Doc sat in the bow with a wry grin on his face, ready as always when I puttered up to the weed bed. It had been a great week of fishing, tremendous really, but Doc still hadn’t caught the master angler pike he’d come to Bain for.
It was the last hour of our last day, and neither of us were willing to give up just yet.
I pitched my spinnerbait alongside a thick mat of cabbage, got the blades thumping, and almost immediately a heavy pike engulfed it in a shower of spray.
With my back turned to Doc I asked if he could grab the camera and start filming, but he had his hands full with a good fish of his own.
I quickly landed mine, a fat mid-sized specimen, then grabbed the camera to record the event.
“I think”, Doc muttered, “this is a good one!”. It was. After a short but intense battle, he muscled the oversized pike close to the boat, and I slid the net under her. Just a hair under forty-four inches and broad across the back, it was a remarkable fish and a true testament to both the fishery at Bain and sheer perseverance.
A Well-Oiled Machine
I’ve travelled to Gangler’s many times in the past. Beyond the world class fishing there are plenty of reasons why I like it, and ease of travel is right at the top of the list. Despite being so far north and so remote, the logistics in place to get you there are flawless. Ken Gangler orchestrates things like a well-oiled machine.
As always, we convened at the Lakeview Grand Hotel across from the Winnipeg airport the night before, where we were met by Gangler’s expediter who took all of our larger bags and fishing tackle.
The next morning, we met in the lobby at 6 am and within half an hour were shuttled over to the Calm Air charter hangar, smooth as silk. In no time at all we were checked in, boarding the flight and were on our way…



We had a short pit stop in Thompson to re-fuel, but by 11 am we were bumping down on the gravel runway at Gangler’s main lodge at Egenolf Lake, a truly incredible place. Every single time I see it in person I’m left impressed.

My group and I were in for a big surprise once we arrived. I’ve always flown into the outpost camps in a float plane, but this year Gangler was using a helicopter. Over the years I’ve flown in so many float planes that I’m perhaps a little jaded. It’s always exciting, but I’ve done it so much, for me it’s like hopping into a taxi. The helicopter ride was very different.



The pilot Tyler is a fantastic young man, and truth be told I think he was showing off a little. The man clearly loves his job, what a thrill!
Starting Off On The Right Foot
Cory Burke, the affable and eminently capable young camp manager was waiting to greet us when we landed. I’d first met Cory the previous September at Bain and having him here again was a huge plus – he’s a great guy! After unloading and greeting everyone, Cory led us over to the camp where we unpacked and settled into our assigned quarters, then spent some time rigging rods, loading the boats and going over a first day game plan.
A first day game plan is always easy at the Bain camp. Within sight of the dock is one of the best walleye holes on the entire lake, a spot that’s never failed to produce. Bain and its sister lake Belsham are large widenings of the North Seal River, the entire watershed is for all intents and purposes a flowage. Every tight neck down, compression point, and gap has mild current, and the spot close to camp is no exception. There are two tiny islands here located at the mouth of a broad channel that leads north into Belsham Lake. The current flows mildly around them creating subtle back eddies, and just downstream lie two deeper holes scoured out by the current. The walleye stack up here like cordwood.
It was a bit of a late start, we didn’t hit the water until 3pm, but with all four boats fishing within sight of each other it was fish after fish for everyone. Mostly walleye, but a good number of incidental pike were caught as well.







They were highly aggressive, often inhaling our jigs deeply and Doc and I had a riot. Tons of doubles and a whole lot of a laughs. I had just met Doc for the first time that morning, and already knew it was going to be a fun week.












While we hadn’t caught any large pike yet they were definitely around…

Proof positive that larger predators abound here at the Bain Lake outpost!
Back at camp Cory had whipped up a simple, but delicious meal of pasta with a thick, rich meat sauce for us, capping things off perfectly that first day.

It was a good first day and a sign of things to come.
Matching The Hatch
My eyes snapped open at 4:30am, and that was it for me. Always an early riser I wasn’t adjusted to the time change yet, but beyond that I was excited. Yes, even after all these years and so many trips under my belt I still get excited.
It was our first full day in camp, and I knew it was going to be a good one! After several trips here, Bain is familiar. I know its moods, I know the spots, and with less searching and more fishing I knew we’d do well.
My paddling friend Ian Banfield had joined me on this trip along with his group, and I wasn’t surprised to see him up as well. An early riser himself, he had a campfire going next to his cabin and after I poured a coffee I joined him.


The rest of the crew slowly filtered out of their cabins joining us at the fire while Cory cooked breakfast, it was a good start to the day.


After discussing game plans and strategy with everyone, Doc and I loaded the boat and headed south of camp to fish for pike. There were a number of spots I was itching to explore and fish that had always held pike in the past, and I strongly suspected we’d find them now.
The rough plan was to fish for pike until 2:30, then meet the rest of the gang at the lake trout hole north of camp at 3. Being mid-summer, the trout would be stacked in the basin north of camp and easy pickings.
We were catching a ton of pike to start, but it was maybe a little slower than expected. The water was a good four feet higher than I’d ever seen it before, the cabbage weed was much sparser, and the fish were a little more scattered.
After a bit of a search, I found some larger fish and things began to look up. All of them on spoons fished over deep cabbage weed in 6 to 12 feet of water. The hits when they did come were ferocious.




Making the run north later in the afternoon, we found the rest of the gang, including Cory already pounding away on trout with jigs. At any given time, there were multiple fish on at the same time and a lot of banter and laughs. Doc and I quickly joined in on the fun.







The jig bite was hot, but in an effort to find some larger fish we switched to trolling. It’s simple tackle and techniques, but incredibly deadly. Heavy action bass sized bait casters spooled with 40-pound braid connected to an oversized 3-way swivel.
On the business end 7 feet of heavy fluorocarbon to an oversized ball bearing snap swivel and a spoon, and on the dropper, 4 feet to a sinker snap and a 10-ounce weight.
I’ve often likened it to bottom bouncing for walleyes on steroids. It’s the exact same tactics, everything is just deeper and heavier.
It’s a lethal tactic when the trout are hugging the bottom of the deep basins in mid-summer, at times you can’t keep them off your line. In general, I’ve found trolling and covering more water tends to produce larger fish than jigging, so we made the switch.
We started with a C90 Williams Whitefish spoon, the largest one they make and caught a handful of trout, but weirdly we weren’t setting the world on fire despite the graph being lit with fish.
Sometimes all it takes is a little tweak, and as soon as I switched to a smaller salmon flutter spoon it was game on. We began to catch trout madly, hand over fist, including several doubles. I’m certain it was the size and profile of the spoon as it more closely resembled the micro sized cisco that the trout were gorging on.
No matter what the situation, matching the hatch is always a good idea!


By early evening we’d had enough and headed south back to camp to finish things up at the walleye hole under perfect blue skies.

We found them in abundance. Pitching a variety of different plastics on 3/8-ounce heads, Doc and I quickly caught a couple of dozen fish before hunger drove us back to camp.



We wrapped things up with pork chops on the barbecue, veggies, salad and baked potatoes, followed by a truly glorious sunset.


As days go, they don’t get much better than this one.
A Pack Of Ravenous Wolves
Pouring a coffee at 5:30 am the next morning, I strolled up the hill to join Ian at the fire, a civilized way to start the day, and one I was beginning to enjoy.

Cory was on point again this morning whipping up a mess of pancakes for the boys along with a mountain of breakfast sausages. I’m not normally a breakfast person, but I must admit, this was kind of nice.

With another beautiful day forecasted we decided to make the long run to South Belsham lake, a part of the watershed with huge potential and one I was still learning.
The previous September in lower water it took us two hours to get there, and it was an all-day affair. This year with substantially higher water I knew it would be far easier and I was right.
With everyone in tow behind me I led the way first north, then south again through the long channel into the next lake.

Once there we convened and had a brief discussion about spots and tactics. From that point on we went our separate ways, and with Doc in the bow I made a beeline for a protected bay where I’d done well with my son on a previous trip.
It checked off every box when it comes to pike. It had a southern exposure, a narrow opening protecting it from the colder main lake, a dark bottom, and best of all 3 small inflowing creeks. Water temperatures were still in the low 60’s, so despite the fact it was mid-summer, I knew larger pike would still be hanging around in spots like that.
Entering the bay, I took a quick peek at the graph and saw it was four degrees warmer than the main lake, a really good sign! Before we even began fishing, I knew we were going to do well.
We started out trolling and casting 1 ounce Doctor spoons, and began slamming fish after fish, most of which were walleye. Doc was flabbergasted, but I wasn’t surprised, I’ve seen it an endless number of times.




We were catching pike, but nothing large until Doc finally got us on the board with a fat fish that nailed his spoon boat side in a shower of spray, almost giving us both a heart attack.

Perhaps 15 minutes later I flipped my spoon towards a reedy point, took two turns of the handle and it just stopped dead. Instantly the large fish began moving sideways peeling yards of line off my reel as Doc immediately jumped into action turning on the camera.
Even large pike rarely fight for very long, and this one was no different, but it was an intense battle, and I heaved a sigh of relief when we slipped the net under her.

Moving on from there we began to work our way back up the channel connecting the two lakes stopping at every pinch point to jig for walleye. With the higher water this year they weren’t quite as concentrated as they usually were, but we still caught plenty.



The great thing about Bain is the diversity of the fishery, and we wrapped up our day trolling three-way rigs for lake trout on the way back to camp.
Nothing overly large this evening, but incredible numbers. There are very few sure things when it comes to fishing, but catching these lake trout when they’re stacked in the deep basins mid-summer is one of them. You can’t not get bit, it’s like trolling your spoon through a pack of ravenous wolves.


It was steak night in camp that evening, and as usual Cory was cooking up a storm for the group. He’s a good man that Cory…

It was another day in paradise.

Five Star Cuisine
I’m not exactly sure why I was continuing to get up so early, but once again I was wide awake at 4:30 am bright eyed and bushy tailed. I wandered into the kitchen, put a pot of coffee on, then had a good, long scalding hot shower, my first of the trip.
Feeling slightly more human I got dressed and joined Ian over at the fire and we discussed a game plan.
Cory had offered to lead the rest of the gang over to the outflow of the North Seal, a spot we’d dubbed the Three Second Walleye Hole on previous trips. We hadn’t fished it yet on this trip and the rest of the boys were itching for some easy action.
Doc and I had other plans. The North Seal flowed in just due west of camp and with the higher water I was curious whether we could safely navigate the rapids and explore the water further upstream. On previous trips it had always been too low, so now was the time.

It’s a scenic stretch of water, but weirdly devoid of fish, and we did try. It was a fun boat ride though, and one of those mornings when the scenery takes precedence over the fishing.
But… we were there to catch fish. Moving on we began to slowly and systematically fish every single nook and cranny heading south on the lake. As always, we caught fish everywhere including a couple of girthy pike by Doc. It was a very simple pattern when it came to the pike, find the cabbage weed and you’ll find the fish, it was as simple as that.


It was fish fry night that night, so we stopped here and there along the way to catch a few. Walleye are so incredibly abundant at Bain, there’s never any excuses when it comes to them, they always bite!



When we arrived back at camp early in the evening, Cory was busy filleting fish while the rest of the boys had drinks poured and were basking in the glory of their amazing day. Apparently, the rough count was well over 250 walleye landed over at the outflow, numbers wise it doesn’t get any better than that.

It’s pretty hard to beat freshly caught walleye, and as always Cory did a heck of a job for the gang. Better than any 5-star restaurant by far!


Subtle Differences
After our usual morning campfire and breakfast prepared by Cory, Doc and I headed north up the channel under clear skies. At 8 am it was already warm and there wasn’t a breath of wind. It was almost too nice if that’s possible.

Stopping at the second island along the way we set up for a drift in the light breeze and began to cast for pike. I immediately switched from a spoon to an oversized spinnerbait and began to hit fish consistently. For the life of me I will never figure these fish out. With the bright sun and lack of wind we should have been scratching hard for our fish, but they were biting like mad. We had multiple doubles, and hits on almost every single cast. In between the army of smaller fish, I managed three solid ones and we started our day off with a bang!



With the success the rest of the guys had the day before at the outflow, we then sped over there for a look. Mild current breaks around an island in this spot scouring out a deep hole just behind it, a hole that’s always teeming with walleye. Today was no exception and we picked away at it for the next couple of hours catching well over 100 fish in the process…



Just downstream from that spot is a place I like to call One Fish Bay. On every single trip I’ve fished it and always managed one decent fish. With the higher water we started fishing a little further in the bay than normal and began casting, systematically covering every inch of water. Strangely we caught nothing, not even a small hammer handle, but then right in the back end of the bay I got my one fish, and a good one to boot. The spot had lived up to its name.

We then sped back to the lake trout grounds and began to pull three-way rigs and flutter spoons for trout. Just like the walleye they’re always a sure thing and we began to hit fish consistently – or at least I did.

Our rigs were very close to being identical and we were using the exact same spoon, but I was getting four times the number of hits, it was weird. In an effort to rectify the situation I re-rigged Doc’s rod, copying my rig exactly. My main lead to the spoon was maybe six inches longer as well as being slightly heavier, stiffer fluorocarbon. The dropper to the weight was perhaps 6 inches longer than mine, so I shortened his slightly and once that was done, we began another troll.
It took maybe 30 seconds for Doc to get bit, and from that point on things were about even between the two of us.
It’s remarkable to me how such seemingly small, subtle differences can make such a big difference!

The last trout was the best one of the day, a fat, powerful fish that slammed my spoon so hard I could barely wrench it out of the rod holder. What a beauty!

Motoring back to camp under picture perfect skies I stopped here and there to cast for pike and managed one more fat fish before finally calling it a day.



The rest of the gang were in high spirits when we arrived back at camp, everyone had enjoyed a stellar day.
Cory cooked an amazing dinner of roast chicken and vegetables for us, then I reveled in the perfection of it all with a cold beverage on the dock.




Pure bliss.
Kindred Spirits
We’d been winning the weather lottery so far on this trip, but it seemed our luck was about to turn. Pouring a coffee and joining Ian out at the fire, the sky looked dark, it was noticeably chillier, and a quick look at the weather forecast looked grim. Strong winds and intermittent rain throughout the day.
Like every morning, Cory whipped up an amazing breakfast for us, on this morning sausage, eggs, bacon and toast.

During breakfast rain began to drum heavily on the roof of the cabin and that sealed it, no one was heading out anytime soon.
I took advantage with another hot shower, a bit of writing, then had a nap, finally being able to catch up on some much-needed rest.
We had discussed plans for the day over breakfast, and despite the foul weather it was unanimously decided that we’d have another fish fry that night, so we had good reason to get out there and fish at some point.
Finally, around 1 pm Doc and I donned our rain gear and ventured forth, heading straight to aptly named Glory Hole close to camp.
A few of the other guys were out there already pounding away at fish, and it didn’t take us long to join in on the fun.




We had the bucket filled in short order, then I spent a bit of time cleaning them on a board in the boat, bagging them, and packing them on ice in the cooler.


It was an early day for all of us, and with the wind still howling outside, Cory moved everything into the tool shed and blocked the door with a piece of plywood so we could cook. It worked like a charm.



It was a festive mood around the dinner table that night. These trips are always special, and for me the best part is meeting and connecting with new and different people every time. Fishermen tend to be kindred spirits, and this group most definitely was.

The Best For Last
Restless, I was up early again at 5 am, and as always Ian had a cheery blaze going at the top of the hill. Thankfully the bad weather didn’t last, and we were treated to another picture perfect sunrise.

This was the last full day in camp for the current group, and I hadn’t planned on making it a long day, but plans change.
We discussed strategy over breakfast, another feast thanks to Cory, and Doc and I hatched our plan, as it happens this last day proved to be the best of the entire trip.

We started in the channel north of camp, and despite a stiff wind making boat control difficult we began to smash pike after pike, many of them quality fish.






Moving up the channel to another cabbage bed, we began a quick drift and right next to the boat I had a large fish emerge from the weeds and T-bone my oversized spinnerbait. It was a memorable moment, we both happened to be watching my lure and saw it happen.
After another short but spirited tussle, I managed to land this beast of a fish.

You know you’re having a good day of pike fishing when your finger looks like this.

After that we backtracked a bit and made a run to the spot the guys had been calling the Meat Hole. It’s a tight pinch point in the other channel that leads north of camp, and to date it had been a walleye hot spot.
I’m not sure if I’ve ever caught as many walleyes in such shallow water in mid-summer. It’s maybe 4 feet deep leading up to the neck down and mostly clean sand mixed with a bit of rock. In the middle of the gap the water is even shallower, no more than 2-3 feet, but wow, were the walleye ever jammed in there!
Pretty much every single drop of the jig either saw a fish or a bite.




After our fill of walleye, we ventured out to the lake trout grounds, both of us wanting one last crack at a trout. We didn’t last too long, the wind and waves were bouncing us around just a little too much, but we did manage to scratch the itch.


Doc and I saved the best for last though. Speeding back to camp I asked him if he’d had enough yet, and with a small laugh he said “nope, let’s keep going!”. He’s a great guy Doc is.
Right around the corner from camp is a saddle between two islands that we’d yet to fish, but with the wind whipping directly through it today, I had a hunch it might be good. The first drift through casting a Doctor Spoon I had something happen that will be forever etched in my mind.
I hooked a solid fish that chased my spoon halfway back to the boat before smacking it in a shower of spray. Easily in the forty-inch class it was a good fish, one that I wanted. As it drew near, I put the rod down in the boat like I’ve done a thousand times, grabbed my line to guide her in closer, then the unthinkable happened.
The pike took off like a scalded cat pulling my $1500 rod and reel into the lake where it sped across the surface like a missile. Doc was still filming as I jumped into action starting the motor. I popped the boat into reverse and managed to grab the rod as it lay motionless on the surface, thank goodness for cork handles!
Incredibly the fish was still on and I worked it close to the boat for the second time, when very unexpectedly my hook just fell out of its mouth. Some things are just not meant to be…
After that minor fiasco I sped south to a large cabbage bed that I knew held good fish.
Doc sat in the bow with a wry grin on his face, ready as always when I puttered up to the weed bed. It had been a great week of fishing, tremendous really, but he still hadn’t caught the master angler pike he’d come to Bain for.
It was the last hour of our last day, and neither of us were willing to give up just yet.
I pitched my spinnerbait alongside a thick mat of cabbage, got the blades thumping, and almost immediately a heavy pike engulfed it in a shower of spray.
With my back turned to Doc I asked if he could grab the camera and start filming, but he had his hands full with a good fish of his own.
I quickly landed mine, a fat mid-sized specimen, then grabbed the camera to record the event.
“I think”, Doc muttered, “this is a good one!”. It was. After a short but intense battle, he muscled the oversized pike close to the boat, and I slid the net under her. Just a hair under forty-four inches and broad across the back, it was a remarkable fish and a true testament to both the fishery at Bain and sheer perseverance!

We couldn’t have scripted things any better than that!
It was the perfect ending to almost perfect week with a truly fantastic group of guys!

Predators Lurking
With the first chopper flight scheduled for 7 am, the guys were all up early with bags packed and ready to go. As always Ian had one last morning campfire blazing away when I joined him at 5:30 to sip our coffee and ponder life.

It was a bittersweet moment as I hated seeing these guys go, but I had another group of anglers flying in to join me after these guys left, so had immediately put my game face on again.
The chopper was right on time flying out the first group of guys, then maybe two hours later the new group touched down.

Some of these guys I already knew, but others like Martin Poulin and his wonderful young son Phillip from Montreal were brand new. I knew right away it was going to be a fun week!
It took a while for the boys to unpack and get settled in, but once again we were blessed with beautiful weather as everyone rigged their rods and discussed tactics and locations under bluebird skies around the picnic tables.

My boat partner this week was Ross Lower, a friend from Texas who had joined me at Bain the previous September – he’s a good man.
Rounding out the group was another father and son team, Rick and Matt Newman from Ohio. They’d joined me the year before at North Caribou and I was thrilled to see them both again, it was a good group of guys.
There are pros and cons when you’re trying to decide which week to come when I’m hosting two weeks back-to-back. Week one you have the advantage of first crack at some of the better spots, but week two you potentially reap the benefits of what I’ve learned the week before.
The week prior we’d had a fantastic time, but in my opinion, we’d barely scratched the surface and I strongly suspected this coming week would be even better.
Once again it was a late start for the gang, finally hitting the water at 3 pm. Eager to get a few fish under our belts and scratch the itch, we started at the walleye hole next to camp and it didn’t take long to start catching fish.









Near the end of our day, something memorable happened that had Ross and I laughing. I hooked a very decent pike on my light jigging rod and Ross immediately grabbed the camera to capture the action. It was a fun tussle on light tackle, and not much of a surprise, there’s always larger predators lurking around that spot.

As I released the fish Ross’s jigging rod keeled over and was almost pulled out of the boat. He had left his jig in the water when he’d grabbed the camera to film. Picking it up he pulled back and said, “I’m snagged!”. So, I started up the boat, popped it in reverse and moved towards his snag all the while Ross was pulling and popping his rod tip trying to free himself.
Of course it wasn’t a snag. As we neared the spot the “snag” began to pull back and we both realized in shock that it was another large pike. This one was considerably larger than mine.

It was a perfect first day, and we stayed out until 7 pm until hunger and weariness finally drove us back to camp.

Dinner that evening was pasta with meat sauce, a first night tradition with Cory, a perfect way to cap things off…
Simple Persistence
I slept in until 6 AM on this morning, unusual for me, but the long days were beginning to catch up with me. With a bit of a late start the day before, lake trout weren’t on the agenda, but they were today. We spent a bit of time that morning rigging trout rods at the picnic tables, then filed into the kitchen cabin for breakfast ala Cory.


Loading the boat Ross and I headed north under brilliant blue skies stopping at the first island along the way to jig up a few walleyes.

Moving on from there to the lake trout grounds, it was a little breezy and bouncy, but it didn’t take long to get Ross into his first trout. Pulling 3-way rigs and flutter spoons we began to catch fish consistently. Nothing overly large, but all solid, muscular, hard fighting fish that pulled like freight trains.




Catching larger trout usually always boils down to simple persistence, and after weeding through a bunch of smaller fish my rod buckled under the strain of a much larger one. Big fish just feel different, and it was instantly obvious that this one was special.

Tonight was fish fry night, so after we’d had our fill of trout, I sped across the glassy water to the outlet of the North Seal for Ross’s first crack at the Three Second Walleye Hole.
The fish were there in abundance and eager to bite.



With our day drawing to a close we motored south back to camp making a quick pit stop at the Glory Hole to get some meat for dinner, as always it didn’t take long.





The day was capped off nicely when another fat incidental pike inhaled my walleye jig, putting up a great battle before finally being netted.

It was smiles all around as Cory outdid himself once again making fresh cut fries and crispy walleye in the deep fryer…

Perfection.
A Frenzy Of Fish
Up at 5:30 AM the next morning, I stumbled into the kitchen, put a pot of coffee on and jumped in the shower. One of the bonuses of rising early at Bain is the incredible views of the sunrise, and this morning was no exception.

After breakfast I discussed a game plan with Ross and was a little torn. The forecast was calling for strong winds and steady rain starting at 3 pm. Weather forecasts in the far north are notoriously inaccurate, and it’s never a good idea to base your decision on what might happen, so in the end we opted to head north under cloudy skies and moderate northeast winds.
As always, we stopped first in the channel to fish for pike and right away, we began to catch fish – they were definitely switched on today. Ross caught a handful of pike on his weedless spoon, then I managed two decent fish back-to-back throwing an oversized spinnerbait. It was a good start.


From there it was a short run to the lake trout grounds where we set up to troll with our 3-way rigs and spoons. Thankfully the wind was still manageable and almost immediately we began to connect with good numbers of trout.

The trout always seem to bite at Bain, but the overcast skies were helping our cause.
It always seems to be just a matter of time before you get a better fish, and right on cue a couple of hours later my rod bent double as a heavy fish slammed my spoon.

A very decent fish and another notch in my belt. I’ve fished Bain a lot over the years and I’m constantly learning more about the fishery on every single trip. Its moods, its nuances, and the tactics needed to catch fish. It can be an almost overwhelming body of water to the first-time guest, it’s just so large and varied. Once you get a feel for things though, look out! It’s an amazingly productive fishery and what makes it extra special is the challenge it poses to figure things out.
After we’d had our fill of trout, we fished our way to the aptly named Meat Hole, a tight pinch point in the secondary channel leading north from camp. Martin and Phillip were already there pounding away on fish, and Ross and I quickly joined in on the fun.


We moved past them anchoring in the shallow water maybe a hundred yards away and began to catch walleye at will. No long casts, we were flipping our light jigs and plastics anywhere from 5-10 feet from the boat, and most often got bit within seconds. It was a literal frenzy of fish, and as good a session of walleye fishing as I’ve ever experienced in my life. Ross and I lost count after 100 fish, so my best guess is we boated more than 150 in a relatively short period of time.







It was total insanity, and one of those afternoons that we’ll tell stories about for years to come.
By the time we wrapped things up I’d had my fill, but Ross is a die hard and as always, he wouldn’t let me head back to camp until we stopped at the Glory Hole for a cast or two. I didn’t even fish, just watched with amusement as Ross began to catch fish after fish once again.

There seemed to be a slightly better class of fish in this spot, and Ross’s persistence paid off with a fat 26-inch fish to cap his day off nicely!

It was almost 7 pm when we pulled the boat up onto the beach in front of camp, and we were both ravenous. Cory, bless his heart, had a fantastic dinner of barbecued pork chops, veggies and salad waiting for us the instant we walked inside, and we quickly joined the rest of the gang at the table.

Everyone had enjoyed a banner day, and after dinner we poured drinks and wandered outside where it finally began to rain. In the end, we migrated into the small tool shed to escape the elements, lit a couple of mosquito coils and wound things down in style.

Camp life at its finest.
Finding The Apex Spot
It was cold when I emerged from the cabin at 6 am the next morning, there was no sugar coating it. The wind and rain the previous evening had ushered in a cold front and despite a mostly clear sky it was brisk to say the least.

After breakfast Ross and I bundled up and headed south from camp fishing every likely nook and cranny thoroughly. Halfway down the west shoreline I found a previously unknown patch of submerged cabbage weed in a saddle between a large island and the mainland. It coughed up a number of decent pike including one fat mid-sized specimen that I initially thought was much larger.
All things considered it was an okay start considering the post frontal conditions, but my boat partner and I were becoming slightly chilled. Looking for a respite from the breeze I found a beautiful, protected beach on the back side of a large island, one of many on Bain, and we stopped for a short break.

Initially Ross thought I had finally fished myself to death, but after a bit of a rest I was good to go.

Truthfully, the long days on the water were starting to catch up to me and I was a little worn down, but no one will ever accuse me of being a quitter.
We still had plenty of water to cover, including some I’d never seen before, and that alone was motivation enough.
Stopping at the rapids at the south end of the lake where the Fergus River poured in, we caught fish, but the wind was relentless in that spot, so we pushed on.
Just past it is a small inflow that I’d never been able to navigate through on previous trips because of lower water. It was no problem at all on this trip.
It was much more sheltered here, and before navigating through the tight, rocky gap, we spent some time anchored there jigging for walleye.



Ross dubbed it the Meat Hole 2.0 after catching a couple of dozen fat fish in short order. We could have caught many more, but the urge to explore new water was strong and we pushed on. We were lucky, the water was already beginning to drop, and we barely made it through into the next small lake. My guess was another week, and it wouldn’t be possible.
Carefully fishing our way down the small body of water we found cabbage weed everywhere and caught large numbers of smaller pike casting pretty much anything at them. The challenge is usually never finding fish, it’s pinpointing the apex spots that consistently hold larger fish. It’s often been said that eliminating unproductive water quickly is the key to success on large systems, and that couldn’t be more true here. Halfway up the small body of water it compressed creating a pinch point, and right in the middle lay a small island. I suspected it would be a good spot, and not surprisingly it was.
Casting a perch-coloured Doctor Spoon I hit two quality fish within 15 minutes of each other, once again proving that persistence pays off.


Not far past that spot a heavy set of rapids tumbled into the lake, and we spent some time there luxuriating in the beauty of it all, anchoring here and there and catching walleyes at will.




We tried a couple of prime spots on our way back to camp – expansive fields of cabbage weed that I knew held fish. But at that point the wind had picked up and it was miserable, we simply couldn’t fish comfortably or effectively. Still, it didn’t dampen Ross’s enthusiasm, and just like every day he insisted on catching at least one fish from the Glory Hole near camp before calling it a day. It was a rule.

It didn’t take long.
Despite the chilly weather everyone had done reasonably well, all things considered, but the lot of us were hungry and chilled and ready to eat when we arrived back at camp at just after 7.
Cory had outdone himself once again with a feast of slow roasted chicken and vegetables, an almost perfect meal after a long, cold day on the water.


Lost To The Annals Of Time
Once again, we started our day with a picture-perfect sunrise. It was beautiful but deceiving. A quick look at the forecast showed cool temperatures and brisk winds the entire day which severely limited our options.

We discussed our game plan over breakfast and unanimously decided to head up the channel to the lake trout grounds and at least try to give it a shot before the winds grew too fierce. I suspected the channel leading into south Belsham would be more protected so that would be our fallback option. There’s a ton of water there, much of which rarely gets fished by anglers visiting the Bain camp.
It was a good plan, and Ross and I were optimistic as we raced north of camp under brilliant blue skies.

If anything, it was even colder this morning and small, white, puffy cumulous clouds were racing across the sky, being pushed along by the cool breeze. It was day two of our cold front conditions, and despite being a world class fishery I suspected we’d have to scratch hard for our fish.
I was wrong.
Initially things didn’t bode well. We stopped to cast for pike at a few choice locations along the way and caught nothing, not a sniff. Even the usually voracious hammer handle pike were shut right off, and we didn’t waste much time before switching our focus to trout.
Fish in deeper water and current areas are typically far less affected by cold fronts, and right away we began to catch fish. Nothing really big, but it was steady action, and we stuck it out for a couple of hours before the wind and waves became too much for us to handle.




As planned, we headed to the channel leading into South Belsham, fishing along the way, and at the second tight neck down Ross and I hit the mother lode of walleye. It was a spot I’d briefly fished with Doc the previous week; we’d caught plenty of fish, but it wasn’t nonstop. The difference today was the anchor. I hadn’t used one with Doc, but today with the brisk wind it was needed.
I eventually managed to get it to hold at the head of the pool, and for the next three hours we didn’t move from that spot. The fish were stacked as thick as thieves in the quiet back eddy at the head of the pool, and almost every single drop resulted in another fat walleye.







Numbers wise it was as good as our session at the Meat Hole a couple of days previously, and a perfect way to combat the windy conditions. That’s the beauty of the Bain camp, no matter how windy it gets you can always find sheltered waters to fish.
Late in the afternoon we made a bold move to venture into the top end of South Belsham and made a beeline to the bay where I’d done so well with Doc the previous week. It never ceases to amaze me how things can change so dramatically in such a short period of time.
Expectations were high when Ross and I slid into the spot, but it was seemingly barren of fish.
Unlike the current neck down we’d just left, this spot was a dud. A quick peak at the graph told the story, the water temperature was 56, almost 6 degrees cooler than the previous week.
The strong north wind and cool nights had drastically changed the conditions in this spot. What was literally stuffed with fish the week previous was now completely devoid of life. I’ve said this countless times, but even on the best waters in the world you’re at the mercy of the weather and the conditions. You must choose your spots wisely, sometimes you win, and sometimes you lose.
On the way back to the channel we did make an interesting discovery though. Scanning the shoreline, I thought I saw a shape that didn’t belong, and veered closer for a look. Hidden within a grove of trees on a rocky spit of land jutting out into the lake we found the ruins of an old camp. You must understand just how remote this spot is to appreciate the find. Whoever used this spot must have travelled a really long way to get there, and I’m sure there’s a story here.
Sadly, it’s one that’s now lost to the annals of time and we’ll most likely never know the history. It was a neat find though, and a highlight of the trip.




At 6 pm we were both tired and began to make the long trek back to camp. We stopped along the way catching walleye in every spot, including the Glory Hole next to camp. Fishing with Ross, that last stop was a daily occurrence.



Cory had been running himself ragged for us every night, so we’d told him that we’d take care of dinner that night. Rick and Matt whipped up a big batch of blackened walleye, while Martin and I made a salad, and threw a bunch of steaks on the grill.


Who doesn’t like surf and turf?
Every Dog Has His Day
Without question we were winning the weather lottery on this trip. Despite the cold front conditions, the last couple of days we’d barely had any rain, beyond one foul day the previous week. It was incredible really.
Continuing with the trend, the following morning we were treated to another beautiful sunrise and crystalline skies. There is honestly no better spot to enjoy your morning coffee than Bain, and I’ve been to a lot of places…

Starting south of camp we concentrated on the prime spots that I’d pin pointed, and on this day the fish were turned on. We caught easily over 100 pike between the two of us, it was nuts. The vast majority of them were smaller fish, but I knew it was only a matter of time before some big girls showed up.
It was a glorious day. Dazzling sun, sparkling waters, and warmer temperatures with a perfect light breeze. Standing high on the seat I reached back scanning the water for cabbage with my polarized sunglasses on. It was heaven on earth, and the fish were biting.

I struck first with a feisty 40-inch fish that gobbled my spinnerbait in a shower of spray the moment it hit the water.

Moments afterwards not to be outdone, Ross hooked an even better fish of his own, a fat 42-inch beast that chased his weedless spoon boat side before slamming it and streaking off in a rush.

It was his best fish of the trip, and we were clearly on a roll.
With expectations running high, we headed north at 3:30 to fish for trout, hoping they’d be just as cooperative.

They were. We started off pulling larger C90 Williams Whitefish spoons, and although we did catch a couple it was weirdly slow.


Switching up to the smaller more subtle flutter spoon did the trick just like before. As soon we made the switch we began hooking fish consistently, especially Ross. Every dog has his day, and today was his.
Watching the graph, we were on a 50-foot flat that dropped very suddenly into 100 feet. Right on the break the graph was black with fish, and I knew we’d get bit, it was just a matter who. Right on cue Ross’s rod began dancing wildly under the strain of a good fish. I quickly reeled in to capture the moment on video and he was all smiles when I finally slipped the net under her. Forty inches on the tape and as fat as a Christmas turkey, it was a trophy trout anywhere you fish for them.

A little while later I caught a chunky 38-inch fish of my own, but it was almost anticlimactic.

Round about 6 pm with spirits running high we made the run south back to camp to finish up at the Glory Hole. We were slated to have a fish fry again and needed some meat.


It truly is like a grocery store, and it didn’t take long to catch what we needed. It capped off another Bain Lake home run, a seemingly daily occurrence on this body of water.

It was another evening of perfection. You might think I’d get tired of eating walleye, but you would be wrong. It’s hard to top anytime, but when someone else does the cleaning and cooking for you, well, there’s nothing better.


Cory is a good man!
A Slob Of A Fish
Our last full day in camp, and it was another beauty!

We both felt the cabbage beds south of camp had more to give, so after breakfast we sped south straight to the first spot, not wasting any time. It was the same game plan as yesterday, pike in the morning, then lake trout in the afternoon, with a side of walleye thrown in for good measure.
The only issue this morning was the complete lack of wind, never a good thing. The water was like a sheet of glass to start and try as we might we caught virtually nothing. Wind is such a huge benefit, it roils up the water, and the fish are far less wary and more apt to feed.
Moving on to the south end of the lake we stopped briefly at the Fergus rapids and quickly caught a bunch of fish, mostly fat walleye, but a handful of smaller pike as well. Things were starting to look up.




At that point the wind had finally started blowing, so I backtracked to the spot we’d started at, and just like magic, they were biting. We quickly caught a dozen or so smaller fish, then something pretty remarkable happened. I flipped my Doctor Spoon towards a thick mat of cabbage and overshot it a bit landing it right on top of the mat. I quickly gave my rod a jerk, flipping it off the weeds and into the air where it landed in a heap in an open pocket of water. Before I could even turn the reel handle a large pike engulfed it on the drop moving a mountain of water in the process and almost giving me heart failure. It was quite a moment!

With the clock now winding down we both wanted one last shot at some trout, so packed things up and headed north, joining the rest of the gang at the lake trout grounds.


Everyone was into fish, and I started things off for us with a solid fish right off the bat.

From that point on things just got better and better. Ross hit a very decent fish that had line peeling from his reel before he could wrestle it out of the holder.

A little while later my own rod buckled under the strain of a big fish, and after a long, protracted battle I landed this slob of a fish!

It wasn’t quite over yet though, as we had one final surprise in store for us. Pulling my 3-way rig and spoon in 78 feet of water I had another heavy hit; except this time it was a pike. Not the first one we’d caught in deep water trolling for trout, but by far the largest. Pretty clearly some of the larger pike roam deeper water in search of cisco…

At this point we were both done, but we still had to adhere to Ross’s rule of catching at least one walleye at the Glory Hole next to camp. We spent a bit of time dismantling all the rods and reels, packing away lures and cleaning up the boat, then with just two light jigging rods left rigged we sped south to the Glory Hole.

This spot never fails to produce, and within a minute we had accomplished our goal and called it a trip!

Being our last night in camp Cory went the extra mile for us with slow cooked ribs, rice, green beans, salad, and even two freshly baked pies for dessert!


It was the end of another truly remarkable week of fishing, one I couldn’t have scripted any better myself, and the best part was the people. What a great group of guys!

A Special Place
Changeover day starts early at Gangler’s and just like the previous week the chopper was there at 7 am picking up the first group of guys and gear and whisking them back to the main lodge. I was on the second flight and said my goodbyes to Cory before climbing in and flying off. It was a little bittersweet. After two straight weeks I was ready to go home, but it was also a little tough to leave.
This camp is a special place.

With our streak of perfect weather continuing, there were no flight delays and within an hour after landing at the lodge we were boarding the charter flight back to Winnipeg, and just like that the adventure was over…

For those of you still wanting more, there are two lengthy videos documenting both weeks in detail, have a look!
These hosted trips are always fun. The fishing is spectacular, but I truly love meeting and educating new people, it’s the best part of what I do. As I’ve said, anglers are kindred spirits by nature and there’s always an extra air of camaraderie in camp on these trips that I love.
The sun has set on another incredible adventure, but I’m already looking forward to next year. If you’re on the fence about joining me, I would suggest you just do it, you only live once!

Until net time…