PRE GAME SHOW.
Yeah... I'd say it was a cold winter. In fact, there was a stretch of deep freeze across this province I'm sure much of us could have lived without.
Fishing this January was not really in the cards. If it wasn't too chilly it was just way too chilly. The family took shelter in the igloo while the first wave of flu season blew in. I managed to survive unscathed.
The new moon of January 28th came and a rare, warm, forecasted daytime high of -10C was expected, decided then to venture out for the first fish of the 09.
Much of the way was trailblazing. The river in parts froze terribly, especially around Kwetabohagan. The shallow levels in fall must have been cause for the uneven ice in the rapid stretches.
A very full and busy year had passed since last riding a snowy river. Big Red sold in the fall so, with just the Bravo now the pace has slowed; no more bombing about at 170 klicks holding on for dear life. Truth is, taking a little more time out to travel didn't feel like missing anything at all.
Reached the home of the Cheepas Monster and drilled a triangle to work. Peace and quiet all around, clear skies, light southwest breeze, after a little jiggin' in the middle hole decided on a siesta in the sun while allowing two set lines north and south do the work. No sooner got the second set-up rigged when in the distance the first got a strike. By the time I ran there a fish was already gone.
This turned out to be the game over the next two hours. I didn't get that nap because of being busy jogging from one line to the other and back again. End of the day it was evident that small fish were triggering my lines yet not getting stuck on the big baits placed out for that one smart old fish I know resides in the bay. Ended up eventually getting a snot rocket with a timely hookset, a fish which came after missing eight earlier chances. By quitting time I could have been more upset with the results but, it had been three months since the last days fishing and it was just great to be out.
For as long as possible, took the time to enjoy the sun dropping on the horizon before packing up and beginning the hour ride home. January surely limited many days for fishing, but this one was a treat.
The month of February began real cold, much like most of January. Even if there was a day to fish, my wife since the New Year was grinding through hours working almost two full-time jobs. Our babysitter needed a break and it didn't seem right me dumping the kids on anyone to get out fishing. Especially not when I already had a southern road trip planned for later in the month.
See "Southern Roady" Report - http://www.ofncommunity.com/forums/inde ... opic=29107
Well, with that trip, February fishing worked out awesome. Instead of cold I got a little bit of everything tropical in the south, Bren made it out for a break too, and her and I both got some time in with family and friends.
GAME 1: HALF DAY PRESS.
First days of March came in like a lamb. After a week a lion teared that wooly baahh-sterd apart and then roared and ripped the Moose a new one.
Before all went to he!! Bren and I had booked a day on Kesagami for March 4rth. That morning we woke to a rare winter fog which put our plans back several hours.
I had slept little the night before. Anticipating the first run loads my adrenaline days before. Six dozen creek chubs had been living in my fridge two weeks, I had prepared and frozen enough chowder, stew and chili servings to handle five runs in for three people or more, the lures had all been inspected thrice and the auger blade switched out for a brand new one. A couple times I drew out some hole plans for the spot and considered and reconsidered where the quickstrikes, versus the big spoons, versus the jiggin' outfits should be. Even the previous summer I set out a couple fishing days to strictly chase after fallfish, so the baitbucket in the freezer would be full. Long story short is that I had a game plan... but now the game had a fog delay.
Nevertheless, by late morning we were finally out of agony, off the ground and saying goodbye to Moosonee...
... Saying wachay to Moose River James Bay...
... and saying see ya, Moose Factory Island.
Flying into the fishing area on the lake I was quick to spot a plane already on the ice there. In fact, when he saw us he was quick to shuttle several hundred yards right to where I had hoped to fish. Giving a little distance, John set us down nearby so we could unload and see him off.
It was evident many people had already fished the lake. Past couple years Bren and I had seemingly been the first, but this time skidoo and plane tracks lightly covered by snow did criss-cross all around. I drilled a number of holes a little north of where I would have liked to be and by about 12:30 after cleaning out slush and setting some lines, Bren had quickly iced 10 walleye within the half hour.
Years passed saw the wife more content to fish the food while I waited out the trophies, this year she was more about the other. She picked her pike hole and sure enough by about 2:00pm her bell rang and the rod tip pointed straight down. She set the second she got there.
A solid fish gave her a run for her money but Bren's skills paid the bills, she reeled in the prize.
The day was passing quick as we jigged up numerous walleye. The fella from the plane came by for a visit and introduced himself as Don from Cochrane. He spoke of the many years he'd been flying into the lake and that only until recently did he begin fishing this area. Set to his GPS from the previous winter Don was convinced he was on the walleye spot. He seemed like an alright guy. For a few hours he fished and managed three walleye, but us, we didn't see any more pike.
It was late in the afternoon when my quickstrike rod fired. This was the set-up closest to Don who was south of us and over the pikey area. Arriving at the hole the rod tip was down and line peeling... I set and felt a good solid fish for about five seconds, then it was gone. I quickly reset the bait, really loosened up the drag, balanced the rod and walked away. A half hour later the bell rang again.
Over I go and this time wait. The tip is bouncy, non-committal. I wait some more until it holds awhile pointing down the hole, the line slowly peeling out off the reel. Finally I take a swipe and feel a second of weight before... nothing. Reset again.
Meanwhile Bren's having a productive day, so good she's picked up a new species for herself.
After her whitey the south set-up fires with a sudden and violent ring and reel peel. I no sooner pick up the pike box and begin running when the tip springs back up and sits there lifeless. Nothing happens after that.
The sun is beginning to set. It's pre-daylight savings time and the plane is due back for 5:30pm. A five hour fish is really a half day for us, we usually spend up to nine hours on the lake. Any time out there in that space is infinite in a way though. Kesagami is one of the sleepiest giants I know. With Don long gone we are totally alone, the world and wind is so silent for some time. Along the nearest treeline there are moments I swear to Bren I hear faint howling and barking sounds, but the breeze muffles those noises enough to keep them from registering with my wife’s ears. Peace all around until a whisper in the wind. A faint hum over fifteen minutes grows louder and louder until our buzzing plane flies overhead. "It's game over."
First chance in was short and kind of bitter sweet. The walleye numbers were good and the day beautiful but, the many signs of fisher-people and the three missed chances on the quickstrike had me a little rattled. On the plane ride back the day gave me much to think about...
GAME 2: LOW SCORING WIN.
March 11th's return was cancelled due to a Blizzard so we rescheduled for the 16th. Come that day freezing rain kept us grounded as well. The minnows in the fridge received some fresh water and oxygen by this time as they were beginning to grow quite pale. They weren't the only ones sick and tired of waiting through the days.
By friday the 20th all looked good. A co-worker took the last part of my shift the night before, kindly giving me a break to relax at home while taking time to prepare. The morning saw us off and out of Moosonee by a timely 8:30am. With a cold but full sunny day ahead the hopes were high.
On the ice we relocated everything a little south from before. A blizzard the week before, again tracks made it obvious many planes had been in since. While finishing up drilling, two skidoos came by and we were met by our neighbors Doug and Betty. They have a camp on the lake they stay at several times a year, and after a brief convo they gave us some space while they set-up deeper in the channel for some walleye.
For hours Bren and I went fish-less other than a perch. Noon time and thinking of lunch there's a buzz in the sky and before long another annual visitor to the lake makes an appearance.
C.O. John. McD first takes some time with Betty and Doug before beginning a walk over to us. While he's on route one of the pike rods fires and I run over, play and quickly release a 34" pike. When we greet each other I thank him for bringing some luck.
John and I met the previous year on the lake. A local out of Moose Factory who works at the Cochrane detachment for the MNR, John is about as nice a fella as anyone could ever meet. Last year when first introduced, he read my card and gathering from my last name looks at me and says, "you're Moosebunk. Heard about you."
John, Bren and I were talking about the very slow fishing, wondering if the increased pressure on the area over the recent years was affecting the fish pop when... ding-a-ling-a-ling-aling. The C.O. being there and all I was quick to announce, "It's yours Bren's! Should be a bigger fish, set the hook right away."
She did just that and pegged a gnarly tough fish. I had chosen two new different styles (The Pyzer and The Maina) of quickstrikes and made them at home to try on the pike. Bren battled a fish on the Pyzer rig while John and I made our way over to her.
Several times Bren got the fish to the hole but couldn't turn it up. We had a good foot of water below the ice, maybe a couple more inches than that, but nothing could solve rolling this pike a little sideways to bend it's head in. She managed the rod perfectly while I fingered and tugged the line every which way possible... the fish felt heavy and several times ripped off line before needing to be brought back again. After 15 minutes or more I ran back for the auger and began drilling a hole beside the hole. Very nervous to say the least, I was talking a blue streak with John, Bren and now Doug who had skidoo'd over to see what's up. "Gotta be a big fish guys," I babbled on. "I've never not been able to turn one into a 10-inch hole. It feels good and heavy too... could be biggest yet." Blah, blah excited blah.
Bren controlled the line to the opposite side of the hole best she could and I managed to slowly and safely get that second hole through the 40-inches of ice. Once complete, the fish turned and a big headed pike with jaws gaping open came to the surface.
Bren scored a trophy for the team.
The fish wasn't as big as anticipated, but still big... especially it's head. The Pyzer rig had been deceiving and the problem, for one treble was firmly in the yap while the other loosely hooked in the back. When we pulled up on the fish to turn it, the two hooks working together provided even tension and ultimately tried to raise the pike's head and shoulders same time into the hole. Reality was, the pike's face couldn't be lead in and up, and nor could the fish actually roll a little sideways while the line was taught. In essence, the rig worked to pull the fish into and up the hole in an almost horizontal fashion... not allowing it to turn vertical. Nevertheless, the first quickstrike fish was up.
In the immediate moments of pics, measurements and release, I forgot to get John in a picture with Bren. As soon as the pike was in the hole he checked my card, said wachay, then made his way to the warmth of the plane.
With John's departure it was only moments later when Don and company set down right on top of us. I became annoyed and angry at first... won't lie about that. It's a 30km long lake with nobody else on it and these two landed both planes and set-up only a stones throw from us. A man after his walleye limit every day, he just won't take my word and set-up where the walleye numbers really are... instead his plane and auger shakes the ice overhead of the big pike I quietly and patiently wait for.
With the company next door the bite shut down a couple hours except for a single hard smash on the Maina rig that was an instant miss I didn't even have time to get up from my chair for.
We were right off the walleye turf now. Bren and I have had 40-60 fish days but on this one we ended the day with nine. I knew we were over pike and it was only a matter of time.
Bren jiggin' away with her favorite little rod and reel and her favorite little spoon she always picks... "Honey" she quietly announces, "I got a big one here."
Man... I can't tell you how many times I've watched this girl tame big fish with the 10lb Power Pro attached straight to a tiny spoon. She's sick... she's that good...
I switched up to a new spoon that I picked up in Timmins. Never used the kind before, don't know anyone who has actually. Bren thought it was too small when she saw it. The thing was no sooner on the bottom when a big fish smoked it. I played and played what felt like a solid pike when at the surface it came off. Bren who had been peering down hole had to tell me it was a big walleye.
From then until dinner nothing moved. Finally a little evening bite of eyes came about...
... and some pike too. This average fish entertaining me with a "little" show.
Johnny at 7:00pm buzzed over when just then Bren suddenly says, "Drew!!!" The Pyzer was down. Bolting over I can hear peel and when arriving I drive the hook. A nasty first run followed by a few big shakes and within 10 seconds I'm reeling in slack line. The plane lands and "it's game over."
Fifteen trips into this lake, twice have there been multiple trophy pike days. This day was certainly a win with Bren's big pike. Ice fishing could really be her niche being that she's so steady in her approach, gentle, determined yet patient. It's great to see how much she enjoys these days out with me. I wonder at times how many women out there would get up at 6:30am, make hot chocolate and get the kids off to the sitters, jump in a bush plane by 8:00am, spend nine hours on the ice sometimes in real cold or blowy windchill days and fish their hearts out..? Only to go home, make a late supper, help clean some fish and repack for the chance of doing it again the next day. She can't be fishing just for me, this girl must love making these memories too.
GAME 3: ZEBCO'S IN PLAY.
With the Agent Stevie Zebco on board for his first ever chance to fish Kesagami, I had but one obvious game plan... help get him his biggest pike ever.
Having him along was exciting. Stevie's always game to please, a real stand-up fella whom I'm lucky to have as a friend. He joins me for more fun adventures than anyone of late, and without his company there are oftentimes days that just wouldn't be either feasible or safe or physically possible without his assistance and our teamwork. The Agent makes "Mission's Possible" and for that it's always nice seeing him get on some fish and have a quality time.
Steve and I had planned two full days with an overnighter March 21st. Fishing the big lake all day saturday and sunday surely was an awesome preminition, but when the morning of departure rolled in several snow squalls accompanied by high winds cancelled our day. The lake weather was forecasted to be nice through the night, except the -23C plus windchill. Tenting in the open space wouldn't have been too cozy. Cold, no cold.. we had little choice anyways... the plane was grounded.
Sunday we were supposed to be gone first thing except that a power outage in Moosonee kept our airline service in bed longer than planned. Bushland Air was making two runs in on the day with two groups slated for full days of fishing. This meant, if we go first we come out an hour and a half earlier than necessary; so to allow the plane to return and get the second group before nightfall. Fair enough, we got off the ice strip in good time actually.
On Kesagami it was apparent over the first first two and half hours that we were going to have a slow day. Not a fish moved before 11:00am, I don't think.
I had taken a walk to clear the holes at the set lines when Stevie Zebco yells out, "Bunk I gotta big fish on over here!!" "Alright!!!" Back I go.
Using Bren's blessed combo Steve had a small Champ attached on the line. I missed some of the early fight and when I returned to him I seriously underestimated the expected size of his fish. The first couple runs witnessed didn't seem all that big (figured mid 30" fish) until I first fingered the line for the head turn and his fish took off on a marathon.
Stevie remained pretty calm... he wasn't Brenda calm by any means though. His ice fishing experiences before this year he told me were all tip-up days with 50lb Dacron to hand-line walleye. He did alot of reeling against a peeling drag at first but then with a little advising settled into a more methodical lift and reel down. He got the fish back to the hole in due time where I was able to assist him pop the head around the corner before securing the fish.
The small spoon was deeper than usual. Only the end of a snap-swivel kept those teeth from a bite-off. The hook came out effortlessly and before pulling the fish from water I had Stevie open the pike box then come over and take hold of what I knew was going to be his personal best pike. He hadn't seen it yet... and when he pulled his fish up the camera was ready for every priceless moment...
It was a tank trophy pike. Stevie was beside himself.
Giving the fish ample time to breathe atop the hole before pulling it out for pics, the measurements and moments out of water did the fish no worse for wear at all. It was one of the fastest, hardest tail kicks on the release I have seen.
Great being a part of this moment. Stevie figured his best pike before this one had been about 10 maybe 12 pounds. Now he had something double that.
The morning fish for me wasn't going well... although, I had spent a lot of time just sitting in wait. Hadn't caught a thing and that's never happened on this lake. Two planes came in and landed a distance away, I recognized them from last year. Come the afternoon a whitefish came up the hole while Stevie had managed a couple smaller pike and eyes. It was a few hours after his big fish that while off clearing the pike holes I found a big surprise. The Pyzer rig had been stripped of its bait and about eight feet of line stolen off the reel in the process. Both Stevie and I were in awe because, A: we hadn't heard the bell, and, B: the reel rested gently on a chunk of ice that when triggered should have fallen off and been an obvious sign of a hit, or missed hit. I let the event bother me, thinking... I'm slipping.
I no sooner got back to Steve when the other pike set-up had a very soft tug then slow reset into position. From a distance we watched and nothing happened again. Later, while over clearing that hole I found the large spoon had been stripped of its bait. What the fiznackers if fiznacking going fizzer-nizzer here!?!?! Brutal. With Steve's big fish under his belt the day was left for me to salvage something. All day nothing. Even after I reset the spoon with new bait, when it fired later I drove the hook and had a hard short lived battle before suffering another unpegging.
I took to jiggin' and hit a pike... finally.
The smallest pike I have ever caught on the lake... (but still not as small as FLOAT'S the time we went in the summer)
The day was winding down and so far I had caught 1 walleye, 1 pike and 1 whitefish. Stevie with Bren's hotstick had fared better, but it was by a mile the slowest day of fishing ever on the lake.
Plane was buzzing in and we're collecting the gear when luckily the big spoon rod fires. I got there and made certain to nab a quality fish before finishing the day.
Quick work of it then the release. "It's game over."
Although I expected more for numbers and of my own fishing, the mission was actually accomplished by the end of the morning. Another trophy pike day... and one heckuva satisfied Steve. The other group in on the lake worked water about 100 meters away from us and more down the channel... those two were at 39 walleye and 1 small pike with several hours to go when we talked to them before leaving. They were going to have a 50 fish day... all keepers I bet too. To me that simply affirmed we were over pike... a choice made... and having caught six on the day and missing three other chances at what were likely significant fish, new choices would need to be made for the next time.
We flew home.
well done
