Two years ago, my future brother-in-law Joe asked me if I'd like to hunt spring geese on the Akimiski Island, or, hunt fall moose on the Ekwan River. I think Joe forgets sometimes that I am white; could be a positive, not Cree, and that I don't hunt, I fish. I told Joe I would try to come up for a fall hunt, as long as I could get some fishing in. Joe spoke of big pike so that's all the push I needed.
DAY ONE.
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, 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, for, being in healthcare I was quite a busy man, in a remote and isolated community of 1800 with no doctors, trying to keep a generally unhealthy, unemployed and under educated populace free of illness. 60-70 hour work weeks were not uncommon.
It was in Attawapiskat fishing took on a new meaning too. Every bit of spare time I had was devoted to either fishing, studying about fishing or, just exercising in many different public and private ways. It was in the north, that first big step so to speak, there alone, away from everything I have ever known, that I relished in the personal tests of everyday life.
On my flight I passed over the media town of Kashechewan Ontario on the Albany River at the mouth of James Bay, and snapped this picture.
When I got off my flight at the airport I heard Joe yell 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 we took off to pick up gas for the outboard for tomorrows departure and check the river to see what the tide was doing. Tide was nearly out at 4pm and fuel was $1.79 per litre, gas was cheap this trip, and the 161 L's I bought set me back nearly $300 and the lady was nice enough not to charge me tax. Joe was pleased I picked up that tab.
Later during the evening I went for a walk. It was great in town. I was like a celebrity, as old familiar faces with 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 gets me a little misty-eyed just thinking about it now. I was flattered that after 5 years, 30 extra pounds and half a beard, that people were recognizing me and saying hello.
Here's a few of those familiar faces....
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 10 days apart, unexpectedly, and of unrelated 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 neice, 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" and 25lbs that he'd caught two weeks earlier on the Attawapiskat River. That got my mind racing later that night when I finally hit the hay.
DAY TWO.
Joe and I caught high tide at 11am and were on our way east against a breezy, cold, northeast wind. Not even 5 minutes into the ride a seal and beluga were spotted cruising the shoreline. 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 occassional 3 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. Joe pushed us out about 2km off shore to get around a tidal flat. For the next 25km as we headed north and staying well off the shoreline, Joe probed the water with a stick. The whole ride he kept checking water depth and unbeleivably 75% of the time he was touching bottom. We raced full out across the Bay in an average of about 5 feet of water, sometimes less, not often more.
When we arrived at the mouth of the Ekwan there was no tide 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 brown 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 fishing searun trout.
We ran into trouble not long after. The river was very dry. Joe had picked the 3rd 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 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 7 hours, travelling 25 more kilometers up river, several dozen times we poled, paddled, shallow drove, lined and walked the canoe through shallows and rapids. I was a permanent fixture at the bow watching for rocks in the surprisingly clear water with visibility to about 4 feet. And yeah, I drank many cups of water right out of the river, as this was exhausting work that never seemed to actually tire us.
Didn't have time to take too many pictures but here's a couple on route.
Finally, around 8pm 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 that we had forgotten a lantern, so a small maglite became our light for the remainder of the trip. The prospector tent needing cut poles and the stove was up in a flash. Joe made quick work of everything. With one hand he had more power and weilded and 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. Beleived 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 THREE
5am the rain began. Through my earplugs I heard it.
8am 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 morning misty rain 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... FAWK, pike fishing with everything against us, but, over we went to the island and fished it's backside in a long, shallow, calm bay.
Took Joe about 5 minutes. Quietly he says, "got a fish, guess they like the green lure." And a great first fish it was for Joe.
I was a little slower to catch one as I had been fishing too shallow. Quickly though I picked up on the first helpful hint, if you can see bottom you're fishing too shallow, the fish were just below the line of visibility. And after 2 snot rockets one about 24" and maybe a 20-21" I hooked a more solid fish on a Len Thompson red and white.
Think it was a 33".
We had found fish. A definite positive. After 2 hours Joe said we're breaking camp and heading up. I was a bit reluctant to leave fish, but the man did put me at ease when he said they're bigger where we're going and you'll catch alot more.
Within 45 minutes camp was in the boat and so were we. The day cleared for a couple hours too. Only 6km's or so to go to our spot we travelled quick through the shallows by the familiar means as the day before, and within 3 hours and by 3pm, 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. It was shortly after 3 o'clock and Joe wanted to go fishing. Moose hunting was not going to really happen as the river levels were too low to travel in search of the "beasts" or the "Kings" as Joe liked to refer to them was too difficult. "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 disect the 3/4 mile long narrow bay and find that "spot within the spot" I would remind Joe. Tried some weedless tubes, 6" bucktails, but mainly, the red and white. Joe went Red Devle too and the fish started coming quicker over the next 5 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" even being caught the whole trip. The backbay concentrated fish of sizes that bigger fish might not eat, therefor little runts were scarce.
I was fishing along when I got a good hit but missed the hookset. 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 the medium rod, a good ol' Bob rod that'll never break, I did hook a nice fish. This one came in at 36" and 11.5lbs 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. It was OK for him as he was keeping a good lot, but I was releasing many, which I'm sure made Joe cringe.
Back in the tent Joe got the stove going so hot my frickin' sweat was sweating, and this after a feed of fajitas. I figured about 25 pike for me and 20 or so for Joe. We were 30km 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 behaviours of animals he doesn't really know fish. He was glad I tagged along I think to give him a little insight into fishing, for his boys like to fish and Joe says as he's slowing down he'd like to do more.
DAY FOUR.
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 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 wind and cooling weather conditions I guessed the pike might be down today. I filled the kettle beside the boat and took a cast with my 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 later on today.
This morning I had planned to walk the incoming creek that came into the Ekwan backbay right beside our camp. Looked real trouty to me, and Joe later told 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 10am.
I needed three things I figured because this river was bone dry. A beaver dam holding back a good pool somewhere, a hard corner creating a good eddy or just any pool 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 nearby I found fish bones.
Every turn was worth a picture. It was a gorgeous river. 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 rather slowly 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 disappointed really not to find trout. This river would see a run of searun specks I figured, once the 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 1:30 we were back on the water pike fishing. Joe was planning to keep fish today, alot 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 he equipped himself with 40lb braid instead of 10lb 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. 30's are great, but I wanted a 40 incher or more. Joe and I had exhausted our spoons at the honey hole we found which was protected by the wind. I had caught about 15 fish on a black buzzbait. Caught 5 in a row on 5 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 5pm I asked Joe 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 boatside. 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 bass and pike catches. So on it came. 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!!!"
Man, it was ON. This big fish typical of a pike took short reel peeling runs but with an ease no other fish on the line that trip could attest too. After what seemed like 10 minutes, wanting to tire the fish well because we had no net this trip, I brought it to boatside. The rest is..... well, the rest.
Not my longest pike to date but my heaviest.
40 1/8 inches, 17 3/4 lbs.
I was about to let it go when Joe asked for it. Yeah, I gave him my trophy. In places like this he's right about one thing. They've been coming there for eons, in fact, Ekwan Reserve used to be further up river and even more people fished the area then. The nets come in and out, and through the winter people from Attawapiskat skidoo there to ice fish regularily. Joe said, a bigger fish will take it's place. He might be right. It ain't the way all the folks in the south would see it, but those folks ain't in the north.
We packed it in. At the end of the afternoons fish I managed around 60-70 pike while Joe I'd bet hit the 50 mark. 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 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 hawwed but didn't really see it that way. Getting to know Joe was a really great thing for me.
FINAL DAY. DAY FIVE.
Woke to NOT a sailors delight.
Winds were building even more out of the northeast. We had to get off Ekwan and across the Bay. 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. A bad thing for us. We got packed up and on our way by 9am.
The river down is easy, sort of. Joe knocked a rock and lost his skeg on his kicker 15 Yamaha. Fawking Yamaha's. We also had a small hole in the bow from on the way up which got knocked again and became a little bigger I think. Together Joe and I read the shallow water down well. 9 out of 10 times I would have done the same as him, but 1 out of 2 times that he did that something different he got us into trouble.
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 make good fire wood. Thinking ahead I thought, I like that.
Got a last picture from the bank at his site.
When we stopped again to pick up the 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 50-60km and we'd be out on a shallow ocean. My kids faces were flashing in my head, just a minute though, 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 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 20 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 to shallow. For the next 1 1/2 hours it was FAWKING heart pounding, gut wrenching stuff. I was worried once or twice about my cameras too.
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 8C 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 was amazing too.
That night, Joe's wife cooked me my 40" pike along with another smaller pike. Tasted great. Couldn't believe how much fish we all ate that night.
The Cree up here may be pee pee poor for material things. They may not act or live the way many expect ourselves too. They are so rich at times though with a lifestyle I am totally blessed to be a part of. My time on the Ekwan extraordinary. Learning more from Joe about Reg and the outdoors, important. The time with Joe, unforgettable.
Moose Ive said it before and i'll say it again you truly do live in paradise... Thanks for sharing your experiences with us and I look forward to your next post 
