(Leanno Lake, un-named lake, South Kilburn Lake))

   On very little sleep we were rushed into showers, eating, and copying down vital information from a couple of maps the outfitter had supplied (campsites, portage locations, and various points of interest). Next we packed our gear and loaded into a van, stopped off for some bait and fishing license, and began a two hour journey down a bumpy washed out dirt road through a rocky and some times desolate Canadian forest.

   We arrived at the end of the dirt road and the beginning of the portage to Leanno Lake at about 10am. As we were unloading our gear and starting to get anxious of setting off into a new and mysterious land, one of the guys noticed something horrible. We were missing a paddle. We frantically tried to come up with a reasonable means of getting another paddle when the outfitter told us he would go back and get one after he picked up another party he had to wait for. We carried our gear down to the lake and hoped that we could possibly buy a paddle from his other party that was due to arrive any minute.

   We pushed off our canoes and floated around the lake half heartedly fishing when Chet got the first fish. It was a small “hammer handle” pike but it was still the first fish. (It should be noted that if there is a pike in a lake and Chet wants to catch it, he will.) Slowly blowing around in the slight wind, getting our fist couple of bug bites, and waiting for another group because of our poor organization was frustrating to us all and our patience was running low. To pass the time, we shored up the boats and decided to get lunch out of the way. As we sat there getting lunch ready and pacing around we got our first glimpse of wildlife in the form of an otter that passed in front of us and checked out what we were up to. After lunch nobody wanted to set around any longer so Greg and Brian set off to meet up with the outfitter still sitting at the entry point. When they returned they informed us of the outfitters plan to wait a few more hours then leave and come back with a paddle.

   Rather than waste any more time sitting at the entry lake, the crew decided to push on and send a canoe back to pick up the paddle later. From Leanno Lake we headed southwest to a stream flowing from the lake that eventually ended up in Kilburn Lake. Once we started moving and making progress we were able to relax. The stream was easily big enough to canoe and only a few log jams and small rapids had to be portaged around. The sun was shining and weather was absolutely perfect for us. It was apparently nice for the black flies as they began to swarm and most importantly feed. Ah, to be in the northwoods. The flies were of little concern to me because Chad had just landed a walleye and had it in the boat. I didn’t want to be out done and neither did anybody else, so the fishing progressed from leisure to serious. By the time we entered the first unnamed lake, after winding our way down the river, we had enough walleye for dinner.

   We stopped and looked out across the desolate looking landscape that surrounded the lake. All the forest was comprised of small saplings and a few old, burn out, branchless trees that dotted the landscape. As we paddled across this unnamed lake we caught some movement along the northern shoreline and quickly realized it was a cow moose. Everyone stopped paddling and we let the wind blow the canoes closer. We didn’t get too close before she meandered off into the thick saplings and out of sight. That was the only moose we would see on this trip

   When we reached the far side of the lake It was about the right time for a couple of guys to head back and pick up the paddle so we unloaded the gear from Greg and Brian’s canoe. With a lightened load they could travel nice and fast, we also lent them another paddle then sent them on their way. Chet, Chad, Mike, and I arranged to head on and set up a campsite somewhere on Kilburn Lake.

   The portage onto Kilburn put us at the base of a nice little water fall with a deep pool below it. As soon as our canoes were in the water, fishing lures were flying in every direction as each of us eagerly anticipated just how good the fishing in this spot would be. We were not let down as the pool was full of walleye and the occasional pike. We certainly didn’t catch any monsters, the fish were on the small side, but we sure caught a lot of them. Before long the fishing started to slow down as every fish in the pool was probably spooked or had been hooked. Chet and I moved on into the larger part of Kilburn to look for a possible campsite. Mike and Chad were not far behind and had begun looking for a spot to camp also. To our surprise there was not another person to be seen on this lake that was alleged to be one of the more popular lakes. Before long we found a site that was a campsite at one time and decided to set up there. Finding enough ground space for three tents was a slight issue but we were able to find a couple flat spots off in the forest.

   Our tent was situated by a little mound in the woods. Every time I came to get something from the tent a small greenish brown bird would take off from the mound. The second time I noticed it I decided to investigate and found a small hole in the ground with a nest of eggs.

   I tried several times to get a picture of the bird on the nest by sneaking over the mound when I would come to the tent but I could never spot it. The bird’s natural camouflage blended in so well, I could only tell where it was sitting when it took off.

   After we set up our camp and got the cooking area ready, we continued to fish and wait for the other guys to return with the paddle. They eventually arrived and had the other paddle. As it turned out, the other party the outfitter was waiting for wasn’t actually supposed to show till the next day. We started to wonder just how good this guy was and if he would actually be waiting for us when we were scheduled to be picked up.

(South Kilburn Lake, Upper Kilburn Lake, Middle Kilburn Lake, Dragun Lake, Boomerang Lake, Talon Lake)

The crew was up bright and early and coffee was the first thing on my mind. We didn’t waste much time around camp this morning. Just as soon as breakfast was eaten we broke camp. As we dipped our paddles and headed west into a bay, the cool grey sky, clear deep water, and emerald green old growth hillsides reminded me of Alaska. A bald eagle soared ahead of us seeming to welcome us to this new and pristine territory.

As we reached the base of our first “real” portage that would stretch approximately a mile through the mossy forest, we put on the DEET and got our gear ready. Portages in WCPP are typically marked with a slash mark on a tree where the bark has been removed to help you spot it. This portage is not an official portage and has not been maintained in years but still had the slash mark. We made our way through the thick forest following a trail that some times disappeared in the moss and fallen down trees. We encountered a crew from Ontario heading in the other direction comprised of four men and six very tired looking young boys. That was the only group of people we would see till our last night.

We stood on a sandy beech and rigged our fishing gear for lake trout fishing. The gray sky looked a bit gloomier so we got our rain gear handy. Shortly after shoving off the rain began. We continued to meaner our way toward the portage to Middle Kilburn Lake as the rain started and slowly got heavier. By the time we arrived at the portage there was a downpour of rain. I was getting drenched. My lightweight breathable rain jacket wasn’t holding up to the task. It will not be used for any serous outing ever again. As I sat in the canoe, rain water accumulated in little pools on my jacket and started to seep through. When I stood up the pool of water would pour down my front. Thankfully, even though the wind had kicked up when we reached Middle Kilburn, it was warm. We headed west toward our next portage when the fishing started to pick up. Our canoe managed to catch a couple pike but some of the others were getting a few walleye. We decided to leave them go rather than carry them across the next portage.

We portaged onto Dragun Lake and decided on our next rout to Talon Lake. A flip of the coin determined the rout to the south through Boomerang Lake versus the northern rout through several unnamed lakes. On Dragun I was dragging a “laker taker” spoon and soon felt the weight of a fish on my line. I reeled up a lake trout but lost it when I tried to flop it in the boat. We paddled back and passed over the same water again but now the wind was picking up and the water was getting fairly choppy. Making it to a lunch spot seemed like the best thing to do. Greg managed to catch one laker before we met up with him. This wind wasn’t as warm as it was earlier and the soaking wet clothes on my back were starting to raise my concern. By the time we reached a clear landing to do lunch I was freezing. We managed to shore the boats and get out of the canoes but every time I bent down, my clothes would press against me and get me even colder. The others tried in vein to get a fire started but the wind was blowing and finding dry wood was next to impossible. I fantasized about crawling into my sleeping bag to get warm and paced around out of the wind. I eventually managed to pull the cookware out of the canoe and get a stove set up. I was shivering, numb, weak, and clumsy. The guys quickly got some water boiling and got something hot for me to drink. Besides the coffee and tea, we had a little gorp to eat, and then decided to keep moving. The decision to keep moving was a good one in my book as I needed to stay warm and standing in the wind wasn’t helping. While paddling and portaging I was able to regain some warmth and the shivering stopped.

   After a short paddle we were able to find a portage that was in the middle of a swamp. It was marked by a small piece of neon tape tied to a branch. If we hadn’t seen that tape we probably would have spent a long time looking for it. This portage was over in no time and led us to a swift flowing stream running through the swamp. The water was deep and dark and the stream was only about four or five feet wide. Once we got the canoes in the water and loaded, the ride was a blast. The only thing we had to do was push off the sides of the stream to keep us flowing in the right direction. Every time I looked back for the other guys, all I saw were the tops of their hats above the grass and reeds of the swamp as they followed the winding stream. We eventually came to a washed out beaver dam and a small lake that led us into Boomerang Lake. Once again the wind kicked up and we were paddling right into it. Slowly but surely we manage to get far enough south to a bend in the lake that headed west and the wind battle was over. That workout was enough to get me warm again. The rest of the way up Boomerang Lake we took our time and enjoyed the scenery of shores lined with bare rock outcroppings dotted with the occasional pine. The fishing was good enough to keep it entertaining with lots of small pike being landed by everyone. The occasional beaver would smack its tail on the water indicating it’s dismay with our presence in his or her little paradise on this lake.

   We portaged into Talon Lake and split up looking for a campsite. Before we reached the main body of the lake, Chet and I noticed an aluminum boat in the bushes so we stopped to check it out. There was one boat and a canoe stashed in the pines that looked like they had been there a long time. We found the remains of an old cabin which must have burnt down with the last forest fire. By the size of the trees the fire must have been less than 10 years before.

   Once we reached the main body of the lake we could see the different areas that had been burnt at various times. Areas of large pines were bordered by much smaller pines where the fires had more recently been. To our north we spotted an enormous bald eagle gazing over the lake. Chet and I made a deliberate paddle up to the massive bird before it spooked, dropped out of the tree, and glided over the horizon. We then turned the canoe south to look for a proper campsite and meet up with Greg and Bryan. Chad and Mike were nowhere to be seen but we could hear a couple hoots and hollers as their voices traveled over the lake. Our guess was they were doing well with the fishing by the sounds of it.

   The rest of us fished around the lake and checked out various points of the lake that looked “campy”. We eventually headed to a heavily wooded island on the north end of the lake. On our way there Greg and Bryan managed to get a fish in the boat but our canoe was not so lucky. Once we reached the north end of the island we could see that it had previously been used as a campsite and by the looks of it, a nice one. The north end of the island was a massive rock face that was open and sunny looked like just the place to dry my drenched bones. We ambled up the rock slope and unloaded our gear from the canoe. I noticed Chad and Mike were heading for the island. Chet and I hurried just a little to find the flattest spot in camp to stake our claim for a place to put up the tent. When they arrived we heard the story of why they made so much commotion. Apparently they guys had an encounter with a large pike and were having a blast getting it to the boat. The clothes lines were immediately put up to hang gear to dry. The group effort of setting up camp, gathering firewood, and getting the fishing rods set-up for shore fishing occurred instantly. Wet clothes were hung on the lines, trees, and draped over canoes. It was a pleasant night as we stood around the fire that night, warm and dry, with bellies full of lake trout.

(Talon Lake, Unnamed Lake, South Agean Lake, Agean Lake) This morning was beautiful. The sky was blue with only a hint of rain and the water was smooth. We didn’t waste much time getting breakfast and breaking camp. We were on the water before very long. All our gear was dry and the crew was ready to cover some ground. Paddling north out of Talon Lake was promising. As soon as we were moving on the water our lines were dragging a variety of lures from spoons to shad raps trolling for whatever was lurking beneath. It wasn’t long before the first pike was caught and then a few more. The lake started to narrow and we slowed our pace and tried to be quiet. Each bend through the shallow, narrow part of the lake had promise of spotting wildlife. We did a little fishing and picked up a couple hammer handle pike but the majority of our time we spent looking and listening for wildlife.    As we paddled farther up the narrows we suddenly heard some heavy crashing ahead of us in the dense, new-growth forest. We strained to see what was making the noise and ever so quietly edged the canoes along the shore. The noise was still there but we were unable to see what was the source. Bryan got out of his canoe and slinked into the woods as we nervously watched. Unfortunately, whatever the source was, it had most likely seen our rag-tag crew and high-tailed it out of the area.    We portaged into another unnamed lake and began fishing again. This lake started out promising as the pike were hitting. Everybody quickly switched our rigs into pike fishing gear when the first one was landed. Before we left the first bay of this complex matrix of islands and bays, Chad had rigged up a “cast-master” spoon. To our amusement he then demonstrated its casting efficiency by launching the lure past the other canoes into holes that were currently being fishing by the others. With a splash, you would suddenly find that the structure you were fishing, fallen trees or submerged boulders, had been stolen by Chad, the cast-master, from twenty yards away.    Once we left the bay and entered the maze of islands, we were in awe by the sharp rock cliffs that stretched out of the tannin stained waters. The patterns of swirling rock layers from eons of time forming in random order were enough to have you drop your jaws and just get lost in the patterns. We crept along the cliff sides watching for unmapped pictographs as the collage of layers, stains, and lichen toyed with our eyes.

   Eventually we all managed to rendezvous on the west end of the lake in front of the portage to South Aegean Lake. The portage was difficult to land onto. The dark water was not helpful in determining were it was safe to step and where the boot sucking muck was awaiting our footsteps.

   The portage led us over a rock outcropping that left little in terms of a trail. With the sparse amount of dirt, the only thing we had to follow were rock cairns and inukshuks that marked the portage. Inukshuks, like a cairn, are a rock structure similar to the form of a man, to guide you along a journey. Following these trail markers was the only way we stay on the portage.

   We took a brief brake on the shore of South Aegean Lake before heading on. The crew scanned over the maps and determined the next destination was to be a pictograph we had seen on the outfitter’s map.    With canoes in the water and lines out for fish, we paddled slowly north. At first the fishing wasn’t so hot but I managed to get a whitefish up to the boat before loosing it. A pair of mergansers with young offered us a little wildlife viewing as they nervously steered their peeps into some cover along the shoreline.    Paddling through another set of twisty stretch of lake along sheer rock cliff provided sights of mystery and allure around every bend. Something was splashing around in the water ahead of the canoes but I never got a good look at it. We figured it was another otter, loon, or enormous fish. We eventually neared the pictograph location and slowly scanned the rock cliffs for any sign of native marking. The pictograph was located and we drifted by trying to interpret what it meant. It appeared to be a down pointed arrow followed by some sort of animal and followed by a cow moose. We may never know what it meant but it is always worth going out of the way to see these signs left from the past.

   After spending some time by the pictograph we decided to get out of the sun and make some lunch. On the opposite shore from the pictograph was a campsite and clearing that made for a fantastic place to rest and refuel. Today’s lunch consisted of dehydrated “creamy pasta”, a recipe I got from the book, Backpack gourmet. It was definitely a recipe I will prepare again as it certainly hit the spot. I guess the only downfall, if it is a downfall, is that it is loaded with goat cheese and every one of us could taste that pungent flavor for the rest of the day. I was just fine with that, as I love goat cheese.    After lunch the sun radiating down on us and we were getting scorched. At the same time the pike started to hit and we could not resist the urge to fling spoons into the shallows for a little action in spite of the heat. We probably spent over an hour catching the toothy critters before the urge to continue on, had taken hold of us. Traveling north through South Aegean Lake led us through another maze of island that were a bit confusing to navigate.    After portaging to Aegean Lake Chet and I rigged up our gear to start fishing for lake trout as the others finished getting into their canoes and got their fishing gear ready. While Chet and I circled around the bay coasting over smooth clear water, Greg in one of the other canoes hooked into something big. We continued to fish but remained near by to see what he was wresting with. The beast stayed deep and continued to dive even deeper while Greg just hung on to the rod. After the fish had begun to tire, Greg was able to haul it up from the fathoms below to finally get a look at it. “Pike!” he said. We knew this was no normal pike so we came in closer to watch the rest of the battle ensue. Getting a pike out of the water and removing you lure without incident is a little tricky especially from a canoe with no net.

   After the monster had tired it began to roll, Greg nervously reached his hand in the water to get a grip on the pikes head. That typically doesn’t happen on the first grab and it didn’t. Upon realizing a hand was in the water coming for it’s head, the fish blasted away with reel screaming power as Greg jerked his hand back out of the water at lightning speed. Again Greg hauled the fish back to the canoe and even more cautiously attempted to get a hold of the fish. Now, the heckling began, and made Greg’s task even more challenging. After about the third try, Greg realized his grasp was not wide enough to fit around the fishes head. I’m not sure how it happened, but Chad was then elected to land the fish. Mike and Chad maneuvered the canoe next to Greg’s and then Chad attempted to land the fish. He reached into the water and, after a struggle, managed to get a good grasp on the toothy beast. He then lifted it out of the water as we watched to see just how big it was.

   Chad managed to haul the fish into the canoe and across his lap. This was the biggest pike any of our crew had ever caught on a trip. Chad managed to get the fish unhooked and posed for a picture before putting the fish back in the water. We had to laugh at the fact that Chad was the one who got his picture with the fish. For the rest of the trip and even now we joke with Greg about the “monster pike Chad caught”.

   The day had started to grow late and the time spent fishing the last couple lakes had put us a little behind schedule. Aegean Lake is known to contain Lakers, Pike, and Muskie. We had to make a decision to paddle on, or make this lake our home for the night. Again, the coin was flipped and our fate was decided. We would stay and fish.

   To our north was a long stretch of lake that looked promising for potential campsites and we had seen the word “Cave” written on the outfitters map which we were curious about. We decided to fish our way up to the “Cave” and check out any campsites that looked promising.

   On the paddle north the thought of filling our bellies with lake trout was overbearing. We slowly spread out and fished the calm waters zigging and zagging up the lake. Chet was the first one in our canoe to have any success and caught a small silver/blue colored muskie that was released. We could see the other guys were hooking into fish or snags. The rods would bend back, their paddling would stop, and both of their heads would be turned looking back.

   At the first potential campsite we came to Chet and I briefly checked it out but it did not look roomy enough for squeezing in three tents. We waited for the others to catch up and find out how their fishing had been. When they arrived Greg and Brian had at least one lake trout in the boat. It was a start for dinner. From here we could easily see the cave at the base of a cliff about a half mile to the north. The blackness of the cave stood in contrast to the gray rock cliff. When we arrived at the mouth we could see that a beaver had been using it to store branches that were submerged in the cave. Chad and Mike were the brave souls to venture in with their canoe. It only had enough room for one canoe with barely any headroom.

   To the north of the cave at the end of the lake there was a steep hill that was clear of trees. Sitting at the top of the hill was a giant round boulder that looked as if it was ready to roll right down the clearing and into the lake. As we sat in front of the cave and took a break, I silently contemplated whether there was a small stick holding the boulder up in place. It truly looked like something from “spy vs. spy”, tempting me to go remove the stick. Alas, we were running out of daylight and wanted to find a campsite so I never got to find out if there was a stick.

   We backtracked south across the lake towards a campsite that we had marked on the maps. It was a little out of the way but it was the next closest campsite. On the way back we attempted to get a couple more fish for dinner. It was turning out that the blue shad-rap was the lure to have. I was out of luck with that but I continue to go through my various lures to find something that might work. Chet and I caught a few pike but neither of us picked up a laker. Greg and Brian had headed off to check out and secure the campsite and Chad and Mike were back fishing some holes that they must have been having luck over.

   As Chet and I neared the area where the campsite was marked on the map, we could here Greg and Brian ahead of us on shore to the north on a narrow stretch of lake. Soon we could see Greg walking to a rocky point in front of us holding two moose antlers over his head. Greg told us they were set up against a tree right in the middle of the campsite. We rounded a bend and tucked our canoe with theirs at the campsite.

   Chad and Mike were still nowhere to be seen so Greg and I decided to play a little prank on them when they arrived. We grabbed the antlers and waited behind a boulder along the shore, for them to come down through the narrow. As we watched them approach and get close enough, we held the front of the antlers out from behind the boulder and thrashed them in the brush. We kept this up for a little while but were not sure if they had even noticed. When we looked around the boulder they had both of their cameras out and were getting ready to take some pictures of the “moose”. I’m not sure if they had taken any yet but I’m sure I will find out some day.

   This campsite was in a thicket of pines surrounded by swamp and boulders. There were some suitable tent pads and besides difficulty finding firewood, it was a nice site, that is, until the mosquitoes came out. After dinner we tried to fish from camp for a little while but it was shallow and not productive for us. We stood around the fire for a little while feeding the mosquitoes and then called it a night.

(Agean Lake, Unnamed Lake, Unnamed Lake, Welkin Lake, Beamish Lake, Unnamed Lake, Unnamed Lake, Unnamed Lake, Unnamed Lake, Unnamed Lake, Haggart Lake) This morning we woke up to the crack of thunder booming overhead and then the sounds of an impending storm. We jumped out of the tent and scurried around camp in the dim morning light in order to ensure that our gear was properly stowed and nothing was going to get soaked. After making our rounds and securing gear under tied down canoes we just as quickly returned to our sleeping bags. A storm is a good excuse to sleep in and my tired bones were all about that. The storm passed over us with one quick dump of water and was gone. By the time we rolled out of bed for the second time the sky was clear and blue. We had our coffee and a pancake breakfast and then loaded up the gear.

The paddle northwest across Aegean Lake for the third time was not as concentrated on fishing. We wanted to cover some ground. The wind had just started to blow and the water had a little bit of chop. The sun was bright and the air was crisp, not cold, but dry.

We made our first portage across barren rock outcroppings, following cairns, to yet another unnamed lake. The lake had tannin stained water and a fair amount of weeds. We did a little casting just to check and see what was down there and caught a few small pike. Then we continued onward to the north. As we reached the end of the lake we came into an area of woods that had recently been burnt. The trees were mostly still standing but barren. By the lack of any green in the forest I would guess that the fire was the year before. The piney aroma in the air had changed to the sent of damp ashes. Finding our portage was a little difficult here but once we found the stream that the portage was paralleling we noticed it.

   A trail crew had been through since the fire and did a little clearing. They were nice enough to leave a few blaze orange ribbons along the way so we had something to follow. The undergrowth of the forest was gone and replaced by charred ground. The forest was lifeless besides a few columbine plants shooting through the ash.    Chet and I were the first to arrive at the next unnamed lake. We put in and watched to see if the others had been able to follow the ribbons. Before long we saw the canoe coming through the woods. Then we got back to fishing for a few pike while we waited.

   This lake was entirely burned out with only a lone tree here and there that miraculously escaped the fires fury. The scenery of the burnout was eerie. We quietly paddled the narrow lake north and gazed at a landscape I had never been in. Once we reached the northern most point and portaged to Welkin Lake we were out of the burn area.    On Welkin Lake we set our sites on lake trout for lunch. We rigged up our fishing gear and took a small break before our paddle west across the lake. Our plans were changed when we reached a small narrow in the lake that had gale force winds coming through it. The wind was kicking up and so where the white caps. Before going through the narrows we got our selves ready to battle the wind and waves by securing our gear and reeling in. Once we made it through the narrow we formed a straight line of canoes fighting the wind. Drafting the canoes in a line the whole way across the lake, we each took our turn in the front breaking the waves and wind until we could find a patch of quiet water behind and island or point to rest in. Once across the main body of the lake the wind did settle down and the fishing started back up. One laker was caught just before the portage but was released. We portaged to Beamish Lake and parked the canoes along some rocks for some much needed “meat n cheese” lunch.

   After lunch we jumped back into the canoes and headed on. We were only on Beamish Lake for a short time before we headed north along a stretch of pike infested unnamed lakes. The series of lakes and small streams were through lowlands and the waters were dark and stained. We fished across the majority of them and only ended up with a handful of small pike. The last of the unnamed lakes was reached by navigating a shallow stream around and sometimes over a maze of fallen trees. We hurried across the last lake in hopes of making it to the massive Haggart Lake before being hit by a threatening looking storm system to the north. We managed to make it but just as Mike had predicted, it wasn’t going to hit us. When we crossed the portage, there was on good crack of thunder overhead and then the sky cleared.    Haggart Lake proved to be good for lake trout. After spending a little time fishing the rapids by the portage catching pike, we paddled into the lake and started trolling to the north till we could find a campsite. I had all but given up hope on catching a fish when my rod bent back and I set the hook. After a little fight I hauled a healthy laker into the boat. By the time we reached a campsite the crew had at least five lake trout for dinner. The paddle up Haggart was also very long. We paddled over 3 miles of lake before finding a site to camp. During this time I recall there were some shenanigans going on between the other guys. The other canoes had tangled lines and the person who untangled the lines had switched out lures on the other guy, taking off a shad-rap and putting on a heavy jig head in it’s place.

   Once we arrived at camp we were all pretty beat. After setting up camp and stuffing ourselves with lake trout, it didn’t seem like anyone was going to be up very late. Just as we were thinking about getting ready to crash for the night the northern light came out. This site had a prime rock outcropping facing north for us to view it from. The show was a mix of green streaks shooting up in the sky and a sometimes distinct curtain stretching across the horizon. Unfortunately as soon as we were all down on the rock to watch it, it would fade away. We would sit there and wait for a while, get bored and go back to the fire, and look up and see it again. Then go back down on the rock to watch. We went back and forth from the fire two or three times before we finally hit the hay.

(Haggart Lake, Bulging Lake, Unnamed Lake, Unnamed Lake, Unnamed Lake, Unnamed Lake, Adventure Lake, Unnamed Lake, Haven Lake) We woke up to clear skies with just a hint of storm clouds in the horizon. The wind was putting a little ripple in the water as we departed from the camp and continued our journey. Paddling north out of Haggart Lake led us through another narrow stretch of twists and turns for about four miles. We took our time and enjoyed the scenery of heavily forested hillsides that had not seen a fire for a long time. We fished the whole way of course. We managed to catch a few pike and lake trout on our way. We could hear and sometimes see float planes overhead bringing others to some secluded lake. We kind of expected to see some other people soon by all this plane activity but never did.

The rapids that separated Haggart Lake from Bulging Lake had to be portaged. It was a short portage but much safer than the alternative of overturning a canoe. Bulging Lake is a wide open lake that was rolling with waves when we got onto it. We dropped some lines and concentrated on keeping the canoes pointed in the right direction as we lumbered through the waves. As we headed east we could see a pair of eagles high in the trees on the south shore watch us as we passed by.

As we rounded a point to the south, about halfway across the lake, we had the chance to look at the maps and pick out the cove we were headed for. The other canoes passed by and we found that Chad was the only one having luck with the fish. The blue shad-rap strikes again!. By the time we reached the cove, Chad had landed and released several lake trout.

After paddling across two large lakes and making the portage into the first unnamed lake of the day, we were beat. This lake was protected from the wind so we had a chance to relax. We pulled the canoes together, filtered some water, snacked on some gorp, and made our plans for the day. We were going to take our time across the next few unnamed lakes and fish for pike or whatever we could catch, before having lunch. Then we would attempt to make it to Adventure Lake and fish for lake trout or Haven Lake and fish for walleye.

Each canoe departed in its own direction to explore this small lake and pepper any structure in the water with lures. Chet and I headed north on the lake to get away from the others and fish some unexplored waters. We were creeping between two islands in a shallow channel when I noticed something moving behind the trees on one of the islands. At first I wasn’t sure I had seen something but then it moved again ever so slightly. I alerted Chet that we were being watched. Through the trees we could make out the silhouette of a large animal with antlers. I slowly put the paddle down and started fumbling for my camera. I managed to get a few shots of this mystery animal that was watching us through the trees. We soon realized that this was most likely not a moose and probably a caribou. We had no expectations of seeing one after our outfitter told us he had never seen one. But here we were and here it was watching each other unsure of what the other was going to do. When this dawned on us we thought to get the attention of the others. We looked to the south and could see them in the distance. I gave a whistle but they didn’t notice. I slowly raised my paddle and waved it in the air hoping they would notice but no such luck. They soon passed out of view behind another island. The animal started to move back into the brush so we gave up on the guys and tried to get a clear view of what it was we were looking at. As we quietly paddled around the northern point of the island we got that view. It was a bull caribou that was moving into a clearing at the edge of the island. We sat there watching it and took a couple pictures as it watched us. It did not seem overly concerned of our presence and went about browsing on the moss and lichen at it’s feet. It eventually moved back into the brush and out of our sight so we decided to go find the others.

   In a hurried pace we glided the canoe back to were we last saw the others. We turned the corner of the island and could see them to the north fishing so we paddled to them. At first they seemed concerned at our pace heading for them until we said, “Caribou”, at which point they promptly put their rods away and followed. We circled around the island and headed to the point we last saw the caribou. We slowed and told the others what had happened. Then the group set off to circle the island to see if we could spot it. Chet and I completely circled the island and stopped where we had last seen it. There in the brush we could see the tops of its antlers moving in the brush. It must have just laid down where we had last seen it. We signaled to Chad and Mike to come over and they did. We could not see much from where we were and started to move closer to the island when it stood up and looked at us. We could then see the silhouette of Greg and Brian on a hilltop on the island over where the caribou was. They had gotten onto the island on the south end and hiked across it to see if they could find it. The caribou noticed them and started to spook. It headed to the west end of the island and dropped into the lake and swam to another larger island. We moved the canoes into view of the swimming beast and managed to get a couple more pictures before it ambled onto shore of the island, stopped to see if we would follow, and then disappeared into the thick forest.

   After that, we decided that we had caused the caribou enough stress and decided to leave it alone on its new island. Instead, we headed on to the next unnamed lake, and then over to another unnamed lake before stopping to have lunch. We unloaded our gear and got lunch started. As we stood there we noticed a small hole in a tree about the size of an orange. Every time someone would go near the hole an angry, nasal hiss would come from the hole. We tried to shine a light in the hole to see what was making the noise but none of us really wanted what ever mean little weasel was in it, to come out and scold us for harassing it. After finishing lunch we watched a storm come in from north. We donned our raingear and stashed the rest of our equipment under the canoes before the storm hit. The downpour was heavy at time along with strong gusts of wind. We took cover back in the forest away from the point till the rain would lighten up. Then we would try to decide if that was the end of the storm, before another downpour would hit us. After a while we started to fidgety and decided to make a break for it when the thunder and rain stopped. We managed to get to the next portage before the last wave of the storm hit. We passed the time by fishing a small, pike filled stream that paralleled the portage.

After the rain had subsided the sky turned blue and we began out travel again. Hurrying across this unnamed lake, we portaged to Adventure Lake and decided we wanted walleye for dinner so we would fish this lake for a short time before heading over to Haven Lake. We spent about and hour circling around Adventure Lake and managed to pick up a few lakers but we let them go in hopes of catching walleye later on. Chet and I decided to move on in hopes the others would not be far behind. As we reached the portage out of adventure we could see the others heading in our direction. We quickly made the portage into another narrow, north/south stretching lake that was following some thick pine lowland. Chet and I quietly, yet quickly, made little work of the lake before finding the portage to Haven Lake. The others had caught up to us and were right at our backs as we made the portage.

On the portage to Haven Lake the landscape turned from dense pine forest full of thick mats of moss to more burn area. The portage was easy to follow besides the occasional downed mass of trees. We could see the lake so even if we were not on the trail, the walk was easy. The portage crews had apparently not been to this area yet. We eventually managed to reach Haven Lake and put our canoes into the dark waters. While the others were putting their canoes in the water I was making my second cast when I hooked a walleye. I didn’t get it in the boat but I was feeling positive about the fishing in this lake. When we passed the first island Chet caught a pike and was letting it go while I was casting at the shore and hooked another walleye. This time it went in the boat. Now I was in no hurry, I wanted to catch some fish. Chad and Mike appeared to be stopping to fish as Greg and Brian went to check out the campsite. Chet and I drifted past a point on the lake while I rigged up a jig-head and put on a leech. The fish were definitely down below us but were running on the small side. I could drop the leech and jig one or two times before I could feel the weight of a fish on the line. Many I missed, some were weeds, many went back in the water, but Chet and I managed to boat another one or two keeper walleye before we decided to head in to camp. Chad and Mike were not far behind.

The campsite was mainly a clearing on top of a steep cliff that overlooked the lake to the south. We could see a smattering of burnt out areas and areas that appeared un-touched. The campsite was pleasantly untouched by the fire. The forest was soft and mossy and full of potential firewood. After we found a couple sites to put up the tents and got camp in order we went back to fishing from shore with lindy rigs or floating jig-heads. We spent the majority of the evening sitting on the rocks catching pike and walleye while starting to talk smack about our upcoming fishing tournament we had planned for Wrist Lake. We cleaned the fish and returned to camp to make dinner before going to bed.

(Haven Lake, Unnamed Lake, Jigsaw Lake, Wrist Lake, Agean Creek, Amber Lake, Nutria Lake, Mexican Hat Lake) We took our time getting ready on this clear morning. The sun was hot by the time we were getting breakfast ready and the clearing in the middle of the camp was almost too hot to stand in. Slowly we got camp packed away and got ready to start a new day.

   We paddled south out of Haven Lake and found what we thought was a portage out of the lake but it turned out to be a moose path. In stead, we found that the small stream heading down to Gulch Lake was just slightly navigable. Occasionally we would have to step out onto the most solid ground we could find and pull the canoe over the thicker weeds but for the most part we were able to sit in the canoe and push our way down stream.    Gulch Lake was the scene of a fire and the rock slopes and cliffs were almost barren of living trees. We followed the lake to it’s termination at the south shore fishing along the way but not doing much good. We filtered some water and got ready for a long portage to Jigsaw Lake. The first ten feet of the portage was visible but then it quickly disappeared into the charred remains of the forest. We had not planned a real bushwack on the trip but here it was in front of us. Soon the maps and compasses were in hand and we made our way cross country to the next lake. Bushwacking through charred forest has to be the easiest situation to go through. You don’t have to contend with the underbrush and navigating over bare rock is much easier than ankle sucking muck. Eventually we came out of the burn area and started to approach the lake we could see beyond a stand of trees below us. Chet, who was carrying the canoe, wanted to get to the lake so he dropped down off the rock cliff and into a swamp full of sweet smelling Labrador tea and sphagnum moss. He then made his way through the forest. I dropped down behind him and began leading him through the soggy forest floor. I was just about to reach the lake, traveling along increasingly wet terrain when there was no more “terra-firma” below my feet. I dropped in a hole between some floating tamarack. I was up to my armpits in freezing cold water. I let out a yelp as the rush of cold poured in from every direction. I could hear the guys calling for me but I could not see them and they could not see me until I managed to pull myself and pack, out of the cold water. It was one heck of a way to wake up for the day.   We managed to get in the canoe without any more incidents and started our paddle across Jigsaw Lake. This lake was a mass of islands and coves that had all been burnt out. We crept our way though the island maze watching for more wildlife but the land was devoid of any cover and didn’t seem to be occupied by anything but a few curious ravens. It wasn’t till we reached the east end of the lake that we found more unharmed forest.    The beginning of the portage to Wrist Lake was another floating grassy bog full of bottomless muck and mosquitoes. Before long the portage climbed out of the swamps and into some higher ground. We passed over areas that had been recently worked over by a trail crew. I’m not sure what the Canadian trail crews do up here but the trail was littered with clothes. Not long after passing a sock, we passed a pair of tighty-whities, soon a pair of jeans, and finally a shirt. We never did see a guy with just one sock on, but we did keep our eyes out for him.

   At the end of the portage to Wrist Lake, we laid out our plans for the 2nd annual fishing tournament. The plan was to spend approximately 4 hours fishing this lake in an attempt to have the largest, by length, lake trout. When the time was up we were to rendezvous on a small island at the south end of the lake and make a late lunch of lake trout.

   We geared up for fishing and set off in our own directions. As we departed Chet immediately caught a pike and we could see Chad and Mike stopping to real in something as well. The lake is one of the larger, more wide open lakes we had been across. Its shores were lined with well developed trees and some higher hills. The lake was broken up by the occasional island or cove. From the main body of the lake you can see a large cliff on the south end that terminates at the waters edge. We paddled on and circled around an island at the entrance of the main body of the lake then headed south to go around a larger island.

   There was something mystical about this day on Wrist Lake. As we paddled across the smooth water, there was no wind. There were no clouds. There were no bugs. There were no birds chirping in the woods. No large birds circling over head. The squirrels were not rooting around in the leaves. There were no float-planes flying overhead. It was silent. It was maddeningly silent. I believe if you listened hard enough, you might just hear God breathing. I don’t know if the others noticed, or if it was just in my head because the fishing was so slow. It only lasted for about a half hour or so before the wind started up slightly, but it is the main thing I remember about that lake. I had never been in such absolute quiet.

   Chet and I paddled all over this lake. We circled around islands and traveled down coves. We floated and jigged, caste for pike, trolled shallow, and trolled deep but were only able to pick up one small lake trout. After circling around for hours Chet and I decided to hit the rendezvous island and get a start on lunch preparation. Soon after Greg and Brian were floating by the island to make sure we were not still in the competition. Before too long, Chad and Mike were floating by the island but refused to get on it till we all agreed we were down with the competition. Only then did they beach the canoe. After some measuring and re-measuring of Chad, Mike, and Brian’s fish, that were all fairly similar in size, we finally concluded that Mike’s was the biggest, at 26”. This is something we will most likely hear about till someone else takes the title. We stuffed ourselves with lake trout and then ate some more lake trout before packing up and heading on.

   After portaging onto Steak Lake we got temporarily disoriented before finding the portage to Amber Lake. Amber Lake was another narrow lake stretching from west to east that we paddled at a leisurely pace. Casting some spoons the whole way across, we picked up only a few small pike. We picked up the pace after realizing the fishing wasn’t so hot. Before long we reached to portage to Nutria Lake. Chet and I reached the portage first and it was Chet’s turn to carry the canoe. I led the way on this portage leading over some lowland. The portage was riddle with moose tracks so I kept a watchful eye as I progressed along the soupy portage. Several times I stepped into muddy waters assuming blindly that there would be something solid to stop my foot as it fell through what looked like solid land. At times I realized that the trail was not so solid so I had to tip-toe along the edges of the trail to stay on firm ground. Chet wasn’t so lucky as he had the canoe and pack on board forcing his momentum. He unfortunately stepped along an edge of the trail and slid into the muck and twisted his ankle along the way. I hear the crash of the canoe and turned back after depositing my pack along the trail. He hobbled by obviously hurting and went to drop his pack off at the end of the portage. I went and retrieved the canoe and met up with him. We sat by while he felt out his wound and the others passed on and launched into the lake. After a few minutes the sprain subsided and we were in the canoe and on our way.

   Nutria Lake was a small pond that terminated to the east in a weedy marsh. Fortunately the stream exiting the lake was navigable through the reedy marsh. On our way through we chased off a pair of ducks with young, whom quickly skirted off to the side and hid in the standing weeds. We made our way down the stream when the silence was broken by an angry red-tail hawk perched high in a tree. As we made our way over a beaver dam into Mexican Hat Lake, the only thing we could here was the shrill cry of the hawk, obviously bothered by our presence. Eventually we got far enough away to satisfy the hawk and the “yelling” subsided.

   Mexican Hat Lake was our final destination for the night. We had no idea where we were going to camp but were happy to finally be “home” for the night. As we paddled along we started to rig up for walleye and seriously fish. Greg had recalled a report of a pristine campsite along the south shore bordering a waterfall so we paralleled the south shore in search of it. It wasn’t long before Chet and I had one walleye in the boat and then it was followed by another. We could hear the waterfall we were heading for but could not see it. Chet and I decided to B-line it for camp and then fish the waterfall while the others were meandering around. We had several other hits on our lines along the way but no other fish. When we reached the cascading falls that curved through a cove in the lake we decided to fish below them and assumed it would be packed with hungry fish. For the life of me, I could not cast without snagging the bottom and Chet wasn’t having much luck either. We decided to beach the canoe at the campsite and fish from there. By the time we were on shore and unloaded, Greg and Brian arrived. We staked claim to a couple of tent sites and then went about the business of setting up camp. After that we could see Chad and Mike drifting into the bay intent on fishing the evening bite. I rigged up a floating jig head and fished from shore. I caught a few walleye to keep but the fishing was difficult as the current from the falls was coming along shore at an awkward direction and hard to cast without the sinker being drug along the bottom till it snagged. We managed to catch enough walleye to stuff ourselves with before giving up for the night. After dinner the bugs started to intensify. We put on some heavier clothes and DEET’ed up but that was still not enough. Even though, we got another viewing of the northern lights. We sat on the rock point and tried our best to ignore the bugs before finally retreating into the tents.

(Mexican Hat Lake, Unnamed Lake, Unnamed Lake, Unnamed Lake, Jake Lake Lunch Lake, East Lunch Lake, Unnamed Lake, Unnamed Lake, Unnamed Lake, Bunny Lake)

Waking up on the last full day of our trip was hard to do. I was not motivated to continue on and break camp. Laying there snug in my sleeping bag listing to the surging waters was perfect and I had no desire to be anywhere else. The realization that the trip was almost over started to bring on a melancholy feeling. I had warned my wife before the trip that I might “go feral” and resort back to a primitive man with tusks to root through the dirt, but I guess it wasn’t going to happen. We would eventually have to return to the modern would. Oh well, maybe next year.    The morning greeted us with another sunny day. We gathered our gear and cooked breakfast. Camp was packed away and we were again on the move. The portage was just a short paddle away and followed the waterfall up stream across a series of unnamed lakes broken up by the occasional waterfall. Each time we would reach a set of waterfalls, the fishing would start. The pike sitting below the falls were eager and hungry. We would catch a few of them then land the boat at the portage and start off to the next lake.    We eventually reached Jake Lake and tried to catch a few lakers before we would stop for lunch on Lunch Lake. To our dismay, we were not going to be eating fish for lunch as only a couple of pike were caught. We did end up stopping on Lunch Lake and eating a fishless lunch on a small and windy island. We could tell we were getting close to an entry point of the park by the amount of litter on the island. It wasn’t that there was a lot by any means, but it was the first time since we entered the park that we had noticed much if any. After Lunch we portaged over to East Lunch Lake and slowly paddled through the twisting stretches of the lake through a lowland, that was rocky and sparsely forested. We had high hopes of seeing something in the swampy coves but only a couple mergansers were around. At the south end of the lake the orienteering was a little difficult due to all of the different coves. We managed to choose the correct one and reached the portage. Again, we marched and paddled over and to a series of unnamed lakes before we reached Bunny Lake. And again, they were “pikey”.

   We made the last portage of the day onto Bunny Lake. The end of the portage landed on the lake in a dark watered bog that was difficult to navigate. Trying to keep the canoe over head, while balancing on logs in the dark water was difficult to do. It was almost too much to handle at the end of a long day of travel but we managed.

   On Bunny Lake we traveled north in an attempt to find good fishing and a suitable campsite. The waves were beginning to roll as we spread out over the lake. Chet and I followed a cliff side on the west shore and ducked out of the waves for a bit but decided to move into deeper water after neither of us had any hits. We passed by an island and met up with the others about halfway up the lake. With none of us having any luck fishing, we decided to duck out of the waves again and review the map. We had marked a campsite on the lake next to the portage we would take in the morning so we decided to head there and set up camp. We started to fish and meander our way to the campsite. Greg and Brian were at the south end of the lake and heading down a bay to the east that led to the campsite. On the south end of the lake we had our second encounter with people since entering Woodland Caribou. Two guys in a canoe starting off on their own adventure, paddling toward the portage we came from. We waved and paddled on to the campsite. When we reached the site we quickly hunted for a place to set up a tent. Space at this site was limited but we managed to squeeze in. The forest around the site was full of small pine trees and plenty of good firewood. After we set up camp, we opted to stay on shore and lazily fish from camp. A loon shyly inspected our camp from the lake while we sat on shore intent on catching something. No fish were to be had.   We had an early dinner and topped it off with our traditional last night snack. It was Chad’s pillow, a vacuum packed bag of marshmallows. We stood around the fire and toasted them over the fire while reminiscing about the trip.

  After all our water bottles were filled and the foodbag was packed we had to hang it. Even with very few trees to choose from and us being a little slap-stick at the time we managed to hang it off a flimsy pine. The tree arched over from the weight of the bag and the tension of the ropes, and the tip was almost touching the ground. The foodbag was just high enough for us to be satisfied, right over a tent. We figured if anything was going to go after it, we would know about it.

(Bunny Lake, Leano Lake)    The pack out of camp was very somber. Sure, we wanted to get home and tell our loved ones of the magical country we had seen and fun we had, but staying in the remote fish filled country seemed like a good idea as well. We were greeted with another nice day and the wind was to our backs so it was a fitting end to the trip. We hurried to the portage to Leano Lake so we wouldn’t have to rush to catch our ride.    On Leano Lake we immediately began to fish. Paddling to the final portage was second to the fishing and the chance to catch that one last lunker. We only put a little forward motion to the canoe in an effort to cast in some “fishy” looking spots along the shore before the others got a chance. The pike were there and willing to participate. We didn’t catch that one last lunker but we did manage to catch a lot.

   Eventually we grew concerned about navigating this lake that was not on our maps except for the little sketching of it we did at the beginning of our trip. The lake was a lot longer than we had thought but we eventually rounded a point we had remembered from our first day. After finding the stream we had entered the lake and hitting the portage, we stepped out of the canoes for the last time. We made the short portage up the hill into the parking area and waited for our ride.

I hope you enjoyed the report!