Pictures off Carleton Island - taken by Mike LaDue

Setting of a full November Moon - 11/14/11 - Written by Mike LaDue

The River has been taking its toll on my old worn out body. Each day that I am able, I travel in the Lyman to cast my arm off, in search of northern pike or a hungry musky. Bobbing waves rock me in the wood hulled craft, like a mother soothing her babe. I have to tell you that at times, it is tempting to lean back for twenty winks under the blue skies. Being the only boat on the River (most of the time) I am well aware of where I just might end up. The winds have been from the south west while I fish and a “quick nap” would land me on or near the shores of Wolfe Island. I am also well aware of the consequences associated with waking up in a boat with fishing equipment in Canadian waters, no thank you!

After one such grueling day “working” for fish on the River, I took a nap in the sanctuary of my cabin. Sandy had prepared me a warm pot of beef vegetable soup from her own recipe. She uses the Wagner ware Dutch oven that was my mothers and grandmothers. It is as welcome a sight after a cool day on the River, as is my comfortable chair after lunch. The combination of each leads me to an excellent slumber there after. My dreams lead me to quiet waters and large fish, many of which are too large for the net and some as long as the Lyman! My dream trips are always more productive than reality.

“Mike wake up, there is a brilliant full moon setting out front! You have to see this.” The fish that I had on, was large and almost to the net, when the aforementioned exclamation of excitement separated me from my dream. After a long stretch, I lumbered from the easy chair to look over the River and see a full November moon setting. I may have been groggy, but my instincts directed me to my camera and back upstairs to the balcony. Slight wisps of clouds hung to the bottom of the illuminated globe as it settled between cedar trees. I could not have dreamed such a perfect close to the day of my 92^nd trip in the Lyman.

Saturday I opted to make a change in my outdoor habits, I had an urge do some venison searching. I could not have picked better day, it was cool and bright in the morning. I did some still hunting, taking slow steps and scanning the woods for any movement. A brisk wind shielded the sounds from the crisp fallen leaves which surrounded my boots. The woods were void of bird activity and most of the movement I caught was that of falling leaves.

An old pine tree held a young porcupine outside of a large hole in the tree. As it heard me coming it turned its back to me and flared its quills in my direction. I stood still and watched it turn to face me, an inquisitive little fellow. It had an obscure face with two tiny black eyes that feared my presence. It was the size of a basket ball with a tail covered in spiny quills. Another step and it repeated the display from the rear. To be honest with you it made the hair on the back of my neck react in the same matter. There are two creatures that I do not want to adjutant… skunks and porcupines, each for the obvious reason, distinct to their breed.

Sunday morning the River had a steady blow from the south-west inviting me to add to my season setting goal in the Lyman. The sunshine sparkled on the deep blue River surface as I watched a CSL freighter approach the west end of Carleton Island. The islands are now in the winter mode. Leafless trees have over taken the horizon with smatterings of blue sky, poking through the tree tops. Sad looking cottages look stark and lifeless, some of which have lost their hearts. Changes are inevitable but not always welcome, such is the pulse of life as we know it. This day I was meant to enjoy the gift that was handed to me; sunshine, warmth and a bit of fishing.

The morning outing (ride #93) did not yield a fish. The lure sailed a good distance with the wind on each cast. I jigged it, reeled it slowly and only managed one strike that held onto a northern, briefly. I spent over two hours sitting on the cool vinyl seats of the Lyman. My hands were cold, my butt was frozen and the wind did not help matters. The thought of breakfast over took my urge to fish further. I left the boat in the River knowing that another ride would end my afternoon.

At 3:00 PM I returned to the River under a cloudy sky. Inverted mountains of clouds drifted to the north east. It was like looking over the Adirondacks from the seat of a plane, with white peaks and sunken dark valleys. It was an unusual sight from the seat of a boat, to say the least. My third long cast from the boat skipped the lure like a stone, splashing down. I decided to speed up my retrieve, just to try something different from the morning attempt.

A solid strike and unwilling participant engulfed the silver doctor spoon. She was the best Pike of my life (over 10 pounds). She peeled line from the reel like a strong small mouth! Around and under the boat she went, not slowing down for five minutes. I prepared the net for a scoop and the sight of it sent her on another driving dive to the edge of the weeds. A tug of war ensued and to my relief she came free of the carpeted bottom.

I set the tired fish onto a plastic bag and had to remove the barbless hooks from her gills. It was a task… with one hand holding her still as I while tried to pull the lure from beneath the gills, to minimize any severe damage. The lure dropped nicely into the net and then I had to unclasp the wire leader with one hand. All said and done she recovered and scooted off in good shape. The next cast I caught another pike of normal size and then two more before daylight slipped away.

I am hopeful that November will continue with this spectacular weather. I have caught more pike in the last two weeks than I have over the last several years. I know that it just a matter of time before a cruising musky finds one of my lures. Who knows, with just six more rides to reach one hundred for the season that may be the number where fate and luck coincide?