rough, and that some nastier northern weather looked to be coming along as well. Paul and I made the decision to stay at the camp, dry out our belongings, thoroughly clean some fish, eat up some good meals, fish the lower end of the river come evening, then leave on the following morning tide. It ended up being a great day of R&R, and by 4:00pm we were back on the river fishing as the weather began to lift.

Fishing that evening was off. Paul and I dropped a couple dozen and maybe only caught ten between the two of us. As the tide started to come in we made the executive decision to head back to the goose camp. Arriving there, the winds had died, the river turned to glass, and the sun was setting in clearer skies so, a five minute rip out onto the Bay for a photoshoot was in order.

The geese were out there in good numbers. They were hard to define in the color pic but this sepia shot makes it easier.

James Bay looking west from the Mississicabi River, Ontario.

After a good night sleep we stood on the banks the next morning watching and waiting for the tide. When the water rose high enough, Howie and Mandy, and Paul and I, headed for home.

Last year catching so many fish and making the trip a first time, it totally blew my mind. This year's return was something every bit as memorable, as I was offered up complete peace of mind along with another solid bounty of gold-bar, marbled eyes. Again, it's walleye heaven.

Hope to live it again in the future.

Bunk.

[Moosebunk]

September 2006. EKWAN RIVER PIKE REVEALED.

Some years ago, my brother-in-law Joe asked me if I'd like to hunt spring geese on the Akimiski Island Nunavut or, hunt fall moose on the Ekwan River. I told Joe I would try to come up for the fall hunt, as long as I could get some fishing in. Joe then spoke of big pike, and that was all the push I needed to commit... this report was what followed after.

Day 1.

Last Thursday I boarded AirCreebec flight 841 from Moosonee to Attawapiskat Ontario. The adrenaline was running high as I have been looking forward to this trip and my return to old stomping grounds. After residing 18 months, on July 7th, 2001 I left Attawapiskat for the move south to Moose Factory. Living in the Native community of Attawapiskat back then was tough in a sense, as being in healthcare I was quite a busy man, in a remote and isolated community of 1800 with no doctors, trying to help keep a rather unhealthy, quite unemployed and somewhat impoverished community free of illness. Sixty to Seventy hour work weeks were not uncommon but the life experience gained was worth every minute.

It was in Attawapiskat that fishing took on a new meaning too. Much of the spare time I had was devoted to either fishing or studying about fishing. It became something more to me, a happiness, a challenge, an education, and an important escape from any of the burdens of daily life.

On my flight North I passed over the bad-water media town of Kashechewan Ontario on the Albany River upon the mouth of James Bay... and snapped this picture.

When I arrived at the airport I heard Joe shout and gesture me over to the gate. I was expecting Peacekeepers to frisk me and go through my baggage for illegal booze, but Joe was quick to point out when I asked that the Band was short of funds, so booze checks were only sporadic now. Jumping in the truck with Joe peeled off to pick up gas for the outboard and tomorrows departure, and check the river to see what the tide was doing. Tide was nearly out at 4:00pm, and fuel was $1.79 per litre and cheaper this trip. The 161 litres I bought us, set me back nearly $300 though, but the lady was nice enough not to charge me tax. Joe was pleased I picked up that tab.

During that evening I went for a walk. It was great in town. I was like a celebrity, as old familiar faces with only a few forgotten names stopped to smile and say hello. At the store, at the hospital, on the street, it was like this.... "WACHAY ANDANO. WACHAY, WACHAY." All meaning hello, and the townspeople using my Cree name instead of Andrew. Many smiles and some handshakes it likely got me a little misty-eyed just thinking about it now. I was flattered that after five years, thirty extra pounds and half a beard later, that people were recognizing me and saying hello.

Here's some other familiar faces too...

These guys are everywhere. This dog whose name I can't remember, belongs to a paramedic friend and used to be my next door neighbour and likely the one that left hot presents on cold doorsteps in the winter.

Bren's always happy sister Sally, hard at work.

And this lady, who unfortunately lost her nose and hands to some devilish kids, had always been watching me from her perch above while I worked across the street at the hospital.

Before days end there was something I had to do, so I made my way to the outskirts of town to pay some respects.

Bren's parents Reg and Cecile both died too soon for me to know them. It was a tragic loss to her family to lose both of them ten days apart, both unexpectedly, and of very different causes. Reg was Chief in Attawapiskat for a number of years and was beloved by many in the James Bay area.

Heading back to the house I snapped a few more pictures along the way.

This boat high and dry at low tide.

Fishing, hunting and the lord... the way for many.

My old place of work in the background.

For the night I settled in at Bren's other sister Darlene's house. There was room as unfortunately Darlene is receiving radiation treatments in Kingston for the month. I was greeted at this house by my niece, her boyfriend and a couple nephews. Good kids. I had a bite to eat, then took off to a friends place to watch Survivor. While there Duane showed off a picture of a pike I'd guess at about 45-inches and nearing 25-pounds that he'd caught two weeks earlier on the Attawapiskat River. That got my mind racing later that night before I finally hit the hay.

Day 2.

Joe and I caught high tide at 11:00am and were on our way east against a breezy, cold, northeast wind. Not even five minutes into the ride a seal and beluga were spotted cruising the water's channel. Within 25 minutes give or take, we hit the mouth of the river and made our way out into James Bay. Salt water off the occasional three-footer splashed onto the face, and when I gave it a good taste came to realize that the Bay here is much more saline than back home at the Moose. Joe pushed us out about two kilometers off shore to get around a tidal flat. For the next 25 km's as we headed north and staying well off the shoreline, Joe probed the shallow water with a stick. The whole ride he kept checking water depth and unbelievably about 75% of the time he was touching bottom. We raced full out across the Bay in an average of about five feet of water, sometimes less, not often more.

When we arrived at the mouth of the Ekwan there was no tide heading into that river. From there I could see north along the shoreline to Ekwan Point, where Joe explained around that corner the water of James Bay turns from brownish to green, then not long after to blue with greater depths and visibility. The mouth of the Ekwan was a rock garden and maze of sandbar channels, but it didn't take long to get in, and once inside we came across others camped out. At their site they had two seals staying with them, and very likely they were all fishing searun trout together.

We ran into trouble not long after. The river was very dry. Joe had picked the 3rd finger at the mouth to get in, and had never chosen that path before. We soon found that one route was not passable so we turned around and tried another. It took time but we lined the 24-foot freighter canoe up through some shallow rapids and kept moving. Once up top, Joe got the motor going, then dipped his cup into the river and had a drink. For the next seven hours, traveling 25 more kilometers up river, several dozen times we poled, paddled, shallow drove, lined and walked the canoe through shallows and small rapids. I was a permanent fixture at the bow watching for rocks in the surprisingly clear water with visibility to at most about 4 feet. And yeah, I drank many cups of water right out of the river, as this was exhausting work which actually never seemed to tire us.

Didn't have time to take too many pictures but here's a couple on route.

Finally around 8:00pm we stopped to set up camp. I'd been keeping an eye out for decent looking fishing spots along the way, and was surprisingly disappointed. The shorelines and water depths just didn't possess anything that looked really fish worthy. In the sunset we found we had forgotten a lantern, so a small maglite became our light for the remainder of the trip. The prospector tent and stove were up in a flash. Joe made quick work of everything. With one hand he had more power and wielded an axe better than I could with two. A lifetime of chopping wood for heat was made evident in his skill. While working away we recounted some of the wildlife we had already seen that day. Seals, beluga, skunk, mink, several hawks, owl and beaver.

Settling in the tent for the night after dinner Joe told many stories from his life growing up in places like the Ekwan. Said a man was found nearby here once. Dead. People figured he had injured his foot as they found his prints on the shoreline, one with a boot and one bare foot. Believed he lost his boat in the current and was walking after it, the rest a mystery. Later he went on to tell a hilarious story of a man I know today, who crawled through thick bush alongside a creek on his hand and knees following a moose he spotted while hunting, only to crawl right under the belly of the beast and scare the heck out of himself and his intended prey. You can picture Joe, a native man, with his stop-and-go speech telling the story in the over heated darkness of the prospector tent. And when he was done, needing to take a leak before sleeping, he looked at my sandals to wear before heading out of the tent, and he says, "What are these shoes. I've never worn anything like this me."

Two hours later I got a swat for snoring too much and keeping the man awake.

Day 3.

5:00am the rain began. Through my earplugs I heard it.

8:00am we woke. While picking berries, pointing out to me some different edible flora and fauna, and taste testing, Joe tells me right off he heard a moose walking on the rocks through the night in the rain. He was dead on. He thought that a moose might have been across from us on a rocky island/shoal but when we went down to the boat for a morning fish there were two sets of fresh prints in the misty muck right beside the canoe. I was a bit embarrassed, cause it was likely my snoring that made it hard for him to tell how close they had actually been.

Just across the river Joe pointed out the rocky island. Said people put their nets there for pike and figured we ought to give it a try before breaking camp and heading further up river to our final destination. The day was cool, overcast, rainy, last quarter moon and with northeast winds, I was thinking pike fishing with everything against us, but over we went to the island and fished it's backside in a long, shallow and calm bay.

Took Joe about five minutes. Quietly he says, "got a fish, guess they like the green lure." And a good first fish it was for brother Joe.

I was a little slower to catch one as I had been fishing too shallow. Quickly though I picked up on a first helpful hint, the fish were just below the line of visibility in the water. And after two snot rockets one about 24-inches and maybe a 21, I hooked a more solid fish on a Len Thompson red and white.

We found fish. A definite positive. Though after two hours Joe said we we're breaking camp and heading up. I was a bit reluctant to leave, but the man did put me at ease when he said they're bigger where we're going and you'll catch a lot more.

Within minutes camp was in the boat and so were we. The day cleared for a couple hours too. Only six kilometers or so to go to our spot we traveled quick through the shallows by the familiar means of the day before, and within three hours and by 3:00pm, we had broke camp, made the trip, set camp back up and eaten lunch.

This place Joe called Astahsayahn, translated meaning, "good fishing."

I was giving the teeth their first brushing after a bowl of seafood chowder and, catching the odd mouse out of the corner of my eye. My insides were turning to get fishing, when Joe announced he'd like to get to the same. Moose hunting was not going to happen as the river levels were far too low to easily travel in search of the "beasts," or the "Kings," as Joe liked to refer to them. "I like fishing Joe. Let's go," I said.

Immediately we were into them. Not every cast like Joe had said, but we had yet to dissect the 3/4 mile long narrow bay and find any "spot within the spot," I would remind Joe. Tried some weedless tubes, 6-inch inline bucktails, but mainly the red and white. Joe went Red Devle too and the fish started coming quicker over the next five hours as we fished to dark.

Notice Joe's into one in the background. LOVE IT!!!

Fish were good sizes with a tonne of them in the 24-32" range. Don't think I can remember a pike much under 20" being caught the whole trip.

I was fishing along when I got a good hit but missed the hook-set. Right away I got a second thud and with a little too much vigor tried to drill the hook home. My medium-heavy Fenwick snapped in two.

Awhile later using just the old reliable Bob Izumi medium rod, did I hook a nice fish. This one came in at 36" and about 12-pounds I think it was. Hit a 5 of Diamonds which in the end was the best lure of the day. Strangely, many pike were hooked right in the eye by both Joe and myself. That was OK for him as he was keeping a good many fish, but I was releasing mine, which I'm sure made Joe cringe.

Back in the tent Joe got the stove going so hot my dang' sweat was sweating, and this after a mucho feed of fajitas. I figured about 25 pike for me and 20 or so for Joe. We were 30 kilometers up the Ekwan River, in a place few have ever been, in a comfortable tent, warm, and me thrilled with the first day of fishing and the thoughts of tomorrow. Joe talked on, speaking of his days trapping, guiding, and many more moose hunting stories, but he did mention, that although he knows the behaviors of animals he doesn't really know fish. I think he was glad I tagged along to give him a little insight into fishing, for his boys back home like to fish, and Joe says as he's slowing down with his work and age, he'd like to do more fishing.

Day 4.

Through the night it dropped near freezing and the rain and winds hammered down on the tent. I slept amazingly. When we woke the wind was still there but the rains were long gone. When I peered out of the tent I noticed a mouse had drowned in one of our pots. Pike bait I thought, and so I set it aside.

Walking down to the river in the worsening N.E blow and cooling weather conditions, I guessed the pike might be down today. I filled the kettle beside the boat and took a cast with a waiting rod. FISH ON! Quick release, took another cast in the pretty much the same spot. FISH ON! Did it again, FISH ON! Again... nothing. Again, FISH ON! OK, could be good fishing today afterall.

This morning I had planned to walk the incoming creek which came into the Ekwan back bay right beside our camp. Looked real trouty to me, and later Joe did tell me his father had caught a big speck at it's river mouth way back in the day. So I set out to explore at 10:00am.

I needed three things I figured because the river was bone dry. A beaver dam holding back a good pool somewhere, a hard corner creating a good eddy or, just anything with some depth. For two hours I walked the rivers bottom criss-crossing my way further upstream. I found a large pile of scat and figured it to be otter because they like to always keep their crap in one spot, and, also I found fish bones nearby.

Every turn was worth a picture. It was a gorgeous spot. I figured if there actually had of been water and trout running that it would be lost anyways, as there would have been no way to travel up it. I stepped off the bank into a puddle and looking down noticed a 4-5 inch brookie swim away.

I came across a beaver pond that ran parallel and raised to the river and would likely connect in the spring during flood waters. There was no way to walk around it so I took what few casts I could and by probing it found that it seemed pretty deep. No fish though.

Going as far as two hours would allow, I turned back and made quick time back to camp. Wasn't really disappointed to not to find trout. This river would see some run of searun specks I figured, once any real heavy fall rains began. The walk made for a great morning.

Joe was waiting for me along the creek. He had checked another back pond but reported it was dry and weed choked. Walking back he pointed out various pathways through brush and grasses and told me what animal likely made them. At camp he offered some tea but I don't drink the stuff, so just then he got up and walked about 50 feet from the tent and came back with "tea-opico" he called it. Evergreen tea. Joe had 2 of the 3 different stages of the plant and pointed out which ones would make for a stronger taste than the other. I was then duped when he asked, "why do you think they call it evergreen?" "Don't know Joe." I replied. "Because even in the winter under the snow it stays green. It's evergreen. You've always got tea." It tasted mildly piney and was OK.

Around 1:30pm we were back on the water pike fishing. Joe was planning to keep fish today, a lot of them, and he got right down to business.

Joe has 8 mouths to feed at his house, and once a week they eat fish. He was telling me that when he's come here in the past the fish often break his line, but this time I equipped him with 40-pound braid instead of 10-pound Redwolf mono. The numbers for him this day were far better than any day he's ever dropped his gill nets at this spot. The fish above were about the average size and Joe kept 30 of them.

I was having fun through the afternoon with the great numbers but was getting a bit down with the size. I really hoped for a 40 incher or more this trip. Joe and I had exhausted our spoons at the honey hole. I had caught about fifteen fish on a black buzzbait. Caught five in a row on five casts on a black and orange spinnerbait. The fish were becoming more wary of things as the day passed on, we could tell. I told Joe we should cook early as I had planned a big walleye meal and did not want to cook it in the light of my mini flashlight, so at 5:00pm I asked if we should pack it in for dinner. He said no, and changed to a #5 Black Fury, cast out, and got a nice big fish to the boat-side. Then he did it again. I hadn't put an inline on the whole trip which was strange because the gold Mepp #5 is responsible for many of my better pike catches home on the Moose. So on it went. The Mepp #5. And with a drum roll, like it was magic on the end of my line I sent it out there to the far shore weed edge.

BOOOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"JOE," I yelled, "THIS COULD BE THE 40!!!"

It was on! This big fish typical of a pike took short and hard reel peeling runs with an ease no other fish on the line that trip could attest too. After what seemed like ten minutes, wanting to tire the fish well because we had no net this trip, I brought it to boat.

Not my longest pike to date but it just made it over the forty.

I was about to let it go when Joe asked for it. I gave him my trophy.

We packed it in. At the end of the afternoon fish I managed around 60-70 pike while Joe I'd bet hit the 50 mark. Thirteen hours total fishing time for about 160 pike, crazy fun piking. We had a great meal and stood out by the fire he'd built, talking of the time his grandfather built a fire over a bed of rocks to heat the rocks, then clear the ashes, so he'd have something warm to sleep on overnight during this one time in the fall when he got into trouble in the bush. Joe told me of how when you spot a moose on the river bank and it runs it will only go about 200 yards then stop. It does this because it's only wild predator are wolves and the moose expects an ambush from the front. Joe's killed a few moose knowing this. He went on to say how before a moose beds down for the night it will walk into the wind, then double back on angle from it's path, this way, anything stalking it will be smelled out before it finds the moose. All pretty cool stuff to me, a fisherman.

The northern lights came out and the words switched to Joe's father Reg, who Joe said should have been the one who brought me here. I hummed and hawed but didn't really see it that way. Getting to know Joe this first time was a really great thing for me.

Final Day.

Woke to what some would say is, "not a sailors delight."

Winds were building even more out of the northeast. We had to get off Ekwan and across James Bay to the Attawapiskat. It was Monday now and by SAT phone with Joe's wife we learned their might be snow on Wednesday and the winds switching from right out of the north and getting worse. A bad thing for us. We got packed up and on our way by 9:00am.

The river down is easy, sort of. Joe knocked a rock and lost the skeg on his kicker 15 Yamaha. We also had a small hole in the bow from on the way up which got knocked again and became a little bigger. Together Joe and I read the shallow water down quite well. 9 out of 10 times I would have done the same as him, but rushed he honestly made the odd mistake I thought.

We stopped at an old man's camp for lunch. Garbage was everywhere. I noticed trees had been purposefully stripped of bark too. Joe reminded me that in two years that tree would be dead, still standing and dry, and make good fire wood. Thinking well ahead I thought, I like that.

When we stopped again to pick up the cached 30HP, I finally put on the new survival suit knowing the Bay would be kicking up big. Joe wasn't worried it seemed but the winds had to be gusting 50-60kms, and we'd be heading out on a shallow ocean. I'll admit I was worried.

At the Bay we soon realized the insane work ahead. We couldn't turn back, there was no way to go but out into it. Joe says, "she's rough." The tide was completely out. The water was too shallow for shallow drive and we had to get out onto the Bay about a mile off shore from where we were. And so we walked and dragged the boat nearly that mile through the shallows, while gusts of wind pelted the boat from the side and kicked water up onto us. It was cold, the two of us had to lean into that canoe to keep it going straight in the narrow channel and from getting beached.

After an hour of intense work we had a chance to break. I looked at my watch, 2:45pm. "Joe," I said, "If we don't get out there we're going to miss the tide on the Attawapiskat." Joe's reply, "You let me worry about my own river." We pushed on for twenty minutes until we were out there standing in the Bay with the boat in enough water to start the motor in shallow drive and motor our way further out.

4-5 footers with the odd 6 pelted us from the left side of our canoe at an angle of about 7-9 o'clock. Every 3rd wave soaked us. Joe was bailing between every second or third wave too, and trying to keep an eye out, and, pole the water depths to make sure we weren't too shallow. For the next 1 1/2 hours it was stupid heart pounding, gut wrenching stuff. I was constantly bracing myself while repositioning gear that was getting thrown around in the boat.

The shallow shoals of the Bay and a couple islands gave temporary shelter. Joe was soaked by the cold water and getting blown on by 8 degree chilling high winds. Finally, he made a turn toward land and after a few minutes we were inside the mouth of the Attawapiskat where the smell of tidal flat grasses told us we were safe.

You could hit me on the head with a tow truck and I wouldn't forget that trip. The freighter canoe, rolled with every wave, took every stand and bow, and proved again what a sea worthy vessel it is. The guy driving it was amazing too.

That night, Joe's wife cooked us that 40-inch pike along with another smaller pike. It tasted great. Couldn't believe how much fish we all ate that night.

Unfortunately many Cree up here may be piss poor for material things. Some too may not act or live the way others would expect of them. But for me, in many ways they are so rich with a rooted culture and lifestyle I am totally blessed to be a part of. My time on the Ekwan was extraordinary. Learning more from Joe about Reg and the outdoors, vitally important. And the time with Joe, unforgettable.

Bunk.

Edited May 1, 2014 by Moosebunk

[captpierre]

Magnificent reports, as always.

 

Interesting that you say braid got outfished 10-1.

 

Hard to believe they care even up there

 

thanks

[Moosebunk]

.Interesting that you say braid got outfished 10-1.

 

Hard to believe they care even up there

 

It is the only place I have ever experienced that, and it happened twice.. that's two trips. Can't explain. Probably the best numbers walleye fishery I've ever fished. Those eyes just liked the mono better.

[Tim Mills]

Thx for posting. AN interesting glimpse into the real North. You don't realize how massive those canoes are until you see a picture like the one at the end of report 2. Enjoyed seeing the pictures of your camps as well.

[Tomcat]

Great story telling with great pics along too. Like a really good book, had to keep reading until the end. I'm very envious of your experiences. Thanks for sharing.

[BillM]

I don't recognize the young guy in those pics!

[Gallie]

You lead a charmed life sir, your stories make me feel like any excuse for not moving to better fishing is feeble and weak. I take what you say as inspiration to better myself as a fisherman and make my fishing goals happen.

Thank you

[kickingfrog]

I don't recognize the young guy in those pics!

 

Cutest little baby face.

 

Great stuff Bunk. Thanks.

[lookinforwalleye]

Always enjoy your adventures!!!

[chris.brock]

from what you said about Joe and Reg, I remember getting to fish with John Ritch for an afternoon, on his home lake (Ogoki), he didn't talk a lot, but I hung on to every word he said, magical!

 

he trolled jigs too

 

you're a living legend for people who like to fish in northern Ontario Moosebunk

Edited May 1, 2014 by chris.brock

[wormdunker]

Wow! That is awesome! Thanx - I love reading your posts.

[BassMan11]

Awesome stories as usual bunk. Some serious adventures there!

[landry]

You are an adventurer. Wow.

I love your photography.

[Moosebunk]

I don't recognize the young guy in those pics!

 

 

Cutest little baby face.

 

 

You're kinda right but c'mon guys!?!? 29 ish then, chubby cheeked but fit... (dude, dude) Only a few years now the greys have been popping up in the beard but, still good to go... Good times in the north.

 

Chris... a decade worth of those stories, so many people's personal accounts of life in and connected to the bush... it doesn't grow old hearing more.

 

Big thanks... and bigger canoes. Yes.

[can u fish]

Wow what a great adventure bunk thanks for sharing I really enjoy reading your reports and the photos are awesome looking forward to your next journey.

 

Cheers Mitch...

[alphaalpha]

Great read on something very few people will ever get to experience, thanks for taking the time to share!

 

-AA

[corvette1]

awesome trips drew congrats