Summer fishing
Each summer growing up, my family took fishing vacations. Usually we traveled to Northern Wisconsin, hitting up our favorite destination of Long Lake. We called our lodging the “Big White Cabin” and got up to all sorts of shenanigans. The most notorious was listening in on my Grandfather’s farts as he took afternoon naps. On a different occasion we spent a few days at a friend’s cabin on little Horseshoe Lake. They sported a suit of armor in the living room and had a small canoe to float around the lake.
The pastime of fishing runs in the family. Our extended family hosts an annual fishing trip on Memorial Day Weekend (disclaimer: men only). Historically they went to Lake Winnibigoshish in Northern Minnesota. I joined on two occasions as a kid. There was lots of early morning fishing before the sun went up, and for the older cousins, late evening drinking when the sun went down.
In Northern Wisconsin we caught bass and bluegill, and in Northern Minnesota we caught Walleye and Crappie. Perch were also caught in both areas, but their taste was not desired. Good thing for them, they got to go free. In addition to the fish, we had run ins with bears. Late at night my uncles drove us out to the dumpsters, where we watched black bears feast on the trash.
The weird and wild North
These places are all part of the Northwoods, but the water still runs south. We often camped at Lake Holcombe with friends, which is a dammed reservoir of the Chippewa River. The Chippewa runs south to the Mississippi River, and then on to the Gulf. Likewise, Lake Winnibigoshish is the dammed-up Mississippi and flows to the Gulf.
If one drives even further north, in the direction of Canada, eventually they will cross the Laurentian Divide. Once crossed, the water flows north, ultimately to Hudson Bay. This always got me more excited than it should have. Part of it is that globes and maps have north on top, so the idea of north flowing water seemed like water flowing uphill.
Another aspect of my fascination is the other worldliness of Hudson Bay. It is geographically part of the Arctic Ocean, and politically part of the frozen tundra that is Nunavut. Polar bears stalk the sea ice and Narwhals swim the deeps. The Bay is covered in ice for 9 months of the year. Finally, the largest city on the Bay is the Inuit hamlet of Arviat, with a population of 2,864. It is only accessible by air or snowmobile.
Way North
This part of the Northwoods, which I’ll call “Way North”, is the stuff of fishing legend. Here’s generally how it goes. First, “I caught a 25 inch Northern Pike on our fishing trip in Wisconsin!” Then, “That’s nothing. The Pike in Canada are closer to 40 inches. We regularly catch 30-inch walleye when we go up there.”
There’s definitely some truth to this. My younger brother Saul has caught monster sturgeon in the Rainy River in Northern Minnesota, and huge lake trout in Canada. These beasts are better measured in feet, not inches. My experience, unfortunately, has produced tales suited for comic books, not epics.
The first time I traveled to this part of the USA, known as the Souris-Red-Rainy drainage by the USGS, was for a student research project with the University of Minnesota Physics Department. I worked at the Soudan Mine Underground Lab, roughly half a mile beneath the surface of the Earth. Soudan, MN is close to the shores of Lake Vermillion, another fishing destination.
My first water voyage did not come with a fishing rod, but a paddle. I stayed at the cabin of the lab adviser for a few nights and got to kayak on the lake. The lake was really Pike River Flowage, which drains into Lake Vermillion. Evenings after work I kayaked around the lake, admiring all the big cabins. Then I cruised down the outlet channel for a bit, until I hit some kind of structure (either a bridge or dam).
Many people travel to this area to paddle in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. The most popular activity is canoe exploration, where people canoe down lakes and rivers, and portage to the next body of water. Backcountry campsites are numerous. Canoeing this land is on my bucket list, and I’m kicking myself I didn’t partake when I spent a summer there.
Caught nothing but a cold
My parents and younger brothers, Norm and Saul, visited during Fourth of July Weekend. We stayed in a small cabin on the shores of Lake Vermillion. My Dad brought the boat and navigated us around to some supposed fishing hot spots. Lake Vermillion is interesting but challenging due to the large number of islands and shallow depths. Unaware boaters often crash into rocks and logs.
Usually, I remember the fish we caught on a trip, whether they were big or small, and what species. This trip though, I don’t remember anybody catching anything. So much for the Way North magic. A couple years later, I went with my friend Jason to another spot in the Souris-Red-Rainy drainage, but further west. This was Devil’s Lake, known as the “Perch Capital of the World”.
The lake is very deep, and often floods the surrounding area. When it reaches 1458 feet, it spills into the Sheyenne River, which flows to the famous Red River, forming the border between North Dakota and Minnesota. The Red River flows north into Canada and Lake Winnepeg. Similar to Devil’s Lake, it is also notorious for flooding. All that Midwest snow must decide to flow to North Dakota when the weather warms.
Jason and his family regularly head to Devil’s Lake for the white bass season. These fish flourish at Devil’s Lake and can be caught from the shore. It was chilly weather when we went, probably late March or April. While we got plenty of fishing lines wet, we ultimately came up dry. As they say, the only thing we caught was a cold. If anyone asks me for an incredible yarn about the monster fish Way North, I’ll tell them my book is still a rough draft.
