Just wanted to comment on what a sport angling is. I can think of no other sport where I could have the kind of trip I've just returned from and still count it as a good trip. This isn't fly fishing, we were walleye fishing, but I can't see why it matters.
I just got back at 1:50 AM this morning from driving exactly 1350 miles round trip on a Canadian fishing trip. I went with my father and not only is it a 675 drive from my house to where the road ends in far northern Ontario, it's then about 20 miles by water to get to the cabin we were staying in.
The omens were not good from the start. I had to load the boat in my garage because outside it was a driving rain and the wind was like a hurricane. Flood warnings out everywhere, more roads closing by the hour. I left in a hurry and drove back streets until I got out of the city to avoid stalled traffic on every major road. Net result was avoiding traffic, but with a boat trailer loaded with 50 gallons of fuel and hundreds of pounds of gear, it took much longer than normal.
But there was the promise (according to the geniuses that forecast weather) that we'd outrun the rain as we drove north. Would we hell! It rained in sheets all the way from St. Paul to Grand Portage! The wind was NE 18-25 along the Lake Superior shore from Duluth northward with massive spray sheets coming from the waves hitting the rocks. We dragged into Grand Portage to overnight at 1 AM, normally we'd have been there by 10 PM.
New day may as well have been Groundhog's Day. An exact repeat. We dragged northward across the boarder in wind and rain for the next 500 miles to the landing through some of the most remote country that offers a paved road.
But then things were looking up. 50 miles from the landing, the rain and clouds parted and we had blue sky on the horizon as we loaded the boat for the trip across.
Things continued to look up and I had high hopes that clearing skies would bring good fishing. Unfortunately with the approaching front also came wind.
Lots of wind. Lots and lots of wind.
After the first night in the cabin, much of it I'd spent pondering if there were any better investment than a sleeping bag rated to -30, we got up to +1 C and winds from the NW 15 gusting 25. Mmmmm. Put on the foul weather gear now then.
Long story short, we threw everything but the kitchen sink at those walleye. Trolling, jigging, side drifting, crankbaits, whatever. Net result for 2 days of fishing: 6 walleye and 3 pike. In other words, about a 90% reduction in what we've caught on past trips. That's why they call it fishing and not catching.
As if insult were needed after this near-fish-free injury, when we got back at the landing, the back window of my truck had been smashed by vandals! The absurdity of this made it almost comical, the location was so remote there can't have been 6 people within 10 miles of this spot and yet someone found it in him to smash my rear window. One can only speculate that they had hoped there would be something worth stealing inside, which there wasn't.
And through it all, I can honestly say it was a good time and time well spent. There is nothing like the remoteness of northern Canada in the fall. To see the leaves streaming off the birch trees as they blew in the wind, it had the effect of being in a blizzard of gold. The staccato ticking of the little trolling outboard hour after hour, the banter, the speculating on what and where we should try next in the battle against an animal that had lived there for 5000 years before the first man ever set foot in this place.
We also talked about the departed anglers who used to come with us on these trips and one friend in particular--Rolland (Bud) Theis. No one, I mean
no one loved just being there more than he did. I'm forever grateful that by example he showed me that catching fish is the least of it all and in the strangest irony possible it's the catching that is the one thing that isn't required for the enjoyment of a fishing trip.
The stars and the moon were so bright at night up there in the far north that it provokes disbelief. Satellites pass overhead, but there could hardly be as good a view from there.
Looking forward to the next trip.
Grouse
It all goes wrong and I feel fine.
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