ODDS’N’SODS — The one that got away

Being in the exploration business, and oftentimes far from civilization, certainly gives one the chance to try out some excellent fishing spots.

Big fish were a part of my upbringing, but they had been of the East Coast, salt water variety. So when I found myself in northern Manitoba, in the middle of nowhere (or, to be precise, Lake Tadoule), I was not expecting to see any whoppers.

The day had started clear and cool with nary a wave on the water — perfect for doing shoreline work on the big lake. My partner and I, having worked all morning on a set of islands in the middle of the lake, were having a quick lunch on an outcrop that dropped off into about 10 ft. of water. As we were eating, my orange rolled off the outcrop and sank, just as I was reaching for it. I was about to curse my luck when I noticed it come bobbing back to the surface. I reached for it again, only to see it disappear for good — right down the gullet of the largest northern pike I had ever seen. We speculated it must have been the grandaddy of all pike.

That afternoon, we headed to look at a copper showing on the western end of a small island, only 30 metres or so from the spot where we had lunch. The water separating the two islands was remarkably clear and just deep enough for the canoe.

As we approached the mouth of the passage, we came across a duck and her brood of 12 ducklings, which couldn’t have been more than a week old. The ducks proceeded to scatter into the passage, looking to hide from the canoe and its noisy motor. As we watched, the ducklings appeared to be diving as part of their escape strategy. The swirls they created in the water, however, were too large and, try as we might, we could not see the ducks resurface.

In order to get a better vantage point from which to watch the diving featherballs, I stood up in the bow of the canoe.

To my amazement, I realized that not only were we herding the ducklings ahead of us, but also a dozen or so monster pike that had been basking in the sun in the shallows between the islands. Every time a skittering duckling got within range, a giant pike would shoot up from the bottom and inhale its noontime meal. We stopped in hopes that the mother could organize her brood and escape, but she could do no better than lead two of the ducklings to safety.

A few days later, we were fishing downstream of the lake and managed to hook into two of the Tadoule Lake monsters. The fish we landed weighed in the vicinity of 30 lb., but we managed to bring an even larger one alongside the canoe. The bigger pike, however, broke our homemade clothesline leader and slowly sank back into the depths. I could have sworn that fish was smiling.

We elected not to go swimming.

— The author, a consulting geologist and frequent contributor to this column, resides in Thunder Bay, Ont.