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It was a warm March 2013 ice fishing season and I was extremely excited to be joining my good friend Quinn for a monster pike hunt. Before this time, I had only fished in lakes close to the city where it seemed you would catch nothing more than a cold.
The sun was shining brilliantly and there was a light breeze on the southern Alberta reservoir. We set up our fishing rigs and the wait began. Suddenly, in the serene silence I was surprised to hear Quinn shout, “Flag up!” We sprinted to the hole and a ferocious battle between Quinn and a monstrous northern pike ensued! After about thirty seconds of battle, the prize was brought closer to the hole and I could observe its silver reflection just below the ice. With a couple of crocodile rolls, the insidious creature broke loose and was gone!
We reluctantly returned to the tent and discussed how exhilarating the experience truly was. It was at that moment that I knew I would become a true northern pike fisherman.
Breaking the silence, Quinn spoke, “Okay, the next flag that goes up is yours!” Quickly realizing that my footwear was soaking wet, I decided to make a dash for the truck on shore to retrieve my boots. At about twenty yards away, I could hear yelling, whistling and shouting coming from behind me. Turning, I observed Quinn holding what appeared to be a giant BC salmon! Bolting back, he proudly displayed a 41-inch, 21-pound pike. Quinn then proceeded to explain the importance of conscious fish conservation and since this was a female with an abundance of eggs, we needed to return her to the waters. We departed from the lake and as we continued the long haul back to Calgary, I could only think of how badly I wanted to catch one of those beasts.
My next opportunity to pursue such a fish was when I returned in the summer alone. I brought out a small blow-up fishing boat and I confidently pushed the boat into the water with tremendous excitement. Reaching my destination, I dropped a line with a massive smelt on the end hoping to recreate the happiness of last winter. Realizing that my feet were cold and wet, I reluctantly decided to row back to shore to change my footwear. After about forty-five minutes of intense rowing, I was shocked to discover my car was getting smaller! As I rowed harder, it was evident that I was in a treacherous predicament. The precarious winds had picked up and my rookie boating skills had been blinded by my intense pursuit of that monstrous pike. I paddled until my arms felt completely dead as the waves and wind kept getting higher, rising with the immense heat and the intense sun of high noon. These conditions were no match for a green paddleboat. After about two hours or so, I was blown clear across the lake with the opposite shore appearing far away from where I began.
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| The author poses with one of his two monster northern pike. |
Barefoot, standing on the shore with nothing but a fishing rod and a hat, I felt dismal and embarrassed. I estimated my way back to my car was probably a painful nine-hour hike around the lake in my bare feet. So, I began my painfully slow and extremely blistering hike with every rock, piece of grass and thistle stabbing my feet with every step. With the temperature soaring to over thirty degrees Celsius, not a cloud in sight nor a drop of clean water, I came upon a dam where two Bow River Irrigation Dam workers were talking. At this point, I had tied my hat around one foot and my shirt around the other to ease the pain of the thistles and sharp rocks. Feeling helplessly embarrassed, I approached the dam workers and they engaged me immediately by saying, “What in the blazes happened to you?” Looking down at myself, I noticing that I looked like Tom Hanks from the movie “Castaway”. I relayed my story and the nice lady not only drove me to fetch my boat, but also then proceeded to my car. Packing my gear, I felt lucky that day and decided that my longing for that relentless pike had taken me over the edge of my comfort zone. The best part of that excursion was lessons learned in boat safety and the power of nature. I would not see the southern Alberta reservoir again until ice fishing season 2014.
Family Day weekend, February 2014 had arrived. The fishing was free and temperatures were rising under an endless, cloudless, gigantic blue Alberta sky. My dad, wife, sister and brother-in-law joined me, fellow fishermen Quinn and his uncle for a glorious weekend of ice fishing. The lake was like a huge piece of blue, turquois glass.
On day one, we lost nine leaders to mysterious creatures that bit them in half. It was exciting non-stop action, as flags seemed to go up every five minutes. Then “zing” my pole flag went up. My automatic fisherman rod flew into the air and we all went running. Whatever was on the end of the quick strike rig made the entire rod vanish into the hole with me almost with it. It now appeared the lines were wrapping around each other setting off another flag, which led to mass anarchy on the ice. Then, having endured enough, the fish took a powerful run and bent the rod to a ninety-degree angle while the line was peeling and squealing off the reel. Then the line snapped. I most definitely had too tight of tension on the reel.
The next morning, we rose early with the renewed enthusiasm of a small child on Christmas morning. Bravely, we encountered high and powerful winds, which made the setting up of the tent almost impossible. We tied the tent to the truck and found a large piece of deadwood on the shore to prop up the middle. We were frankly reminded of the lake’s raw nature. In spite of this, somehow we felt everything was in sync and with slick precision, we pulled out a 21-pound pike measuring 39 inches! Wow, I fulfilled my dream of catching a jumbo northern pike and I was able to experience this with my father!
Soon after, the flag went up on my rod hooked up to the Automatic Fisherman Tip-up. After a five-minute, challenging battle of push and pull, I reeled in a 42-inch, 22-pound monster northern pike and my dream was met for a second time. This one will be my replica mount. Once again, however, laden with eggs, these beautiful females were returned to the lake to spawn.
I learned many fishing and safety lessons on my two-year hunt “For The Love of Pike” and will continue to do so on many of the lakes in this beautiful province of Alberta. ■
For previous Reader Stories click here.
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