BY JAMES HODGINS
For Wild Northerner
We spent the last few hours trolling around blindly after exhausting all our knowledge we had acquired over the last few years on this lake. Our companions in the other boats were starting to get organized to head back to camp, the sun and its ambiance clearly gone and the darkness of night fast approaching. It's time to separate the men from the boys I said to my dad, well I said it in my head, but what came out of my mouth was "yeeesh". This was a bust. My dad, AKA Pops, wanted to stay out a bit later as the moon was out, the weather was warm and for a May long weekend we really had nothing better to do. It wasn't until about an hour after everyone else in the vicinity had left the lake that the bite actually turned on. Slow trolling a chartreuse jig armed with a leach through a spot we dubbed, The Trench, yielded a fish for one of us with each pass. It was a flurry of action for the next hour or so. The moon was high in the night sky, which illuminated everything around us, and it was unusually warmer from past May long weekends which made the night fishing more memorable. Getting back to camp and surprising our party with a stringer of walleye was almost as good as the looks on their faces.
"No Fish Lake" as we call it has been an annual May Long weekend destination for my dad and I for years. In the years past I would hear the stories from my dad and his friends as they joked around about the one that got away, or how my dad caught another rock (which is now on a plaque and on the wall). They
would talk about the plane ride, the preparation, the meals and past friends and family who have visited the camp. I remember the first time I went, everything was as they described and it all felt familiar. The first night I was on the lake I was the only one that boated a fish. A nice plump walleye. I was new to walleye fishing as my childhood had me hooked on bass and pike, so even though we only had one fish, it was a victory.
On one trip, a few of us decided to hop in a plane and try one of the close lake to change things up. This was a smaller lake with loads of lake trout, and although they are not monsters, when the bite is on, it's on. I was having great success using a Nuckle Ball Jitt-R-Jig tipped with a small shiner and a stinger hook. I couldn’t keep them off my line while my companions were having no such luck throwing everything in their tackle box. Only one took me up on my offer to share my ammo while the other was determined to boat a laker with his secret weapon - a Panther Martin Spinner. Hours went by with Jitt-R-Jig getting strike after strike while the Panther Martin was avoided like the plague. Finally, reluctantly, at the end of the day our pilot and friend succumbed to peer pressure and started to tie up my last jig. He took his time finding a small treble hook and attaching it to the jig while my buddy and I were still enjoying the laker action.
"There," he said. "Time for me to catch some fish."
He threw his new presentation into the water where it sank to the bottom of the lake. As he was looking down in the water at the few remaining bubbles, he said something I can't repeat, but the lesson learned here folks is to make sure your presentation is tied to the line that is on your rod before you throw it in the water.
Pops and I have not been to Lost Lake in a few years, but the memories and stories we created will be with us forever. Get out fishing with your family and close friends. Find your Lost Lake.
Fishing with “Pops” always an experience