My plan was to write a journal entry every night of my Lake of the Woods fishing trip. I even packed a small battery-operated lantern, so I wouldn’t have to use a headlamp after I crawled into my tent. In six days, I wrote in my journal only once.
I wish I could say that I did not write because I was too exhausted to think clearly after full days of fishing and exploring, but the real reason was that I was just too cold. Once I stripped off four layers of clothing and put on a dry set of long underwear, I just wanted to curl up in my sleeping bag and get warm for the first time all day. We’ve had cold weather on previous mid-May trips to Ontario, but this year might have been the first when it’s been cold for the entire week. It snowed a few times while we were fishing, and there was frost on our tents each morning. For the first time ever, some of us cut short our afternoon outings on the water just to return to camp and build a campfire. Most years we saved campfires for evening relaxation before and after dinner. This year there was a fire going just about any time we were in camp.
There are, however, benefits to cold weather. The fish are just coming out of their winter lethargy, often feeding in the slightly warmer water of the shallows. We always go to Ontario for opening day of walleye season, and as usual, we all caught our share of walleyes. Different than other years was the number of large northerns, muskies, and lake trout brought to the sides of our boats. I think all eight of the people on the trip caught at least one fish that will qualify as a lasting memory. The lake trout, which often are in deeper water when we arrive mid-May, were still in 15-20 feet of water, and I don’t think that a day went by when someone did not catch a muskie. Ben, a son of one of our regulars, came with us for the first time, and he may have had the best week of fishing in his life.
The best part of the cold weather is that it keeps other fishermen away. Our campsite is an hour-and-a-half boat ride from a large cabin/resort area. I’ve never seen anyone else camping in the backcountry, but usually a couple dozen fishing boats motor in for the day. This year I don’t think that we saw more than six boats all week, and even those boats relegated themselves to a few known hotspots. Without much effort, we never got within a quarter mile of other human beings and surrounded ourselves with pelicans, gulls, beavers, and mink. We saw bears every day, all sows with cubs, but not a single bear ventured into camp.
I am writing this blog entry from the front porch of my house in a teeshirt and shorts. Hard to believe that a week ago my fingers were too numb to comfortably hold a pen.
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