Stepping into the screen porch with a drink in hand I heard laughter from the dock. Three of the guys were down there catching walleye hand over fist and whooping it up like a bunch of kids. It had been a long, hot day on the water, but the lure of easy fishing was too much to pass up for some of my group. The dock is always a good spot at Blackbirch, but this was other level, and I learned something. Normally we’ll fire out along cast with a jig, let it sink a bit then pop it back and we always catch fish, but not one very cast. They were simply dropping their jigs straight down around all sides of the dock, twitching it a couple of times, and almost right away a walleye would grab it. The fish were stacked in numbers right under the floating dock. As fishing goes, this was as easy as it gets, and a true testament to the quality of the fishery at Blackbirch. You don’t have to go far to catch fish here!
Visiting An Old Friend
Our trip started in the dusty little rail town of Nakina, a long time jump off point for numerous remote outpost camps and lodges, over the years there have been many trips.Not much has changed, including Pennock’s Motel, the only one in town. It’s like visiting an old friend.I can vividly remember a trip in 1985 with my dad, staying at the same motel. It was midsummer and stifling hot in the room and I smashed a thumbnail when the only window in the hot little room came crashing down on my down on my hand. My dad smiled and opened a cold beer for me, as a young teenager that was worth smashing my thumbnail for.My group on this trip had travelled from all over the map to get here. Paul came from upper NY State, Rick and Matt from southern Ohio, Freddy from southern Ontario,and myself from Sault Ste. Marie. It was a good bunch and for the most part we were reasonably well packed, we were only 700 pounds overweight after the always smiling Tracy from Nakina Air wheeled our laden carts onto the weigh scale.
Blackbirch lake is incredibly remote, in fact it might be the northernmost outpost camp currently operating in the province. Far north of both the Albany and Attawapiskat rivers,it’s part of the massive Winisk River drainage and flows directly north into Hudson’s Bay. Because of the distance it’s a long flight in the Otter, depending on wind usually around 1 hour and 20 minutes, and because of that it’s normally one of the first flights in the morning.
Once again that was the case and after loading the plane and securing our cargo we were
off.
Sitting up front with the pilot Bruce, we chatted back and forth for most of the flight with the head sets on, while I occasionally stole glances at the roadless unbroken forest racing by below us. I began to doze for a bit until Bruce gave me a nudge and pointed,the outpost camp was in sight.
After circling a couple of times he banked the plane hard and dropped lightly onto the water with barely a bump. Taxiing slowly up to the dock, Bruce hopped out, tied us off, and just like that we were there.
An Emotional Return
Walking up to the cabin my mind was on Adam Dempsey. It was at this camp last September where we lost him and the emotions were running high. Truthfully when first asked if I wanted to return my gut reaction was no, but after thinking about it I agreed. In the end it was the best thing I could have done. Last September we had been enjoying our best trip to Blackbirch ever and on day 5 Adam and I walked the short trail to fish the portage lake. Almost immediately he collapsed and died in the boat with me, a massive heart attack. One moment he was there, the next he was gone. Prior to the trip I had a memorial plaque made up and after some careful thought it was hung in a place of honour.
Adam’s mom also mailed me some of his ashes to spread when I was there, and the right spot for that was an easy choice. Last fall he caught an absolutely gargantuan pike in the most unlikely little bay on Mistassin Lake, it was a happy moment for both of us, and later in the week I had an emotional moment finally saying my goodbyes for the very first time.
Life is so fragile, it can be snatched away in an instant. It’s the same terrible cross we all have to bear, and as difficult as it is, life does go on. He was a good, decent man and father and the very best of friends, and his memory will live on in the hearts of every person he touched.After unpacking, getting the rods and boats rigged, we didn’t fish a ton that first day,although 2 of the guys had already begun wreaking havoc on the seemingly endless school of walleyes sitting under the dock, but we did get out on the water. Not straying too far from camp we caught fish after fish, the vast majority in shallow water anywhere from 6-8 feet deep. Mostly walleyes, but a good number of smaller pike as well. It was a good start.
We had a late dinner that night, then with drinks in hand we watched the sun set directly across from the camp. If there’s a heaven on this earth this place is it and I could feel my friend’s presence
The Fish Were Everywhere
The boat was bouncing around next to the dock the next morning when Freddy and I loaded our gear into the boat to start our day. A strong south west was blowing right into the camp and once out on the main lake we carefully navigated through a sea of rollers and whitecaps to get to the long channel leading into Mistassin Lake, our only reprieve from the gale. Entering Mistassin the north end of the lake was somewhat protected, but once we rounded the last point heading straight south it was rough seas once again. The plan on this day was simple: travel to the far south end of Mistaasin, a spot that usually always produces big pike, then work our way slowly back to camp hitting every likely spot along the way. I thought the wind would help in the cabbage choked neck down at the south end of the lake, but sometimes it can be too much. This was one of those days. The wind was whipping through that spot like a hurricane, and at least initially we were drifting through the spot at warp speed. Changing tactics we utilized the anchor to hold us in place while we methodically fan cast in all directions. We’d do that for 10 minutes, then Fred would pull anchor, we’d move to another location and repeat the process all over again. It’s a great tactic when you don’t have a bow mount electric with spot lock. At these remote camps fishing in more basic boats you have to adapt. We caught pike, scads of them, but sadly nothing big. There was a virtual army of small to mid sized specimens though, and despite the lack of size we wore out our arms catching them for more than an hour before finally pushing on. With a tailwind the going was a little bit easier, but we were still very restricted on where we could fish, seeking calm water wherever we could find it. We actually weren’t able to properly fish most of my favourite spots, but that didn’t matter. Switching the focus to the abundant walleye we caught them at will at every single spot we tried.
Some on small, shallow running crank baits, but the vast majority on jigs and plastics. It was easy fishing, the kind most people come to expect on a Canadian fly in trip.
Towards the end of our day we stopped at a prominent point that dropped quickly into 25 feet of water. To date we’d caught all of our fish in shallower water anywhere from 6 to 12 feet deep. Not surprising considering the wind and the tannic stain in the water. But these fish are everywhere. Switching to a jigging Rap, Freddy began to catch a larger class of fish in deeper water, and I quickly followed suit. They’re super fun baits to fish in deeper water, the hit are violent!
We were back at camp at 6pm, both of us beat up from the wind and a little wobbly on land for a bit, but pleased with our day. As we pulled up to the dock two of the guys were sitting there on chairs, each hauling in a walleye as we tied off. They hadn’t even bothered heading out in the boat because of the wind and had landed 66 fish sitting in comfort on the dock. That says it all right there. It was burgers and bear sausage on the barbecue for dinner, then as we wound things down with drinks in hand the wind finally settled down at 9pm and we capped our day off with a perfect sunset.
A Cathartic Moment
I’ve always said if you don’t like the weather in the north wait 15 minutes, or in this case 24 hours. I was up early and walked down to the dock with my coffee marvelling at the difference. It was already warm at 6am and the lake was like a mirror, not a ripple in sight.
Loading the boat with food and cold drinks, Fred and I pushed off at 8am slathered in sun block with the sun blazing high overhead. I’ve said this countless times in the past, but when you know a spot is a good one, you have to keep returning on different days, or different times of the day, and sooner or later you’ll intercept a big fish. They slide in and out of spots like that, especially under conditions like this with surface temperatures pushing 70.The plan of attack was the same as the day before: head to the far south end of Mistassin, start at my A spot, then carefully work our way back to camp, this time fishing all the spots that were too rough the day before. The weather is so variable that far north, it’s often a situation of extremes. One day prior it was blowing a gale, and today it was stifling hot and flat as a pancake. Ideally a happy medium between the two is what you want, but you play the hand you’re dealt. Pulling into the spot where we’d anchored in the gale yesterday, today without a breath of wind we had to motor from spot to spot. Again we caught pike, but with surface temperatures now at 73 and the sun shining brightly overhead, even the usually ravenous smaller pike were listless. At one point I glanced down and counted 8 mid sized pike lying sullenly on the bottom, none of them interested in chasing our lures. Clearly this spot wasn’t going to produce on this day.
Moving on we began to focus on mid lake structure, always a safer bet on days like this. About halfway down Mistassin there’s a rocky hump that almost spans the entire width of the narrow lake. It tops out at 12 feet at the crest, then drops quickly on both sides into 25 feet of water. It’s a perfect spot, full of boulders and endless numbers of fish. Fred and I spent a good two hours working that spot catching fish consistently on both jigs and crank baits, all the while working on our tans.
The latter part of our day was spent casting and trolling for pike, both in deep cabbage, and rock structure that dropped quickly into deeper water. Again nothing huge, but did manage a handful of decent mid sized fish in between an endless number of smaller fish.
Before heading back to camp we stopped at what I now call Adam’s bay, the spot where my friend caught his trophy pike last fall. I said a few heart felt words, then spread the ashes that his mom had sent me. It was an emotional moment, but cathartic at the same time. I was glad Fred was there with me, life is short and it can be snatched away in an instant. The only thing that truly matters in this short life are friendships, connections and ultimately love. Adam’s memory will live on, and everyone that he touched, and there’s a lot of them, will honour him as best they can. It was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders when Fred and I tied off at the dock at 7pm. The rest of the gang was already there prepping things for a big fish fry, something all of us were looking forward to. Each boat had kept a couple of fish, and after filleting them up Fred did the honours frying them up to perfection for everyone. He’s a good man that Fred.
Downright Steamy
After the initial blow on day one, it seemed as though we’d settled into a long stretch of warm, stable weather that was quickly evolving into a full fledged summer heat wave. It was so hot that I had dragged a mattress out to the open screen porch the night before, but even that was uncomfortable. By 7am the outside thermometer was already reading 76 degrees and without a breath of wind it was downright steamy. After coffee and breakfast Fred and I made the short boat ride over to the trail leading into the portage lake. To be honest I wasn’t sure whether I could do it as that’s where Adam had passed away the previous fall. But after spreading his ashes earlier in the trip my mind was in a better place and returning there was almost needed. The trail isn’t a long one, but last fall there were a few deadfalls blocking the way. Nothing major, but enough that we had to scramble through the bush in a couple of spots. Not anymore. The guys had cleaned things up with a chainsaw earlier in the season, and despite the stifling heat it was a pleasant walk over. Now, I have to say I’ve fished this lake a number of times over the years and it has never once failed to produce big pike. Even last fall with Adam, one our first trek into the lake I think we boated 10 large fish, it was crazy good. So needless to say expectations were running high. I know the lake well now, and Fred and I worked every prime spot thoroughly. We caught plenty of pike, easily over 40 between the two of us, but alas no trophies, although I did have my chance. Fishing a large rock pile that dropped quickly into deep water on the north side, I made a long cast with a Doctor spoon, then waited 10 seconds before giving a pull then slowly started my retrieve. The lure stopped dead when an obviously large fish clamped down, and at least initially it didn’t move. I thought I was snagged until it slowly began to shake it’s head. I quickly asked Fred to grab the camera and with a violent lunge it broke off. It didn’t break my line though. Amazingly my multi strand titanium leader was snapped in half, the first time in my life that’s ever happened. The power of that fish was unbelievable. Initially buoyed by the encounter we pressed on fishing every likely spot with a little more enthusiasm, but we came up short. We did however have a ton of fun, I always do with Fred in the boat.
By 3pm it was unbearably hot and we walked back across the trail to the main lake. I was starting to burn, so despite the heat I pulled on a lightweight jacket, and for a couple of hours we worked the point not far from camp catching another boatload of fat walleye and one more decent mid sized pike.
By 5pm we’d had enough and were back at camp taking cool showers and pouring cold drinks. The other guys soon followed suit and for the rest of the evening we sat at the table playing cards with the fans running at full blast.
The Fish Gods Smiled
I was up extra early at 5am the next day. The heat was making it difficult to sleep so rather than toss and turn I got up, made a pot of coffee and strolled down to the dock in my swim suit while the rest of the gang still slept. At 6am it was already unbearably hot and I jumped for a quick swim before towering off and finishing my coffee in a deck chair. There were no mosquitoes or black flies to worry about, the heat had killed them all. Silver linings. The camp has Starlink satellite wifi and a quick check on the forecast looked grim. Every day it was getting hotter, there was no end in sight to this heat wave. Undeterred, Fred and I were underway by 8am, speeding up the lake to the narrows< leading into Mistassin. This time we did the opposite, starting to fish at the north end of< the lake as soon as you enter it from the neck down.
Nothing fazes the walleyes on this lake, they bite no matter what, and right away we began to catch fish. There’s a couple of small islands in this spot and a narrow channel between them and the mainland. It’s not deep water only averaging 6-8’, but it’s dark bottomed with clumps of deep cabbage sprinkled here and there. Initially we made long casts with our jigs and plastics, and caught a couple, but it wasn’t fast and furious. With the lake flat calm once again we began to slowly troll across the shallow flat and instantly began catching hand over fist. It’s technique popularly known as power jigging. In deeper water you pop the motor in and out of gear keeping it as slow as possible in an effort to keep in contact with the bottom. But the key is movement. With no wind covering water with a slow troll was lethal and in no time we boated more than 30 between the two of us.
Continuing up the lake we caught walleyes everywhere we stopped, then late in the afternoon we switched solely to pike. Considering the conditions we broke out some larger deep diving crank baits and trolled around a number of likely spots for a couple of hours with little to show for our efforts. Eventually we ended up back at my favourite mid lake hump, and trolled around the outer edges criss crossing back and forth until we finally waved the white flag and picked up our jigging rods. Drifting across the top of the hump in 12 feet of water I fired a long cast with my jig and plastic paddle tail minnow, letting it settle before slowly starting to twitch it back to the boat. Almost immediately I got snagged and Freddy groaned as I fired up the motor to free my bait. Right over top of it and I gave it a tug, it popped it off, and instantly a fish grabbed it. I didn’t realize exactly how big it was at first, but I knew it wasn’t a walleye. That uncertainty didn’t last long. The fish took off on a long run ripping yards of line off my reel in a flash, and Fred acted quickly turning on the camera to capture the moment. After struggling so hard for a larger pike I really wanted this fish, but really didn’t think I’d get it. Early in the battle it cruised by the boat with a baleful glare with only the light fluorocarbon leader visible, it had inhaled my small jig. Sometimes the fish gods smile on you though, and after one of the more memorable fights I’ve ever had on light tackle, I drew it and close and Fred slipped the net under it. Not crazy huge, but 40 inches on the nose, thick, muscular, and beautifully spotted. It was a pretty fish, and caught on a jig. Go figure!
Everything after that was anticlimactic, and withering in the blistering heat we started making our way back to camp at 5pm. Travelling back through the narrows into Blackbirch I glanced at the graph and was shocked to see almost 79 degrees. It was like bathwater!
Back at camp I was almost ready to pass out from the heat. The thermometer tacked to the outside of the screen porch was reading 96, which frankly is getting into the realm of ridiculous. We all had cool showers, and after a couple of cold drinks did start to feel a little bit better. It certainly didn’t dampen anyone’s enthusiasm, and we had our best night yet enjoying another epic fish fry, more cold drinks and another round of cards.
Life really doesn’t get any better.
Listless Gulls
By this point in the trip every one of us was beaten down by the sun, and once again there was no relief in sight. A quick peak at the forecast showed daytime highs of 80 with a humidex in the low 90’s with almost no wind. Even Fred was lethargic, something I’ve actually never seen before, but every man has his limit. We ventured out 3 times throughout the day staying on Blachbirch Lake, not straying far from camp. We still caught a pile of fish, mostly walleyes, but man, it was hot! Even in 14 feet of water on a mid lake rock pile the surface temperature was now pushing 76 degrees! There’s a small cluster of bald rocks just south of camp inhabited by a raucous pack of sea gulls. That’s where we’d been dumping our fish remains and they usually greeted us with a chorus of piercing squawks as we drew close, but not on this day. They sat there listlessly making low cooing sounds, more or less mirroring poor Freddy in the front of the boat.
As mentioned we did catch fish though, it’s impossible not to on this lake.
Before giving up the ghost in the late afternoon I had a bit of a moment. At the time we were slow trolling cranks along the deep shoreline across from the camp. It was so hot I almost felt like I was going to stroke out, and suddenly I had an urge to jump in the water. With no warning to Fred I killed the motor, reeled in my line, stripped off my shirt and jumped in. It was a great idea in theory, and caught a little off guard Freddy chuckled as I floundered around trying to hall my carcass back into the boat. Has anyone tried to climb back into a small camp boat before? It’s not easy. Even trying to use the motors skeg at the back of the boat I couldn’t do it. With another laugh Fred started the motor and trolled me over to the shoreline where I was finally able to climb in. It helped, and for about 10 minutes I felt like a new man, but that didn’t last long. By 5pm we were back at camp and sitting in the shade with cold< drinks trying to move as little as possible.
Capping Things Off In Style
This was our last full day and finally it seemed as though our luck had turned with the weather. It was still warm, but not blistering hot, and more importantly the forecast was calling for brisk south west winds all day long. We even had cloud cover, at least to star, and both Freddy and I were invigorated when we pushed off from the dock at 8am and
Moving up the lake we pulled into a large weed choked bay on the east side of the lake, with the wind blowing us briskly parallel to the shore. It was perfect. We’d motor up to the top end, pop it in neutral, then with a few minor adjustments here and there we made long drifts of more than 30 minutes hugging the shoreline and catching fish on almost every cast. It was maybe the fastest and easiest walleye fishing I’ve ever experienced in my life.
It was pandemonium, with each of us trying to land our fish as quickly as possible so we could flip our lures out and catch another. In the melee Freddy tossed a walleye over the side and it actually managed to impale it on his rod holder. We weren’t planning on eating fish again that night, but now we were. You could try and duplicate that feat 100 times and never succeed, Fred has the magic touch.
In between the plentiful walleye we caught good numbers of pike as well including one super fat mid sized fish that had me fooled for a bit. Still a great fish, but not the super tanker I initially thought the way it was pulling.
Even the loons were on the prod. This mama and baby were two of many that were working the same water as us. We tried to count and at one point we had 10 loons within sight of our boat actively feeding.
With the plane slated to come in relatively early the next morning we called it a day at 4pm so we could get back to camp to pack and clean. Fred had a clicker and the final tally was 167 walleyes, for an abbreviated day it doesn’t get much better than that. After the heat of the previous few days it was the perfect way to cap things off.
If It Ain’t Broke Don’t Fix It
Despite the hot weather this had been a tremendous trip, one of my all time favourites, and for obvious reasons it was much needed for me. I’ll remember this one for a while. Blackbirch is a pretty special place, it has a wild vibe that can’t be explained unless you experience it yourself. Graywood outfitters are really the caretakers of the resource here. This is the ancestral lands of the Neskantaga first nations people and we do our best to respect the land, the fishery and the people who came before us, always remembering we’re visitors in their home.
It was a bit of a scramble getting everything cleaned and hauled down to the dock, and in fact I was running around with my camera trying to film a quick camp tour when the Otter landed and tied off at the dock.
We had the plane loaded in short order, and just like that we taxied away from the dock, the engine roared and we were airborne skimming high above the trees en route back to Nakina and civilization.
As always a huge thanks to our hosts at Graywood Outfitters, they’re a first class operation and there’s little doubt I’ll be fishing with them again. These guys are great in every way, and the quality of the experience they offer is difficult to top. Why change? Like my dad used to say, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
Hope you enjoyed the story, until next time!
