Not so anymore... the boat is still afloat...
... and for the first time there is much fishing to enjoy so late in the season. The messy state of my gear at home feels almost awkward as it tells me I'm not sure of what to expect next. And home life is a little more busy and scheduled too as the girls are taking advantage of many new opportunities for fun of their own.
Through October I beat the new home waters pretty hard for two things mostly... smallies and musky. For the bass things went OK... but for the latter species I got my arse handed to me. Probably thirty hours or more into casting and trolling known musky haunts, a single witnessed miss off the back of the boat during the first hours, a tiny baby muskie caught mid way, and a pushing forty inch muskie coming unpegged boatside in the last minutes was all that would come of the fall chase.
Smallie fishing was better... but not by much. Spending days out with friends going after both species was the highlight actually, and so Rob, Fra, Ian, Chris and Christine really made the tough days fishing much much more enjoyed. And those whom gave some pointers along the way are notably appreciated.
Some friends back up north were doing well for the season. Agent Stevie Zebco got away on his annual moose hunt up around his boyhood turf in the Hearst area. Despite just having his first baby his loving wife Amelie let him escape and he did right during his time away to shoot his first moose. Not only did he nail that, he also picked up a personal best walleye of five pounds from the camp's nearby lake. Hizeck of a fall for my buddy!!!
And then just a few nights ago I got an email from my pal Dr. John. John is a man of great humor, intelligence and dedication to hunting, fitness, family and work, and there isn't a year goes by where he doesn't get himself a moose or a buck or both. His tales of past solo hunts are awe inspiring to me, as he can truly evoke my imagination to run as wild as it must have actually been the day of which he lived it. Here's his Kawartha trophy of this season...
So it was November 1st when after dropping that musky boatside that I decided on the drive home I needed to get out and catch some fish. Two options were on the backburner at the time... one being a walleye and pike fish a little north and the other being a trip down south somewhere for trout. When arriving home I got on the horn with Mike aka Solopaddler and began to beat out a real plan. A few days later though... I got the call from RJ aka RJ aka Capn' with a consideration for something else a little different to me, BOQ!!! Big Bay of Quinte of eyes. That came first before Solo and the big trout plan.
BOQ went down like this...
PM1 RJ - "You interested in Quinte?"
PM2 Me - "Hellllz yeah. I'm making myself unavailable to work as I type here man."
PM3 RJ - "I only asked if you're interested. I'll think about it some more."
PM4 RJ - (days later) - "We're going. I'll talk at ya later in the week."
Phone call thursday night... RJ - "Be at my place for quarter to five."
So I ask the missus to set the alarm for 4:00am. My plan is, fall out of bed into my clothes, start the truck and drive the half hour over to RJ's. Bren's plan is to first show ME how to set my own fawking alarm.
2:36am and I'm still tossing and turning cause I'm all messed up from nightshifting thru the H1N1 garbage in the ER the night before... but I must have fallen asleep around then.
4:24am............. my bladder wakes me up. W.T.F.... what happened to the alarm??? 19 minutes I have to meet up with the big guy or he'll kill me. Into my clothes and out the door in seconds. A ridiculous speed on the road and I make it to RJ's only about 7 minutes behind schedule.
"Dood I hope you're stopping at Timmies somewhere???" says I on arrival.
Anyways... I'm still learning the ropes for a lot of things fishing around here. It's funny how much I've read over the years but until I get out and actually do it, that's when I'll actually learn it better. I was happy to have the invite with RJ cause I figured he'd show me a trick or two and be understanding that even though BOQ eyes might come naturally to him now, they don't me... yet.
We were on the water by 7:45am... Day out was gonna be like 0C going to 4C and blowing out of the NW. Afternoon she was to lay down and slowly switch overnight to the south. For me, on the BOQ... I was really pleased it wasn't hardly choppy at all. The Capn' and I made out from the launch and on route dropped a fish and picked up this fella sometime around mid morn.
Not HUGE for a BOQ fish... but what the fiznack would I care... my PB BOQ fish before this came years ago at about 10-12 inches.
By mid to late afternoon we found our best concentration of fish. Staying on them for a few hours we managed a dink around 2 or 3 pounds. At this point to I went up on RJ three whizzes to one. Myself I had had nearly half a bag of PC's Decadent Chocolate Chip Cookies, three BBQ chicken sandwiches, a Boston Cream, two pepperettes a chocolate milk and five drinking boxes. The Capn had a Pepsi, one sandwich, six Timmies peanut butter cookies a pepperette and two of my PC Decadent yummies. I was clearly kicking bummocks in the voiding AND eating department.
Around 4:00pm the Capn' gave in and finally let me throw a Hot N' Tot on one of the rods. Told him it'd catch a fish within an hour. Around 5:15pm or so and the sun already down, RJ and I are talking about how it'd be nice to get a walleye shot with the wicked skyline as a backdrop. Well... a rod fires....... the Capn' is up.
It wasn't the Hot N' Tot. Myself I don't even really give a shart what it was... it wasn't the Hot N' Tot.
After draggin' in a sack of coal from like three thousand miles behind the boat... the Capn' declares... "It's got some weight." And before long... that weight is measured in gold.
Was nice to see a good big fish make it to the boat in the nick of time... and the shot turned out mint.
No sooner was this eye back that the Hot N' Tot fired. Shaker...
The end of the days fishing we met up with the RB's gang wherever we stayed beside the "TIP." It was cool getting in some quick hellos with all before our stomachs took the helm and we made a rip for Subway.
Upon return to the motel I ate some more. Wings and venison... both wicked. And before I knew it I was totally bagged. Maybe two hours sleep night before and all that cold fresh air and food just knocked me out... but only after sufferring a little of RJ's "hypersnore." Dood rip snores when he sleeps, gets in a snort 2 to 1 over anyone. End of the day RJ was up two to one on me in the snore score. I hit the mattress twice and he rolled. My power gave me silence for like... 5 seconds.
Next morn Snoop Dog was on the toob with George Strombolopobolomboloupouloumbous and he's so the shnizzle dizzle, but I was feeling guilty. We had to B-line it out of there to get fishing and I didn't feel at all like I got hardly a chance the night before to hang out with the crew. Was whipped... and so needed to crash is all.
RJ and I launched good and early in calm waters and nice mild temps, but the air was whiffy and just waiting to stink it up and blow. Decidedly we stayed and worked the waters on the calm shorelines and watched through the morning as the winds and waves grew on the opposite. Early on we dropped a fish on the wire dipsy due to a silly little drag tightness miscalculation... I'll call it. Sadly, that fish would be the only action for hours and hours thereafter.
Sometime later afternoon the far portside planer dropped back a little. Picking it up there was a fish on but it mustn't have been much of one... and after getting the board the wee bit of weight hung around for a few reel cranks before falling off. Then, a short while after the reset it happened again. This time the planer dropped back a little longer but then came right back to position. We figured it dropped it... but then it fell back again. This time we checked more thoroughly by reeling in all the line. A decent fish was hanging off one of the hooks on the end of it.
I gave it a guess of 5lbs 2 ounces... but I was off and optimistic by a measly ounce. The fat BOQ walterels are deceiving... so I punished it by taking it home and eating it tonight off a cedar plank with a good smothering of baby garlic buttered scallops.
That was it for the day... the weekend went great by my BOQ standards but all in all I think the group up that weekend found the fishing a little subpar. Two days and team Lucky Charms (RJ and I) in the Meatboat managed 5 for 9. Great thing for me is, I learned a tonne playing with the types of set-ups needed for this kind of fishing... and hopefully that bit of extra experience will bring some confidence and fish to the boat once I make some first trips there on my own.
I had a great time. BOQ is one huckneckuva fishery in peoples backyards here. 10... 11... 12... even just my 5 pounders. When my catch is considered small... you're spoiled. Thanks again Capn'... always fun times dood.
A few days after BOQ and it was off to Toronto and then Grimsby to meet up with Mike. On route down I hit Gagnon's for some steelheading supplies, BPS for some toothy fish supplies (nice meeting ya Steve) and then later on Advanced Taxidermy to hand them over my speckled gem from the Nip. Twelve hours on route and finally the Chev pulled in at Mr. Solopaddler's pad... at the same time another OFN angler pulled in the driveway as well. Paul... aka. Paulus.
Through the evening we talked fishing... fishing... and a little more about fishing before finally attempting to get a little shut-eye before the 3:45am wake-up call. I slept about 50 minutes total... maybe 80... as I'm not sure what happened between about 3:00 to 3:30. Bill aka. Bill, arrived at an ungodly ambitious time to meet up with us for departure.
In the early light a couple hours later, Mike and I were alone ahead of Paul and Bill, breaking frost and froth beneath our feet on way to steelhead heaven.
So the truth is, steelhead, chromers, bows, mykiss whatever ones calls 'em they were all new to me. Cool thing with this outing, I was about to learn a real trick or two about floatfishing from a guy with about 25 years experience in doing it, and I was pretty convinced that my first ever bow was about to pull the balsa down.
When the sun just cracked the horizon the first fish of the trip cracked the ice. Fish on!!! Bill and Paul arrived just in the knick of the time for the moment too.
Success. First rainbow ever. Good fighting fish and certainly picture pretty. Trip could have ended there but the others had fishin' in mind for themselves. And so Solo began catching them back to back to back like this kind of thing was childs play. Here was his first... after that we might have skipped over a half dozen of his to later in the day.
Paul was out of picture range far off at the tail end of the pool. He was picking up a few smaller fish on the morn while Bill was taking his time waking up to this fishing thing. Before long and after a testy walk through some quicksand mud, Bill got a mitt and got in the game.
The four of us exhausted a large drift and by late morning had relocated further downstream. In a wonky countoured shallow river section with some far shoreline debris, Paulus proved to me a number of times why his love for floating the steel is unequalled. Here was the result of some tricky drifts around the sticks.
Fishing alongside both Bill and Paul was my pleasure for the day.
Mike and I broke away and walked a little upriver again. A group of anglers was working a huge drift and Mike had noticed earlier when passing by that it seemed to be producing well. From the last angler to the tailout was about 50 meters of room so we tried our luck there. First drift in for me right at the back and SHHHHWICK... float down, tip up, hook in, line tight and reel peeling.
The fish was a heavy one and it weighed hard on the jury. Mike was there at my side during the deliberation. After good time and process the verdict was in... this fish was guilty of being one phat basterd bully, a glutton overeater, and a ten pounder or more.
The fish will be jailed behind the bar at home, framed and under glass. A long sentence as one to remember will be served.
Man O' man... steelhead were growing on me for the day. Much of our time there were others around on the waters but the space people kept and their curtousy was enough to allow peace of mind for the fishing. Sadly, it was this big fish that got the back up of one American who decidedly got a little brave and began barking at Mike and I. Seemed he didn't like Mike or "all us Canadians who are the same" being about 30 yards or more downstream of him, so he got chirpy. Mike was a nice guy about it... I didn't much care for the old farts attitude and chirped back. He shut up quick enough while Mike popped a fish in front of him. Take that sucka beeyotch!!!
High of 14C, calm and sunny we four lads loaded up in the cars and drove on to new waters elsewhere. Upon arrival we found a lone angler on a long drift to himself so we decided to keep him company and totally grease him out. Nahhh not really at all... there was enough room for us, him and a couple more on the spot actually. The fellas all started banging fish and Bill got himself a solid chunk of chrome near go home time, but I had little wind left in the sails and missed 3 or 4 while I stood there half asleep repeating cast, drift, cast, drift...
Eleven hours fishing went by in a flash before Mike and I said our goodbyes to Bill and Paul who were heading home. Great day doods and thanks for sharing it with me. Mike and I hit the motel after a pig-out meal and were sound asleep by 9:00pm.
Next morning was another subzero wake-up on the bank. Mike's plan was a little run-and-gun to see what some other spots might be holding for fish. Both of us at the first site once the sun peeked up were quick to catch a few... Mike taking a small bow and brown and me getting a brownie of my own too. There's just some unearthly beautiful about these European imports from days old.
But we didn't stay long. The area got busy right quick with people.
Next stop Mike noticed a vehicle pulling away. The angler in the other car was a familiar face and Mike felt it a bad sign of he was leaving the spot so soon. We walked down to the bank anyways and met one fella and his dog from Oregon fishing. They both had lines in the water. Jacka$$es!!! Some quick unsuccessful drifts and we bolted.
The third and final area of the day was pretty wild. A huge spot with a number of big and different drifts Mike was convinced we'd see fish after first getting across the river to the best vantage point. This was a wee problem for me and I got a tad testy.
The smooth and flat rock river bottom was entirely covered with a thin layer of mud and my felt soled boots were useless. To me it was as slippy as thin coating of freezing rain ice on new asphalt. I couldn't walk on it to save my life and refused Mike's wishes to go across.
Well, with the rubber soled and cleated boots Mike came back across and helped me over. I felt like a kid being lead by his father into the swimming pool for the first time. Man... it was unnerving slippy to me, and that waist high moving water would have been some cold to fall into.
On the other bank finally, it didn't take too long to be rewarded for our efforts.
I picked up a couple more small fish at this drift and dropped three as well. Mike on the other hand just kept nailing them one after another. He's good... but at times it can make ya just sick watching him do it. And thing is... he doesn't just do it to me... the newbie Rube... he did it to anyone who fished around us for the entire time we were there. I'd laugh cause a few times he'd come to a drift and pluck some fish in front of others who were or had been there... or, he'd drift where I just was for an hour, or someone else... and then pluck two or three from that spot. Disgusting shiznit Mike... disgusting. Keep grinning about it!!! lol.
I blanked on the rest of the day, even after a drive to an entirely new area. The morning saw a few... the afternoon I stunk it up. Mike probably had like a dozen or more to my four, but it was all good. Come evening we ate at a wicked and cheap restaurant and retired early again.
Next morning we were loading up the car to head out when Tony aka TonyB just showed up. Right on, new fishing partner for Mike and I to chill with for the day.
Tony was game for anything we were so we went back to the area where the crusty Yank a couple days earlier had whined about needing more than an acre to fish in for himself. Real early on Tony proved he was in this for the fish and he quickly popped a few bows... albeit... shakers. So did Mike... and even me get one. But, Mike had visions of grandeur drifts elsewhere and we tailed his thoughts back to that first drift where the whole trip got started. And boy was that a good idea, cause when we arrived to have the drift to ourselves two doubles and a triple header kicked things off. Some were smaller fish... some were just right... we just got down to getting some.
And as the morning went on it was all fun. Having Tony alongside was at times like having a bit of a mirror image of myself. Dood has some very similar and healthy life philosophies... and I can dig it.
Not all fish caught were perfect specimens... a couple through the days had short gill plates but this poor buggah had one gnarly-funked out alien growth on its chin... as well as (Tony pointed out) some gills full of life sucking parasites. Nobody's probably loved this girl in a long time... maybe in her life. So Bunk took pity and gave her her 15 minutes of fame and a little kiss too. You're beautiful to me.
Look at those nasties in there... Dangnabit World!!!
Mike came over and greased me out. Drifted the spot I'd been in almost all morning. Drifted right where I had like a thousand times. His first drift... missed it. Second drift... BOING!!! Fish right out of my spot.
Having to leave around 1:00pm to get back to Grimsby for 3:00ish then me home to the Ottawa valley for some quality time with Bren watching the Vera vs Couture fight, we three Angling Gods teleported downriver to float one final drift for a half hour or so.
Once there Mike broke off earlier and then decided to call it for himself and head back to the car to grab a bite and get ready to head out. Tony and I enjoyed a few more drifts and with only the final minutes to spare the float dropped and I got into a war with one tough fighting broad. The looker she was, lost. And on shore she got a few photos then a bonk. She was delicious off the cedar plank with a maple butter glaze. Her flesh as pretty the skin she was in...
And on that note... the first steelheading experience came to an end. Thanks so much Mike for showing me the ropes and giving me one wicked intro with these awesome trout. You were too generous this round, so next is hopefully my turn. Can't hardly wait ti'll our next adventure somewhere... and it will come bud.
Golden bars... chrome silver steel... bronze back slabs...
Fin
. Some very nice steelheads bud.
