Day Four, A Canada Fishing Story
By Garry McMichaelEarly in the evening Michael dropped me in my bellyboat at the far end of the cove. I slowly proceeded to fly fish and spincast westward around the edge of the cove while he worked the east side. The first hour was rather slow, but as the sun sank closer to the horizon the strikes became more frequent. Each time I got a strike I recorded it into my mini recorder for later entry into my fishing log. Here is how it sounded.
7:10 – "Nice smallie! They grow fat in Canada, 14 inches, black Sneaky Pete, C&R"
7:14 – "Good strike, but no catch - black Sneaky Pete"
7:20 – "What a hit! Smallie, 13 inches - black Sneaky Pete, C&R"
7:23 - "Damn! How did my Sneaky Pete end up in that timber?" Just out of reach, the Sneaky Pete was impossible to retrieve from my bellyboat, so I broke it off and tied on a chartreuse hair bug.
7:35 – "That’s a fat little smallie, 13 inches, chartreuse hair bug, C&R"
7:40- "Just a dink, 11 inches if I stretch him a little, chartreuse hair bug, C&R. Grow up smallie; where’s your daddy hiding."
7:44 – "BANG, Now, that’s a hit! chartreuse hair bug,. He knocked that hair bug crappers and broke the line. Be careful what you wish for."
7:46 – I immediately switched to my spinning rod and threw a white Super Fluke back to the spot I lost the hair bug. "One thousand one…one thousand two…BANG! – Oh man! Go ahead and jump again. WHAT A BEAUTIFUL SMALLIE! 16 incher, but no hair bug in his mouth, Catch, Photograph and Release."
7:58 – "Another Dink, 10 inches, white Super Fluke, C&R. The fluke’s almost as big as he is."
8:05 – "NICE STRIKE! Was that a Northern? white Super Fluke."
8:15 – "Smallie, 11inches, white Super Fluke, C&R - He tore up that fluke." I put on a shad colored Super Fluke.
8:20 – "Northern? No contest; he sliced my line like it was butter. I can kiss that Fluke good by."
8:30 – "BIG HIT! Nice fight too, Smallie, 16.5 inches, white SENKO, C&R."
The afternoon breeze had finally died and the lake looked like a golden mirror in the late evening light. I took the opportunity to paddle my belly boat across the cove to a small bluff with fallen timber in the water.
8:35 - I was trolling the Senko as I crossed the cove, eating a candy bar as my rod lay in my lap when BOOM! "HELL OF A HIT! I never saw it. Just an explosive splash and suddenly my belly boat was jerked to the left. I barely got hold of my rod just before it disappeared into the water. He tugged me around for a good thirty seconds before I got him under control and reeled him in. A beautiful smallie, 16 inches, but he fought like one much larger. He’s badly gut hooked. I l released him, but he floated on the surface and attempted to swim. After watching this for a couple of minutes I harvested him. It’s either me or the northerns. My white Senko was torn to pieces."
8:45 – "Just a Dink Smallie, 8 inches, White Sneaky Pete, C&R." Les motored by heading for the cabin. He told me there were no fish along this bluff.
8:48 – "Smallie, 10 inches, White Sneaky Pete, C&R. I don’t even have to twitch it. Just throw it close to the timber and wait a few seconds."
8:53 – "Another Dink Smallie, 8 inches, White Sneaky Pete, C&R this time closer to the bluff."
8:56 – "Damn, four dinks in a row, 6 inches, White Sneaky Pete, C&R - Maybe Les is half-right." I moved north along the bluff about twenty yards. Should I change lures too? It’s getting too dark to take time out changing lures.
9:06 – "Nice 15incher, White Sneaky Pete, C&R - That’s better! Let’s catch an 18 incher!"
9:10 – "Another strike on the white Sneaky Pete." I throw it right back in the same place. "Here Fishy, Fishy, Fishy…" BANG!
9:15 – "Smallie, 14 inches, White Sneaky Pete, C&R - DO IT AGAIN, HERE FISHY, FISHY…"
9:20 – "Smallie, 12 inches, White Sneaky Pete, C&R – HERE FISHY, FISHY."
9:25 – "Smallie, another 12 incher, White Sneaky Pete, C&R."
I was in a "zone" and would have kept fishing until I couldn’t see. But Michael had caught up with me and was urging me to quit and climb into the boat. I was cold, tired, and hungry, but I couldn’t make myself stop. Just one more cast. HERE FISHY, FISHY… I’m not sure whether it was Michael, the darkness, or the coldness creeping into my bones that finally convinced me.
As I leaned back in the bow of the boat, looked up at the dark sky, and let the sound of the motor drown out my thoughts, I felt like I was in a dream. WHAT A GREAT 4TH OF JULY, and the best fireworks I’d ever experienced.
Copyright 2001 Garry McMichael