John and I depart town heading south on the Moose River. His 20HP on a 20 foot freighter Nor-West canoe are a perfect match for river travel south.
Then we turn and head a little ways up the French. The water changes to
more of a tanin blue.
I love the French. It's more closed in and scenic than the Moose.
John and I dabbled a little with the rods on the way up to camp. A few early small fish promised better things to come. The day was sunny and hot, and matter of fact, that's exactly how the next 3 days continued.
John and I after setting up in the cabin. We're about 20 km's or so from home. The cabin belongs to Jimmy, an old man and trapper on the further reaches of this river. Age, diabetes and near blindness kept him from joining us this year, but, what he taught us on our past trips still sticks.
The Outhouse could use a little work. Like maybe some wider walls and a door.
John and I wolfed down some homemade Chilli I had made up and froze a few days prior to our trip. Then we hit the river for an evening fish. Without trouble we zoooomed a few km's up river and hit a couple spots. The end result for our short evening was 7 fish each. John caught 4 fallfish and 3 walleye and I managed 1 fallfish and 6 walleye. My pink and chartreuse bucktails reined supreme, but of course they were either tipped with dace or sticklebacks. We had set the trap the night before and managed probably around 15-20 dozen minnows for our trip.
Here's Johns 4lb and my 3.5lb best on day 1.
Found this beauty in about 3 feet of water off the back of an island.
But John had already done better with this scrapper in the rapids.
By the end of the night we were whipped. We retired to the cabin after a beer. Strangely I had trouble sleeping on my 3 mattresses. Might have been anticipation of what was to come.
the next morn we wolfed down some bagels and hamsteaks and were off by 8 am. We were really surprised not to have seen hardly any others on the river the day before. We took off up stream. Today was a big day to push about 25kms up river to where the French and Nettogami converge. On the way we had a honey hole or two to hit.
More fish caught by 1pm but none kept we arrived at 1/4 mile rapid. This was the last big obstacle before our destination. John had knocked the skeg and prop a little by this point. Water levels had dropped about 3-4 inches overnight. The rapid was insane. I stood at the front of the boat for over an hour gesturing left or right and picking the best possible routes to navigate our boat safely through rock gardens in little more than 6 inches of water at times. The boat needs 4 but at times I would swear the motor was skimming along in a foot wide path just made for it. John, who was driving, was astonishing. I was so impressed with his skill, (and maybe some luck) and really, he only just tapped bottom 3 or 4 times while we crawled up river. It was truly one of the most proud team efforts to friends could ever have. Unbelievable. I wish it was on film for all to see.
Once we got up top of 1/4 mile, too some surprise, nobody was around. Last time it was a traffic jam 2 years prior. This year, all ours. To the victors of the river that day went the spoils. We stopped for lunch and fished several hours. Here's some pics.
I had never caught a walleye on the fly, so on this trip I caught 2. Clouser minnow... what else..?
On the way out back at 1/4 mile rapids, John snapped this pic when the going was a little safer. We just decided to paddle that section of river to head home.
Nobody around we stopped again on the way back to the cabin around 5pm. Our honey hole was all ours. Lots of people know to fish there but again to our surprise, hardly anyone was on the river. John I caught some fish for supper, and then, while dragging one of my bucktails along bottom, I got a good hit on my light action Berkeley Lightning. This big fat marble eye came up to see me and pose for some pics.
PPPPPPPPZZZZZZZZZZZZOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWYYYYYYYY
Don't know if you can see me here, but I'm the guy whose hat matches those spring alders to my right, the shirt that blends in with the black spruce, the shorts that appear to have two buck white tree stumps growing out of them, and a big walleye.
That night we fed ravenously on fried spuds, maple beans, and breaded walleye fillets. Bushed, we hit the hay. Fish count for the day though, John 18 walleye, 1 fallfish and 1 pike. Moose, 14 walleye and 2 pike. Including the 25" 6 1/4 lber. Best lure. A pink paddle tailed 3" white grub.
Next day we headed back up river. Overnight the water had dropped several more inches. Speeding away as usual we were met with a hard knock on the motor. First set of rapids, couple more hard dings. The Yamaha was shaking like an epileptic on acid. John got atop the first rapids and changed to his other beaten spare prop. The situation got a little better, but John was bothered. It's a new motor, and having gone through an entire lower end last year myself, I know how each good knock and new problem can dampen the spirits. He even shaved a little off the skeg, but we pushed up river and he nailed like 5 walleye in about an hour back at the honey hole.
For the afternoon we went exploring calm back bays in search of pike. John showed me an amazing looking spot, but at fishings end it only coughed up 4 fish. We bumped into a local acquaintance and his wife and kids. Steve (from Peterborough area originally) spoke of how great the fishing used to be on the Moose years back. Said the locals used red devles and 5 of diamonds only for everything. He used to nail big eyes on his own bucktails by the bucketloads.
Heading home the water levels killed us. The motor took an absolute assault in places 2 days prior we zipped through. Shallow drive was often not shallow enough. We fished a little heading back to the cabin, and I caught a 27.5 inch pike just after some friends we met on the river had caught and released it. It was cool. Total fish count had John schooling me with 8 walleye and a pike to my own 3 pike. His patience for the slowest of presentations perservered over my quicker tactics, that and his stinger hooks.
Back at the cabin I cooked up a big feed of fajitas, while John pounded both props back into shape with a hammer over a tree stump. That night we stayed up and to about midnight and drank a bunch under warm bugless full moon skies. We felt like Kings. Kings in the most unlikely of places for people even to be. It's trips like this one with such a good friend, in such an amazing place that keep people happy in life.[/b]
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