Fishing with the legends of the north country

By Jack Spaulding

Over the roar of the engine of the float plane, Gene Halley hollered, “Moose!” Banking to the left to circle the small bog-rimmed lake far below, Gene pointed to the west bank and held up three fingers…two cows and a bull.

Even at 2,500 feet above the lake, the elegance of the large bull was inspiring. Although tiny to the eye at this far distance, there was no doubt the great bull was king of all he surveyed. As the float plane passed over the lake again, the early morning sun glinted from the polished tips of the huge antlers as the great animal viewed us as a small, annoying distraction in the sky.

About 80 kilometers north of Halley’s Kettle Falls Lodge, our destination was to be Les Lake in the southern reaches of the Woodland Caribou National Park. Landlocked and isolated, the park and Les Lake could only be reached by float plane, and we were miles from anything that could be remotely called civilization.

Banking sharply left, we glided over the ancient pine forest as Gene prepared to set the plane down on this emerald blue lake surrounded by the dark green of the ancient pine forest. Sliding past the tree-lined, glacier-polished hills of granite, the plane gently skimmed across the lake toward a makeshift rock docking area.

Tying off the flat plane and rolling out the cached boat, Gene, my wife, Chris, and I were soon headed across the lake to try our luck at late-season lake trout. With this being the last day of the season, Gene hoped the huge numbers of trout would be up in the shallows prior to their annual spawn. Good weather was against us, as Ontario was enjoying one of the warmest falls in the past 15 years. With only two frosts and the temperature dipping to 28 degrees just once, the warm, shallow water could well keep the trout away from the shallows and in colder, deep water.

Gene and I cast blue and silver ½ -ounce Rat-L-Traps along the shore, and Chris trolled a weighted yellow tube-jig as we slowly worked our way up the lake to the spawning beds. There were plenty of fish on the Humming Bird portable fish finder, but all of them were still holding deep.

Pulling up to the mouth of the small bay, Gene suggested I throw the Rat-L-Trap just as far as I could back into the shallow water of the small bay.

As the lure hit the water, only a few turns of the reel handle brought a slamming strike from a small male lake trout. Having only caught lake trout in the past from very deep in Lake Michigan while down-rigging from charter-boats, I was surprised at the power and fight from the 4-pound fish.

Putting a healthy bend in the mid-weight rod, the fish was soon alongside the boat. As Gene lifted the fish from the water I was struck by the unbelievable color of the fish. Much more gaudy than its Lake Michigan cousins, the fish was a dark brownish black and the scales were adorned with bright spots of yellow and orange.

“Only one more and we don’t have to worry about lunch,” said Gene, with a broad smile.

Pulling up to the small rock island bordering the bay, we left the boat and began to cast for the trout from shore.

Casting the lure into the shadows of the far side of the bay, the Rat-L-Trap made it only halfway back before an identical small lake trout inhaled the shiny enticement and headed toward deep water. As the reel screeched against the run of the fish I realized fighting shallow water lake trout was a thrill I was beginning to find very addictive!

Scanning the gin-clear water of the small bay, it was evident the unusually warm and beautiful late fall weather had held up the spawn. Gene shook his head as he said, “Ordinarily, this small bay will produce a fish every cast. I guess we’ll just have to go back out an fish for them deep. Eh?”

Heading the small boat out away from the island, Gene rigged the rods with 4 ounces of weight and a three-way swivel for deep trolling spoons. Dropping the baits down 25 to 30 feet in over 50 feet of water, we began to troll across the lake. As the weight pulled to hold the spoons deep, the rods bent against the drag of the line.

Still relatively new to the sporting of fishing, Chris asked Gene, “With the rod bending like this, how do you know when you have a fish on the line?”

With a good-natured grim, Gene said, “You’ll know…I won’t even have to tell you!”

Reaching over to pour some coffee from my thermos, I heard my wife say, “I’m stuck on something, or I’ve got a fish!”

As her rod lunged and pulled in her hands, Gene laughed and said, “I guess you are…you’re stuck on a lake trout!”

Swinging back on the fish, she set the hook tighter and began fighting to hold on to the rod. Keeping the rod tip up and reeling in, she began to fight the fish to the boat.

After a good five-minute battle to get the fish alongside, Gene carefully reached over the side and picked the female lake trout from the water. Quickly admiring the fish, I snapped a few pictures before Gene released the fish.

At the time, Gene remarked the lake trout was easily much larger than either of my two fish.

As the day progressed, a total of 14 trout were landed. I may have gotten the first, but, as usual for her past Canadian escapades, Chris caught the most…and the biggest.

Later that evening, I laughed to myself as I realized I had come to this beautiful wilderness area intending to fish this anglers’ paradise with some of the true legends of northwest Ontario. However, in reviewing our time in the north country…my wife had caught the largest walleye on our first trip up two years ago, as well as the heaviest northern pike. Now, this year, she catches the biggest lake trout and, actually, her biggest walleye was only the same size as mine.

Looks like I got my wish on getting to fish with the legends of the north country.

I guess I just didn’t realize that one of those north country legends would be making the trip back home with me.