My week off started last friday with these two rainy day searun brook trout. 19.5" and 15".
The smaller fish was delish, the bigger had seen better days and his taste was tough. The meat of the two was completely different, with the smaller more healthy fish being bright orange and the larger fish's flesh being white. Nonetheless, both were gorgeous laying there together in my net.
The walleye opener plans kept falling apart.
The weekend was calling for crappy weather and that's what settled in. 
Just hours after these fish were taken early friday afternoon the rain turned to sleet, then hail, then snow. Saturday brought 50km gusting winds and more rain and snow, then sunday much the same. 9 of my friends had gone out to fish the weekend... and I gotta say, am I ever glad I stayed behind, caught 2 trout and kept warm over the weekend. 
Monday it was to all clear in the afternoon. That morning a friend (Howie) and I ventured out against the wet blowing snow. The destination was about 50km up the North French River, about 60km from home. I had 22.5 gallons of fuel and many of our meals premade. I also had around 12 dozen dace in a bucket with a few sticklebacks mixed in. The river travel was harsh, and because it was so damp I quickly got the shivers. Just a mile or so inside the mouth of the French we were sad to find that was as far as we'd be going. Even after 3 days of rain the river was bone dry and I knew that if we were to even try and push on it could end up impossible, or maybe just take the entire day. Howie and I retreated to plan B. We would get back on the Moose River and travel 20 more kilometres to the mouth of the Abitibi River and make camp there.
On our way the sky began to break and about 3 hours later we arrived.
(looking up the Abitibi)
At this place there is an old run down cabin people can use if they like. There is a hole in the roof and many cracks in the walls between the logs. This is not a bug or mouse friendly cabin, but, what it is is a fantastic spot to cook your meals, hang some clothes to dry and get your supplies out of the elements. We pitched the tent beside it for sleeping and used the cabin for all other activities.
After getting the tent setup the rain came again. HAHAHA, we thought, as by the evening light of the window we cooked up some supper.
About two hours remained in the day and so Howie and I tried our luck in the big rapids and shallow pools of the Abitibi River's 2nd and 5th mouths. Howie couldn't buy a fish... I managed one at the cost of a few bucktails.
The day ended with the sun setting pink.
Howie and swapped stories in the tent that night. He talked of some of his times hunting and fishing but better yet he told me of old stories from the area. The Hannah Bay Massacre was one. Families from Moose Factory all killed by people from Rupert's House with only one survivor escaping and paddling back 80km across James Bay home to tell the story. Another tale involved a Shamen from the east coast who may or may not have gone crazy, and after being killed lived on to haunt. Polar bears, brash black bears, bold moose... the Windigo... Howie went on. I scared the sh!t out of him with tales of lost fish due to not having a rod and reeled spooled with braided line, and, worst of all, seeings he had asked, I told him of CORMORANTS. That night as my leaky air matress slowly deflated me to the cold floor of the tent, I fell asleep with the chills both campfire stories will give a man, and temps in the freezing.
The sun rose the next morning in the east as always. Real stiff-like but rested we met the day.
"I FORGOT THE BAGELS. SH!T...!!!" Sooo we had breakfast ham fahitas and coffee with Baileys.
On the agenda Howie and I were going to go and find fish on the Cheepas River. Both of us had fished this river's mouth before but never ventured up it. This is another river often difficult to even get into because of a vast shallow flat blocking it's entrance. I ticked the prop once or twice in shallow drive but made it inside. Constantly probing the depths in the stained water the first 5km or so I began to feel at ease with this river. Howie told me that some people find the Cheepas an eerie place... I found it strangely magnificent.
As always, beyond every corner was another corner or a straightaway... if there hadn't been I'm sure it would have been a dead end.
We fished many eddies. I caught walleye here and there. Howie continued to have no luck. After awhile we came upon an inlet creek. Looked so goooood I nearly jabbed a hole through my boxers. "Howie," I said, "This is where we start slayin'em." Ended up totally baffled when not a single fish was caught. Time for shore lunch, we stopped and got into some of my homemade chilli.
Bellies full we kept going. We had long passed underneath the Polar Bear Express ONR Railway bridge that crosses over the Cheepas. After that point I was pretty much full throttle up the river and through most sets of rapids. Clear blue skies often disturbed by the shadow of an overseeing osprey or raven, or a fleeing herron, duck or goose, this place is paradise I thought while my feet were up on the gunnels and my face warmed in the mid afternoon sun. By 4:00 and maybe 15-20km up this new river we turned around and raced out. We figured the fishing wasn't all that great and we had one more stop 15km (30-35km from where we were) up the Moose river.
The journey up the Moose proved tough. Much travel was quick until shoals funneled me into a point of no return. In shallow drive my old Johnson took many hard knocks, and when we finally reached "The Towers" I though for sure I'd have no prop or skeg. I took a look... nothing had changed. Not a new chip, bend or dent could I identify. All I can say is Johnson does it again. Not a stronger a motor out there for taking the punches miles of shallow rocks can give.
And finally Howie gets into a fish.
This spot receives heavy pressure. In fact, we met two lads on the river who were heading home with 14 fish they had caught there. Reports the weeks before rumoured people catching 50, 60, 80 walleye at this small creek. Many fish being kept. What Howie and I found... mainly pike. Seemed as though our timing was off and the pike had come in to roam for dinner. By the time we fished the snakes out and the walleye were just starting to turn back on, we had to get back to camp. Afterall, we had some eyes to fillet, beans to heat, and spuds to prepare. That, and I didn't want to head down through the river's rock gardens in the dark.
This morning the sun was hot. By 9am we had the boat packed and thought we'd fish the usual spots home. Well, the usual spots sucked. Shotgun ready Howie was hoping to spot any cormorants that are now beginning to infest his homeland. As I was pulling into a "pikey looking" backbay a duck broke over the treeline and when I looked, there I saw two black bears in a tree. Howie dropped anchor, I shut off the motor, and while casting about the two of us watched and listened as these "BIG" bears fought in the tree quite close to us. The one at the top was obviously the weaker and scared to death. We were waiting for it to fall out actually. The lower bear would slide down the tree snapping branches, grunting and hissing as he went, and no sooner would he get the ground would he bolt within' split seconds right back up it if the other bear even sneezed. Howie thought about firing a round to scare the aggressor off, I asked him to let nature take it's course. Finally we moved on when the tough bear started to walk up the shoreline towards us.
That's it. Three more days I'll never forget on the waters of the Moose, Abitibi and Cheepas River of James Bay. Ohhhh, and a couple more sweeta$$ specks too.
Crosseyed pic.
