5Weight
01-07-2010, 02:05 PM
Hi All,
I wrote the story you'll see below, on my first trip to Spray Lake two years ago. I've since been back many times, and have always enjoy the trip. In fact, I'm heading back again this weekend. Good luck to all heading to the lakes, and I hope you enjoy my story.
Cheers,
5Weight
Driving down the highway in the dark hours of the morning and hearing “Wind warning in effect for the entire province” on the radio, should have sent me right back to bed and right back home to a very warm and comfortable set of covers. But, unlike most people with an ounce of common sense, I just kept on going. I hadn’t been ice fishing in two years and I was bound and determined that today was going to be the day to get back to it. After returning to Calgary from visiting family back in Saskatchewan over Christmas holidays, and managing to somehow squeeze my Dad’s hand auger into an already overflowing back seat of the car, it was time to see if its blades could still carve a hole into the ice.
I was headed west of Calgary, to the mountains, and to Spray Lake, a beautiful alpine Lake located just outside the small town of Canmore. I have been there hiking in the summer, and further down the road snowshoeing in the winter, but have never visited the area for ice fishing. The road from Calgary wasn’t too bad. Yes, the wind was tossing my car around like crazy, and yes, the trees lining the road did seem to be waving at me as if to urge me in the other direction, but I had a front seat stacked to the roof with clothes and a trunk full of fishing gear. I was going to catch some Lake Trout today.
It was clear skies as I left Calgary, but as soon as the mountains grew nearer, I knew Mother Nature had a little more in store for the day. Snow started to drift, and visibility dropped like a stone. By the time I reached Canmore, the mountains were visible only in between the strongest of gusts and then, only for a moment. I wasn’t sure if this was the best idea that had ever gone through my head, but there was a younger time when I would have done many crazier things just to catch a fish - so I took a sip of coffee, turned left, and willed my little car up the Spray Lake Road. After a slippery, snowy, and windy drive up the mountain, I eventually arrived at my destination and hopped out of the car at the edge of the lake.
I had been researching ice fishing for Lake Trout online and Nick at Wapiti Sports in Canmore had given me some advice on how to fish the lake, so I wasn’t going in completely blind. But I had never ice fished in a mountain lake before and I didn’t exactly have my hopes up. Pair that with the fact that once at the lake, I couldn’t even see it from all the blowing snow, or the trees across the road, or the truck beside me in the parking lot for that matter, and I wasn’t exactly concerned about running out of pictures on my camera. But out I went.
I walked to where I figured I should stop, dropped my gear, and went to work with the auger. It was about 20 minutes after this that I realized how much I had taken for granted my power auger back in Saskatchewan. With that motorized ice fishing wonder, I could slice 20 holes in the ice in 15 minutes and never even break a sweat. As I remembered the hand auger taking a little more effort, and a little more work, my plan was to drill a couple of holes beside each other so I could sit on my lawn chair, jig two lines, and attempt to huddle away from the wind. It didn’t take long before that plan was quickly altered by my burning arms and winded lungs. Maybe I need to sharpen the auger blades, maybe buy a new set of blades all together, or, most likely, maybe it’s time for me to get back on the workout routine. One line it is.
From the research I had gathered on this lake from the internet and from the local sporting goods store, I figured that I needed to fish in somewhere between 60 and 120 feet of water. After nearly falling over from exhaustion in my attempts to drill a hole in the ice, I was hoping that I was in the right place. If I had dropped a line down to the bottom and found only 30 feet of water, I don’t know if I could have handled another drilling session. I may have just stood 40 feet away from the hole so that I could let out 70 feet of line and fool myself into believing my hook was only inches away from hungry fish. With fingers crossed, I baited up my jig and sent it floating to the bottom. It seemed like it took a while to get there and after I pulled it up to check, I stepped off the line and counted about 65 feet. With a sigh of relief, I settled in for the morning.
I wasn’t exactly sure how to fish this lake. Do I jig a little bit? Jig like crazy? Let my hook just sit there? I wasn’t sure. So I tried everything. And, to my surprise, it wasn’t long before I had my first hit. Such a surprise in fact that it took a second to register what it was. The fish came back a few seconds later, but got off again. About 10-minutes later the same thing. A really light bite a few times in a row, and then gone. There was no fish – but there was hope.
But, BUT… about a half an hour after this, and after cursing the wind and chasing my folding chair down the lake more times than I would care to admit, I hooked a fish. Not just any fish mind you, it felt like a biggie.
As I leapt out of my chair, which proceeded to tumble off down the lake once again, the fight was on! Line screamed out of my reel and I swear I could see smoke billowing from the spool. For every foot I gained, he took ten. I was worried I was going to run out of line!
Gradually though, the fight began to wear down the monster and he slowly started to make his way to the hole… or so I thought. With what I figured to be a few feet from my victory, away he went again, heading right back where he came from, and right back to the bottom.
By this time, not only my lawn chair had blown away, but my tackle box was nowhere to be seen, my ice scooper was clanging a merry song as it scurried down the lake, and my hand auger was covered by a snow drift that I was considering building an igloo out of. As I found out on my search later (and I did manage to get everything accounted for), my lunch box had skidded to a halt beside a shack about 100 yards down the lake, my backpack had made a break for freedom only to be foiled by the boat launch, and my touque looked quiet amusing as it had kept the top of a small pine tree toasty warm. Not that I could have done anything about the wind blowing my stuff away with this monster on the line…
Eventually the fish made another appearance at the hole and this time, I somehow squeezed his head inside. Squeezed being the crucial word here. My auger cuts a 7 inch hole, which as most ice fishers know, can land huge walleye, fat rainbows, tubby whitefish, and even the largest of northern pike. But I had my doubts on whether or not this Lake Trout was going to make it onto the snowy side of the ice.
I squeezed, and I squished, and I maneuvered the fish every which way I could think of but it just wouldn’t budge towards the hole. It wasn’t until I stuck my tongue out the left side of my mouth (it had been stuck out the right side of my mouth the whole time) that the trout finally slid its way up the hole and broke the surface.
I frantically took off my mitts, which, of course, are now half way to Winnipeg, in order to ensure a good grip on the fish. I reached down, grabbed him behind the gills and, like an Olympic power lifter, heaved with all of my might. The fish came out of the hole with a ‘pop’ like you’d hear as one sends a cork flying across the room from an exploding bottle of Champagne. Staggering backward, I fell onto the snow hugging the fish with all of my strength. There was no physical way it could happen, but I had to make sure that giant wasn’t going to find its back down the hole.
Then, gasping for breath, there I was. Face to fins with the mighty fish. The mightiest of all Lake Trout I had ever set eyes on. The biggest Lake Trout I ever had flopping on the end of my line. And it was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.
It doesn’t matter that the fish was in reality only 10 inches long and probably the smallest Lake Trout anyone else who has ever caught a Lake Trout before has ever caught, and it doesn’t matter that it was the only fish I caught all day, and it doesn’t matter that this particular fish will not be hanging on my wall. What does matter is that I took a nice picture, I enjoyed a chilly, but wonderful day outside, and that I have a fun story to tell everyone about the very first Lake Trout I ever caught.
I wrote the story you'll see below, on my first trip to Spray Lake two years ago. I've since been back many times, and have always enjoy the trip. In fact, I'm heading back again this weekend. Good luck to all heading to the lakes, and I hope you enjoy my story.
Cheers,
5Weight
Driving down the highway in the dark hours of the morning and hearing “Wind warning in effect for the entire province” on the radio, should have sent me right back to bed and right back home to a very warm and comfortable set of covers. But, unlike most people with an ounce of common sense, I just kept on going. I hadn’t been ice fishing in two years and I was bound and determined that today was going to be the day to get back to it. After returning to Calgary from visiting family back in Saskatchewan over Christmas holidays, and managing to somehow squeeze my Dad’s hand auger into an already overflowing back seat of the car, it was time to see if its blades could still carve a hole into the ice.
I was headed west of Calgary, to the mountains, and to Spray Lake, a beautiful alpine Lake located just outside the small town of Canmore. I have been there hiking in the summer, and further down the road snowshoeing in the winter, but have never visited the area for ice fishing. The road from Calgary wasn’t too bad. Yes, the wind was tossing my car around like crazy, and yes, the trees lining the road did seem to be waving at me as if to urge me in the other direction, but I had a front seat stacked to the roof with clothes and a trunk full of fishing gear. I was going to catch some Lake Trout today.
It was clear skies as I left Calgary, but as soon as the mountains grew nearer, I knew Mother Nature had a little more in store for the day. Snow started to drift, and visibility dropped like a stone. By the time I reached Canmore, the mountains were visible only in between the strongest of gusts and then, only for a moment. I wasn’t sure if this was the best idea that had ever gone through my head, but there was a younger time when I would have done many crazier things just to catch a fish - so I took a sip of coffee, turned left, and willed my little car up the Spray Lake Road. After a slippery, snowy, and windy drive up the mountain, I eventually arrived at my destination and hopped out of the car at the edge of the lake.
I had been researching ice fishing for Lake Trout online and Nick at Wapiti Sports in Canmore had given me some advice on how to fish the lake, so I wasn’t going in completely blind. But I had never ice fished in a mountain lake before and I didn’t exactly have my hopes up. Pair that with the fact that once at the lake, I couldn’t even see it from all the blowing snow, or the trees across the road, or the truck beside me in the parking lot for that matter, and I wasn’t exactly concerned about running out of pictures on my camera. But out I went.
I walked to where I figured I should stop, dropped my gear, and went to work with the auger. It was about 20 minutes after this that I realized how much I had taken for granted my power auger back in Saskatchewan. With that motorized ice fishing wonder, I could slice 20 holes in the ice in 15 minutes and never even break a sweat. As I remembered the hand auger taking a little more effort, and a little more work, my plan was to drill a couple of holes beside each other so I could sit on my lawn chair, jig two lines, and attempt to huddle away from the wind. It didn’t take long before that plan was quickly altered by my burning arms and winded lungs. Maybe I need to sharpen the auger blades, maybe buy a new set of blades all together, or, most likely, maybe it’s time for me to get back on the workout routine. One line it is.
From the research I had gathered on this lake from the internet and from the local sporting goods store, I figured that I needed to fish in somewhere between 60 and 120 feet of water. After nearly falling over from exhaustion in my attempts to drill a hole in the ice, I was hoping that I was in the right place. If I had dropped a line down to the bottom and found only 30 feet of water, I don’t know if I could have handled another drilling session. I may have just stood 40 feet away from the hole so that I could let out 70 feet of line and fool myself into believing my hook was only inches away from hungry fish. With fingers crossed, I baited up my jig and sent it floating to the bottom. It seemed like it took a while to get there and after I pulled it up to check, I stepped off the line and counted about 65 feet. With a sigh of relief, I settled in for the morning.
I wasn’t exactly sure how to fish this lake. Do I jig a little bit? Jig like crazy? Let my hook just sit there? I wasn’t sure. So I tried everything. And, to my surprise, it wasn’t long before I had my first hit. Such a surprise in fact that it took a second to register what it was. The fish came back a few seconds later, but got off again. About 10-minutes later the same thing. A really light bite a few times in a row, and then gone. There was no fish – but there was hope.
But, BUT… about a half an hour after this, and after cursing the wind and chasing my folding chair down the lake more times than I would care to admit, I hooked a fish. Not just any fish mind you, it felt like a biggie.
As I leapt out of my chair, which proceeded to tumble off down the lake once again, the fight was on! Line screamed out of my reel and I swear I could see smoke billowing from the spool. For every foot I gained, he took ten. I was worried I was going to run out of line!
Gradually though, the fight began to wear down the monster and he slowly started to make his way to the hole… or so I thought. With what I figured to be a few feet from my victory, away he went again, heading right back where he came from, and right back to the bottom.
By this time, not only my lawn chair had blown away, but my tackle box was nowhere to be seen, my ice scooper was clanging a merry song as it scurried down the lake, and my hand auger was covered by a snow drift that I was considering building an igloo out of. As I found out on my search later (and I did manage to get everything accounted for), my lunch box had skidded to a halt beside a shack about 100 yards down the lake, my backpack had made a break for freedom only to be foiled by the boat launch, and my touque looked quiet amusing as it had kept the top of a small pine tree toasty warm. Not that I could have done anything about the wind blowing my stuff away with this monster on the line…
Eventually the fish made another appearance at the hole and this time, I somehow squeezed his head inside. Squeezed being the crucial word here. My auger cuts a 7 inch hole, which as most ice fishers know, can land huge walleye, fat rainbows, tubby whitefish, and even the largest of northern pike. But I had my doubts on whether or not this Lake Trout was going to make it onto the snowy side of the ice.
I squeezed, and I squished, and I maneuvered the fish every which way I could think of but it just wouldn’t budge towards the hole. It wasn’t until I stuck my tongue out the left side of my mouth (it had been stuck out the right side of my mouth the whole time) that the trout finally slid its way up the hole and broke the surface.
I frantically took off my mitts, which, of course, are now half way to Winnipeg, in order to ensure a good grip on the fish. I reached down, grabbed him behind the gills and, like an Olympic power lifter, heaved with all of my might. The fish came out of the hole with a ‘pop’ like you’d hear as one sends a cork flying across the room from an exploding bottle of Champagne. Staggering backward, I fell onto the snow hugging the fish with all of my strength. There was no physical way it could happen, but I had to make sure that giant wasn’t going to find its back down the hole.
Then, gasping for breath, there I was. Face to fins with the mighty fish. The mightiest of all Lake Trout I had ever set eyes on. The biggest Lake Trout I ever had flopping on the end of my line. And it was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.
It doesn’t matter that the fish was in reality only 10 inches long and probably the smallest Lake Trout anyone else who has ever caught a Lake Trout before has ever caught, and it doesn’t matter that it was the only fish I caught all day, and it doesn’t matter that this particular fish will not be hanging on my wall. What does matter is that I took a nice picture, I enjoyed a chilly, but wonderful day outside, and that I have a fun story to tell everyone about the very first Lake Trout I ever caught.