I sped up when I hit the shallow mid-lake boulder field, skipping our oversized spoons across the top of the rocks. Watching the graph like a hawk, we dropped off the ledge into twenty-five feet of water, and I made a sharp turn to the left, speeding up even more when I changed directions.
Idling back on the throttle, our spoons settled into a rhythmic thump as I cut straight down the middle of a deep cleft surrounded on both sides by shallow rocks. The sun was high overhead, and I suspected the bigger trout might be hanging back in slightly deeper water.
At first, Malcolm thought he was snagged. There were no head shakes, no tentative bites; something had clamped onto his spoon and stopped it dead in its tracks.
His oversized musky rod was bent double, and even with the drag tightened firmly down on his level wind reel, the line began quickly peeling off at an alarming rate; this was clearly no snag.
Big fish have a way about them, and this fish was special…

Instant Camaraderie

Anglers, in general, are kindred spirits, and my prior trips here had proved that. I visited Gangler’s Bain Lake outpost several years back when I hosted two separate weeks there, both weeks meeting people from all walks of life and all with different levels of experience. The only common bond was a love for fishing and a love of the north, and those first couple of trips were a resounding success.

Last September saw a repeat performance with a new group of anglers, with the main focus being spawning lake trout in the shallows. All were strangers prior to the trip, and all were friends once we wrapped things up.

As is always the case with a Gangler’s trip, we convened the night before our charter flight into the lodge at the Lakeview Signature Hotel directly across from Winnipeg airport, and the whole process was orchestrated like a well-oiled machine. After arriving and checking in, we were met by an expediter who took all of our baggage including rod tubes and tackle, leaving us with just a small overnight bag.

We were told to meet in the hotel lobby at 6 am the following day, so it wasn’t a late night, but we spent some time in the hotel restaurant, shared a meal, and got to know each other a little. The camaraderie was instant…

On previous trips to Gangler’s lodge, the flight from Winnipeg always included a short pit stop to refuel in Thompson, but that situation recently changed. Gangler enlarged the gravel runway at his lodge and happily it can now accommodate a larger plane, meaning now it’s a straight shot into the lodge. A good thing that keeps getting better.

It wasn’t just my gang flying in that morning; it was a large, diverse group of excited guests that boarded the charter flight. A couple of other fishing parties and a very large contingent of eco-tourists. Even if you don’t fish, Gangler’s lodge is a special place to be in September. Beyond the abundant wildlife and wild terrain, September is the peak time to view the northern lights at that latitude, and that’s what most of those people were flying in to do.

Upon arrival, we were ushered into the spectacular main lodge for breakfast while the staff assigned quarters, separated luggage, and delivered it where it needed to be, including our mountain of gear, to the float plane dock.

Gangler has a couple of different float planes on site, and in short order, breakfast was finished, a beautiful Cessna Caravan was loaded, and the final stage of our journey to the Bain Lake outpost began. The entire procedure was flawless.

A Magical Day

I awoke early the following day, made a coffee, slipped on a jacket, and stepped outside. It was only 6 Celsius, but there wasn’t a breath of wind, and the rising sun cast a golden glow over everything. It was a scene of utter perfection.

After settling in the day before and having dinner, the lot of us were too tired from our day of travel to fish, but on this morning the excitement was palpable.
Our eminently capable camp manager, Corey Burke, made breakfast for the gang, and we soon had our boats rigged and loaded and partners assigned.

This was a formally hosted trip, and oddly, everyone who came was a single angler. It worked perfectly, allowing me to fish and spend time with everyone in camp, a huge bonus!
On this initial foray, I had Malcolm in the boat with me, and once the rest of the guys were ready, they followed me on a half-hour boat run to the lake trout grounds north of camp.
Having been to Bain before, I knew exactly where we’d find the trout – a well-defined deep basin that bottomed out at 90-100 feet.
Of course, we wouldn’t be plumbing the depths on this trip, but I fully expected the trout would be congregated on any nearby rocky shoals spawning, and I was right.
Flatlining oversized spoons in 10-12 feet of bouldery water, we began to hit smaller spawning males consistently…

We were definitely onto something, but the big girls were eluding us, until I made that pass through slightly deeper water.
Malcolm’s beefy pool cue of a rod bent double under the strain of the fish, and his excitement level immediately ramped up as it was obviously a large fish.
It was an exciting moment and, at times, a little tense, but ultimately, I managed to slip the net under her amid excited whoops. As starts go, this one was pretty good.

Not long after landing Malcolm’s trout, the wind picked up, and we began to be tossed around in the heavy rollers, making things uncomfortable. Fortunately, there’s always calmer water to be found, so I motored over to a large bay in the lee of the wind, and we spent a bit of time chasing pike.
Mid-September at that latitude is a period of transition, especially when it comes to pike. With 55 degree water temperatures the cabbage weed was quickly disappearing and the pike were dispersing to deeper water.
There was still some weed, though, and we spent an enjoyable couple of hours catching girthy mid-sized specimens that were stuck to the remaining weed like glue. Nothing overly large, but non-stop action and a lot of fun.
Around about 5:30 pm the wind died down enough for another shot at the lake trout grounds, so I idled over and once again we began to troll our brightly coloured oversized spoons in the rocky shallows.
This time, it was my turn. Navigating past a long mid-lake spine of bouldery rocks, I sped up as I passed the tip of the point, and a heavy fish slammed my spoon.
Popping the motor into neutral to fight the fish, the brisk wind soon blew us further out into the middle of the lake, and I was battling both the fish and the wind.
Once again, we prevailed, though, and eventually slipped the net under another oversized trout, capping things off perfectly.
With the fish still in the net, I carefully motored over to the lee of a nearby island to unhook and take some photos – what a great moment!

It had been a long day to that point, and after landing the big trout, we rounded up the other guys and motored south through the large narrows, heading back to camp.
Right next to camp is an incredible walleye hole. Mild, almost imperceptible current breaks around two small islands right at the entrance to the channel, and on the backside of them is a deep hole that I knew from previous trips was always full of walleye.
We were tired and hungry, but it was a perfect evening, and we couldn’t resist stopping and dropping a jig down.
It was wild. It wasn’t just the sheer number of fish; it was the size! The first four fish I landed were all between 26-28 inches and fat. For a fishery so far north, the quality of the walleye fishery at Bain is extraordinary…

Back at camp, Corey had whipped up a pork tenderloin and blueberry pie for dinner, and I added to the feast with some freshly caught walleye; not a single morsel was left…

The weather, the company, the fishing – it had all come together on this day. It doesn’t always happen that way, so when it does, you savor it. The entire group was in a festive mood that evening, and with crystal clear skies and the promise of northern lights, none of us were ready to hit the sack.
After dinner, we stayed up until midnight as the night sky lit up…

It was magic.

A Matter Of Perspective

Once again, I was up early before everyone else, reveling in the calm stillness of another perfect morning in camp. We had another brilliant clear sky, but even at that early hour, the tops of the trees were swaying, and from my vantage point, I could see whitecaps on the lake beyond the protection of our point.
A quick check of the weather showed sustained gusts from the northwest up to 48 kilometers an hour all day long. Clearly, we were going to have to adapt.
With those kinds of winds, there was no way I would fish the wide-open waters we’d fished the previous day, so a new plan of action was hatched.
I suspected the south end of Bain would offer some protection from the wind, and it’s always been a good spot for me on previous trips.
The Fergus River tumbles into the lake at that spot in a broad, impressive set of rapids – a spot that always holds fish.
On this day, I had Ross in the boat with me, an amiable chap from Texas, and just like the day before, the rest of the crew followed me south, picking our way around a gauntlet of islands, thankfully able to avoid the worst of the rollers.
It was much calmer in that little corner of the lake, and spirits were riding high as we approached.

It was a little bit of a grind on this day, but a “bit of a grind” at one of Gangler’s camps is a matter of perspective. We still landed well over 100 fish between the two of us.
Most of the day was spent chasing pike, and although we were severely hamstrung by the wind, we found some sheltered waters to fish. The bonus for me, having been there previously, was knowing exactly where the cabbage weed was, so little time was wasted.
As mentioned, it was beginning to die off, but the remaining weed was still holding scads of fish, and we managed to get into a few.

Later in the afternoon, I cut through a narrow gap between two islands and braved some heavy rollers to get across to the other side. We were in the lee on that side and began working our way north up the lake, looking for the inlet where the North Seal River poured into the lake due west of camp. I knew it would be protected there, and at the very least, we’d see some pretty country.
It was an oasis of calmness in there, and the amount of current surging through there was surprising. You can only go so far, and eventually, you come to a tight gap with a small set of churning rapids impossible to navigate beyond; it was quite a sight.

One would expect those rapids to be teeming with spawning lake trout, but surprisingly, that wasn’t the case. We did catch a few small males that pulled like freight trains in the heavy current, but the trout were definitely not there in numbers. At least on Bain, the trout were primarily shoal spawners.

Moving on from there, we made a beeline back to the walleye glory hole directly across from camp, hoping to finish our day off with some steady action, and once again, it didn’t disappoint…

The wind finally calmed down around 7 pm, and we all stayed out late, once again enjoying the consistent action within sight of the camp; it was absolutely pristine.

The rest of the guys had all enjoyed similar days – endless fish, but no real true giants, and the whole group was happy as clams.

After dinner, we poured drinks, lit a bonfire, and marveled at the beauty of it all.

Perfection

Things looked more promising the following morning. I was up even earlier than usual on this day for whatever reason, stumbling bleary-eyed into the kitchen at 5:30 to put a pot of coffee on and make lunches.
Once again, we were blessed with bluebird skies, and it seemed as though the wind was going to be manageable, so after breakfast, the entire crew headed north up the channel to the lake trout grounds.
I was with Bill today, a true gentleman and gentle soul from southern Ontario.
Everyday people have the ability to motivate and inspire if you open your heart and eyes.
Bill isn’t all that old, but he’s been battling cancer as well as a brain tumour, and several years ago they gave him 6 months to live.
He’s still going strong, loving life, laughing, and dealing with adversity as best as he can. This photo illustrates the man perfectly.
We’d just landed at camp, and as he was clambering out of the float plane, he lost his balance and fell, bouncing off the pontoon then straight into the water.
He tries his best, but sometimes he gets stiff and weak.
We were all deeply concerned at the time, but Bill shrugged it off on the dock, soaking wet and still laughing.

I’m proud to now call the man a friend, and on this day I aimed to make things memorable for him.
At first I spent a bit of time scoping the area out a bit more, and that paid off when I found a yet undiscovered shoal of boulders that extended for almost half a kilometre between two visible rock piles.
I prefer casting for these fish, but as I usually do, we started out trolling oversized spoons to find a concentration of them. It didn’t take very long to find them…

The fish were on fire today. Once we found them, we sat on them, and cast for them and began to catch them steadily. Numerous times we’d have multiple trout swarming in after our lures right to the boat, with several fish smashing our spoons in a shower of spray right at our feet. It honestly doesn’t get much better!

The fish gods were smiling on us, what an unbelievable day!

After we’d had our fill of trout, we spent the balance of the day chasing pike and walleye, and it seemed as though all species were biting.

With even more of the weed now brown and decayed, it was a simple matter of finding anything still green and the pike were there. No skill or finesse required here; just like the trout, we threw a variety of different spoons, and the pike hammered them non-stop.
Sometimes, you have to weed through an army of smaller fish and be persistent, and that’s exactly what happened as Bill finally connected with a decent one.

With pike out of the way, we wrapped up our day jigging for walleyes and once again caught a bushel of them, even keeping a few for a planned fish fry that night…

Bill was a little worn out but tired and happy at the end of our day; even the boat ride back to camp was pure bliss.

Back at camp, we changed into fresh clothes, poured a drink, and relaxed while our fantastic camp manager, Corey Burke, orchestrated a truly phenomenal fish fry.

Sublime.

Lightning Strikes Twice

A stiff breeze was blowing straight into the camp from the northeast the following morning, and with single-digit Celsius temperatures, it was chilly.
A few of the guys, myself included, hustled into the cook cabin to find Corey making pancakes and sausage for the gang, a welcome sight.

With breakfast and coffee out of the way, we figured out boat partners and a rough game plan, and we were soon bundled up and pushing off from the beach.
On this day, I was with Paul, a fine gentleman from upper New York State who had traveled here by himself and so far had been enjoying every minute.
We all agreed the winds were a little tough, but they were manageable, so once again, the entire group headed north from camp to the lake trout grounds.

The first few hours were almost a carbon copy of the previous day as we landed numerous thick-bodied trout both trolling and casting. Every day that passed, we were learning a little more and getting more dialed in with what was going on. Not surprisingly, we reaped the benefits.

Every afternoon, it seemed as though the winds picked up, and right on cue around 2 pm, we found ourselves bouncing around in a sea of rollers looking for sheltered waters.
On this day, I headed over to the outlet of the North Seal River, an area that had always produced and one that I knew would be calm.
Right where the current exits the lake, mild current breaks around a point, and the deep slot around the corner is always stuffed with walleyes. I’d found the spot on my first trip to Bain and my boat partner at the time had affectionately dubbed it “the 3 second hole”.
Once positioned correctly, it wasn’t quite a fish every 3 seconds, but it was close.

By this time, it was getting late, but we still had the urge to explore, so I suggested to Paul that we push further downstream.
I’d explored this water previously, and if nothing else, I knew it would be scenic.
Downstream from the walleye hole, the river is more compressed, and its power was evident as we navigated through a tight gap of deep, turbulent water.
At the tail out of that deep pool is the entrance to a small back bay where I’d caught a decent pike years earlier.
I mentioned this to Paul as I motored in slowly, studying the graph. It went from 12 feet, then gradually shallower until I hit 4 feet of sandy, featureless bottom halfway in.
I backed out slowly, and the moment I hit 6 feet, I said, “Right here.” It was the same spot where I’d previously caught my oversized pike.
Launching my spoon towards a cluster of rocky boulders close to shore, almost instantly, I got bit, and once again, it was decent fish. Apparently, lightning does strike twice…

After that, we tried for a bit longer and picked up a handful of smaller fish, but nothing more significant. We were tired and hungry at that point, and with a long ride back to camp in front of us, we packed things up and called it a day.

Back at camp, everyone else had enjoyed a stellar day, but like Paul and I, they were all a little beaten up by the wind and chill.
It didn’t dampen anyone’s spirits, though; we were warm and well-fed, perhaps a little bit hurting, but it was a good hurt.

A Grand Adventure

Today was special. Gangler describes Bain as his five-year camp, meaning it takes regular guests five trips to cover and learn all of the available water. It’s very accurate, and even though I have fished Bain several times now, there were still large portions of the watershed that were mostly unknown to me.
Belsham Lake is connected to Bain, but the southern portion of Belsham is a long haul from camp, and only a few anglers bother making the trek.
There’s a long, sometimes narrow channel leading into this part of the lake that must be navigated, and that probably deters many people.
It was chilly that morning, but the wind forecast looked good, so after conferring with the rest of the gang, it was decided we’d make the trek in there with me leading the way.
I had 72-year-old Mike Mandrick from Winnipeg in the boat for this adventure. He’s an interesting guy, has been on numerous trips to Gangler’s over the years, loves fishing, and has the enthusiasm and drive of a man twenty years younger. I knew we’d get along just fine!

Knowing it would be a long day, we loaded the boats with food, provisions, and thermoses of hot coffee and were soon off and underway, leading the way for the rest of the guys.

Water was lower than normal, so the trip took a little longer than expected. There were a lot of rock hazards.

Eventually, we made it, though, and gathered together for a short conference to discuss things before starting to fish.
I suspected we’d get separated and mostly wanted to be sure that if we did, everyone would be comfortable navigating back to camp themselves. Ideally, I would lead everyone back, but with no 2-way radios to stay in contact with each other, a plan was needed.
The bottom line was with a 2-hour trek to get back to camp, we had to leave no later than 5 pm, and it was enthusiastically agreed upon.

With that out of the way, we all sped off in different directions and began exploring and fishing. Mike and I covered a large amount of water, and we did catch fish, but no real concentrations of them or size.
As is always the case, persistence usually pays off, and finally, around 3 pm, I stumbled onto a bouldery shoal at the north end of the lake that was swarming with spawning lake trout.
They weren’t big fish, but to date, it was easily the fastest fishing I’d encountered on the trip.
Time after time drifting and casting our spoons in the rocky shallows, we’d either get bit or have two or three chasing our lures in like a pack of ravenous barracudas.
For the next couple of hours, it was about as good as it gets, and Mike and I had a riot…

At 4:50 pm, we literally had to tear ourselves away from the spot in order to get back to camp at a decent hour. By then, we were both pretty much whipped anyway and ready to pack it in.
It was a grand adventure, precisely the kind of thing that makes these trips special, and the rest of the group was in a festive mood when we made it back to camp.
We quickly changed into more comfortable clothes, poured drinks, and relaxed while Corey barbecued steaks.

I have to say, I usually don’t like being catered to; I prefer to handle cooking chores myself. Mainly because I don’t like being on a set schedule. At all of Gangler’s outposts, that’s normally how things are handled; he provides the food, and you fend for yourself.
It was Ken Gangler’s idea to have his camp manager handle the cooking chores for the hosted trips, in his words, to make the trip extra special for everyone. No cooking, no clean up, just a sole focus on fishing, learning, and having fun.

Ken was right; it was a great idea.

A Switch Was Flipped

I had Malcolm in the boat with me again on this day, and we had big plans. With the rest of the group opting to stick close to camp, we decided to grab for the brass ring and head back into south Belsham again.
I knew it would be a much quicker journey this time, and even with heavy winds forecasted, I knew we’d be able to fish the long channel leading into the lake in comfort, something we had skimmed over the previous day.

We started with bacon, eggs and toast prepared by Corey, filled our travel mugs with hot coffee, and were off.

The day started off cold and gray, and with strong winds blowing, the first half of our day was spent exploring and fishing the long neck down leading into the lake.
Walleye were the primary target, and we began to catch them hand over fist everywhere we stopped.

Early afternoon, the skies cleared, and we ventured out into the main body of the lake to try for lake trout.
We tried the spot I’d fished with Mike the day before, and we did catch a handful, but the waves and rollers were just too intense.
Some of these photos are deceptive as they don’t look that bad, but we were fishing random stretches of protected shoreline. Despite being completely unremarkable water, we still caught fish though. It’s almost impossible to not catch fish here, even in the wrong spots…

With the sun now shining brilliantly, we moved back into the channel for another shot at the walleye. I thought perhaps an increase in water temperature might trigger the fish, and I was right.
Fishing the same spot we’d pounded earlier in the day, the switch was now flipped, and the fish were biting like crazy. Between the endless numbers of walleye and numerous double headers, Malcolm managed to land an oversized whitefish that engulfed his 4-inch plastic minnow bait. The fish were on the prod and aggressive!

We fished late that day, finally motoring back to camp at 7:30 pm, tired and happy, with the sun sinking low on the horizon casting an orange glow over everything…

A Perfect Exclamation Point

This was our last full day in camp, and thankfully, it appeared as though the weather gods would be smiling on us. With light winds and a mix of sun and clouds expected, everyone was keen for one last kick at the lake trout grounds just north of camp.
Once again, I was pleased to have Bill in the boat with me and was especially happy we wouldn’t get beaten up by the weather.
Bill had been having a great trip but was pacing himself, and at one point midweek, he had rested and slept all day in camp rather than fish. Despite his physical issues, the man is a trooper, though, and as I said earlier, he’s an inspiration.

As always, we started our day with another hearty breakfast prepared by Corey, and then Bill and I lingered a bit in camp while the other guys went ahead without us.

It’s amazing how quickly the weather turns in the north. In the 20 minutes it took Bill and I to get changed and ready to go, the sky went from mostly clear blue to a heavy, dense layer of fog that rolled in out of nowhere.

Undeterred, we loaded the boat and were off, picking our way carefully with limited visibility through the channel to the north end of Belsham Lake.
Once we arrived, the fog lifted a bit, and we began to hit fish consistently, both trolling and casting. It was a great start to our last day!

Being our last night in camp, it was mutually decided that we’d cap things off with another big fish fry, so after getting our fill of lakers, I zoomed over to the 3-second walleye hole at the outlet of the river.
On this day, it was more like the 1-minute hole, not quite as fast and furious as it had been previously, but still pretty great.
We quickly caught a bunch, and I kept two that I filleted on a small board in the boat and packed on ice.

With that chore out of the way, we began to head back toward camp with one final pit stop in mind. Halfway into the channel was a pike spot where I’d done well on my previous trips there. It was a random swath of cabbage that extended for several hundred yards parallel to the shore, and despite all the vegetation quickly dying, I felt it was still worth a shot. It was. Almost immediately, Bill connected with a very decent pike and put a perfect exclamation point onto the end of our trip.

Before heading back to camp, we spent a bit of time dissembling our rods and reels, cleaning up the boat, and putting lures away.
It was easily the nicest evening of the entire trip, and the ride back to camp, while slightly bittersweet, was spectacular…

We all had a hot shower, poured drinks, and enjoyed the banter outside while Corey again prepared a feast for us. Gangler feeds you well on these trips, but it’s tough to top freshly caught fish cooked over an open fire.

The following day, we had a bit of a delay getting out due to fog once again, but by noon, the skies had cleared, and the float plane was landing and idling up to the camp dock.

From there, it was back to the main lodge, then perhaps an hour later onto the charter prop plane back to Winnipeg, and just like that, in the blink of an eye, our trip was over…

As hosted trips go, this one was special. We had come together as 7 strangers, and in the end, we left as friends.

What an outstanding trip, until next time!