Chasing the Big Ones Up in Canada

 

Editor’s Note: Conrad Vollertsen does nearly all of his fishing and hunting in Oklahoma but will occasionally slip across the border into Canada in July and August where the air is cool and pine scented, and the lakes are stiff with fish big enough to break an arm. The following is the first of a two-part series detailing such a trip taken this past week.

It was my favorite kind of day to fish up North: A light, misty rain blowing in gray, tail-dragging veils across broad areas of a rock-ribbed lake whose skyline had gone jagged with dark, black spruce many millions of years ago. Listen. Hear the loon? Up North, up in Canada, up in Ontario, such weather puts fish, big ones, on the prowl. Rain? Who cares. Let ‘er rip.

My friend, Brian Loveland, and my grandson Lane Webster, both of Sand Springs, were catching fish, too, while I spent most of my time positioning the boat towards their success and handling the netting chore when it came. It was as much fun for me doing that, as the other was for them.

Sometimes you could look over the side of the boat and see pike as long as fence posts materialize mysteriously just behind a flashing lure, stalking it like Death come to dinner. Would it hit, or not? Big, big fish with thick, green bodies wearing ivory spots just behind a head like a hatchet with teeth just in case the hatchet head didn’t get the job done. How could you not be interested in a deal like that? We were all interested, and the two old guys as young in an instant as the seven-year-old.

Brian had a pike smash a shad-colored, lipless crankbait right at the side of the boat, bending his rod completely under the boat for an instant, screeching line from the reel before giving that up and going airborne twice right in our face making me think he was going to land in the boat in somebody’s lap. I looked down into the clear air and saw another pike trying to pull the lure from Brian’s fish out of its mouth.

“Lane! Lane! Throw in, quick! There’s another one right behind Mr. Brian’s! Hurry!”

You drive that far in two days, and you’re supposed to have fun and get excited. We were, and we did.

Richard and Kaylene Foley have owned Pine Cliff Lodge (1-800-391-PINE, www.pineclifflodge.com) overlooking Sandybeach Lake between Dryden and Sioux Lookout, Ontario for seventeen years, first seeing it for themselves when they stayed a visit, liked what they saw, and decided to make their feelings for the place a part of their future. Richard takes care of the boats, mechanics, and upkeep, while Kaylene more than handles the groceries, putting five-star meals on the table (family style) both morning and night.

The two hail from Texas and Kansas respectively, and maintain a home south of the Red River, but spend very little time there, as the end of the fishing season ushers in the bear and grouse seasons for them, to be followed shortly thereafter by the sport, boat, and travel show circuit in January, February and March which books the place for the following year.

Have you looked at a thermometer around here lately? Have you ever seen minnows come to the top of a bucket for air? That’s why I’ve been sneaking off North every July or August for better than forty years. I’d die if I thought the rest of my life was going to be wrapped up in total Oklahoma July and August ‘til quittin’ time.

There are lots of ways to do these Canada fishing trips, and I have done most of them. Basically, you can fly in, or drive in.

Driving your own vehicle to the end of a tree shrouded wilderness road automatically cuts out the expense of an airplane and suggests the possibility of all kinds of other cost-cutting measures. Neither Brian nor I have a lot of money. I asked Lane to buy me a candy bar on the way back, and he showed me an empty pocket. Drive-in, here we come.

It was a great trip. We opted not to cook our own meals so as to throw ourselves more time away from the sink, and more time in the bottom of the boat. That’s not necessary, though, as Pine Cliff’s cabins all have stoves, refrigerators, running water sinks, and, if you must have one, hot water showers. Bring your own food and prepare your own meals if you like, Pine Cliff provides all the necessary utensils. We made sandwiches for lunch, ate them on tree covered islands with ravens begging for scraps, and fished until we were sunburned cooneyed.

One day we ate a shore lunch composed of part of the morning’s catch of Canadian pike, fried potatoes from Oklahoma, with some chopped Vidalia onions from Georgia thrown on top. That’s it. Nothing else. Then we talked about it all the way home. It’s a mystery to me why food you might not eat prepared in your own yard that way would cause you to go after your own mother with a fillet knife up yonder in the Land of Sky Blue Waters. Ever eat Spam in your kitchen? Ever eat it cooked over a wood fire? Hear the loon? 

Lane didn’t catch that big pike trailing Mr. Brian’s pike: too slow on the draw. But he wasn’t done. The kid has an attitude, a good, competitive one, that has earned him the nickname, “Rooster”. Then, too, Sandybeach Lake is full of monstrous pike, lake trout, and smallmouth bass. With any luck at all, in such a place he was going to have some fun. 

“Papa. Before we left, you said a fish would break my arm.” 

“No, I didn’t. I said there was a fish in here that could break your arm.” 

“I wanna’ catch that one.” 

“You might, if you quit talkin’ long enough.” 

“Is it bigger than the one on your wall?” 

“Bigger, maybe.” 

Come back next week. We’ll see how big. 

Copyright © 2010 Conrad M. Vollertsen