A decade ago my buddy Pat stood at the Beardmore launch for Lake Nipigon looking out at 14 foot rollers crashing the eastern shoreline. Having driven with tinny in tow from Ottawa I could only imagine the defeated feeling when his dreams of catching mammoth lake trout and specks came to a sudden halt. Over the years his hope to return must have festered inside, for when Pat and I first shared a ride together on a Niagara fishing trip about 20 months ago, he spoke excitedly of a desire to travel back to Nipigon. I told him, "let me think about it and maybe clear a few things," and so once my wedding was done and Arctic plans solidified, last fall I called Patty up and said, "let's do it."
Sunday August 17th my feet were barely on the ground back in Ottawa . The week before I had lived my dream trip in Arctic Canada exploring and fishing char in the wilds of remote, now I had six hours to kiss the girls, get the laundry done and repack for a 10:00pm pick-up by Pat at my folks place. Too excited to tire, the late hour finally came and he arrived. Pat's a great angler who's easy going, young at heart, and totally committed to making the trip happen, I was lucky to just have to jump on board for another awesome fishing experience with the guy.
We set off through the Bogie backroads to meet Highway 11 around Renfrew, and it was around this point I realized "we" missed grabbing a rod tube back at my place. On route I became acquainted with our third man in, Rich. An infectiously energetic and eager angler, Rich, Pat and I yammered on about the big plans for Nipigon, until one point around Rolphton when all my tripping from the week before caught up with me and I had to crash in the backseat awhile. Was a good thing for Rich, for Pat drove through the night and needed someone to stay up with him.
Around Blind River I came to when we pulled into a Timmies. From the highway I thought the town was a hole, and some of the locals seemed a wee bit freakish. Coffee on board, I took a turn driving for awhile as we made our way around Georgian Bay to Sault Ste. Marie. Pat let me change up the tunes from his all night punk-rock fest to my more random tastes.
In Wawa I found a rod and a full belly.
Along the shores of Superior the drive was beautiful. Rolling hills overlooking the greatest of Great Lakes were enough to keep everyone's energy level up. Finally, after 22 hours of driving; and the last hour of it dodging piles of bear scat on the road, we arrived at our launch to Lake Nipigon , and this time the waves were manageable. Taking little time to pack the boat, we set out onto the water and were quick to find an amazing campsite which became home-base for the week.
A steak dinner before bed, and so far, so good.
Day 2. Warm, Muddy Waters.
Big south winds were building. The night before was northwest but now there was a switch. Surface temps on the water were a balmy 69 F and the lake was in a good state of chop-suey.
We hit the water and found the fishing tough. Crazy mudlines in places separated the clear from the odd murked-out expanse, and after picking up a few pike and losing a brook trout during the morning, we deemed working harder might be in our plans.
The boys after lunch made a tour to town for a few supplies while I hung a huge tarp around the campsite kitchen for a wind break, then puttered about a sheltered part of the lake in my float tube.
When the Pat and Rich returned they had news of meeting a local who has regularily fished the lake for 35 years. Word had it, the surface temps were driving the trout deep making things seasonally more difficult, and even the pike were a little on the slow bite. I didn't like hearing that, but what could ya do except crack another pint and enjoy the scenery around us.
Day 3. Wonders Never Cease To Amaze.
I roused before sunrise to this...
A glass lake we three set off on a laker troll with high hopes, yet as hours passed just looking at a sonar stacked with non-biting fish we soon switched gears to casting for pike and specks. By lunch our boat had caught a whitefish.
Cooking up a feast at camp I managed the stove, Rich the beer, and Pat drifted off shore within ear shot of us. From the Lund we hear shouts of excitement from Pat, "THERE'S DOZENS OF FISH HERE!!! HUNDREDS MAYBE!!!" Pat was talking about specks.
In about 18 hours the lake temps had now dropped from 69 F down to 54 F. Schools of specks were appearing on the shallow shoals and shorelines around our camp. After the meal we tried tempting these fish to bite but they all had lock-jaw. The whole thing was just an awesome site though. We had never seen brookies behave, school, or show up like this anywhere in such great numbers.
Crazy winds grew over the afternoon limiting our adventurous spirit. Boat control was tough with the bow mount so we wised up and began anchoring more often. Catching fish remained difficult but we three were convinced it was only a matter of time now before all the visible specks turned on to feed.
After a delicious bear chili supper Patty had preprepared, we anchored off the shoal near camp and had our first speck pound a lure. Rich was the lucky recipient, and while the speck fought we all marveled over it's ferocity and strength. These guys can really match smallies if they chose to.
And Rich wasn't done... he was quick to get another.
IT WAS SOOO ON. In our short hour long window of evening biting brookies we three gave a bunch of slimey handshakes and high fives while the camera rolled. The trip had been pretty much been made in those moments alone.
Patty's fish were next up as he bagged a couple bigguns but unfortunately lost a speck we figured may have gone seven pounds. It just tore line from his reel before snapping off.
Again, specks with total attitude. Just trying to hold onto these fish and keep them straight proved difficult. Pat's caught some big fish in his lifetime and felt that these trout may have been the hardest to handle he's ever experienced.
I had to have one of my own. Rich and Pat had each got a couple and I was still fish-less. I spent more time retying than anything else, as this rock bottom was a little less forgiving than I'm used to. All worked out OK, for before we packed up for the night my first Nipigon speck came over the gunnel.
Our third day seemed truly unimaginable, but it was totally real.
Day 4. Tearing Shiznit Up Now.
The boys outfished me the night before and on this morning I came out to anglinate the roof off the mutha.
Rich keeps a hot hand pretty much at all times though. He had a great weeks fishing for sure. In the rising sun on this day he wouldn't let me get too far ahead in the count so he bagged his first too.
Then my turn again...
We had drifted off the shoreline out over a long shoal. The brookies had all but disappeared but we kept searching after them with small baits. Thing was, the next fish I hooked wasn't much of a usual small bait eater. A crazy and adrenaline filled fight on the lighter gear Pat scooped up this trophy in the net and we had something a little more slimey in the boat to take pics of.
Seconds after it's release, Rich was right there to tighten the lead by bagging his own pike of even bigger proportions. We were on cloud-friggin-nine on this morning. Nice esox Rich ya little nutbar.
Water surface temps were continuing to drop. Much of what we measured now was 41 to 43 F. An absolutely, unreal, temperature drop of near 30 degrees occurred in about 36 hours. Fish that had finally been turned on the day before, were now actually acting a little lethargic in the plummetting cold.
The winds continued to pound on us. They were unforgiving, especially in the afternoons. Pat and I made a trip into Nipigon for a few supplies instead of fishing. From there I was able to get in touch with Dan and my girls back home. Guidofisherman had pm'd Dan already so he knew we were around, but it was important for me to speak with my daughters as I'd been away from them for two weeks.
Arriving back at camp we were hungry and decided on another steak dinner. Patty had done a "kick-donkey" job on the wind-proofed fire pit and stove.
And as our tasty treats cooked....
The evening provided another great fish. First off Rich was on fire again and he nabbed two back to back fish. One ended up being our biggest of the trip.
Drifting by a point Rich cast to either one of my follows (we thought) or, up tight to a fish kind of behind a boulder... and... "THWACK." A 23 1/2" speck is something to shake your head about. Nipigon brookies are the best fo-shnizzle.
The specks on Lake Nip for us likely averaged around the 20" mark. Very few were caught below 18" and many were measured or eyeballed to be in about the 20 to 23" range. For speck lovers, it's heaven.
Patty had suffered on this day so far having not caught a fish. Before heading back to camp though he made sure to get on the board.
He wasn't done either. We had just landed ashore and while I was rooting in the cooler Pat remarks how he just saw a fish rise right off the point in front of camp. He grabbed his rod quick and on the third cast was into a fish.
Rich went for the net, I went for the camera. A well oiled trio-machine Pat engineered the perfect shore catch.
After the release he took two more casts and caught a second identical brookie. Nice job for Pat, he ended a slow day on a real high note, and this shore pic is definitely one of my favorites.
We settled in for a good night around the fire.
Day 5. Guest Appearances.
Morning rain, continual pounding winds and cool air made waking a chore. A little too much fun the night before made that chore even harder. The early day was kind of a blur but I can remember Rich picking up a whitey and a speck during a choppy fish.
By mid day upon returning to camp, spirits were a little blown out by the gnarly gusting winds still out of the south. Much of our area had still not even really been explored in the four fish days on the lake, the waves keeping us limited to protected bays and shorelines. To make matters worse, other boats were showing up on the scene and we also received a few neighbours in the adjacent campsite.
Patty and Rich went over to say hello but quickly came back saying the grandfather, father and son trio had one bad apple... the father. Guess he was unimpressed to see a few lads out of Ottawa on his precious "Great Lake." Dood said they were fishing for pike... it became quickly apparent he was full of it. The gramp was friendly enough though they said, loved to talk about his bass-netting days on Georgian Bay.
That afternoon Rich and Pat braved the big waves and set out for lakers. I stuck around camp in the float tube trying some flys for specks. After a hopeless effort in the high sun I went back to camp. Gramps had been by a few times and while I had been out floating around I kept an eye on him while he nosed through our stuff on his visits. I wasn't impressed. In fact, I was in a bad mood most of the day already anyways.
I was heating up some water for a quick wash and the old timer happened by for like the fourth time in a little over an hour. "Heating up some water for supper," he says, while sticking his nose in things again. "Nope" I replied, "I'm just about to take a wash." "Well, I'll just have a seat right here," he reckons, as he begins to get comfortable in my lawn chair... I made my next comment very clear and direct... "I said fella, I'm just about to take a wash!" "Well, I'll just be on my way," he says. That was the last we saw of the old man in camp.
One laker came out of several trolling efforts on this entire trip. Patty's boat, Patty's dream, Patty's biggest chance to make this trip happen, it was only befitting he was first up in the rotation for the laker fish. Turns out, that was all he needed.
When the boys arrived back at camp I got an immediate sense something was up. First words out of Patty's mouth... "How big was your biggest laker in the arctic?" I told him. Then he ousted me by an inch and a half. My ego wasn't bruised but 5 minutes, and when Patty showed me his bohemuth on the camera and his face was lit up biggest I'd ever seen... well, it was only deserving. This was his fish of the trip and one he'd waited a long time for. Congrats again dood.
Spaghetti dinner consumed and beer supply dwindling, we were bumming around camp watching a boatload charter of poachers keep some trout off the shoal in front of camp when Dan finally arrived with his uber active pup Abby.
Our nuts took a cracking while Abby sniffed us out, and it was all cool meeting local OFN Nipaddict legend and speck-enthusiast Dan. Immediately we could tell Dan was one passionate angler and kind fella, whose softspokenedness complimented his love for the outdoors and particualrily Nipigon. Tired from work and travel Dan took the evening fish off to enjoy some campfire beers and R&R, while Pat, Rich and I took to the fish on. End of a late night though, my total for the day was a first skunk, though I can without a doubt say the Lund might have taken it's best fish of the trip.
Day 6. Murphy's Rebel.
Pat and Rich were up and out early for lakers. Surprise, surprise the winds were blowing hard again. Dan and I were planned to take off and beat some specks out from under their rocks along the shorelines. We were getting a great start on that...
Dan in our short hour and a half caught two beauty troots over 22 inches, the second one a 23 1/2'er. Seemed to me the local lad had his fish of choice right dialed in.
Shooting the breeze while trolling a calm piece of water out of the wind and waves, off in the distance I spot a float plane circling and dropping over our camp. Could only be one fella on this windy day, and after a weee bit of campsite confusion Wayne is on the lake and shuttling over to our place.
Wayne cutting my fishing day short could have almost been an unforgivable thing if not for the fact that he is one heckuva a genuine, fun and nice fella. To have flown from Temagami and suffered an overnight bad weather grounding in Marathon, making his usual 5 hour flight a 27 hour ordeal, showed all of us the kind of dedication he has for fish and cause. His energy was well timed too.
Through the afternoon Pat and Rich went to town while Dan and Wayne got out for some specks, Wayne getting his first. I had to meet the boys at the dock and missed any chance to fish for the rest of the day. Was a great evening though, as while we enjoyed a few drinks after supper, Wayne, Dan and I kept the convo going and enjoyed some lively skies.
Pat and Rich returned later on. Was a tough day for those two as they both suffered the same fate as me the day before... their first skunking. Getting that monkey off the back would only prove good karma in the end though.
Day 7. The JigFly.
Winds were howling out of the northwest but we were still protected in some places. When we finally saw the big lake; and I mean the real big part of the lake,
I wanted nothing of it. No one did, it was suicide kicking out there.
Dan, Wayne and I went one way, Rich and Pat the other. Didn't take long for our boat to get on fish... thing was, they weren't the intended species. For a short time we couldn't keep pike off the line... well Wayne and I anyways.
Afterawhile though I picked up a speck which Dan got a shot of on his camera, but then Dan bested that with a big trout. That's all this guy can catch really. Does nothing different that I could see, but just seems to have the horseshoe for bigger fish. This one was another true Nipigon beauty.
Dan, you make it seem so easy man, and thanks for all your help.
After a solid morning fish for our boat, that afternoon we said goodbye to Dan. Patty took off for a lone fish on the lake, while Rich, Wayne and I enjoyed some sun around camp. After supper with Wayne we weren't sure if we needed to head out far as the lake was finally seeing some reprieve from the winds, but as it turned out the bite was on right around camp so the four of us did some trolling and casting for specks nearby. It was a smart choice, we picked up three nice troots for our efforts.
By the campfire we warmed from the chilling night air, while I polished off the Scapa and stargazed with the lads. Another perfect Nipigon day.
Day 8. Cabbage & Ice.
The insomniac Patty's wake-up call actually came late for once at 7:00am. Through the night the ice cubes in his rye glass didn't even melt and we were all stiff and blue when creeping out from our tents. Finally no wind, Wayne and the Rebel were scheduled for an early departure off the lake, and as we trolled out from camp for lakers our buddy dipped his wings on the buzz-over to say goodbye.
The air warmed quick though, and after another no-laker attempt we were off to explore new waters where the specks swim. Didn't take long for Pat to pluck a fish.
We had decided to go in rotation while on the troll. Bad karma as it turned out for me as I dropped two specks in a row and then later a high 40 inch pike. Was a brutal beginning.
While working the shoreline we found the odd cabbage bed. When there we switched tackle and beat the weeds senseless for pike. It worked. We all managed a few fish and quite enjoyed the different fishing from what we'd been handed all week due to the winds limiting our chances to sight fish and stay on spots. Here's a fish of Pat's... a classic Pat shot for those who know 'em.
By afternoon I had nothing left in the tank. I had been fishing 14 out of the last 18 days and had travelled from Ottawa to Edmonton to Yellowknife to the Arctic and back in the first nine days, then Ottawa to Nipigon to this tired point on the latter nine. The boys went out and beat up on a few more pike while I took a leisurely float tube for specks then a twenty minute ciesta.
When we headed out after supper Pat was quick to learn the boat was having starter troubles. Nipigon isn't the place for that sort of thing to happen and it worried us of any risks. We stuck close by camp and did our best to catch a few more specks, not convinced of what plans may lay ahead.
When drifting over a school Pat shouts out, "they're right under the boat... Ohhh, got one!" I made a quick cast to where he pointed and had a speck engulf my bait too. Double header. All was a little chaotic for the moment with Patty and I dancing around each other in the boat, but in the end it all worked out perfect.
Over a few pints back at camp we decided to call the trip a day earlier than expected. It was funny how the week went from wanting to target on specie, to the next, to the next, then back to the other again. Nipigon's pike, speckled trout and lakers are all world class really, and something to get excited about and target. We packed up a little that night with absolutely no regrets from the week or sadness to have to leave early. Patty completed what he called the "trifecta," having caught big fish in all three categories, Rich got trophy pike and brookies, and I received a real healthy dose of the specks I wanted most from Nipigon. The fishing could not have been scripted any better.
A big thanks Patty for the plan and Dan for the help. Nipigon will be seeing us again in the future for sure. What a very special fishery and beautiful place it is.
