Matt's Fishing Journal | Lake Kapukasing

Well, if you have read Parts 1 through 3 of this blog series, on our Canadian trip, to Lake Kapukasing, you would already know about the numerous pike we have caught. The walleyes were also in good supply. This trip, however, had a primary goal: Catch big pike. The first few days of the trip were more fun and exciting than I could have ever imagined. We were now halfway through the trip, and we now had nothing but big pike on our minds. We went all over the 8-mile lake searching for them, marking good spots. We travelled well over an hour up a feeder river, just to see if the remoteness of the area would begin to pay off. It was now Tuesday, and we were getting really hungry for a big fish. We knew that our time may come with a full moon on back-to-back nights, on Wednesday and Thursday.

Before I attempt to recall the true highlights of our trip, I must mention how ironical fishing may be. How many times do we go out and buy newer, better lures, only to find that the old ones still succeed? How often do we go out scouring a lake for that hidden spot, when the best spot is right behind us? How many times are we ready to convince ourselves that it was the wrong time of year, wrong conditions, or just not meant to be, when we are smiled upon with a fishing story we will never forget? These next two tales will forever live in my mind as many of the above questions were answered to our fishing crew.

Paul’s 44-Incher

On Tuesday morning, we were racking our brains about the different spots and locations we had fished. We were trying to tie this all together with previous information we had learned about the lake through message boards and talking with others. We were struggling to find the deep cabbage weed that my grandfather prized so much for monster pike. Paul and he shared stories of other big pike they had caught, and the only thing that most of our spots were missing was deep water. I had mentioned to Paul that the little bay that our cabin was sitting on, was supposed to have a deep hole in the middle. This little bay was only about the size of half a football field. We decided to work the weed edges, as we knew there were plenty of perch and walleye to feed on it. It was a little bit crazy to look for monster pike in the waters that stared us in the face most of the trip.

Paul had been throwing a Johnson silver minnow, with trailer, most of the trip and getting a good number of pike. As a joke, in a way, he pulled out one of my grandpa’s homemade lures. The joke wasn’t the fact that the lure was no good; it was more the idea of what it looked like. It had a homemade buzz bait front, made out of a tin can. It had the body of an old dart he had found in his basement. It had a bucktail trailer, off a real deer, that followed behind the sputtering blade. The lure did not look like much as it sputtered through the water looking like 7-inches of a science project. (The lure can be seen in the mouth of Paul’s fish below) We were drifting across the bay from one weed bed to the next, with the hole in between them. As soon as we had passed over the hole, Paul decided to make a cast back across it. Barb and I just so happened to be looking, as the head of an enormous pike broke the surface and made one of the loudest splashes I have ever heard from a fish. It was the “blow-up” we had been waiting for. Paul went to set the hook; however, the fish was no-where to be found. He was pretty sure the fish had not felt the sharpness of the hook and he continued to cast. After another 30 minutes, we decided to give the area a rest.

We came back to the same spot, a day later, Wednesday, around noon. I was throwing a large topwater, while Paul had on grandpa’s homemade lure. It only took about fifteen minutes of casting, when we heard the same splash. This time Paul set the hook and yelled “fish-on, I got him this time”. The big pike immediately dove down as deep as it could and buried down into some thick, thick vegetation. After the initial run, the fish and Paul were now at a stand-still. Fifteen minutes passed; there was tension from the fish, but still no movement. We worked the boat around into various positions, attempting to somehow pull on the fish, no luck. The reality of the situation began to set-in. We may be at a true stale-mate. Paul had thought the fish had swam under a log and the line was wrapped into a now win situation. My grandpa (Bob) was in the cabin and heard all the shouting and commotion, after all, we were only 50 yards off the pier. He quickly jumped into his boat and was now at the scene offering his assistance. It was no close to a half an hour battle.

Finally, after taking his line to the limit, Paul was able to get the fish to move. It ran another 20 yards and a new stalemate ensued. Our confidence was restored as the fish was showing signs of becoming tired. The second stalemate did not last nearly as long, as the fish began to rise off the bottom. We were excited to see that this fish may be landed, when a new problem occurred. Paul now had close to thirty pounds of weeds, along with the fish, strung across his fishing line.

Over the next few minutes, I carefully pulled massive amounts of weeds off the line, as shown in the pictures below. We finally got to see the fish. The head was bigger than any other pike I had ever seen. In fact, it would probably have fed on any of the other pike I had ever seen. Paul slowly got the fish boat side, where he would attempt to land it with his hands. The fish caught its second wind and quickly took off again, gathering more weeds. I quickly pulled the weeds off, while attempting to maintain some boat position. The fish came boat side again. This time, Paul would not miss. He was able to quickly and safely get his hands under the gills of the fish and use his other hand to support its body. He gave me the rod and hoisted the trophy out of the water. I let out a yell of joy, while Paul was ear to ear smiles. My grandpa let out a good laugh, and we brought the fish into the boat for a few quick pictures. The fish, after some reviving, swam off with a powerful tail kick. We let it go to let this beast give someone else the same joys on a future day. The pictures below will do the talking for this 44 inch monster.

Paul undergoing his epic big pike battle.

The monster buried in the weeds.

Paul lands the fish by hand.

Paul with the monster fish. Grandpa's home lure is dangling from its mouth.

The reason they are commonly referred to as gators.

This fish will fight another day.

Who is supposed to tire out? The fish or the fisherman.

My 42-incher

That evening, after Paul’s fish, we decided to hit walleyes for the first night of a full moon. We figured we could go after big pike on the next day’s perfect moon. It was now Wednesday evening, and my grandpa smiled and told me that the only thing that could make this trip better, was if I caught a big behemoth of a pike. That evening, Paul wanted to spend some quality time with his dad, so they took out a boat together. I went out with Barb, and we were going for some bigger pike. We took about a mile ride out to the bigger part of the lake. It was a windy day, and we were hoping it would stir up some big fish. It wasn’t long before the whitecaps were building and we had a rough ride back to the narrows near our cabin. I decided to troll with a hot-green, firetiger Thunderstick. We were now about 150 yards from our cabin and in a much safer part of the lake. We trolled near an island that appeared to have a decent drop off. We stayed about 20 yards off of the island, in order to avoid weeds. As soon as we got to the point, my lure came to an instant stop.

I immediately idled the motor as I assumed I was snag. The lure was not moving, not pulling drag, simply stuck. I turned to Barb and exclaimed that I was snagged. She looked at me and asked on what? We knew we were safe from rocks and weeds. The lure didn’t go very deep. I began to reel my line in pulling the boat over towards my lure. Once we got over the top of the lure, I gave a good hard tug. Immediately line started to peel and my rod was bent in half. I looked at Barb with a smile, as I knew that my snag was a fish.

The fish quickly ran out and tried to hunker on the muddy bottom. After one quick burst of drag, the fish quickly conceded the fact that it was coming in, barely 5 minutes had passed since the battle had begun. Barb got the net ready, we still had not seen the fish. The fish dragged in behind as I pulled it. While, at the first burst of energy, I had figured it may have been big, I now figured the fish was a good one, slightly above average. I got the fish to the boat, about four feet under the heavily stained water and began to raise it. It was then that I first saw the fish and my heart began to race. This was no ordinary fish by my standards. This fish was the one I had been going for the whole trip. This fish, if I could land it, would be my first 40-inch Northern Pike. Before I gave it much thought, Barb had the net in the water. As she began to scoop the fish, a thought occurred to me: Unless she gets underneath it perfectly this walleye size net is not going to bring in this fish. Luck was on my side. Barb did net the fish perfectly and it bent right into the net. As soon as the head of the fish was in, the hooks from my lure quickly popped loose. We were now only a very short distance from the cabin, so I began to shout to my grandpa, Uncle Paul, and Sonny, as we made the minute drive back. We quickly took some pictures of my fish, and she swam off with only a little bit of reviving. I probably smiled ear to ear as my goal for the trip was accomplished. On back to back days, we not only caught, but successfully released a pair of 40-inch giants.