Although I am still waiting on some pics from the trip, I had some time, so I am going to report.
First I want to thank a couple of people. Matt Stone pushed a Case Plastics order through for me, Salty Shads and Case Frogs. The frogs were a huge hit. There were more lily pads in the water this year than I can ever remember, and there were Pike and Smallies under everyone of them it seemed. The Case Frogs held up under extreme abuse all week. Normally the legs get ripped off after one
strike, but with the Case Frogs this week, I actually
caught more than one fish on a single frog several times. The New Red clips from Parasite Weights didn't hurt in the longevity of the plastics that I threw last week. Pike miss a bait about 50% of the time and the clips kept my plastic in place instead of it climbing my hook and line after every strike.
Secondly, Brad at Boudreaux's Baits rushed an order of Poppers through for me also. I hadn't noticed that he carried them until the last minute and he got them in my hands just before I left. And it was a good thing that he did. Hands down, the Perch colored popper was the most productive bait of the week... for everyone, not just myself. It definitely helped me catch more fish than anyone else on the trip, and bigger fish all week.
And last but not least, CB's HawgSauce Soft Shell Craw scent was the key all week. I can only speak about the Winnipeg River where we have fished for years, but in that area, there are hundreds and hundreds of Crawdads all over the place. Every fish you clean is full of them. They are obviously the forage of choice for just about all fish in the region. Walleye, Smallmouth, Largemouth, Northern, Perch, Crappie, I caught 7 species of fish this year and everyone hit something either sprayed or smeared in CB's Crawfish Scent.
Now on with the report.
My buddies Scott and Mike stopped by my house in Indianapolis after leaving from Columbus, OH early Friday morning. We loaded my stuff and were on the way. It's about a 17 hr. trip from Indy to Kenora and we decided to split it up this year and play golf on the way up and back. The trip was pretty uneventful to our first planned stop in Janesville, WI. We threw our stuff in a little Super 8 and headed to the golf course. Twilight rate, $22 for all you can play. Nice little course, an old muni with big trees and cold beer. It was perfect. We played 27 holes with Mike and I putting out time to good use. Scott was the designated driver and we needed him.
After stops at Cracker Barrell and Wal-Mart, we were out of Janesville the next morning and on our way to the border. Again a pretty easy trip. Now you can be a choir boy and perfect citizen, but I believe that you would still get a little nervous crossing into another country. I always do.
"What is your business in Canada?" Fishing and drinking... hahahaaa uuuhh. Uncomfortable silence.
"How long are you staying in Canada?" As long as the fish bite and the beers stay cold... hahahahaa uuuhhh. Streeerike 2.
"Do you have any alcohol or tobacco that you are bringing into Canada?" Yes Sir.
"Pull in and pay the duty, enjoy your trip" Wheeeew.
We hit the cabin about 6p. Nice day, mid 80's little windy. It's the same every year. We unload the car and while all the old ladies get their make-up arranged or whatever they do, I head to the dock and surrounding rocks and throw some topwater for Pike and smallies. It's a good test for how the week will be. And it was a good sign. The pike were very very active. I caught a smallie or two and then nailed a huge crappie on a small X-Rap. I have never even seen a crappie up there before, much less caught what was hands down the biggest one I have ever caught. This was going to be a good week.
Scott's Dad and a buddy of his flew from AZ into Minneapolis and met us at the cabin. They were already out walleye fishing when we got in. Scott, Mike and I decided we give it a shot and headed out ourselves. The wind got the better of us. Couldn't drift, it was more like trolling. Couldn't anchor, the wind blew you loose every 5 minutes and we were frustrated early and often. We caught a couple small Walleyes, some bass and I hooked into a niiiice 20 year old fishing pole that some poor sot had dropped over the side.
I almost needed it by the end of the week. I broke a stick each of the first 2 days of the trip.
We gave up early and headed for the cabin.
Now Mike and I have had the discussion in years past that we don't care if we ever fish for Walleye ever. Ever. We'd both rather cast for Northern and the occasional smallmouth than to drown worms over the side of the boat. And the fishing God's were with us this week, sort of.
Scott's dad and buddy set the precedent on the second day. They were up at 7a and on the water before 8a. We set a precedent of our own. We played Xbox 360 the night before until about 3a and were on the water whenever we got up, normally around 10a. So when the phone rang about 9a, I rushed right up to get it. Scott woke me up a few minutes later to tell me it had been his dad from his cell and they were stranded by Powder Puff. Powder Puff is a red buoy where we drift or anchor for Walleye and normally do pretty well. I have petitioned to have the name changed to something a little more manly for the past several years. But no one seems to listen, and no one has any idea what I'm talking about when I say we should go to Rattlesnake Point to fish.
Scott at Powder Puff/Rattlesnake Point.
I threw some clothes on and Scott and I jumped into his boat and headed out to get the old men. We towed them to Locke Bay camp right up the river, no problem. Scott put the hammer down and headed for the cabin. With a spit and a sputter the engine wouldn't give us more than 2200 RPM and we had a problem of our own. It ran fine, just slow. Dang. As good friends, Mike and I stayed around the house while Scott tried to get in touch with the boat fixer dude. We don't all have to sit around here, Scott started to say, but I didn't hear the rest, I was halfway to the dock. Mike and I set out down river to a magnificent bay just a little ways down from the cabin. I lowered the trolling motor and it was on. Mike wearing his new Ohio State hat, and me in my Notre Dame (only Indiana team I could find at the Janesville, WI Wally World.) We decided the wager would be the losers hat with the inscription "_____ is the greatest fisherman ever" signed by the loser.
We both put on titanium leaders and topwater poppers. I went with a Boudreaux's Baits in Perch. Mike used some sort of popper in silver/blue. Small pike were no probem. We had a blow up on almost every cast. Tons of action. It was a ball. Then I hit a nice 35" Pike and started eyeballing my new hat that Mike had on. A while later and Mike stuck a big pike too, and then another. Both little short for the lead, but I knew this would be a marathon, not a sprint.
Leader in the clubhouse, 35" Pike.
Just a little short. Story of Mike's life.
We took turns waiting around the house for the next couple of days. Dwayne the boat fixer dude promised to be out by Weds if not sooner. When it wasn't our shift, Mike and I were on the water throwing topwater for Pike and smallies. Mostly in the afternoon until dark. We found some nice grassy sloppy cover Tuesday evening and I introduced Mike to the wonder of Buzzfrogs. I tied on a Case Plastics Case Frog and started chucking it to the bank and bringing it across the trash to the edge of open water where the Pike would come ripping out and promptly miss the darn thing. I actually managed to coax a couple to actually hit the lure and Mike was very intrigued.
Case Plastics Frog Northern
The action stayed furious and Mike and I had a ball. We moved back to our bay by the cabin and went looking for some more big pike. I still had my Case Frog tied on so I rubbed a little CB's Gel into the hook slit, chucked it out and whoosh. First cast a nice smallmouth drilled it. They have much better eyesight than Northern and I set the hook. Those big bellied football smallies in Ontario are strong, and fun. Mike was sold on Case Plastics Frogs and asked to borrow one. No problem. That will be $5. Just kidding, here are a couple.
Nice.
I switched back to my popper and started prowling for Northern. Mike continued to catch great fish that were just a little short of the winning length.
Mike wearing my hat again.
And then it happened. I tossed out my popper, the water exploded. I yanked back on the pole and the popper came flying towards the boat. I wasn't really all that worried about it, I just put my line between my fingers and started reeling in the slack. Then I felt a little sting on my leg. There hung my killer Perch popper. I tried to pull it out with my pliers, but it was in past the barb. I tried to cut the hook so I could pull it through, but we didn't have anything that would cut the hook in the boat. The light was just turning and it was the perfect time for catching monster fish. So I used Mike's needle nose pliers to remove the lure at the o-ring. After a quick change of dressed trebles, I was back up and running again. Although I had to watch not to bump the hook in my left on anything in the boat, it really wasn't too bad. And on the next strike, I forgot all about it. Almost.
Look at the craftsmanship on that Boudreaux's dressed treble.
Dwayne the boat fixer dude finally took a look at the boat on Wednesday afternoon with a diagnosis as clear as mud and no timetable for a fix. So Scott started fishing with his Dad and John, and Mike and I never put another worm on a hook, it was all lures all the time. Nothing big happened until Thursday evening. First I tossed my bluegill colored popper by a lily pad and it abruptly disappeared. A smallie for sure. Uh Nope. It turned out to be a largemouth of all things. I have never seen on, and most folks say there aren't very many that far North. But there was one, and he was on my hook. Cool.
Largemouth... huh?
Then it was Mikes turn. He lure disappeared but with much more commotion. It was a pike, and it was a nice one. We fought to the left. He fought to the right. He finally got by the boat and this was going to compete for the lead. So I knocked him off with the net. Not on purpose. I had the pike in the net, almost. His belly was in. His head was out one side and tail out the other. I had made mention all week that we needed a bigger net. I felt horrible. I apologized. I apologized again. We kept fishing. I was punished severely. I had an almost 2 hr. window with no bites or fish after that. Unbelievable. But I deserved it. I apologized again. It got dark and we went in. As we walked up the stairs to the cabin Mike asked if I thought it would have been big enough to take the lead. I said it would have been real close. I apologized again. Then I suggested that we call it even for the week and leave the last day of fishing to decide the contest. He agreed that was fair. I felt a lot better, but still wanted that hat.
Scott decided that he wanted to fish with us the last day, so the 3 of us headed out in the morning and started chucking topwater. I had been forgiven. The fish were biting again, but nothing out of the ordinary. Nice smallies, nice pike. Nothing huge. We came in for lunch and Mike and I glared at each other over ham sandwiches. Both dreaming of wearing the other's hat for golf Sunday.
About 5p, we couldn't stand it anymore and off we went. The weather was perfect, overcast, mid 80's. Looked like rain. Nahhh. It wouldn't rain on the last chance for fishing that we had. We headed straight to the "honey hole". The action was slow. And it started sprinkling as soon as we put the trolling motor down. Then Mike had some action. A Pike, nice pike. I was going to make sure this one got into the boat, even if I had to lip it. Right at 35". Oooo, that had been the high water mark all week. Mike had a smile on his face like he had won the lottery. I was scowling like someone had left me one beer, and it had been warm. We got a couple pics and Mike lowered the pike into the water. Because of the fight, he had to work with this one a little before it would take off. Slowly it regained it's strength and soon would shoot away from the boat. In the mean time, the boat had turned and I was facing into the middle of the lake, but there was grass there. I could see it just below the surface. I chucked my popper out and looked back at Mike who was washing his hand as the pike swam deeper. I gave my lure a little plop plop and the entire lake exploded. At least that is what it sounded like. I turned to Mike and said net. My smile returning. It took a couple of runs and my smile widened. I didn't know if it would be enough, but it was going to compete. In the end, it was 39" and the biggest of my life. It was very fat/broad and had to weigh 20lbs +. In short, it was a beast. Mike whipped his lure out into the water as he mumbled under his breath about all kinds of unkind things. And kaboom the water exploded again. I got my pike revived and grabbed the net. When we got a look, it was a great pike, but it was short. And Mike knew it. We got him into the boat and put the tape down. 34". Short. But with this kind of action, who knew what would be next. And then the lightning started. I voted almost immediately to head in. Mike was a little hesitant, but knew it was the smart move. So we headed for the cabin. It was a good thing too because we soon had hail, major wind, and tons of lightning with a steady downpour. Our week was over.
(Pics of this evening are on Mike's camera and I am waiting on them. I will post ASAP.)
We got up early Saturday, cleaned the cabin and then with a sigh of regret, headed towards the border. We got back to the Wisconsin Dells and settled into a little hotel just up from the golf course. Up at 6a and on the course by 7:30a. It was a very nice track. Trappers Turn. Too nice for our game. I mentioned before the round that we'd all shoot 100. And we did. 101, 102, 102. It was brutal and I wanted to get home. I jumped behind the wheel and put the pedal down. I walked in the door around 9p Sunday night. My wife gave me a kiss and said she liked the new hat. "What is that written on the bill?"
WAR
