Down Memory Lane with Kingfisher

Day 1 (8/6)

Beaverhouse Lake
   
I met Darrel Brauer (A.K.A. Kingfisher) in the town of Superior Wisconsin promptly at 8 a.m. and we loaded the boats and gear and were on our way by 9. We recieved some rather curious looks from the Canadian border agent when we admitted to have never actually met in person and had corresponded via internet and were now embarking on a two week paddling excursion in Quetico Provincial park. He cocked his head, gave us the eye and waved us through.
     We made decent time and arrived at Beaverhouse Lake landing with enough time to check in at the ranger station if we were to hurry. Darrel made haste so to check in while I had to wait for another party to load up and depart the parking lot which was rather full. This slight delay was a decisive factor in the initial division of our forces. The last I saw of Darrel was as he paused before going around an island so to be sure that I knew the proper way. All was fine until I hit the 1/2 mile stretch of open water which was moving along rather well with modest whitecaps. While the conditions were not terrible they could become so rather quickly if the wind decided to increase. I weighed the risk/ reward.........if I swamped I was looking at a couple mile drift before I would hit land. In the end I chickened out.
     Some time passed and in my mind it had become clear that I had missed the chance to check in for that afternoon. The day was starting to wane, the wind had increased and there was no sign of Darrel. What to do? I decided to find a campsite so off I went around the big bay and figured we would meet the following morning at the Ranger station. I found a nice little beach site and set up. Later, while I'm sitting on my stool next to the water munching an apple I hear a motorboat.........the vessel was laden with none other than my paddling associate and 2 First Nation folk. Come to find out Darrel had searched high and low for me having braved the increasing afternoon blow in search of yours truly. Eventually he enlisted the help of the motorboat and had come to the windward shore with the understanding that if I had swamped I would drift to this shoreline. I was, of course, oblivious to all such concerns and had resigned myself to meeting him in the morning. After a brief explanation which included the admission that (unlike himself) I was not Superman but rather a mere mortal. The comment was taken in good humor as the two First Nation fellows smirked and soon the aluminum vessel took flight, pounding loudly on the waves before gaining plane. Darrel arrived some 1/2 hour later.......our trip starts with a miscue but no harm done. We settle in for what turns out to be a beautiful cool evening.

Day 2 (8/7)

Beaverhouse lake- 24r- 5r- 320r- Badwater Lake- 30r- Unnamed lake- 30r- Fair Lake- 30r- Your lake-167r- Snow lake- Little Pine lake- Trail lake- 60r- March Lake- Bentpine

     I was up well before dawn drinking coffee and eating my oats. Darrel was up a full 45 minutes later but still beat me out of camp by 10 minutes or so. We paddled side by side and chatted away which led to a 1 mile navigation error. The minor miscues were to add up through the course of the day as we shall soon witness and make for a very big day indeed.
     Bentpine Lake was our destination lake. Rumor had it that the walleyes would be patiently waiting. Ten portages including 2 close to a mile were between us, a layover day and walleye heaven. Our delays were to start right off the bat on the long and rocky portage into Badwater lake. I had carried my food packs across and had started back to retrieve my boat when I spooked a sizable animal off the portage trail. I was unable to ascertain what sort of critter it was but it was big and fast. Not big like a moose but more like a bear or a deer. It had not gone far when it stopped and I figured that I had better go back and keep an eye on my food pack until Darrel arrived. I waited and waited. It was a substantial delay since it was a long portage and after he arrived I had to make the long walk back to get my vessel. Not exactly the way you want to start a long day but I would of played it the same considering the potential consequences should a bear make off with a food pack.
     A much larger screw-up occurred later in the day on the other long portage. The day was starting to slip away and dopey me had neglected to clip my map case onto my pack for transport like I normally do. Instead I ended up clipping it to my boat and naturally it pulled off right near the start. Darrel waited patiently while I had to walk the entire trail over again to retrieve it.
     Our time was starting to become short and the threat of the evening mosquito onslaught loomed in the not to distant future as we increased our paddling pace. Darrel was the faster portager between us and it was agreed that he would seek out a site on Bentpine. After pointing out our destination campsite he went off to see if we would be able to check in. I arrived some 15 minutes later to what would be our home for the next day or so. We had cut it a bit thin but we managed to get set up and eat some much needed dinner before the winged menace awoke for their nightly rounds. It was a very enjoyable 2nd day for me despite being anything but a well oiled machine. I slept very hard all night being rather tuckered. Tomorrow is a layover day. Hopefully the fish will feel like biting as I think I am in the mood for a pile of walleye filets.

Day 3 (8/9)

Layover day

     A bit gloomy and cool to start the day and neither of us seemed to be in a particular hurry to wet a line. We drank a fair amount of coffee, chatted away and tidied up camp. Darrel showed me his food hanging system he employed to foil the always hungry bears which can occasionally prove troublesome to a campers food supply. I was really quite impressed with the double pulley system.
     We pulled out around 10ish with Darrel heading to s spot where he had had previous luck. I being an independent sort decided to check out the local talent around camp. Three hours and 2 walleye later found me down at Kingfishers spot where he was proving that his feathered friends moniker namesake was well deserved. Every time I looked up he was either fighting or landing a fish. He related to me a certain satisfaction in having found the thick pod of walleyes. I got in on the "tail" end of the action and quickly scored on three or four.
     Having in no uncertain terms accomplished the goal of a walleye dinner we made our way back to camp. The day only got better as my partner had a few culinary tricks up his sleeve. I was instructed to gather some firewood which I hastily procured and then watched as onions were sautéed over an open flame. They were set aside while bite sized pieces of fish were next to hit the flame. Eventually all was mixed together with generous slathering of salsa and fish tacos were born. I ate 2 large soft tortilla and was quite content. Next on the fire was a big pot of hot water which made dish cleaning a breeze. I have always relied on a stove but now have a better understanding of the benefits a fire can offer.
     The rain had held off, the wind had laid and off I went once again in search of Mr Big. One bite at magic hour was my hope but it was not to be. I retired late and was punished by the mosquitos quite severely for my lack of punctuality. Changing into my sleeping clothes under a virtual cloud of the little devils provoked a little manic laughter from me as I dived into the safety of the no-seeum mesh. Ten minutes of search and destroy within the confines of the tent and a further 10 minutes of thought soon had me out like a light. Another interesting day to reflect upon.

Day 4 (8/10)

Bentpine lake -March Lake- 25r- 35r- Bentpine Creek- Sturgeon Lake

     I awoke once again right at dawn and soon had my pathetic instant coffee hot and ready to drink. I remember liking it previously but what I likely enjoyed was the generous helpings of cream and sugar which inundauted the hot water. I had since given up on the white death. The instant has now lost its appeal but I was still glad to have it. We had a pleasant unhurried morning and conversed away acknowledging that we had a fairly short paddle day on the agenda. From Bentpine lake we followed Bentpine Creek and I found the little run to be magical. The day was sunny and calm and we hit the large body of water named Sturgeon Lake under ideal conditions. Darrel had suggested pressing on but I on the other hand wanted to fish the lake because the conditions were so agreeable. I had wanted to share a campsite near the mouth of the Maligne River which I had stayed at a decade earlier. I had remembered it being quite stellar with an eloborate fire pit and pine needle strewn tent sites. When we arrived it was anything but stellar with the impressively constructed fire pit having been dismantled and the tent sites being littered with branches. It saddened me a bit and I thought of a fine and grand home which had fallen into disrepair.
     Darrel suggested a mid lake campsite some miles distant and after pointing the site out on a map and pointing it out we struck out across the big body of water. About 1/2 way across a whisper of wind caught my attention and it wasn't long before I was hightailing it to the shoreline. Weather conditions can turn on a dime and a mile from shore is no place for a solo canoeist who lacks big water confidence. Alas, poor Darrel who eventually looks behind to find not a soul in sight, as if I had literally vanished from the surface of the water.
     I had pulled into a small reedy cove and had decided to troll my way to the campsite. That was, after all, my usual mode of travel and I was starting to miss it. Surely, I rationalized, that Darrel would realize that I would eventually arrive but just a little bit later. I trolled into the large bay where Jean Creek entered and had wanted to walk the portage but a large white swan seemed intent on blocking my way so I gave in rather easily and bypassed the confrontation. Along I went, rod tucked neatly into my rod holder when bingo a fish connection was made. A nice fat walleye was a welcome sight since I was fairly famished. I pulled up to a small island to have a shore lunch and it was here where I met Darrel. He expressed his surprise at having found me quite literally disappeared and expressed his concern. We had an amiable discussion and then he left off to set up camp and I went about the business of frying fish. I was hot, sweaty and smelly so after my shore lunch I spent some time cleaning up which was quite refreshing.
     I eased around the corner and the site was just as nice as described. I feel blessed indeed to be in the Quetico and with such a fine gentleman who is sharing his knowledge and expertise. I set up camp and kicked back for a while enjoying the big red pines and the elevated views the breezy site afforded. Another spectacular and excellent day in the books.

Day 5 (8/11)

Sturgeon lake- Maligne River- 52r- 64r- 42r- Poohbah creek- 40r- 64r- Poohbah Lake

     I awoke and started packing some 45 minutes before dawn and still got beat out of camp by my lightening fast compadre. A stationary front had stalled and turned our sunny day into a gloomy one. The clouds lay thick above us and Sturgeon had but a slight ripple. The conditions lent themselves to open water paddling and the 2 miles to the mouth of the Maligne River were covered promptly. The plan was to travel down the Maligne river and up Poobah creek and gain access to another large body of water, that being Poohbah lake. We hit the Maligne river in good time and I noticed the water was substantially higher than when I had travelled it some years before. My moving water experience was very minimal and the heavy conditions caused a pause in me. Mostly I was concerned about dumping my boat and losing my stuff or having the boat get damaged......trip over. On the other side of the coin the water looked like it could be fun and thus was my conundrum. Darrel offered very helpful and sage advice and the first few sets of rapids were either floated through or portaged around rather easily. My hemming and hawing had started to prove irksome however and when I stopped at one portage to evaluate the map to make sure we didn't blow by Poohbah creek the last straw had been reached by my normally patient partner........."Let's go" came the firm determined voice. I replied that we should view the map but a rather more emphatic "LETS GO" was the only retort. We went back and forth a few times and the proverbial Mexican Standoff had ensued. Finally I became exasperated and suggested that I would meet him at Poohbah lake and he needn't wait for me. Things had gotten a little tense mostly due to my lack of confidence, tendency to overevaluate and my strong independent streak. Things were soon mended however and a new inside joke was born........."Lets's go" became the new battle cry and was employed whenever fitting.
     Another great travel day was upon us. Very little wind, a bit cool and overcast but no rain made for exceptional paddling conditions. Poohbah creek was an absolute delight to paddle and after the little run we found ourselves on enormous Poohbah lake. Several large islands obscured the enormity and we both commented on how we were expecting the lake to feel larger. Next up was to find a campsite. Of great surprise to us were the number of other campers. At least 2 other obvious campsites were taken. We checked out a marginal site that would of worked in a pinch but we had become spoiled and since it was early we pressed on. We checked out an island site that was a fly-in fish camp. Numerous motor boats lined the shore but fortunately there were no clients to disturb our plesant repose. Darrel pulled out his handy monocular and noticed a bare spot on another island which looked promising. Home sweet home! It was an absolutely ideal place which was not far from our exit and proved to have exceptional fishing just a stones throw away.
     We set up and then threw our gear into our boats and went in search of something to tighten our lines. Darrel out fished me once again having found a hot reef. I was rather stubborn and hardheaded and preferred to seek out my own spots until I was rewarded with several walleyes in the 22" class. I also caught one pike just over 30" but what was very nice was one heavy lake trout right at dark which went 8 lbs on the boga. Quite an unusual coloration from what I had seen in the Quetico in the past with the fish being very darkly colored. The fish was a bit of a disappointment however and proved to be a bit of a weakling for such a good fish.
     I was punished severely once again for my habit of fishing until dark by the winged menace but some habits just won't die. Sun up should prove interesting as we have decided to take on one of the named portages of the park and make our way to roughly the center of the park and the legendary walleye factory which is Conmee Lake. How hard could it be?

Day 6 (8/13)

Poohbah Lake- 200r- unnamed- 300r- unnamed- 280r- Conmee Lake

     Another early start........paddling right at 7;15 proved beneficial. Today was the 3 long portages done back to back to back with only smallish lakes seperating each leg. The "Memory Lane" portages  were significant due to their almost a mile length for each leg. That meant some 9 miles of portaging since you must walk each leg 3 times.......once across with your food pack, a return trip and then your canoe comes across.
     The first leg went just fine in spite of the trail seeming to end in a beaver pond. A walk up a small rocky brook of sorts soon reveals the proper way. We paddled the first small lake and stopped at what appeared to be the portage landing. The placement corresponded with precisely what the map dictated and a small tree which had been cut by a saw and had left a stump was another solid clue. Although there was a trail it seemed little used. We followed it until the path became obscured by a blow down and then became even more faint further on. Something wasn't setting right with me and I made my way back to my canoe. The other trail was well worn.......did people turn around at this point? I started paddling about while Darrel followed what I suspected was an old trappers trail. I decided to investigate the entire length of the lake and lo and behold at the opposite end of the lake from what the map showed lay the trail. I returned and had lunch while my partner worked out a way having found occasional blazes. He returned some time later and was intent on giving it a go. I replied that would be fine and I would meet him on the other side. We shared a laugh and our lightness of heart was quickly restored as we made our way to the mismarked portage landing.
     Finally we arrived at Conmee. Our partnership had made decent time across coming in at about noon with yours truly a good 1/2 hour behind. I was intent on pacing myself lest I have a fall. All was done under ideal conditions and I would admit to a certain delight in crossing the Memory Lane trio.......I rather thought they were a pleasant walk.
     Darrel had went to set up camp and I promptly trolled up a 33" pike which was promptly filleted. Dinner was soon served and we both went out fishing. We compared notes afterward and again Darrel was top dog having caught 4 quality fish........2 nice walleye, 1 18" smallmouth bass and one fat pike. I on the other hand had caught only 2 piddly pike. Kingfisher was fishing shallower, slower and with smaller lures. I was fishing deeper, faster and with larger lures. From my perspective he was fishing a spring pattern. My mind should of informed me that the water temps were low and the fish had not been pushed into deeper water........my heart was telling me to use what had worked in the past.

Day 7 (8/14)

Layover

     We had some discussion the night before about our plans and decided on another layover day. I had fared quite well yesterday on the work but was feeling a little beat today. My chief concern was for my back and the position we would be in should it decide not to cooperate with the program. Darrel has already been out fishing and promptly brought back a 27" walleye for a picture. I was glad to finally see a big walleye caught on the camera.
     I spent the morning and early afternoon in camp. I needed some rest and recuperation. Darrel had continued the morning fishing but had only the 1 bite so he decided on a day trip to Suzanette and suggested I accompany him. I declined knowing that I should rest and besides my heart was set on unlocking the big walleye key that I had read so much about.
     Darrel returned in the afternoon having put the hurt on the lake trout. I learned how to cook laker in tin foil over a fire and we stuffed ourselves. It was all very satisfying. I went back out after dinner and connected with my one and only quality walleye which weighed 5.5 on the boga.

Day 8 (8/15)

Conmee- 13r- 140r- 288r- 193r- Delahey lake- 24r- Veron lake- 22r- 52r- 172r- Camel lake

     I felt rejuvenated after my rest day and was ready to tackle another tough set of portages. The "Death March" trio that led into Delahey lake were long but not to arduous. Again the reader should take note that all was done under ideal conditions. These trails could be very tough indeed during hot weather or if wet. By now Darrel had come to trust my navigation skills and understood that I felt comfortable and could take care of myself so he sped on ahead after we agreed on a meeting place. Another "miscue"developed after the Death March portages had been completed. We had set our sights on getting to Camel lake. I entered Delahey lake without a care in the world........the day was sunny and even a little warm. I paddled away transfixed by the beauty around me. My map showed a sizable cut which would lead to the Veron portage. Unfortunately I had assumed to much and blew past the the small slot and went at least 1 mile past it all the while convinced it had to be further ahead. Finally I knew that I had blown it and had to backtrack all the while now paying close attention to my whereabouts. The slot was filled with reeds and practically indistinguishable from the shoreline. I could excuse that error but I no sooner entered the channel when I talked myself out of the next turn convincing myself it was a small bay. I soon came to a "T" of sorts and knew I had again made an error. I turned around just in time to spot Darrel who was making his way back to search for me. He had went through and organized his pack his pack and had even taken a nap waiting for me. It was fortunate indeed that our paths crossed when they did!
     Onward we went to Camel Lake where I once again give Kudos to Mr Brauer for finding one of the only campsites on the lake. Even though it had been a long hard day I still took a little spin to see if Mr Big was around. My nemesis the mosquito were quite content to await my arrival and as per my custom I was once again punished severely.

Day 9 (8/16)

Camel lake- 4r- Nan lake- 8r- 18r- Cutty Creek- 90r- Fred Lake- Sturgeon lake

     Today we decided on looping back to Sturgeon Lake and staying at the western end near a place called "The Narrows". An internet acquaintance had suggested a campsite to Darrel that had some special appeal (thanks Jimmar). And it was here we set our sights. The run up Cutty Creek was a delight as was the paddling on Fred lake and Sturgeon lake. All was once again done under ideal conditions, winds mostly calm and temps quite comfortable. The campsite was fantastic with exceptional elevated views in several directions. After setting up we sallied forth once again in our pint sized vessels to a trio of islands. Darrel was quickly into fish on a shelf of sorts and caught a fish on almost every pass. Of course I had to find my own fish but could not find a similar spot and had to grudgingly accept fishing someone else's spot. The fish were there howbeit of only average size. It was a big fish spot in my book but they didn't make an appearance. Definitely a spot to keep in mind. Another absolutely fantastic day in the books!

Day 10 (8/17)

Sturgeon lake- 20r- Lonely Creek- 24r- Lonely lake- 300r- Yeh lake- 4r- Little Jean Lake- Jean Lake- 80r- Burntside lake

     I awoke pre-dawn as had been my custom and started breaking camp. We breakfasted and discussed strategies. We decided on Burntside Lake as our destination with 2 possible routes. Option 1 included a 1mile portage and several smaller portages. Option 2 meant paddling enormous Sturgeon  lake and following Jean Creek. I joked about the "Death Swan" but what really had my attention was the wind. It was early morning and it was already breezy. We both decided on the portage route. Darrel left first and I waited for an Alleve to kick in to help my back.
     I had made the correct call as the wind was kicking big time and I was so very happy to be going up Lonely Creek to Lonely Lake. The mile portage was the easiest of all the milers we had done but things got interesting on Jean lake where I got to bob around on large swells as I made my way to the Burntside portage. Darrel admitted that he was surprised to see me as i had shied away from heavy water before. My thinking is easy to understand........dump far from shore and your in a bad way, close to shore not so bad.
     Darrel had gone ahead and had set up shop on a honey of a site, just beautiful! In the afternoon it calmed a bit and of course I went fishing. I caught several nice walleye but just before dark right near our campsite I got the strike I had been looking for. I had already caught 3 pike in the 33" class and all were handled rather quickly. This fish hit in 15ft and I could barely pry it off the bottom. When it ran the boat followed. I was distraught (understatement) when the line was either cut or broke. Oh well, that's fishing!

Day 11 (8/18)

Burntside lake- 80r- Jean- 30r- 19r- Quietico lake

     It had been breezy all night and that had our attention since we had to paddle across sizable Jean lake. I had seen it yesterday and there was no way I was making the open water crossing in anything other than a light chop. Fortunately the wind laid down at exactly the right time and the 1.5 hour paddle on Jean was accomplished easily. Darrel had stopped to evaluate some campsites and he had even tried to troll up a lake trout but nothing doing. I awaited his arrival at the portage to Quetico Lake. I had felt especially strong on the paddle that morning and had made good time.
     We travelled down Quetico lake and for the first time since Poohbah Lake we encountered other paddlers. The day was sunny and we paddled side by side and chatted away. As the day wore on the wind increased and the easy going had become a memory. We pulled up short of our destination campsite and it proved to be a good call. I dumped my bags on the shore set about trying to secure a fish dinner. It took an hour but I managed a small but welcome pike and a fat walleye. We added some wild rice and it ended up a good meal indeed. After dinner we set forth eager to make a fish connection. I caught exactly zip while my fish catching machine partner popped a dandy 42" northern which he measured up against the boat. I was happy for him and my only regret was that I was not around to snap a picture.
     The evening looked ominous and I suspected a major rainstorm. I had been predicting rain almost daily for most of the trip......my usual on target prognosticating abilities having fled had made me the subject for mild mockery. Sooner or later I had to be right! My predictions once again proved anti climactic in spite of the rumbling of thunder and at 1 a.m. the rain which finally did arrive was barely enough to wet the rainfly.

Day 12 (8/19)

Quetico lake-14r- Cirrus lake
     I was out of camp my usual 1/2 hour behind. We had agreed to meet at Cirrus lake which was only 1/2 day easy travel. I enjoyed Quetico lake more than I thought I would and will have to spend more time in the future on the multi fingered body of water. Once again Darrel had selected an absolutely ideal campsite which is reason in and of itself to return to this darkly colored body of water. I spent a fair amount of time collecting and processing wood since we had decided to stay a day or two here. Kingfisher had decided to fish and he left rather soon after setting up. I liked the site and decided to spend most of the day reading, writing and drinking coffee and eating cliff bars.
     Darrel returned in the afternoon with a smile from ear to ear. He had had quite a day. He related a reef he had rather stumbled upon and had taken several very quality walleye off of it. Proof of his success resided in the grand slam of fish filets which we had a very difficult time in consuming. We sampled every spice that he had brought.......all very tasty.
     I slept very poorly due to a full moon which beamed down upon me........that and I had not tuckered myself out with exertion during the day but rather had taken it easy. I began to think about my upcoming obligations in Chicago and despite the newly found reef I decided to see how Darrel felt about leaving a day early.

 Thanksgiving
 I am always careful to thank my understanding and lovely wife and not take her for granted that she so easily gives her blessing to my outdoor adventures.

I also want to thank Summer for advocating Tiger balm which was a great help for my back.

Many thanks go to my tripping partner Darrel Brauer. It was truly a pleasure to be in his company in spite of the whipping I took in the fish department ( I hope to repay the favor some day).

And most importantly I want to thank the Lord of heaven and earth. Some three weeks before the trip I hurt my back to the point that I had to pay someone to help me tear down at an event. I seriously thought about canceling but felt like the Lord would be with me and the peace that passes understanding and the wisdom that comes from above would be available. Ever faithful is the Prince of Peace.

YURI 2013- The Ledge Trip

             

Tim, Alex and I left around 10 A.M. for the keys after having picked them up in Ft Lauderdale the night before having flown in from Detroit. It would be Alex's first offshore trip and first time in the keys. A very nice graduation present from his Dad and well deserved I might add for the fine young man.
     The usual bait stop at channel 5 produced exceptionally well and we were into the grunts nonstop from the start. Alex was particularly fascinated by the 5 ft tarpon that continually swam by. We loaded the bait cooler and proceeded to the Hogfish grill where we met Glenn, Jerry and Nik for some much anticipated dinner and then we were off to the Air Force base at Key West where Glenn and Jerry, both retired AF, had a couple of villas rented for the evening. Kudos fellas, sure beats the Days Inn!
     The following morning some logistical hurdles presented themselves as ice was no longer available from the out of business fish house but we didn't let that slow us down and soon all was in order. Yuri had just come in the night before and was a smidge late showing up around 1 in the afternoon. But we knew the best Captain in the keys would take good care of us so only the modest grumbling of impatient fisherman eagerly anticipating stretching a line was to be expected and not a cause for concern.
     Out of the harbor with the big catamaran and into the blue water shortly thereafter all the while running and gunning for dolphin. They would not disappoint and once the birds and weeds were found we did very nicely with the dolphin fire drill with lots of small ones banging around on the deck. We rinsed and repeated the process all the way out to the bottom fishing grounds and had well over 20 boxed within a few hours......a good start to one of the most memorable trips I have been on.
     We set up in the early evening and put a whoopin on the big muttons for most of the first night and completely filled one of our boxes to overflowing. The bite was very steady but what was especially noteworthy was the average size was very nice indeed with many fish between 10 and 15 lbs.

By 3 A.M. we were all out cold in our bunks having been spent up by the dolphin and the punishment doled out by the big muttons. The following morning after being firmly fortified with some breakfast and coffee we set up in a different spot. Jerry was soon rewarded with a dandy Black Grouper.

     The day bite was was good for us and we landed quite the variety of fish. The amount of big red groupers on this trip was a real bonus as I am used to catching mostly just over legal ones that don't battle especially well. This trip was exceptional in the amount of hard fighting big reds.

     A bit later in the day I dropped down a foot long yellowtail on 150lb braid to see who was home. My offering was soon snapped up and I quickly put Alex on the reel. I had joked with Alex earlier....."if you think you're tough you haven't met Jack".  My kidding was merely a fortuitous premonition as the big Jack put a bit of a whoopin on the lad. But he hung in there and was eventually the victor. Way to battle!

      The second night was substantially slower than the 1st night but we still managed to put some more muttons in the box as well as a hard fighting black fin tuna.

 About 3;30 A.M. found only two die hards with a line out......"Big Daddy" Tim Cornelius and yours truly. We weren't doing much except hooking the occasional fish and hanging on while it ran under a ledge which was just behind the boat. Then the exhausting process of breaking off the 50lb line and retying soon became a familiar routine at this spot. Suddenly something clicked in my brain as I became aware of smallish fish flicking the surface. I stared down into the chumslick that I was careful to keep running and noticed some smallish fish darting about. We had just about run out of the $36 a dozen Goggle eyes and I was eager to replenish our supply with any sort of fresh bait. I tied on a small sabiki and was soon rewarded with a hook-up. In came a gog! I quickly set Tim up with an identical outfit and we went to work. Somehow I had the knack and quickly had about 18 fresh baits safely iced away. The thought crossed my mind to wake some folk up but after 20 years of fishing overnight boats waking people up had backfired on me every single time and I had swore off the practice. The hard work of staying up was to pay off big time for me the following day as we shall soon see.
     The Gogs left as mysteriously as they had arrived and by 5 A.M. they had vanished. I was able to hang in all that night and most of the following morning........So far my mid life crisis doesn't consist of a little red sports car and a blonde but rather how long I can hang in at the rail! That morning I fished poorly and had dismal luck compounded by lousy technique, never a good combination. Tough guy or not I knew I needed a few Zzzz's if I was to fish the rest of the day and went down for about 2 hours. Things improved tremendously from that point on and we had an excellent day bite. One stop was very memorable as we had set up on a big ledge. Our valiant cast of characters lost about 6 or 7 big fish in a row as we were unable to turn them to keep them out from under the ledge. I turned and looked up at Captain Yuri and suggested that we weren't men enough to fish this spot. He flashed a wry smile and said we would "find something easier".
     We were soon off to another ledge and it was here I caught fire and the Gogs from the night before proved their worth. Every cast behind and into the chumslick resulted in a bite with several nice muttons, a nice Scamp Grouper and one big blackie to show for my efforts.

Alex was also to pop a very nice fatty.

 And Tim wrestled with "old snaggletooth"

It was quite a day and we were well pleased with our efforts. The boat was almost limited out on Grouper and we had 34 of our allotted 36 fish limit.
     Our dinners were tasty with Niks wife having made an excellent lasagna for the first night, Glenns wife having made her usual exceptional pulled pork for the 2nd night and Yuri, the master fish cook, supplying our last nights fare. In spite of my pledge to stay hungry so I could fish all night I failed miserably and had a full belly. Even my 4 shot vanilla latte espresso could not keep me out of the rack and I hit the hay around 4 A.M. after another rather slow night.
     I record the following for personal posterity but the reader may get some entertainment out of the internal battle that was waged between the bed and the fishing rod:  I awoke around 7 A.M. having slept about 3 hours. It was still rather early and I knew I needed to be on deck so off I slid out of my bunk. Then the overwhelming realization that I would have to put my socks on with hands that were so cut and infected that they were no longer capable of simple tasks. This caused me such consternation that I jumped back into bed and eagerly buried my face in my pillow. But soon the voice in my head started up........"this is a good time to fish.......you need to be out there........don't put your socks on, just slide bare feet into your boots". Hey, I could do that! I was on deck in a few moments where I found Tim, Nik and Glenn at the rail. I enquired if they had caught much and the unanimous answer was negative. The voice in my head suggested the outfit with the big grouper jig and a ballyhoo combo but I fought the idea because the current was moving pretty hard and it would be difficult to hold bottom...........the internal argument continued until I realized I could get 2 drops to bottom before the jig would be swept up and away by the current.
Out it went and the big bucktail soon found bottom only to be kited upwards in the current......I dropped back for my second and final try. I never felt the bite but realized something was just a wee bit different and I set up hard. The fish was there and the battle was on. In the back of my mind I knew we were on another ledge and I fully expected the big fish to rock me but I gave the 50lb test all I could get out of her and soon had another big black on the deck. All this took place within about 60 seconds of walking on deck.........I have had it happen to me many times where I had been patiently fishing and someone walks up, drops down and catches a big one. It was nice to be on the other end for once.

     

 This was our last hurrah and Yuri suggested that since we were basically out of ice that we work our way towards home and work on any dolphin that we come across. I had brought a waffle maker aboard and as designated breakfast cook I was miffed when about 1/2 way through the bacon the schooling dolphin fire drill commenced. We soon had dolphin flopping everywhere. Back to cooking and eating! Then another stop........the weed patches were thick, the fish were cooperative. I had decided early on that I would not use the standard chunk of meat but I would be casting a big topwater popper. That proved to be a very good strategy for a variety of reasons. I was able to cast the big plug 1/2 mile and the rattles and the popping certainly rang the dinner bell for the schools of dolphin we encountered. They followed the big plug right to the boat where the fellows soon made short work of them. I had caught 3 or 4 of the smaller ones when I got the strike I was looking for.......the memory will remain with me for quite some time.........the 20lber lunged towards the plug from the side and crushed the lure. Then it pretty much went berserk with several wild jumps. Much of the time I was not connected to the fish with a tight line because of the incredible speed of my beautiful adversary but we stayed glued together. Yuri soon showed with the gaff and commented that "it will be a miracle if we catch this fish" (larger dolphin will usually throw treble hooked lures). But miracles do happen and we stuck the fish just as the hooks released. Lots of fun!

 Yuri then commenced to wear us out by stopping at every weed patch and flying bird that came his way. One by one we dropped off as we had had enough. I had climbed in my bunk and when I heard the motor slow I was unable to get up. Thus ended the fantastic fishing experience. I was glad to have been able to share such a good trip with such quality individuals and I am already looking forward to next year. Be safe and cherish each day.

MT

Yankee Capts take 2

     What a long road it has been........It all started some 20+ years ago with an article in Florida Sportsman describing a fishing trip that really resembled more of an adventure. Load up with 30 other guys for 36 hours and travel some 75 miles offshore to the famed and mysterious Middle Grounds to fish for Grouper, Amberjack and Snapper. The hard bottom of the grounds made for some tough fishing. Hanging bottom was common and so was getting "rocked up" by some fish to big to stop.
     It sounded easy enough.......let your line down to the bottom and wait for a bite. But at the end of the trip there was fellows who had literally wheelbarrows of fish and then some guys that had 2 or 3. I was one of the guys with 2 fish on my first trip. But I kept at it and went at least 2 or 3 times a year. The best bottom fisherman I ever knew took me under his wing........the gentle giant Tom Nickels. Tom helped me immensely and my catch started to go up a little bit each year. I continually upgraded my equipment and tactics and finally some 20 years later I can say with some confidence that I can be in the same league as the regulars of long ago that I so admired. From my perspective there is no other type of fishing that I am aware of that demands such a unique combination of skill, knowledge, strength, specialized equipment  and the all important ability to concentrate for long periods of time.

     I eventually left the Middle Grounds and so did the majority of the regulars. The boat left the Hubbard families hands and went commercial and the trips declined rapidly in popularity. But the hook was set and the bottom fishing bug had bitten me pretty hard. I had heard about the Dry Tortugas multi day trips and of course had to give them a go. A whole new set of species and new environment, back to square 1and another tough learning curve. Enter the Yankee Capts........

Did lousy catching bait at channel 5 but ran across some guys that had a 5 gallon bucket of 15" jacks that they had caught. I knew a thing or two about making small jacks good table fare and when I found out that the lads didn't even know how to filet fish I couldn't help but lend a hand. In 15 minutes I had disposed of their catch into nice little strips, discarding the foul tasting parts. In appreciation they gave me 4 jacks to use for bait. Nice kids.........but here is the rub, they had caught about 6 or 8 Spanish Macks on live shrimp fished below a chum block. I think next trip I might be bringing some live shrimp when I make a bait stop. Onward to No Name bridge where I had a tough time finding anything. Eventually I found a rockpile a long cast out and cleaned up on big grunts.

I made the boat a little late but still everything worked out well for me. Decent place for my bait cooler and I even managed a few rods down below. Weather had been windy but by the time we left at 10 P.M. it was subsiding. The following seas made for a very comfortable ride out and I slept like a baby. First stop was awesome and I just knew that this was going to be the best Yankee trip ever. I popped 2 dandy Muttons and one fire truck red grouper that went 17lbs. Nice fish and a nice job getting him out of some coral.

But all good things come to an end and our good start ended all to quickly with the rising of the sun. It became calm and hot and the bite was over just like that! I had thought that it would pick back up again come nightfall but no dice.........a front was piling through and the weather went downhill. Still I kept at it but could never really develop any momentum. For every fish I caught it seemed I lost 2. I had sharks take 2 (I reeled in a 1/2 mutton that still went 8lbs), I broke fish off, I missed or I had other people pull fish off the hook for me when my line would tangle in theirs (thank you very much!). It was all sort of frustrating on many different levels but I kept at it. Had a couple hour nap the first full night but hung in there the rest of the trip fishing all night on night 2.

Three big blacks were caught. The Jackpot winner was 46lbs.......nice fish. When I seen the second one come up I purposed to catch one. Down went my sabiki rod and up came a 12" yellowtail. I promptly pinned him to 150lb braid and sent him back down to await his doom. It was not long in coming. I set up perfectly on the bite and them was slammed up against the rail. Even though my drag was all but locked down the big fish powered plenty of line off. Unfortunately the fish had decided to go under the boat to the other side where someone promptly yanked the big boy off the hook. When I reeled my line in I had someone elses line around my hook. Not to hard to figure out what happened. Fish of a lifetime? Perhaps, perhaps........

I also got into a couple of 11ft nurse sharks which took quite a bit out of me. Don't they make those in any other size? Why are they always 11ft long? I don't get it..........

The grunts did OK for me. My new wrinkle may of helped a bit but it sure wasn't a silver bullet. Check this out > Open the mouth of the grunt, stuff a cotton ball down his mouth and fill the cotton ball with some pogy oil. Insert hook to close everything up. Sort of a slick little set-up. I might try it again.

Bottom line? I ended up with 11 muttons, 2 grouper and 6 very nice yellowtails (one taping out at 22"). I generally thought I was just another guy on the boat but when the numbers were called and the fish divided up it was pretty obvious I was high hook. That was a big surprise because I basically thought I stunk on this trip. Add in that the bite was as slow as the mate had seen it all year and I guess I should actually be fairly pleased. The biggest Mutton was 14 lbs and 1/2 my Muttons were 10lbs and over. I almost put it together but missed the mark. I really enjoyed this batch of guys.......most of them didn't really know what to do and I helped where I could.

So that about does it. Par for the course for the Yankee. One day the Yankee and I will put it together. I joked with Capt Greg about the curse finally being over.........We finally didn't get blown off. When I asked the 250lb crusty Capt for a celebratory hug he never missed a beat and said "get away from me". Everyone cracked up over the exchange. Capt Greg, you gotta love him.

So the appetizers are over. Good Lord willing I will see 5 of you in less than a month on Yuris boat. Should be fun as always.

Tight lines

MT

Yankee T/R 3/2013

     I'm not superstitious but you have to wonder.........even Captain Greg has noticed.........If I'm on the Yankee it's going to be windy and probably cold and the bite is going to be slow. Bingo! Par for the course.......

I started out at channel 5 hoping to stock up on grunts since I opted out on biting the big dollar bullet for Gogs. So a big gamble......just one type of bait to start with. It is easy to talk yourself into believing you will catch a boney or a king to steak up later in the trip. I slid down the pier to my favored spot and caught exactly zip! Nada! As in zero grunts. My spidey sense started tingling and I kept telling myself I needed to leave and pronto and hit no-name bridge. I finally started dollying back when I came across a family from North Carolina who had settled in while I was set up further down. As I was passing one of them pulled in a grunt. "How many of those have you caught," I inquired. "probably about 50" was the response..........nice family, they loaded me up within an hour or so. Sorta funny in that good way.

I arrived at the boat early since I had the bow pulpit and wanted to take full advantage of the forward rod holders to store my weapons and my bait cooler. That reminds me........new bait cooler fellas. Yup, I picked up an Engel 30 qt........ Primo! No more fretting about your ice melting 1/2 way through the trip and your bait no longer being fresh. I am impressed.

Captain Greg decided to delay our departure until 4 A.M.. I wasn't especially happy but I can see his point. It was 5 to 7 seas and the boat and the people get beat up. On the other hand the hardcore guys don't care if it is marginally rough or not as long as it is fishable. So I amused myself in the infamous Hogfish bar and grill. What an odd place. A total mix of people, from the homeless to the well to do (I heard Jimmy Buffet makes the occasional appearance). It's the food of course which is the draw along with the eclectic atmosphere. I had blackened tuna tacos......super! Then I hung out at the pool table where I got beat around 11 P.M. by a Cuban local. I am reminded of a popular country song.........something about not being as good as I once was.

!st stop was pretty decent setting up around 10 A.M.. I think I caught 2 pretty good muttons and thought, Oh good they are on. But it was not to be the case. A slow pick throughout the day. I did pop a good bonehead on a jig/hoo combo however and that helped me quite a bit in the bait department. Night time is the right time and I had a good first night although the size could of been better. Looks like my iron man rep is going to take a hit.........Yup, I went down around 5 A.M...........bite was a bit slow and I was getting tired. Took way to long a nap and missed the decent morning bite. Big mistake. I started fishing again after it was all over.

Day 2 was a little less windy but still blowing. Bite was a bit better but not much. Greg decided to try and change our luck and headed back south toward the Fort. In my mind he was already waving the white flag and we were heading back. That night we set up in 70 ft of water. Not a big fan of fishing shallow and wished we were still in the 120. I made the best of it but it was not good. Plenty of sharks kept us busy with the stray mutton thrown in to keep your interest. About 2 A.M. the new Captain (Matt is gone) put us in some deeper water. Hurrah! 150 sounds good to me.........Here is a good tale > There was a guy set up near my bait cooler and I chatted and got to know him a bit. He had just purchased a med/lg high dollar Penn spinner and had filled it with braid. Nice reel, but heavy as all get out. He had not done especially well........short leader, big weight and fished mostly squid balled up on a hook. The sharks had just about wore him out, spinning equipment not being all that conducive to reeling fish in. While I was baiting up he hooked up and started bellyaching about having to fight another shark. I looked at his rod for a few seconds and told him to get serious as he had a big mutton on the line and to quit trying to break it off. No one believed me but I insisted several times that he ease the fish up. Sure enough it was a whopper......probably between 15 and 17lbs. This guy went ballistic and was yelling at the top of his lungs. I was happy for him. He went on an hour later to catch another pig. All on a rolled up ball of squid with an 18 inch leader! HA!!

The 150 depths were not especially kind to me and I got sharked a few times by some big ones that had put my hopes up before shredding my line. I only made it to 5:30 in the morning before crashing (Looks like Father time is going to remain undefeated). The morning bite was again decent and I missed it once again. We left early and got back to the dock around noon which was fine by me.

I ended up with 13 muttons which I'm pretty sure was most on the boat.........A few of the guys mentioned that I "kicked as@" which made me feel pretty good but perhaps my catch was not the best catch as I had quite a few small ones. My biggest was maybe 13.......not the usual nice ones. In spite of it all >  the cold, the wind, the lousy bite.........feeling like you have been run over by a truck etc........I still loved it and can't wait to get back out. Next trip is again with the Yankee in a little over 2 weeks. Time for fresh line and some new rigs. I have a new wrinkle I intend to trot out and I am pretty excited by it. I'll have the port corner in the stern this next trip........a very sweet spot (best?). Maybe it is time for my luck on the Yankee to change? We will see.......(Maybe a little more time on my knees requesting  some help and a little less time on the computer looking at the marine forecast for the Dry Tortugas!)

MT

Destination: Isle Royale 2010

     The long anticipated canoe tripping venture was finally at hand. I was to be accompanied by 3 particularly suitable partners. Dan "the man" Atard was already an oft tripping pal having been with me on several Quetico trips. Tim "Big Daddy" Cornelius is a childhood chum and a welcome addition. Tim's son Alex, who went by the nickname of "Candy Man" was also on board. At the age of 15 he was strong and especially suited for some of the lengthier portages we would encounter.
     We rolled out of Ann Arbor Michigan at 7:30 A.M. for the big drive to Copper Harbor on upper Michigan's Keewanaw peninsula for the 4 hour ferry ride the following morning which would wisk us to the big island. The 2 Bell solos rode nicely on my trucks roof rack with one solo tucked inside a Bell Northwoods tandem. The drive up was not without potential consequences however. While directly behind a huge pea gravel semi truck we witnessed not one but two of the giant trucks tires, rim and all, separate themselves from the rig. One tire was of special concern when it stayed rolling into the oncoming traffic. Fortunately it passed between two groups of cars and continued on its malevolent journey without causing a calamity.
     A few hours later further misfortune, howbeit of much less significance was averted when the Michigan State Police suggested it was a poor idea to travel 83 in a 70 mph zone especially with 3 boats atop my truck. My luck, however, would not hold out for much longer. When we stopped at the "Straits Of Mackinaw" to gas up I commented on how cold it was and without hesitation Alex pegged me with the ignominious nickname of "Florida Girl". This moniker was to be employed, amongst much chuckling I might add, whenever fitting.
     The following morning found our boats and gear as well as 30 or so other passengers on the deck of the Isle Royale Queen awaiting transport. A chilly and smooth 4 hours later we were deposited at Rock Harbor which is the jumping off point for the majority of visitors to the park. After the obligatory backcountry orientation and check in with the Ranger station we snatched up a shelter. These shelters were protected on 3 sides by wood planking, had a roof and a screened front. A screen door allowed access. The 4 of us found them comfy enough and saved some time as far as setting up and breaking down traditional camps. It should be noted that the shelters are quite limited and available only on the shoreline of Lake Superior and are absent from the interior altogether.

DAY 1, June 18
      After a very cool night we were met in the morning by a steady cool rain. This was to be our constant companion throughout the day. The next step on our trek was to take advantage of the intra costal ferry service provided by the vessel the Voyager 2. This provided us quick passage along the coastline of the island to our jumping off point. Chippewa harbor is a beautiful and protected inlet and it was here where we would start our paddling adventure. We again made use of a shelter relishing the respite from the cold rain. Hot food and hot drinks followed by some suitable changes of attire for the day set the stage for what followed.
     It was agreed that Dan would leave first and scout ahead to see if the campsite on Wood Lake was available. Tim and Alex would follow shortly and I would bring up the rear. Dan, traveling lightly as is his custom, made Wood Lake in good time and finding the highly regarded real estate empty laid claim to it. The day continued on breezy, wet and cold. The two .6 mile portages were not especially tough but seemed punishing for the remainder of our group especially right out of the chute.
     I arrived at Wood Lake in the late afternoon to find our party firmly ensconced and set up. I was pleased to find a peninsula site unoccupied and quickly set about the task of making a temporary home. Right at dark a rather troubling incident occurred when Tim sought me out. Despite having been tucked  into a zero degree down bag he was having trouble getting warm and mentioned that he seemed "out of sorts". We both suspected hypothermia and set about rectifying the situation. We plied him with hot food and drinks and he immediately felt better. Fatigue, coupled with being cold and wet had contributed to him feeling poorly. Hot food was the fuel his body was lacking.

DAY 2, June 19
     The day dawned overcast and breezy but apparently it had rained itself out for the time being. I set about the task of drying clothing while Dan and Alex took the Northwoods out for a spin to wet a line. Alex was promptly rewarded with a 9lb pike which put a wide toothy grin on the young mans mug.
     The day turned sunny and nice and although sorely tempted I resisted the siren call of casting a lure and instead focused on my campsite and gear. Only after my clothing was dried and stowed did I push off into the clear waters of Wood Lake. Fishing proved to be good for size but not numbers. I connected with one 7.5lb pike and one dandy 14lb pike. Unfortunately the larger of the two had swallowed the lure and the blood trail issuing from its gills made it obvious that it would not be a candidate for the usual practice of releasing fish of substantial size. I placed it on the stringer to see if it would revive but as expected it soon expired. The fish was put to good use however and it provided a hearty meal not only for our party of 4 but for 3 other paddlers who had arrived as well.

DAY 3, June 20
     The day started overcast and breezy. Again Dan departed first bound for Lake Ritchie and its reputed fabulous pike fishing. The rest of our party achieved a much later start. This was to be a major contributing factor in the division of our forces.
     As Tim, Alex and I left Wood Lake's small channel that connected it with enormous Siskiwit Lake, I couldn't help but look longingly at the large body of water in hopes of exploring it some day. As we weaved our way through the assorted islands and shoals I was relieved that we were in the lee of the lake as the windward side would be quite punishing. We scampered across the .5 mile portage to Intermediate lake and was greeted by modest whitecaps. We hugged the shoreline and passed without consequence. Another .5 mile portage put us on Lake Ritchie. Being of substantial size the wind was able to gain more purchase and the end result was that we were looking at 3' whitecaps. After some brief discussion, which was influenced by the glowering skies, we retreated to Intermediate Lake to establish camp. I entertained myself that evening by watching small pike jump completely out of the water to crush my large topwater lure.........good fun!

DAY 4, June 21
     Rain, rain, rain! The rain and wind continued unabated throughout the night and into the following day and continued on throughout the next night. Obviously a major weather system was upon us and we spent the vast majority of our time hunkered in our tents or under the rainfly. The steadily falling temps certainly prompted suspicions of arctic air and its eventual arrival but we had no way of knowing. Our thoughts and conversation drifted to our detached companion only a mile or so distant and how he might be faring under the adverse conditions. It had been cold and wet and windy now for almost 40 straight hours and still showed no signs of improvement. We were eager to see what  tomorrow would bring.

DAY 5, June 22
     Another day on the big island and another somber and grey dawn was upon us. The gusts of wind were decreasing in severity however and we broke camp under a modest sprinkle. We negotiated the previously accomplished portage once again to gain access to Lake Ritchie. A .5 mile paddle put us into the canoe campground where we reestablished contact with Dan. He had fared rather well in the big blow by expertly erecting his rainfly in such a fashion that it not only shed the rain but blocked the wind as well.
     After setting up camp we set about sampling the waters of Lake Ritchie eager to exploit its reputation as a fine pike fishery. Indeed it reputation proved well deserved as pike after pike found their way onto almost any lure thrown. It soon became apparent however, that any fish over 27" was going to be hard to come by. After an evening pow-wow we decided to press on the following day and cross 3 lakes and the famed Greenstone Ridge to land on Lake Chickenbone in order to pursue the more desirable walleyes that were to be found in the oddly named body of water.

DAY 6, June 23
     Cool and gloomy had been the watchwords as far as weather was concerned and today was no different. For my part though I was rather pleased as I knew that we had set upon some tough work and I much prefer cool and gloomy to hot and sunny.
     Before we set out Dan conveyed some information to us that he had gleaned from another paddler. This unfortunate person had mistakenly failed to exit the hiking trail onto the portage trail when it split. Naturally this error added substantially in terms of physical toll as one is inclined to just keep on walking down the wrong pathway. Dan apprised us of the potential for mishap and we all just shook our heads confident in our ability to avoid such a distasteful miscue. Alas, several hours later Dan, Alex and I looked at eachother on the shores of Lake LeSage and wondered just where "Big Daddy" Tim Cornelius and the 18' tandem were. In his defense I will admit to almost passing the trail myself and had I been carrying a larger boat I might have been in Tim's muukluks. Twenty minutes later the Northwoods arrived underpinned by one tired fellow whose left arm had gone numb. This will be another event in canoe tripping lore which will be chuckled about around the campfire for years to come.
     We gained Lake Chickenbone after a surprisingly easy ascent of the Greenstone Ridge. Lake Chickenbone was particularly picturesque with a sprinkling of birch trees near the shore. These contrasted nicely with the verdant green of the forested ridges. What made it doubly pleasing was that the weather had finally improved and we set up camp under continually improving conditions.

DAY 7, June 24
     At last, sun, sun, sun! Our layover day on Lake Chickenbone was especially pleasing. Lines were strung in order to dry clothes and bodies were washed in the invigorating but tolerable water of the lake.
     Sometime after noon I decided to ply the dark waters in hopes of securing a walleye dinner. After some trial and error, 4 nice fat walleyes found their way onto my stringer and a fabulous feast soon ensued from our ravenous company. After cleanup the boats were again launched with Tim's son Alex and I teaming up in the tandem. The young man proved an especially quick study and he out fished his more experienced cohort 2 nice walleye to none!

DAY 8, June 25
     Camp was struck starting at 4:20 A.M.. We had a 1.2 mile portage into McCargo Cove (part of Lake Superior) and none of us wanted to accomplish that during the heat of the day. The miler proved fairly easy and we arrived at the cement pier installed by the park service in short order. The 2 mile long fiord like cove is considered a highlight amongst many Isle Royale paddlers and now I understood why. High cliff like bluffs encapsulate each side and the resultant rugged beauty coupled with the clear waters caused an inevitable reflective pause.
     Unable to resist we quickly rigged our rods in hopes of engaging some of the large but fickle northern pike that inhabit the cool Superior waters. Dan and I launched first and I let the gentle winds push me along the shoreline while I cast. Meanwhile Alex had decided to make a few casts off the cement dock while his Dad readied their canoe.
     My words will probably not do justice to the event that followed but I will endeavor to relate it as it was told to me. Alex had cast out a rather large floating-diving lure and while reeling in had turned his head to converse with his Dad when suddenly the water quite literally exploded. An enormous pike was 1/2 way out of the water with the lure clenched firmly in its jaws. The visage was so stunning that no action but wide eyed wonder was taken at the other end of the line. The behemoth, sensing a fake, let go its grip of the painted piece of wood and swam right up to the dock only a few feet from Alex, seemingly to taunt him. Alex, slowly recovering himself, made several casts but was unable to entice the fish further. He later stated that the fish was "huge" and "as big as me". Many pike are caught in Lake Superior waters between 20 and 30lbs so I, for one, don't doubt the veracity of the lads tale. As for Alex, he remained despondent and sullen for several hours after the incident as I'm sure he replayed the giant fishes strike and wondered.........."what if"?
     We traversed McCargo Cove in about 2 hours either casting or trolling under nearly ideal conditions. Upon landing at Birch Island the crux of our trip was now upon us. Would we be able to negotiate the 1.5 mile open water stretch of Lake Superior. We hiked across the tiny island to gain a view of Lake Superior proper and what she might offer. Although the day was especially calm I couldn't help but note the distinctive sound of heavy rollers hitting the shore. I was torn between giving it a go or waiting for the usual morning calm. To complicate matters a weather change was in the air. We could very likely awake to 5' whitecaps instead of calm waters. After a brief discussion our party opted for a morning crossing. There is no room for error in an open boat like a canoe on the frigid waters of Lake Superior. We decided to see what the morrow brought with the understanding that the Voyager 2 could be relied upon as a last resort as it made a stop in McCargo Cove three times per week.
     The wind increased during the night and I couldn't help but second guess our decision to stay. I had been in favor of waiting until morning and now the approaching front looked to be in the process of sabotaging our much anticipated tour of the "Five Fingers" region.

DAY 9, June 26
     There was no eagerness to depart the warmth of our sleeping bags. The noise of the wind and waves led to the assumption that our crossing was out of the question. But a casual glance of the conditions showed that the wind had shifted during the night and our crossing would be done in the lee of the big  island. Another glance at the sky forewarned us of imminent weather that would soon be upon us. A hasty departure was called for lest we miss our opportunity. Donning our rain jackets and life vests we greeted the oft referred "Lady". The cold air was like a wall, harsh but yet invigorating. We rode gentle swells amongst the rocky rugged shoreline for the 40 minutes it took to get to the short portage that led to the more protected waters we would traverse. We breakfasted on the rocky shore, our lightness of heart restored after negotiating the cruelly beautiful lake Superior shoreline.
     The short portage was done in a flash and the narrow, long and largely protected bays in which we would paddle amongst today was a welcome sight. Never one to miss a fishing opportunity I quickly set about rigging a trolling rod and landed a delicious lake trout in short order.
     I suggested to Tim and Alex that they do likewise and that prompts another tale concerning Alex. Naturally the father and son duo heeded my advice and soon thereafter they were paddling along with their rods firmly planted in rod holders, lures trailing happily behind. Suddenly Alex's rod bent double in a wide stiff arc. Alex was quick to suspect a rock and quickly instructed his Dad to turn the boat around to retrieve the errant lure. After some yanking and pulling it was with great surprise that the line was moving of its own accord! The math was quickly computed and exclamations of a fish of considerable size were raucously proclaimed. Minutes later an 8lb lake trout would make an appearance as a dinner guest.
     We arrived at Duncan Harbor in good time and were quite pleased at the campsite and the views it provided. The weather had taken a turn for the worse and again a park service shelter provided a dry sanctuary from the hard rain and occasional lightening strike.

DAY 10, June 27
     We had not fared well the previous evening in trying to get one of the Duncan Bay Pike to commit to eating. Today, however, we had a full day to concentrate our efforts. We all ventured forth in opposing directions hopeful of making a big fish connection. The day was truly stellar, the weather having settled from the previous evening. It was calm, sunny and the air seemed extremely clear. The lush green ridges and clear blue sky coupled with the hardness of the rock and perfect emerald green clarity of the water worked its magic and I was grateful to be in such a beautiful and spectacular place.
     The hours went by and my casts seemed as if being done by a machine. Coves and points and likely looking shore cover all received attention from a variety of offerings but to no avail. Still, given the surroundings, it was a pleasurable enough day. Hard effort is often rewarded and today that axiom proved true. I pulled into a still, small cove having a smattering of weeds. I could see bottom plainly enough in the crystal clear waters and for all intents and purposes it looked to be completely devoid of life. "Might as well" I muttered to myself as I tossed the big lure out. Immediately a missile rocketed up from the bottom, seemingly out of nowhere, and attacked the lure. A 5lb pike was quickly landed as one twice that size had followed his struggling brethren to the boats side. Another cast and another fish but this time it was a pike of some size who had decided to muscle its way in. Again I flung the big lure out only to have it followed by another pike in the 10lb class. It stopped at the boats side and we eyed each other. I let the lure sink slowly and then gave it a little hop. In the wink of an eye the fish struck and I swung and missed! Fun stuff here!
     I decided to press on and sample the rest of the small bay. I was most of the way around without so much as a strike when I looked into the water only to see a pike pushing 20lbs glide by. A hopeful quick cast proved inconsequential and all I could do about it was smile.

DAY 11: June 28
     Today was our last full day on the island before we were to grab the ferry home so we decided on doing a bushwack to a small lake that I had some previous experience on. An early start was attained and firmly fortified with oats and coffee we geared up for the unexpected and ventured forth eager to see what the day had in store.
     As per my custom I chucked a large lure to trail behind as I made my way to the agreed upon portage. I hadn't gone 20 feet when the stiff musky rod bent double and I instantly knew I was into a good fish. I snatched the rod from the rod holder just in time to feel the fish power the heavy line off the reel in a sustained burst. My thinking instantly went from my adversary being a "good fish" to perhaps being a "very good fish". Another burst put the fish into some tall weeds where I could feel it shaking its head trying to remove the big marabou spinner. Eager to pry the fish out before another run put the fish into the weeds even deeper I applied more pressure.
     I will never know just how big the fish was as the line finally had enough pressure on it to give way. What happened next will forever be implanted in my canoeing DNA. Yup, over I went! The sudden release of tension sent my body sideways just as easily as you please. I remember being perpendicular to the water just before I went completely over and how strange everything looked sideways.
     I found myself with the boat upside down and my head just barely above water. I was hanging onto my vessel but was not especially comfortable with my new found position. At that moment my hydrostatic inflatable PFD went off and the 35lbs of buoyancy burst forth and floated my head free of the water. My next thought was to give a holler to my companions who had outdistanced me a considerable length. I grabbed my capsized vessel and commenced kicking toward shore. Fortunately the wind aided my efforts and 10 minutes later I reached shore just as my companions arrived. I was flabbergasted to find that somehow, in spite of lying loosely, both of my rod and reel combos had somehow managed to stay with me. The outfit I had been holding was actually floating and bobbing along behind the boat with my paddle right alongside of it. In fact, every single article of gear, from dry bags to bailer and all my fishing tackle was present and accounted for. Rather odd to say the least!
     After a brief discussion, in which mental notes were taken and filed about what not to do with heavy line and a big fish, we made our way back to camp where I dried off and put fresh clothes on. Soon thereafter a Park Ranger appeared and the tale was retold. After further pleasantries the Ranger informed us of the potential for severe weather. This revelation prompted some chatter amongst our group and it was decided to change our plans and take advantage of the cool, dry and sunny day to traverse our most difficult portage immediately instead of giving it a go when the rock was wet. Besides the snack bar, replete with burgers and sodas was beckoning.
     The .8 mile portage was by far the toughest in the park. Its steepness required switchbacks to gain the crest of the Greenstone Ridge. But all was done under perfect conditions and we took the big portage in stride. That afternoon found our party back at Rock Harbor and reminiscing about a very satisfactory trip over a cheeseburger and fries.

IF YOU GO:
     Isle Royale is indeed a beautiful place. The park service does a fine job in maintaining portages and trails. Portages may be long (ours were usually 1/2 mile in length) but they are generally dry, well marked and in good shape.
     The weather and the cold Lake Superior waters are your primary concern. We endured a week of cold, rainy and windy weather. As a result, one in our party could of been in potential trouble due primarily to rain gear that did not perform as advertised (in spite of being high dollar). For the most part we fared very well as we were amply supplied with gore-tex, fleece, wool and down. The backcountry of Isle Royale is no place for cotton and cheap ponchos. You must be prepared to deal with very cool nights and the potential for long bouts of wind and rain. Influencing the weather is Lake Superior. Even in summer the water temperature is very, very cold. Needless to say if you overturn a boat far from shore without assistance the consequences could be dire indeed.
     The planning is easy as there is much information both in print and on the web concerning paddling or hiking on the island. Give it a go, you might find it much as I did, an overlooked gem!