My Dad and I loaded up the boat after work and headed for Sandbar. With low wind speeds and a summer sun hung high in the sky, it was a true scorcher! The highs had reached 93 degrees fahrenheit and I was skeptical of how the fish would be biting. With the boat in the water before 4:30 PM, we would have plenty of time to fish, so we decided to head to the southern reef off of Savage Island and look for the hog smallies that patrol the rocky flat. Perched atop my custom built bass deck in the front of our 14 foot starcraft, courtesy of my net/handyman, it wasn’t long before the first bronzeback was spotted following my jerkbait. I quickly grabbed my Medium Light Fenwick, pre-rigged with one of my favorite, a.k.a. Secret, plastics. While being careful not to move too quickly, for I would run the risk of being spotted, stood up, rod in hand, and stared back towards the last location of the fish spotted just two seconds ago. GONE! It’s amazing how a slow moving fish can disappear the split second you take your eyes off of them.
A couple casts later I spotted another hog, this time not daring to take my eyes of it, while grasping blindly for my other rod. Every second wasted was another 5% chance that I wouldn’t have enough time to execute an effective cast that would place my slow sinking bait right at the meandering bass’s lips. Whizzzz, SPLOOK. Fingers-crossed as I watched the target near my bait, seemingly not paying any attention to it. Just brushing his tail up against it a second before it hit the rock face. DARN!! Oh wait, he’s turning around. He’s circling back towards my bait!! The fish gently noses down on the worm and opens his mouth, engulfing it in one swift motion. I lowered my rod tip slightly and set the hook. Big Smallies are a blast on 20 pound Braid and a light rod. Although I don’t remember any details on the size of this particular fish, I remember the catch itself, bright as day.
After catching a couple more bass and watching many more monsters pass by without a trace of interest, we headed for the deeper water. My Dad’s friend who is an avid Salmon fisherman, and who happens to be taking my Dad on a week long fishing trip for Kings on Ontario right now, had just shown up and had started trolling. We buzzed over to him right after we heard his distinct voice echo across the lake “Nothing Wrong with that Pop,” as he congratulated his elderly Dad on the first blood of the day. We got the scoop on what they were hitting on and did our best to follow suit with our fairly basic salmon arsenal. I like running larger spoons as they tend to deter the pesky perch, so I put down my two lines, stacked on my DownRigger. We had been set up for no longer than twenty minutes when my rod released and I set the hook into a tank of a fish. With the only sign of life being a random head shake here and there, I had no idea what I had hooked into. My First thought/hope was that it was a 12 pound salmon that didn’t know it was hooked yet. But it never screamed 150 feet of line off of my spool in under 3 seconds so that couldn’t be it. Then I thought that I had hooked into a big old walleye, as they can show sluggish behavior. Maybe? All I knew was that my rod was doubled over and I couldn’t budge whatever was on the end of my line. Eventually the beast began to tire and I was able to pump line in. After a 3 minute fight or so, I finally caught a glimpse of the mystery fish. Black back with light spots, orangy fins with white stripes... It’s a Laker! And a good one at that! Once netted, a couple celebratory fist pumps and bumps were exchanged. My heart was pounding as I hoisted the 5-6 pound laker and put him on ice.
According to most of the people that I talk to, Lakers aren’t exactly common in the IS. While they are caught every once in awhile, I felt like I had caught a legend. We also landed two squeaker salmon that day, one for my Dad and one for me. It was a blast!!!
