Doubled Up Backwards

It probably sounds fishy to tell a story backwards while reviewing through the events and details that develop its skeletal structure.  But that’s exactly what transpired within this tale!  The script itself ended within the early fall days of 2024.  That particular week we had a partial lunar eclipse on September 17th while in the midst of the Harvest (Full) Moon, which ironically coincided with the Super Moon.  You know, that time when the moon circles closest to Earth and appears larger than usual.  It was then that Cindy and I cooked up the pike I had caught at the end of August.  The tasty fish and pleasant evening was comforting as we ate out on our deck; belying internal stress and sadness.  The following afternoon, after a day with family in the healthcare center, Cindy’s Mom passed away.

A Partial Eclipse Of
The Super-Full-Harvest Moon

A Pike Fillet & Vegetable Stir-Fry Dinner
Out On The Deck

Three weeks prior to that, up beside one of the many lakes straddling the Oneida-Vilas County line in Northern Wisconsin, I tried practicing what my Uncle Bob preaches for filleting a pike.  The meat is sweet, flavorful, and oh so delicious when cooked in original Shore Lunch Breading and Batter Mix.  Some people don’t like to fish for pike because you risk losing expensive lures and tackle with their vicious strikes if you don't prepare with quality equipment.  Others don’t like to fish for pike due to the skeletal Y-bone along each side of their backbone when trying to fillet them out.  I’ve often kept a pike and simply filleted them out - leaving the Y-bones in them.  I don’t mind digging through the bones to experience the taste.  But on that date, with that pike, I watched and re-watched a video I had recorded of my uncle cleaning a pike enough times to make an attempt at cleaning it correctly while removing the Y-bone.

(Click here to watch my Uncle Bob filleting a Northern Pike)

I graded the first side of the pike I filleted with an “A”, but the second side received a self assessed “C”.  I still managed to harvest all of the edible meat on that second side, but it came off in several scrap pieces.  After cleaning the pike I packaged the meat in a zip-lock and packed it in ice for my trip back home and the dinner I mentioned out on the deck a few weeks later.

I had caught that particular pike while drifting in the northeast corner of a lake on which my parents have rented a cabin a couple of times each year since 2009.  They say it's so they can continue to get their “Northwoods Fix” after having moved to Southern Wisconsin from Northern Lower Michigan back in 2001.  As a rule, Dad keeps a detailed fishing journal and wrote about the events from that morning as we fished together.

Captain’s Log:

Wed. 8/28/24

Up at 6:45.  Cool, cloudy morning.  Temp. 60° Dew pt. 54°. Light NE wind.  We got ready.  Mike & I were on the water by 8:00.  We are still using Josh’s bigger, wider 16’ boat with the 25 hp. Motor.  Nice : )  We went to the far NE end of the main lake.  It was calm water, maybe 5 mph wind allowing us to drift and cast along the whole shoreline.  We made 3 or 4 passes of drifting and casting for pike or bass without a strike.  We both used gold #5 Mepps.  Finally I tried a Dardevle, then a #5 silver Vibrax with a red blade.  Nothing.  So we drifted closer to shore [under the watchful eye of an osprey] and went to casting worms and a bobber for panfish.

We caught a few “gills” and I caught a few crappies.  As I was bringing in a bluegill, a big pike zipped in and grabbed it.  Excellent!  The pike must be starting to feed.  Mike grabbed his Mepps and I my Vibrax.  He cast North and I cast South.  Within a couple of casts we both had a pike on at the same time [known as being “Doubled Up”].  Mine made 3 jumps on the way to the boat.  His stayed down.  Both pike ended up coming into the same side of the boat at the same time. 

Mike got a video of them beside the boat.  Then he took our big net and netted them both at the same time.  Mike’s pike had a big head, and measured at 29.5” and 5#.  My pike was 24.5” and 3#.  We dispatched them both, put them on a stringer, made a couple more casts for good measure, and headed back to the cabin.  We were back by 10:30.

CLICK BELOW FOR A QUICK VIDEO OF

DAD AND I DOUBLING UP ON PIKE:

With those two pike on our lines, it made for a fun but hectic few moments.  For that reason, we were relieved when they both threw their lure off while thrashing together in the net.  We removed the lures and untangled the lines before hoisting the fish for a couple of pictures.

Having us each catch a big fish at the same time was the climax to a quick trip Up North to see my parents.  They had the cabin rented for several days, and since I had time available, retirement allowed me the opportunity to join them for two of those nights.  It was the kind of spontaneous autumn get-a-way that keeps you dreaming of time on the water and time with family - especially as the colder months creep closer.

The first night after I had arrived, my parents fixed some hamburgers.  We struck out fishing afterwards, but were able to enjoy a great sunset over still water in a nearby cove.  It took a while to fall asleep that evening with hot humid temperatures; fans in the bedrooms saved the night!

The second day of my visit was a mixture of activities such as solo fishing in the rain, having a hearty breakfast with Mom & Dad, sitting in the back seat while heading to town for a quick shopping trip, and then after a little lunch, Dad and I fished again.  We both caught bluegills and I managed a large mouthed bass that measured just shy of 15 inches before it started raining again.

We fixed the fish for dinner that evening and topped it off with some ice cream at Cathy’s in Saint Germain.  It’s a tradition to go there at least once per visit as it’s hard to beat a night-cap of Moose Tracks or Mackinac Island Fudge.

We all hunkered down that night with chilly temperatures outside that were a 180 degree turn from the evening prior to that when we needed the fans to survive.  The following morning, unbeknownst to us at the time, we’d be busy and doubled up with those pair of pike.

Before I had even headed North to meet my parents, the story actually began with a teacher retiree breakfast.  For years I had pleaded with my former colleagues to keep it going until I could join them for their “Beginning of the School Year Gathering.”  One of the past educators had once commented to my plea by saying, “It’s really not that big of a deal Mike.  It’s just a bunch of old people getting together to eat.”  Ha Ha, That was funny!  I replied that it was important to me, because it meant that I’d finally rejoined the colleagues I had originally taught with back when I had first started my career at Prairie Hill School.

To show their appreciation, they put me in charge of organizing the shin-dig since I had the contact information for the retirees.  There’s nothing quite like being baptized into the fold with a rookie initiation like that!  Regardless, the breakfast food, coupled with a reunion among good friends, gave me the energy needed to drive North and meet my parents at a rented log cabin.  Who knew that 48 hours from that retiree breakfast, Dad and I would be doubled up with a couple of rambunctious pike on a favorite lake!

See you along The Way…

A Few Colleagues After A Prairie Hill School
District#133 Retiree Breakfast

Solo Canoe Trip - Wonders Encountered

 

“It’s always better to embark on a wilderness canoe trip without expectations and enjoy the wonders as they’re encountered.”

(Keane, Leo. “Hiking With A Canoe.” The Boundary Waters Journal, Fall 2021, p. 58.)

I didn’t have many preconceived ideas or notions going into this week’s adventure.  I did want to feel the pull of the current against my paddle, pitch my tent on a riverside bank, and do a little fishing in some deep bends and pools.  Those seemed like simple enough goals; easily achieved given adequate time within a proper setting; tasks that would allow me the opportunity to wonder at the experiences and things around me.  The fact that I experienced a plethora of wildlife and caught my biggest northern pike ever, didn’t do anything to diminish the journey.

I began the excursion Sunday afternoon once I had loaded all of my gear and lashed it down in the front of my aluminum Starcraft canoe.  It’s a beast of a thing, but it’s what I have, and as I’ve mentioned before, my Dad found it for me at a garage sale for ten bucks.  It’s been worth every cent of the investment, and I’m familiar with how to handle it in moving water despite the fact that it’s fifteen feet long and weighs one hundred pounds.

After floating out from the bank, I paddled the curving bends, occasionally stopping to fish any slower currents off the main channel.  I did have a few strong strikes, but failed to make the connection needed to see what kind of a fish it was exactly.  I reached my destination spot by 8:00 in the evening.  I made a few last casts at that point, catching and releasing both a 24” and 25” pike.  They were good looking, strong fish, and it was fun to see them scoot back into the depths of the water.

My First Pike Of The Trip - A 24" That I Released

That gave me little more than an hour to set up my tent and heat up a can of beef stew.  To prepare dinner I used a small camp stove set up on the bottom side of the canoe that I had dragged and lurched up from the river; not an easy task by myself.  I ate an apple while I waited for it to warm up.  With the excess space provided by my canoe, I had the luxury of bringing along a camp chair, and I used it while I ate to watch the sun’s last rays sink into the horizon.  I quickly cleaned off the plates down in the sand and moving water and placed my small cooler of food up under the canoe in lieu of hanging anything from a tree and away from varmints.  For one, most of the nearby trees were entangled in poison ivy.  Secondly it would take a fairly powerful raccoon to offset the canoe.  And third, since I’d forgotten my headlamp, Mother Nature was dictating when and what I’d be doing with any available light, and at that time I had none, so shoving it under the aluminum Starcraft was the next best thing.

I didn’t sleep great even with temps dipping down into the 50’s because I couldn’t get comfortable still covered in sunscreen.  Then there were the barred owls directly above me with their muffled hoots and raucous cackling that they are wont to do.  Two different deer came up behind my tent through the grass and announced their displeasure with whistling snorts and hoof stomping, not to mention the wide array of birds that began staking out their territories at first light.  In addition, a murder of crows literally pestered a pair of red tailed hawks and it’s fledgling for over an hour.  It was a perfect night to lay in the tent and take in all of the wonders.

CLICK BELOW FOR A VIDEO OF THE THE BATTLE BETWEEN CROWS & HAWKS:

CLICK BELOW FOR A VIDEO OF THE MORNING BIRDS:

To watch the videos you may need to change the "view version"

at the bottom of the page.

I started Monday by reading.  It helped set the tone.  When I came out, the birds continued their ensemble, now to the steady breeze that was quickly pushing the fog off the water and drying the heavy dew.  I grabbed my pole, attached a silver Red Eye spoon I had brought from my father-in-law’s tackle box, and headed for the river.  On my third cast I hooked into a 26” pike.  It wasn’t a strong hit, but it didn’t leave any doubt as to what it was.  I elected to keep this one fish, and set about cleaning it on a nearby log that was under the shade of surrounding trees.

Breakfast & Dinner - A 26" Pike

A campfire felt obtrusive, and too warm, so I again used the small camp stove.  I cooked half of the pike for breakfast in my cast iron skillet after coating the meat in Original Shore Lunch breading mix.  My mouth watered, and it tasted delicious.  I carefully placed the second slab of pike under the remaining ice in my cooler for dinner in the evening.

The afternoon was spent relaxing and doing various things around my camp.  While my tent was in the sun, I set up my chair in the shallows of the water and read from a book that I’d bought back in the fall from a cool little bookstore in Waco, Texas where my daughter lives, called Fabled Bookshop and Cafe, and the book was entitled, John Muir: Wilderness Essays.  I read for two hours, watching the minnows at my toes as well as other wonders of wildlife surrounding me. 

When I read, I often underline quotes that resonate with me.  In Muir’s selection entitled, “Discovery at Glacier Bay,” I like how he described his journey by saying, “though hardships were encountered, and a few dangers, the wild wonderland made compensation beyond our most extravagant hopes.”  Here!  Here!  While my camping trip would probably be termed mild in comparison to Muir’s trip to Alaska, I was still out by myself - on a solo mission far from others, and so I worked hard at taking precautions and thinking ahead to avoid having too many unexpected catastrophes.  For instance, I always wear my life preserver when I’m in the canoe and I try to have a sixth sense awareness in order to keep track of my surroundings.  With these safeguards in place at the forefront, it allowed me to appreciate everything from the large eagle perched and watching over me, to the red, parasitic mites on a harvestman spider (daddy long legs).

An Eagle Outside Of My Tent That Morning

A Harvestman Spider With Mites

When I needed a break from reading, I tried fishing again; this time using a Scum Frog surface lure.  The sun was high, and I had two smaller pike nudge at it from behind, and then one very large pike between 30 and 40 inches swung by, pushing water just a few feet from where I was standing.  Obviously they weren’t interested in the lure, but I smiled and backed off.  I continued reading, now next to my tent in the shade, until I finished the first chapter in my book.  It felt good to get back into reading again, and the setting didn’t hurt either!

I knew that if I was going to sleep that evening I needed to rinse off the day’s sweat and sunscreen, so I went over to a different section of the river that was a bit more sandy, and submerged myself by doing a push up.  It allows you to do what you need to do without going out deep.  Afterwards I took pictures of a few birds around my campsite.  When the shade was finally over the pool in the river, I grabbed my net, pole, walking stick, and backpack of fishing equipment and ventured down off the bank.

A White-Breasted Nuthatch
Peeking From Behind A Branch

An Eastern Wood Pewee

To begin with, I tried what’s called a Whopper Plopper.  It’s also a surface lure that gurgles along on the top of the water.  I did catch a nice 24” pike that exploded on it and jumped several times.  It was a nice looking fish that zipped out of my hands upon its release. 

A 24" Pike Caught & Released Using
The Top Water Lure: "Whopper Plopper"

Knowing it worked, I switched back to the silver spoon I had used that morning after retying a fresh fluorocarbon tippet onto the braided line.  On my next cast, I caught a smaller 20” pike that had a large wound across its back where something big had bit it.  I let it slip back down into the water after unhooking the lure.  I cast several more times before I had a sudden and powerful hit.  It never showed itself on the initial strike, but the upheaval of water that pushed to the surface when it turned sharply back into the depths, created a large mound of churning water.  I held on tight.  Even with the lure lodged in its mouth down below, there was no doubt who was in charge.  Power like that in a big pike is impressive if not downright spooky and humbling.

It made several different runs, dragging line with it each time, and surfaced more than once too; dancing on its reddish fins.  As the pike tired, it came closer to my legs in the shallow water; its great tail measuring cadence back and forth all the while sizing me up with its eyes.

The next few moments were a bit of a blur.  With one hand, I plunged my walking stick down into the mud, pulled out a mini bungee cord, and strapped my phone to it while adjusting the setting to a 10 second timer.  I planned to get a selfie picture of this fish.

Next I used my net, scooped up the fish, grabbed my multi-tool and tried extracting two of the three large barbs from the treble hook that was just inside its mouth - next to the teeth that were about the same size.  I had a bit of trouble getting a hold of them, so I reached down, released the bail on my reel to give my line some slack, and carefully grabbed the pike by its jaw.  I’ve seen it done before, studied how it’s performed, but had only once before tried to hold a fish this way.  Teeth, barbs on the hook, and unbridled power have a way of making you tentative.  But I wanted to try to do it right instead of always having to use a gripper.

The pike was a picture of patience, eyeing me the whole time.  As I now held it by the jaw in one hand, I grabbed a hold of each barb with the tool in the other hand and actually had to break two of them off the lure itself before it came easily out of its mouth.  There was no blood, and there was hardly a mark on the pike.  I measured it against my pole, hit the button on my phone, and posed for one picture.  However it turned out, it would have to do - hopefully capturing the moment!

I waded out to shin deep in the river, lowered the pike, moved it back and forth once or twice to work water through its gills, and then with a monstrous flick of its tail, it swung and pushed off; not out into deeper water, but it actually doubled back between my ankles and the shoreline, pushing a wave up over my gear and dousing it.  From there it simply, and slowly, finned back into the pool and out of sight.  It was as if the giant fish was saying, “Thank you for being gentle and working quickly, but take that!”  It was my biggest pike ever at 35”; two inches shy of the next eyelet, and five inches beyond the last measured mark of fingernail polish on my pole.  I was elated!  It was enough!

I cooked up the second half of my morning’s fish for dinner that evening and was in my tent and sleeping bag by 9:00.  After reading a few pages of the next chapter in my book, by the sun’s final light, I grew tired and was asleep by 9:30.  What a day it had been.

On Tuesday morning I waited as long as I could to pack because of the heavy dew covering everything, compiled with the lack of a breeze to help dry things out.  I started packing around 8:00 and had everything ready by 10:00.  I had to skip breakfast as I needed every minute to paddle the several miles to where my wife agreed to pick me up at noon.  I took a long swig of water, bit off a chunk of cheese, and set forth.

Maneuvering around hidden logs, rollers, sweepers, and any amount of dead-falls was a perfect way to end my river expedition.  I was dog tired as I pulled the canoe up on the bank a few minutes before 12:00, but it was an exhaustion born of adventure.  What had started out as a trip without a specific schedule, led to the wonders of life and its unexpected experiences.

See you along The Way…

“Why do I go?  Because the wilderness reminds me of my place in the world, points me to one who is greater, and in the end, recharges my batteries.”

(Wilson, David. “Why I Go.” The Boundary Waters Journal, Winter 2021, p. 83.)

PICTURES OF THE WONDERS I ENCOUNTERED:

A Common Snapping Turtle
That I Scooped Up With My Net

A Northern Water Snake

Eaglets In Their Nest

A Green Heron
With A Call Like A Velociraptor

A Tree Hugging Tree

Modeled After The Model
Minus The Fire   : )

The End Of An Adventure

Of Jungle Rot And The Esox Lucius

Remember campfire songs of yesteryear?  Nonsensical lyrics that concluded with the phrase, “Same song.  Second verse.  A little bit louder and a little bit worse!”  It was the kind of activity that easily whipped kids up into a frenzy as the song progressed.

  It was sort of like that for me as I hit the same river as I did last week, but this time with my friend Andrew.  Originally there was to be one trip with four of us.  Some bad, inclement weather changed things up on us, however, so one friend had to drop out, and while the other two still were able to go, it required two different dates and two separate trips.  It was actually my wife Cindy who said that I had the time, so why not just go twice in back to back weeks.  I didn’t question it, and the rest (as they say) has become history.

Andrew’s only two years older than my own son and less than half my age.  In fact, his Dad and I actually attended the same college together for a couple of years.  But since Andrew joined our teaching staff four years ago, he and I have hit it off.  Over the course of this last school year we’ve probably run a couple hundred miles together throughout midweek runs.  You tend to get to know one another when you’re running and talking to someone on a fairly regular basis.

Cindy again provided the necessary driving for us and our gear to be dropped off.  The weather over those two days was humid and borderline soupy; closer to what one might affectionately refer to as, “Jungle Rot.”  And while jungle rot may perhaps happen more to a person’s clothing and shoes under such conditions, it’s probably not far off from the truth of what could happen to a person’s own body if left unattended for a long period of time.  Still, time out on a river’s wilds is time out, and one doesn’t complain when subjected to such circumstances.  In addition, it was supposed to rain.  While planning things out the night before over a phone call it was Andrew himself that quoted me directly saying, “Like you’ve always said Rhines, you can endure anything for 24 hours.”  Yesh!  You can’t back out of anything after apparently saying something like that.  While I’ll admit that I don’t remember the exact time or place I said that, I won’t deny that it sounds like something I’d utter offhandedly; being mindful that real-life situations do exist that nobody wants to experience.  This adventure, fortunately, was not one of those situations.

We hadn’t paddled for long when we pulled off the main channel and into a jungly, backwater bayou.  It wasn’t deep, but when the sun chose to show itself for a brief period of time and help bake things a bit, it looked both inviting and promising.  Fish were indeed surfacing around us, but we didn’t hook into anything but submerged logs.  After some time, we decided to exit the sloughlike area so I paddled slowly while Andrew switched up his lure.  As we approached the divide where the main currents of the river started, I put down my paddle and cast up alongside the bank using my trusty old #5 silver Mepps spinner.  What I got in return was a chunky 30.5 inch pike.  He fought, and pulled, and was magnificent.  He did have a few war wounds on him, whether from an eagle or bigger fish I do not know.  Andrew took a quick picture for me and then I slipped the pike back into the water.  While it would have been nice to have had the pike for dinner, we still had a ways to paddle, and oftentimes it’s just as rewarding to get a picture, return them to the water, and know that right now that fish is somewhere in that river hugging a bank, with its toothy pike grin, waiting to zip out after some unsuspecting prey.

A 30.5 Inch Pike
Caught & Released

We continued onward at that point, and although we did stop to cast and fish one outside bend, the clouds were returning and billowing and so we pressed on towards our goal, hoping to set up camp before any rain started.

By 5:30 p.m. we had our tents up and quickly set to work to gather firewood so that we could get it covered and keep it dry.  Then we went fishing.  Although we didn’t catch any fish per se, we did snag into some underwater structure that we decided to take care of.  While Andrew hung onto his pole; attached to a lure that was attached to a “lure eating tree,” I went back to get my canoe.  Unfortunately in dragging it past my tent, I bumped it against one of my frame poles causing a slight tear that I’ll have to repair later.  It happens, even when you’re trying to be careful.

We spent the better part of the next hour dragging sticks, branches, and logs out from one particular hole, all while dancing around a rather large fishing spider that was literally running across the surface of the water.  It was large enough that it actually made paddling noises and created a wake while scurrying for the grasses on the nearby bank.  It was really cool, but I won’t lie that it also gave you the heebie-jeebies.  Once we had finished, we were soaked between the slight sprinkle, sweat, and water flung up onto us from the river.  In addition, I thought that I’d be nice and tidy things up by rolling one of the large branches further up onto the bank.  What I got in return was a branch, weak and muddy from being submerged for years, that snapped and whipped black muck across my legs, shorts, arms, face, and my bright yellow Joe Robinet “Exploring” T-shirt that I’d gotten for Christmas.  Perfect!?

Back in camp, Andrew worked on cutting up our food for dinner while I tried to coax the fire to life.  It was slow going with the damp air, but eventually our two paths converged and we set the food in the coals to cook.  I then promptly grabbed my towel to try to clean up before the jungle rot truly did set in on me.  Fortunately the river water was relatively warm, so I was able to perform a submersible push-up in a shallow, sandy section of the river, clean off, and avoid a catastrophe!

Back at camp in cleaner clothes, I realized to my disdain that I had forgotten the ketchup; a staple for most tinfoil dinners.  Luckily the food was delicious anyways, as well as necessary, to replace the energy we had been burning.  While it did sprinkle and rain off and on, we managed to miss the outright thunderstorms that went racing through to our South, and so I was able to read a couple of short stories from Patrick F. McManus before we tucked away for the night.  I had started the tradition with Justin the week before, only this time I read “Skunk Ladder” and “Mean Tents.”  I felt like they were relevant.  I concluded the evening in my tent by again reading a chapter from Sigurd Olson’s book entitled, The Lonely Land, but not before having to help along a giant wolf spider next to the zippered door of my tent.  Apparently it had wanted to join me inside.  I thought better of it, however, and encouraged it on its way back into the grass.

I woke early, but managed to fall back to sleep a bit longer before getting up and continuing to read; all to the sounds of the birds and last night’s rain dripping off from the trees.  I reread a section from The Lonely Land when in 1955 Sigurd Olson and 5 of his buddies paddled canoes down Saskatchewan’s Churchill and Sturgeon-Weir Rivers, following the ancient trail of voyagers and Hudson Bay’s fur traders.  I love the section where he details how at the base of Trout Lake Falls, three of his companions hook into three monstrous pike all at the same time; each fish weighing in at over 20 pounds.

Andrew and I came out from each of our respected tents by 7:00 and had our camp packed away and covered in a tarp by 8:00; just as the rain started again.  We grabbed our poles and waded through the tall, wet grass to the river.  We were soaked before we even saw the water.  Not much luck was had, other than a 20 inch pike that I caught and released, and so after a while we went back to cook our skillet during a break in the rain.  Again Andrew cut up the food while I worked on the fire.  It needed encouragement to get started.  We both laughed that at least it was only affecting the two of us.  If we had been cooking for the entire Gulo Adventure Clan of teaching colleagues, there may have been mutiny due to the time it took to get anything resembling a consistent flame started, let alone a breakfast cooked.

Andrew Fishing In The Rain From A Sandy Point

The Bald Eagle In The Dead Tree
Showed Up Three Different Times
To Look Out Over The River & Our Camp

Afterwards we fished a nearby hole again, but this time from a different vantage point.  As I stood back and watched, Andrew used a top water rubber frog, working it from the far bank out over the pool, amongst the dimpling raindrops falling upon us.  After a spell he started seeing action.  Three different times a big fish took a swipe at his lure, but each time the hook was set it would pull out from the mouth of the fish, keeping us from seeing exactly what it was or its size.  Actually, on that final third strike, the hook was set, but unfortunately his line snapped and both the fish and lure were never seen again.

With permission, I stepped forward and cast a few times to the pool before concentrating on a drop-off from the bank on my right.  About the second cast, I felt the push of water that I mentioned in my last blog entry, and so I turned to Andrew and quickly said something to the effect that he should watch because something was coming.  It came alright, but by that time I had almost reeled the lure to the tippet of my pole, and was running out of room.  Sure enough the strike came, but it missed, turned, and disappeared back along the bank.

No mystery as to what it was.  By its Latin name it’s known as Esox lucius.  Esox refers to a large, long nosed, freshwater fish of the Northland.  Their body is torpedo shaped, long, and perfect for their predatory tendencies.  Lucius can mean light, but in this case it more closely refers to a wolf (wolf in Greek = lukos).  This explains why a pickerel, or pike, is sometimes called a water wolf.  Once you see the voracious teeth you’ll understand.

Regardless, on my ensuing cast back to the pool I rendered nothing.  Next I split the distance between the pool and the original bank.  This time the Esox pike hit hard and solid.  My pole was doubled over and the fish raced around in the water around my legs.  In reality, it was a hot minute.  I decided I wanted my fish gripper to grab the pike by the jaw, but it was attached to the backside of the backpack I had on, and I couldn’t quite reach it.  At the same time Andrew was both choosing and tying on a new lure while simultaneously receiving a call from a school he had recently applied to North of Milwaukee.  Andrew had resigned from our school this spring, became engaged, and was stepping out in faith hoping to hook a job teaching band this fall near the area his fiance’ Meg had already found a job.  Was he receiving an acceptance call?  Was he getting the job he had interviewed for?

I interrupted the moment by calling out, “Andrew!  Can you get that gripper off my backpack?  I’m a little busy here attached to this pike!”  He shook himself back into the present, ran over, and got it for me.  I probably should have just lifted the fish with my hands, but I also needed my pliers to get the hook out.  I clipped on the gripper, snapped the line and extracted the hook of the Mepps from the pike, all while Andrew took a few pictures for me.  I then ran the pike back and forth through the water, forcing fresh water through its gills until it pulled from my hands.  It swam three or four feet away, sat there fining for a few minutes, and then pushed off into the pool.  While standing there in the falling rain, all I could think about was that the moment had been awesome.  The pike had measured at 31.5 inches and had a wide back that would have been hard to even get my hand around.  Esox lucius indeed!

A 31.5 Inch Pike
Caught And Released

I checked my own phone at that time and saw that Cindy was starting out to come pick us up.  It was almost noon, and we were still nearly an hour’s paddle away from the take out area.  Eek!  A miscalculation on my part!  Andrew and I quickly grabbed our poles, launched the canoe into the river, loaded our gear, and started paddling; all in a process that took only 30 minutes.  Not bad!

The skies continued to drizzle, but the scenery was great regardless.  We came skidding up to our designated spot by 1:30.  Cindy pulled in at that time as well, in my old silver Jeep.  We loaded the canoe and gear, and then headed home; none the worse for wear after quite an adventure.  And what an adventure it was; a memorable one forever embodied with rainy-humid weather practically leading to jungle rot, and the ever surprising Esox lucius.

See you along The Way…

-----

PS - And that afternoon Andrew found out that he had gotten that job!  Congrats friend...

Drying Out My Gear (Back Home)
And Preventing "Jungle Rot"