'Twilight zone' walleye
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Had Rod Serling been a pursuer of pickerel, he might well have noted a fifth fishing dimension, one beyond that which is known to daytime anglers. It lies in the middle ground between daylight and the shadows of oncoming evening, between the science and superstition of fishing. It is an area which might be called walleye’s twilight zone, where dormant daytime feeders begin a voracious hunt felt both six inches off the bottom, and 30 feet above via a thin filament. It is a comparatively brief period of time, where the dimensions bounded by imagination and reality merge through a frenetic fishing frenzy during which anglers’ hearts soar – and are broken.
The adventure began in high spirits, with considerable creature comfort and in undeniable style.
Lake Nipissing offers a wide variety of ice fishing options. One can try one’s luck along the South Shore, dunk a minnow off Sunset Point along Lakeshore drive in North Bay itself, follow a marked trail several miles offshore to the infamous Perch Alley, or simply park alongside the Chief Commanda II near the pier in Callendar, hike a quarter-mile onto the frozen bay and hand-bomb a hole or two amidst a small village of resident huts.
Anglers can also choose from a range of outfitters, offering local knowledge and expertise along with everything from daily huts, overnight housekeeping fishing bungalows featuring satellite TV, through multi-day packages including tackle, door-to-door transportation, accommodation and meals.
The informal five-member University of Nipissing fraternity at 5 Mercer’s selection process was driven by a number of factors. Father-son miscommunication (ice-fishing tents some 450 kilometres to the south) combined with North Bay’s version of a fresh January morning (minus 22 Celsius) made the heated hut option considerably more attractive. Secondly, the desire to mark Tony O’Brien’s 22nd birthday with a celebratory fish fry was definitely on the agenda. A series of earlier forays – admittedly not always 100% focussed on fishing – had led to sporadic success. The prospect of being put on the equivalent of good fishing ground by experts had its attractions.
And finally, the unique opportunity for a penultimate historical Canadian experience offered by The Waltonian Inn Resort’s (1-800-268-9025, www.waltonian-inn.com/) definition of full service, a three-member fleet of classic Bombardier snow machines circa 1972, ’74 and ’78, directed our path to Lake Nipissing’s South Shore.
University students being university students, driver Scott Bratton pulled into view in 002 (the ’74 model) as we managed to assemble along the shoreline outside the Waltonian at the crack of 11:30 a.m.
Anticipation was running high. The post-Christmas-break’s return to classes coincided with the potentially magical advent of ‘early ice’ and plethora of pickerel it promised.
Two ‘morning’ fishermen provided tangible evidence, emerging from Bratton’s Bombardier with a five-gallon pail three gallons full of a mixed haul of pickerel and perch.
“There’s lots of fish out there,” one smiled. “You’ll do well.”
“This is cool,” said 5 Mercer’s Dan Pearce as we rumbled away from shore.
“We’re catching something today,” added ‘roomie’ Dave Graham optimistically. “One each at least.”
The seasonal ‘hot early and late,’ pattern is mirrored on a daily basis. Having arrived noonish, we ‘broke the seal’ with a jumbo perch shortly after lunch, and continued to experience occasional action as the afternoon progressed.
“They turned on yesterday around 2:30, three o’clock,” predicted Bratton during a regular check.
They would in fact ‘turn on’ in earnest closer to 4 p.m. By that point, a few important details had been taken care of: Graham and Pearce had reeled in their inaugural Lake Nipissing fish, and O’Brien ‘took hold’ of his first pickerel, lifetime, “wheeling her right in.
“First time, and just loving it,” O’Brien summed up. “Feel amazing, loving this birthday. Just the best.”
The kid of the guy holding the camera, by comparison an experience Nipissing angler, also managed to get in on the walleye action.
“I was starting to wonder,” Jeremy laughed.
But there was no doubt the hottest and most consistent hits both inside and outside the hut came as daylight began to fade, the distant lights of North Bay twinkled brighter and our little group headed into its own walleye twilight zone.
In its midst, Jeremy directed the old man to a rod dipping to horizontal from its makeshift frozen slush holder. Line had frozen around the bail of the reel, making it seem as though dead weight hung on the other end. The illusion continued through 30 labouriously-cranked feet of water, with the line apparently stuck on the side of the hole, and then the fish hung up on its bottom.
Managing to direct the line to its centre with the rod tip, I hunkered down for the final lift out and onto the ice. The rod bowed as a massive walleye head emerged, its body grazing both sides of the hole. Time stood still as the fish hung there, partially out of the water, as arms reached maximum extension for an average-sized fish.
Clearly, ‘Koo’ (Mike Kucan – see sidebar) would have known exactly what to do. And clearly, that would not have been freezing in shock and surprise. A lengthy fraction of a second later, a bending hook indicated time had begun to move again, and rather quickly at that. In any event, the plan would have been catch-and-release – but a photo op would definitely have been appreciated.
Pearce sprang into action, frantically diving for the hole and plunging both arms in up to the elbow as the huge walleye took its turn at momentary immobilization. Joining Dan, I drenched my right arm in what turned out to be a final, futile caress to a monster whose tail stand back down the hole presaged a contemptuous farewell: the only picture retained would be a briefly shared mental one.
“Well,” Jeremy philosophized in the ensuing silence. “At least we all got to see how big it really was.”
Every good trip generates its share of fish tales. In retrospect, ours would not be about the one that got away, but the fish and memories we did retain.
On what Bratton characterized as a ‘tough day,’ we collectively missed more than we caught, eased around 10 back through the ice, and limited out on keeper pickerel, adding in a tasty collection of jumbo perch for good measure.
And in the end, there are far worse things than shared challenge, excitement and reward, a fish fry that lives on in 5 Mercer infamy - or knowing that for the next trip, lunker walleye still lurk in their own twilight zone at the bottom of Lake Nipissing.
TIPS AND TACTICS
South Shore ‘walleye 101’
Mike Kucan (‘Koo’ to his friends, “although I’ve been called much worse,” he laughs) has worked on or around Lake Nipissing since coming to its South Shore a decade ago. Kucan guides in the summer and enjoyed a stint as a tournament fisherman, but continues to find the January 1 to March 15 ice fishing season particularly special.
“I love it, it’s a lot of hard work and it can be brutal, but there’s something special about it.”
Although encouraged by a 14-day forecast indicating ice-making temperatures lie ahead, anglers in Southern Ontario are currently praying for extended cold weather. Ice conditions appear to have changed in what some consider Northern Ontario’s southern gateway as well. Kucan recalls having to use a three-and-a-half foot extension on his power auger.
Ice depth which reached 48 inches during his first year on Nipissing topped out at 28 inches in 2012. There was however enough off the South Shore for the start of the 2013 season, 10 inches as of Monday, January 7.
“We will always freeze,” said Kucan. “It’s a matter of how soon and how thick.”
Nipissing is the most heavily fished walleye lake in Ontario says Kucan. That pressure means what he rates as ’10,000’ historical prime ‘A’ level fishing areas are now ‘5,000’ in a lake which still boasts ample structure and solid populations.
“The fishing out here is great,” he said, adding a personal plug. “The South Shore is an amazing fishing ground.”
Kucan recommends winter anglers try their luck early and late in the season.
“Early ice is always the cat’s butt, and late ice. In between, you’ve got to do a little more searching.”
Anglers primarily search for pickerel, but says Kucan, can also expect to catch peripheral perch, pike and whitefish. Some seek herring for smoking and the odd Muskie may turn up.
“They’ll take a bait if they happen to swim by.”
Our destination was the first breakline offshore, on the verge of a dropoff to ‘flats’ in the greater lake. We would working in a depth of between 26 and 32 feet said Kucan, a range that gradually increases to 30 or 40 as the year progresses and fish move deeper in search of water temperatures more to their liking.
Pickerel fishing can be as simple as the ‘classic’ he said, a split shot sinker 10 to 12 inches above a live minnow. Minnow-tipped quarter-ounce jig heads in colours including black, white, red-and-white, orange, chartreuse and purple are popular. Rattle spoons and Swedish pimples also work well, says Kucan.
It is crucial to hook minnows under their spine, near the dorsal fin to both keep them active, and in light of the fact Kucan says pickerel will bite from the head. If they feel a hook in the minnow’s head, they may well spit it out, rather than ultimately sucking it in, the definitive hit anglers are waiting for. When the line travels across the hole, that’s an indication a pickerel is serious and has taken the bait, says Kucan.
Pre-jig operation is essentially similar, regardless of bait. Simply lower one’s line to the bottom, bringing it up six inches, working or jigging up and down from there.
“Fish can’t see down, they can only see up,” Kucan explained.
The use of live versus artificial bait alters the scope and aggressiveness of jigging. Live bait is about letting the fish see the minnow, artificial is about generating a reaction strike.
“You don’t want them to see it,” said Kucan.
He personally uses artificial bait, preferring a quarter-ounce jig and twister in the ‘smoke’ colour, grey with flecks, jigged aggressively through the full range of his arm’s motion, five or six feet of water, in order to generate a reaction strike.
When using live bait, a much gentler approach is required so as to not rip the minnow off the hook and also give fish a better chance to see and take the minnow. Kucan suggests lifting the bait in smaller, comparatively gentle increments, wiggling it through what eventually will be a full arm extension, before letting it flutter back down.
It doesn’t hurt to hit the bottom occasionally, he added, bouncing one’s bait off a rock or mud, in order to create an aural or visual attractant, respectively.
In the end, it is vital to keep one’s bait moving, and cover a range of water, Kucan adds.
“Never let it sit for too long. For perch, you can put anything down there and they’ll suck it in sooner or later, but for walleye, you want to trigger your strikes.”