Bucket List Fishing in Canada’s Far North – A Return To Marshland

Freddy was tired. We had spent most of the day on Hara Lake winching up thick bodied lake trout from deep water and he was whipped. He’d been nursing a sore back all week and it was hurting even more now.

It was an hour long run back to camp, and when I suggested we stop along the way at a few choice locations to cast for pike, he grinned wryly and said “no mas!”

I ignored his plea and twenty minutes south of camp I nosed the boat into a shallow network of back bays where we’d had success earlier in the trip.

Freddy is a trooper, and once the boat was positioned correctly, he grabbed his rod and fired his spoon towards a shallow, rocky gap and almost instantly hooked up.

The fish fooled him at first, probably because it was swimming towards the boat, but when we both saw it glide past the bow, mild panic ensued – it was gigantic!

It was a memorable battle, and when I finally slipped the mesh under it we let out a whoop.

Forty eight inches on the tape, thick and fat: this was the pike that Freddy had travelled to far northern Saskatchewan to catch, persistence had paid off.

It usually does. As I said to Fred, you sometimes have to remind yourself where you are. You’re in a place where on any given cast you just might hook the fish of a lifetime.

Burnett Lake in northern Saskatchewan is one of those places, it’s special…

The Stuff Of Dreams

Our jump off point was a dusty little airstrip surrounded by a cluster of tired looking trailers called Points North. A ten and a half hour drive north of Saskatoon, Points North is well named. Despite its remote location its a beehive of activity with an eclectic group of seasonal residents on site, including miners, loggers, geologists and eager fishermen. All there for different reasons, but combined they give the place an almost frontier vibe.

We were slated to fly in the following morning and after checking in we were assigned quarters in J Block, a rambling trailer full of rooms occupied by a motley looking crew of miners. We fit right in.

We slept pretty well, all things considered, and after a surprisingly good breakfast in the mess hall, we had our pile of gear weighed and began to load the Otter. It’s roughly a forty five minute flight north into camp, and thankfully on this day we were blessed with perfect weather.

It was a flawless flight, and frankly awe inspiring. That part of northern Saskatchewan is roadless wilderness, and it’s a landscape of almost more water than land. It’s a land of lakes, rushing rivers, stunted boreal forest and giant fish. From an anglers perspective it’s the stuff of dreams.

The camp on Burnett is situated on a protected sandy bay at the north end of the lake, and after lightly touching down we taxied towards the camp, then with a roar the pilot turned the aircraft and backed it up to the beach, nudging the rear of the pontoons right onto the sand.

We quickly hopped out, formed a daisy chain, and in short order had our pile of gear unloaded and watched as the Otter revved its engine and took off with a roar.

We were finally there, and as the planed winged its way out of sight the silence was almost deafening…

The Big Girls Showed Up To Play

After getting reacquainted with our host Ryan Marsh and settling into our cabins, Ryan’s affable and capable right hand man Chin invited us into the kitchen for a welcome to Marshland feast of smoked lake trout and deep fried pike, a much appreciated gesture. They really do things right at Marshland when it comes to their guests.

It was a bit of a scramble getting all of the rods rigged and the boats prepped and ready to go, and truthfully there wasn’t much time left in the day, but with 11 days to fish and explore we weren’t in a rush.

Freddy and I headed north of camp to fish a number of obvious spawning bays for pike, and almost immediately the skies opened up and we were drenched to the bone, an inauspicious start, but despite the rain we caught fish after fish, just nothing big.

By early evening we made a run back to camp, and before heading in for dinner I stopped at the trout hole within sight of the dock. Freddy lowered his spoon, and just like that he caught one.

All in all not a bad start, but we were tired and hungry, and after dinner we all went to bed early. The forecast looked promising for the next day and I suspected it would be a long one.

At 5 am my eyes snapped open and from that point on there was no more sleep. Saskatchewan is two hours behind my time, and I’m always an early riser, so it was no surprise. The rest of the camp was still quiet as I dressed and entered the kitchen cabin, putting on a pot of coffee and settling into a chair in the screen porch to sit down and write. It’s my favourite time of day, no distractions, just peaceful calm, and after finishing my writing I hatched a game plan.

With a perfect day in store I had plans to systematically work my way around the lake clockwise thoroughly fishing every obvious bay of substance in search of pike. There was a lot of water to cover but after fishing it the year before with my son for two weeks, I already knew it well and strongly suspected Fred and I would do well. As it turns out I was right.

After a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, and hash browns, Fred and I loaded our boat and were off.

I made a beeline for a large dark bottomed bay just south of camp that had a creek filtering in the back corner. Even better, the entrance had a narrow gap protecting it from the colder main lake, it had every single element that you could want. A quick look at the graph showed 65 degree water temperature, five degrees warmer than the main body of the lake.

With Fred on point in the bow we began to fan cast the area and instantly began to hook up. Endless numbers of smaller pike, but a number of girthy bigger girls showed up to play…

Moving on, every single spot that looked like it should hold fish, did hold fish. The challenge was weeding through the vast numbers of smaller to mid sized specimens to entice the bigger fish, but that’s not a bad problem to have.

At one point late in the day Fred and I navigated through a tight, brushy channel of swiftly moving water to fish the pool below, and it was ridiculous. Almost a fish a cast, both pike and walleye, until we grew tired of it and moved on.

Right at the end of our day I stopped at a neck down between a large island and the mainland that had a needle-like point of fine white sand jutting out into the middle. It was a prime spot, and one where Brendan and I had pounded on walleyes with jigs the year before. That was the plan this time, but as it turns out the walleye weren’t there, it’s likely more of a mid summer spot for them I think.

We still caught fish though, except this time it was chunky lake trout that were gobbled our jigs in the clear sandy water. A bit of a surprise, but maybe not. Fish were everywhere on this lake, often in the unlikeliest of spots.

Back at camp Ryan and Chin were cooking up a big batch of wagyu beef burgers on the barbecue, the other lads had drinks poured, and we soon joined them, capping off an almost flawless day perfectly.

A Boiling Cauldron Of Fish

I awoke at 6 am the next morning, and shivered a bit as I emerged from the cabin. The thermometer tacked onto the wall of the grub shack showed 10 degrees, not freezing, but a far cry from the mid to high 20 degree temperatures we’d been enjoying to date.

The forecast looked decent again, so after breakfast with the boys Freddy and I loaded the boat with food and drink for the day and shoved off under clear skies.

You have to make hay when the sun shines in the north, so we had big plans to cover a lot of water, working our way into Hara Lake via a navigable channel at the south end of Burnett.

It was a long run to our first spot, a current area where a small river poured into the lake, and almost instantly we began to hit oversized walleye throwing spoons meant for pike.

Moving away from the inflow I nosed the boat into a swampy backwater, where standing up in the boat I could see sparse cabbage weed and lily pads just starting to emerge.

First cast with a Doctor Spoon a heavy fish engulfed my bait and Freddy scrambled quickly to turn the camera on – it was a good fish. Larger fish are instantly obvious, they just feel different, and with 64 degree water temperatures this one was far from sluggish. After several lengthy runs I muscled her close to the boat and Freddy slipped the net under her, not a bad start!

I knew this spot had more to give, and perhaps 15 minutes later Freddy hooked a giant of his own. This one moved a bathtub full of water chasing his spoon in the shallow water before smashing it boat side in a shower of spray, almost giving both of us heart failure in the process.

Moving further north from there we fished another inflow that was inaccessible the year prior with my son, the water had been just too low. This year it was at least 4 feet higher, opening up much more areas to explore and fish.

Just like our first spot, the second one was teeming with fish, I literally described it as a boiling cauldron of fish in my video, and the description was accurate.

Cast after cast we hooked fish at will, a mix of both walleye and pike, some quite large, and our arms soon grew sore from reeling them in. This was the kind of fishing anglers dream of when they think of fishing in Canada, and on this day it was all ours…

By 6 pm we were both worn down, and with an hour and a half run back to camp, we packed up and sped off. With the high water navigation was far easier with the vast majority of the rock hazards buried safely in the water, but… it also made things a little more difficult at times.

With no rocks visible at all, it was sometimes hard to pick out the deeper channels when navigating the neck down connecting the two lakes. I took my time and didn’t touch a single rock, then opened it up once we were on Burnett Lake proper thinking I had nothing more to worry about. Wrong.

I was within sight of camp and was actually thinking to myself “I think there was a big rock around here somewhere last year…” Well… I found it. It was a violent collision that stopped us dead and did some serious damage to the lower end. It was a humbling experience, and an expensive one!

Thankfully it happened right in front of the camp, and the other lads immediately zoomed over to help, towing Freddy and I in with our tails firmly tucked behind our legs.

My mishap with the boat aside, it was an absolutely stellar day and spirits were running high in camp that evening.

With cold drinks poured, Chin put a mess of thick pork chops on the smoker grill and we feasted like kings.

The It Factor

The following day it seemed clear we’d run out of luck when it came to weather. It was raining lightly when I sauntered into the kitchen cabin at 6 am to make coffee, and a quick peak at the forecast showed intermittent rain all day long, sometimes quite heavy. I had no desire to punish myself or Freddy, so we were sticking close to camp today.

There’s a wide, navigable channel west of camp that holds a ton of fish that’s always more protected from the wind, so that’s where we headed after breakfast.

Working our way methodically through it we approached a large, dark bottomed bay with a swampy creek filtering in the back right corner. On the left side was a shallow rocky gap that led into another large bay, this one completely cut off and protected from the main lake.

I eased the boat through the gap with Freddy in the bow watching for rocks, and just as we glided in, the skies opened up and heavy rain began to fall. This spot had everything, it had the IT factor in spades, and despite the rain I strongly suspected we’d do well. I say despite the rain, because rain is the one thing that seems to shut big pike off. Over the years I’ve never had great luck in the rain, but this spot felt different.

We had a perfect wind that allowed us to drift the entire length of the bay from top to bottom firing casts in all directions. The first drift on the left side of the bay resulted in… nothing. Not a sniff, not even from the usually voracious and abundant hammer handle sized pike, and doubt began to creep in.

The second drift we worked the other side of the bay and halfway through Fred fired his gold Doctor spoon towards a rock and a large fish immediately engulfed it in a shower of spray. Clearly it was a quality over quantity spot.

After landing Fred’s fish, taking pictures and releasing it, the wind had blown us against the shore in the back corner of the bay. It looked good. Picking up my rod I threw a cast across the width of the bay and right away I hooked a beast of my own. It was a short, but violent battle with the big girl twisting and thrashing boat side until finally calming down enough for Freddy to net her.

At that point the rain began to fall in sheets, and we beat a hasty retreat. We did work our our way back to camp trying at a number of other grade A spots along the way though. We caught fish everywhere we stopped, but nothing of any size, and when we arrived back at camp we were like a pair of drowned rats, shivering and chilled.

Tonight was fish fry night, so we had kept a few for dinner, and after cleaning them up, Chin put on quite the spread for us. The man is a maestro when it comes to cooking shore lunches, and thankfully the rain held off just enough to get it done.

Beat Up From Fish

It was a pristine morning the next day, although a little calm and muggy when I slid out of bed a little later at 7 am. The camp was still quiet, so I made a quick coffee with the Keurig, then put a pot on for myself and sat down in the screen porch to enjoy the view and contemplate life.

Today was Freddy’s birthday, and I aimed to make it a memorable one for him. The poor guy had been nursing a bad back the entire trip after tweaking it loading the float plane. Ironically it was my 40 pound “tackle box” that he was hefting when he twisted the wrong way and hurt himself. We were laughing about it at least.

That said, the man was struggling with the pain, but he’s a trooper, and on this day the goal was simple: as many lake trout as humanly possible, and I knew just the spot.

Halfway up Hara lake is a hole that bottoms out at 90 feet that was literally crawling with trout the year before with my son. After breakfast we loaded the boat and were off. There are very few guarantees in life, and very few when it comes to fishing, but I was absolutely sure we were going to pound on the trout. Zero doubt.

It was a little more than an hour long run from camp to the spot, and just as we got there rain began to fall. The wind was light though, and it was still warm, so it didn’t dampen our enthusiasm too much.

I kept things simple. Both of our rods were rigged the same way: stout bait casters spooled with 40 pound braid, a length of 30 pound fluorocarbon at the business end to a snap, and a compact, but heavy 3 ounce Eppinger Devle Dog spoon.

Positioning the boat we both free spooled our spoons to the bottom in 70 feet of water and before both even reached bottom twin 8 pound lakers smashed our offerings. Fred was giggling like a kid.

What ensued for the balance of our day was something very very special. If we were in just the right spot it was a fish every single drop, and we had countless double headers.

At one point we did take a much needed break and went to shore to light a fire and relax for a bit, a needed break that re-energized us.

We fished until 6 pm, catching fish almost at will the entire time. Nothing overly large, most were between 5-10 pounds, but we did get a couple slightly bigger. It was truly incredible, and as Freddy said, “this is the best birthday ever!”

Magically the skies cleared for the boat ride back to camp and Fred sat lounging on the deck in the bow of the boat, beaten up by fish and basking in the perfection of the whole thing.

We briefly stopped at a current area on the way back and quickly caught a few more pike and walleye, but our heart wasn’t really in it at that point anymore…

Everyone had enjoyed a stellar day and there were smiles all around at the dinner table once again. Fred and I were both ravenous, and on this night we had pasta with a thick, meaty sauce, caesar salad and garlic bread.

The wind died right down to nothing, and I stayed up a little later than the rest of the boys, snapping this shot just before I turned in at 11 pm.

Utter perfection.

Walleyes Always Bite

It’s been said if you don’t like the weather in the north, wait 15 minutes and it’ll change. A cliché perhaps, but it’s often very true, and we’d experienced it many times already on this trip.

Sipping my morning coffee I checked the weather forecast and they were calling for a possibility of rain starting mid morning with the potential for thunder storms. I’ve always been a gambler and rarely will I base a decision on what might happen. It’s like somebody stopping at a green light because they think it might turn red, it’s just not me.

So after breakfast Freddy and I loaded the boat and were off under fair skies, making a long run to the absolute furthest point from camp at the very top end of Hara Lake. There was more water to explore and fish, and we knew if everything else failed we’d have our walleye glory hole to fall back on. It was a good plan, at least at first.

Right on cue the moment we arrived at our destination a front rolled in with the speed of a locomotive barely giving me time to jam the boat into a grove of trees. Freddy hopped out of the boat while I sat in the bow hunkered down with lightning flashing, and ear splitting booms of thunder all around us. It was maybe the heaviest rain I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying a lot, then 10 minutes in we began to be pelted with marble sized chunks of hail, it was wild.

Not the greatest photos, but it was a little wet at the time…

Once the dust cleared and the storm passed us half an hour later, the entire boat had 6 inches of water above the floor inserts from end to end. I’ve never seen anything like it.

We were both wearing rain suits, but both of us were soaked, in my experience nothing keeps you dry in that kind of deluge, and we were shivering.

Not surprisingly the fish, at least the pike, were shut right off after that. You can be on the best waters in the world, but the fish are still affected by weather and fronts, and these fish were no different.

Being still game to fish we headed to our walleye honey hole and were pleasantly surprised to find they were still biting. The pool at the base of the rapids was still crawling with fish, and thunderstorms or not they were still ravenous. Heck, the sun even began to peek out from behind the clouds, go figure.

Not knowing when we’d be back to that spot, we ended up keeping a few for a future fish fry, cleaning them on a board in the boat, packing them in a zip lock bag and putting them on ice.

Back at camp Freddy and I dried off and changed, then joined the rest of the boys over at the kitchen cabin for drinks and dinner.

On this night it was smoked chicken legs on the barbecue, along with mashed potatoes and gravy. I’m sounding like a broken record, but you never go hungry at this camp.

I’m Here To Fish!

I mentioned earlier that Fred had been struggling with back pain, and weirdly it wasn’t getting any better. He was still hurting the next morning and told me he needed a day of rest, so we switched things up on this day.

It was a truly pristine morning when we hatched our plan in the kitchen cabin. A far cry from yesterday’s Armageddon thunder storm.

Chin took Rich in his boat and I had Bob Marshall with me, someone I’ve known for years and been on a couple of trips with, but until today we hadn’t shared a boat. I felt bad for poor Fred, but in the end it was a fantastic experience for everyone.

Bob was mostly interested in big pike, so I suggested we make our way to the top end of Hara again. There was an entire network of spawning bays that Fred and I never did fish the day before due to weather, and I wanted another crack. Bob was up for anything, so off we went.

With the sun shining down brightly I entered a deep channel at the top end of Hara that led into a large network of dark bottomed spawning water, it was picture perfect. The only problem, at least at first, was the pike didn’t seem to agree. We were scratching hard to catch even small fish.

Slowly that began to change though, and when I made a move to another prominent sheltered bay just to the south, we began to find active fish.

Bob struck first trolling his oversized spinnerbait across a broad expanse of water in the middle of the bay, something that delighted me. Delighted because he was adamant in his refusal to troll, it just wasn’t something he liked to do, but sometimes you have to. When the fish aren’t concentrated and are spread out in a large area like this, especially on a day with little wind, trolling is the only way to cover water. It’s always kind of nice when you prove your point so quickly.

In the middle of the bay off a subtle reedy point we found a wide swath of deep cabbage in 8 to 10 feet of water and began to work it thoroughly by drifting and casting. As expected the pike were stuck to the weed like a magnet and we began to catch fish after fish, weeding through the smaller ones in search of a big girl.

I finally connected on a long cast with my Doctor spoon, as is usually the case knowing instantly it was a good fish. Everything just stopped dead, then the fish almost casually started swimming sideways, something smaller pike never do. Bob turned on the camera and captured most of the battle, it was a good one with several lengthy runs. I was mildly relieved when I finally slid her into the net…

I was happy to get a decent fish, but truthfully it was a little slow, something I attributed to the high pressure after yesterday’s big storm. At least that was my excuse.

Looking for more steady action I asked Bob if he was game to try a little lake trout fishing, and surprisingly he was all for it. We were driving right past the spot, so why not?

We pretty much spent the rest of the day there, and much like Fred and I a few days previously, we caught trout almost at will until our arms grew tired. Nothing fancy. Drop your heavy spoon to the bottom, lift it up, give it a jiggle, and a trout slammed it.

It was 6 pm when we finally began to make our way back to camp, and truthfully I’d had enough. All I wanted was a hot shower, a drink and dinner at that point, but Bob had other ideas.

Working my way back through the channel into Burnett lake I mentioned to Bob that a particular bay had potential, not really intending to stop. He grinned wryly at me and said “I’m here to fish Mike, let’s do it!”

I owe Bob this fish, if not for him I never would have stopped, and really, what better way to cap things off?

We fished for a while longer catching a good number of smaller pike and suicidal walleyes that slammed our oversized spoons, but nothing more of substance.

We were tired and happy when we finally made it back to camp at 7:45. The boys were already at the fire pit cooking up a storm, and after unloading we quickly changed and joined the festivities.

Another great day, and thankfully it seemed as though Fred’s back was feeling a little bit better after a day of rest. Tomorrow would be another good day.

Frenzied Fish

With Freddy’s back still feeling a little ginger, I didn’t want to beat him up by travelling too far. The decision was made even easier by the weather forecast: a strong possibility of thunder storms starting at 11 am. That clinched it for both of us.

On this day the forecast thankfully turned out to be wrong, although at first it started out dark and ominous, but thankfully the storms held off. Sometimes the universe conspires to make the correct decision for you, and not traveling too far from camp turned out to be the right one today.

Freddy and I methodically worked our way around the lake fishing every likely spot carefully, and catching fish steadily as we went. Finally in late afternoon we came upon a spot we’d already fished twice previously with not a lot of success. It was a tight rocky gap at the entrance to a large inner network of spawning water. Spots like that always tend to hold fish, it’s a transition spot that concentrates the fish as they slowly begin to filter out of their early spring haunts.

I’ve said this many times in the past, but when you pinpoint a spot like that you need to return on different days, and at different times, and sooner or later persistence will pay off and you’ll intercept the fish. Today was the day.

I slowly motored into a swampy bay to the right of the gap and instantly we had a double header of fat walleyes that aggressively hammered our spoons.

What ensued over the course of the next three hours can only be described as a frenzy. If the fish had hair it would have been standing on end and electrified, they were on fire.

It didn’t matter what we threw or where we cast, it almost always resulted in a bite.

Late in the day the skies even cleared and the sun shone down on us warmly, it was just about as perfect as it’s possible to get.

At one point Fred had landed a gargantuan pike and while we were attempting to get photos a walleye smashed his spoon that he’d left dangling in the water next to him. We called that a double for him.

It was wild, and reminiscent of the saltwater frenzies I’ve encountered over the years. We could do no wrong.

At 6 pm we motored back to camp in high spirits tired and ready for food. Fred was happy, but still suffering with his back, but as he said to me “the pain is worth it.”

Upon arrival we joined the boys at the fire where Chin had a large lake trout wrapped in foil cooking over the coals, another grand feast.

At this point in the trip all of us were getting a little worn down, even myself, and on this night I was safely tucked in bed by 9 pm and and sleeping soundly not long afterwards.

What a great day!

A Day Of Big Fish

This was the sight that greeted me at 5:30 when I emerged from the cabin a little bleary eyed and looking for caffeine. It was perhaps the nicest morning of the trip.

Today the only goal was big trout, and Ryan and Chin were joining us as well. Ryan had been working non stop since we’d arrived, but he was finally caught up and was taking a much needed break with his right hand man.

Hara has the largest concentration of trout, so after breakfast we loaded both boats and sped across the glassy surface of the lake en route to the lake trout grounds.

To date we’d caught countless numbers of smaller trout jigging with spoons, but I knew that trolling was the ticket if you really wanted to connect with a big fish, specifically the tried and true T60 Flatfish, a staple in the far north for giant lakers.

It may be a bit boring at times, it’s not as fast and furious as the action you get jigging, but it’s what you have to do if you want a large fish. The tackle and rigging was basic. Heavy action bait casting rods and reels spooled with braid, to a large 3-way swivel. On the business end roughly 6-7 feet of heavy fluorocarbon to a heavy snap and the lure, then 3-4 feet of lighter fluorocarbon on the dropper to a heavy 8-10 ounce weight.

Covering ground this way is almost like bottom bouncing for walleyes on steroids. Everything’s beefed up and heavier, but it’s the same general principal. Troll as slow as possible, watch the graph, raise and lower the heavy weight as needed, occasionally crashing it off the bottom. It’s virtually impossible not to get bit.

Fred and I started at the south end of Hara in a 90 foot hole that I had just found and marked on our last trip to the lake. Much of these waters are still unmapped and unknown, and we were constantly finding new reefs and deep basins on almost a daily basis. Chin and Ryan raced past us heading further up the lake to their favourite trout hole, and Fred and I were left to our own devices.

It actually grew tiresome. The screen was black with hooks and we couldn’t troll for more than a minute without one of us getting smashed. The only problem, if you want to call it that, none were big…

Fred and I didn’t get any giants, but Chin and Ryan sure did! Trolling within sight of us a little later in the day they hauled in three big fish: two 40 incher’s, and a fat 43 inch beast. Just unreal!!

Fred and I tried, we gave it our best shot, but it wasn’t our day – at least not yet. By 5 pm Fred was in serious pain from winching in all those trout on the heavier rods and he waved the white flag. “It’s been a great day buddy”, he said with a slight grimace, “but I am done, I can’t do it anymore!”

Not wanting to torture the poor guy we packed up the rods and began to make our way back to camp, but I had the seed of an idea planted in my head. Without saying anything to Freddy I made a detour in the channel at the south end of the lake into a bay we’d yet to fish. He had no idea where we were, but when I cut the motor and picked up my pike rod to cast, he just laughed at me.

Persistence. Sometimes it’s just simple persistence that makes the difference between a good day and a great day on the water. The fish gods were smiling on me, and on my second cast over a swath of newly emerging cabbage weed a monster of a pike shot out from the side and t-boned my spoon in a massive shower of spray. Forty five inches on the tape and fat, it was my best pike of the trip!

At that point Freddy suddenly forgot about his back pain and became interested, but I had another spot in mind for him. Moving on from there I sped over to a large spawning bay on the main body of Burnett, just south of camp. A spot where we’d caught a couple of big fish previously, but I knew it had much more to give. Boy was I right!

I puttered slowly up to the spot, cut the motor and we both began to cast. Freddy fired a cast right down the middle of the channel, in almost the exact same spot where he’d hooked and caught his big fish previously, and right away his rod bowed under the weight of a big fish.

It actually surprised him at first, as he said “I thought it was a walleye.” Sometimes the larger walleye open their mouths and you almost get a drift sock effect where they feel much larger than they actually are, but this was no walleye.

The fish had simply latched onto Fred’s small spoon and was slowly swimming towards the boat with purpose. When it glided past us in the clear, shallow water all hell broke loose.

It was an exciting moment for Fred, and one of the longer battles I’ve ever witnessed with a pike. Time after time the fish would erupt in a shower of spray then speed off on another sizzling run peeling line off Fred’s reel.

When I finally slipped her into the net I was mildly stunned, it barely fit. This wasn’t just a pike, this was the pike of a lifetime. Forty eight inches on the tape, thick, fat, muscular and beautifully spotted, it was maybe the nicest pike I’ve ever seen in my life.

It had turned out to be a day of big fish, and Fred was grinning from ear to ear.

Worn Out In A Good Way

At 4:30 am a massive clap of thunder boomed right overhead waking everyone up. Lying in bed I could hear the wind pick up then heavy rain began to fall in sheets, bouncing off the metal roof of the cabin like a drum. From that point on there was no sleep for me, and I lay in bed listening to the storm until it finally abated at 6. It was almost unnaturally quiet when I got dressed and slipped outside for a look. It was eerie.

The sky was filled with fire smoke and was cast in an almost orange glow, apparently the lightning strikes had started something.

We had no idea exactly how far away the fire was, but we sure could smell it. Heading into the kitchen cabin I put on a pot of coffee and had a quick look at the weather forecast. Mostly cloudy with a strong chance of more thunder storms.

This was our last full day in camp and considering the circumstances neither Fred or myself had any real desire to push ourselves. It’s rare that I say this, but even I was fished out at this point, the long days on the water had taken a toll.

No one was in a rush to hit the water, and we all enjoyed a proper breakfast of scrambled eggs, hash browns and breakfast sausages that Ryan whipped up for us.

Finally at 9 am Fred and I hit the water and began to work our way around the lake. I actually found a brand new spot just north east of camp, a subtle bay that I’d ignored before because it had no creek and seemed too exposed, but surprisingly it was choked with cabbage weed. By far the most weed we seen on the entire trip.

We caught fish, but not in the numbers we’d come to expect, and it was obvious that the passing front had shut things off once again.

Still, we continued on picking off fish here and there, then magically at 4 pm the wind shifted to the north and blew the smoke away, the skies cleared, and we were treated to a perfect afternoon.

We caught a good number of fish on this last day, but this surprisingly large walleye was the only one I considered photo worthy.

By 5 pm we were done and heading back to camp under bluebird skies, a little worn out but in a good way.

Being our last night in camp the boys went all out for dinner. Smoked brisket on the barbecue, mac and cheese, and Chin’s homemade baked beans.

It doesn’t get any better than that.

Until Next Time

This camp, this waterbody, and the people who operate it, they’re all special. In close to 120 fly-in fishing trips over a great many years, this camp and this fishery stand alone.

It was a little sad that we had to leave, but the bunch of us were ready. It had been the trip of a lifetime, especially for my boat partner Freddy, but it was time to go home.

Thankfully the weather was perfect, something that’s always a bonus on the day you’re slated to fly out, and right on time at 10 am the Otter roared overhead, landed with splash and was soon backed up to the beach.

After saying some heartfelt goodbyes to Ryan and Chin, we formed a line, quickly loaded the plane, climbed inside, strapped ourselves in, and in moments we were airborne, skimming south across the treetops back to Points North. Just like that in the blink of an eye, our trip was over.

This is a camp I hope to return to on a regular basis – I know I’ll be back.

For anyone interested in a closer look at the amazing facilities here at Marshland, here’s a short, updated video tour I filmed of the camp:

In addition to that here’s a two hour feature video of my experience. Words and photos do tell a story, but sometimes video tells it best:

A big thanks to Ryan Marsh and Chin, you guys make a great team and I’m happy to call you both friends!
An even bigger thanks to boat partner Freddy, as well as our other travel companions Bob and Rich, you guys made an already great trip even better!

Until next time…