LOTW and Ballard's

I’m a lucky guy and I know it. For some couples, hunting and fishing can be a dividing line,  something to be tolerated or negotiated. But fortunately this is not the case for my wife and me. I married a Missouri girl, born and raised mostly in the northern Ozarks, a Mizzou grad who studied wildlife biology, and was working at Conservation Department when we met (yes, I was fishing off the company dock). Early evidence was clear. Hunting and fishing trips would not need permission.

So last April, when I asked her if she might be interested in a trip to The Lake of the Woods (LOTW) in September, she took nearly three seconds to answer in the affirmative. One secret to a happy marriage is knowing the answer to questions before asking.

Our trip came about when Dan Small, a well-known outdoors personality in Wisconsin, announced on his radio show that he was putting together a trip to Ballard’s Black Island Resort. I figured this would be a great way to experience LOTW for the first time so we signed up.

Arguably one of the greatest freshwater fisheries in North America, sometimes called the sixth Great Lake, LOTW is an impressive natural resource. Of course fishing for walleye and monster  musky and pike is the big draw. But when your gaze rises above the gunwales of your boat you see an expansive wilderness dotted with islands, quiet, wild rice filled bays, eagles, and sandy beaches sprinkled among the exposed rock of the great Canadian Shield.

Our border crossing at Baudette, MN was smooth. The Canadian official was friendly and thorough. He reviewed our passports and asked enough questions to glean intentions and simultaneously assess our character. As we watched other border guards inspect a trailered boat ahead of us, we were reminded that crossing borders is serious business and knowing the rules is more than simply good advice.

Pick-up time at the marina in Morson, Ontario was late afternoon and after a short wait with time to get acquainted with fellow anglers, we loaded gear and boarded the boat for a quick six-mile trip to the island. Upon arrival, staff reviewed camp operations, dinner plans, and helped us locate our respective cabins. For the next three days our routine would be: Relax, Eat, Fish, Sleep, Repeat.

On day one anglers were paired with guides and by 8:30 a.m. boats were on the water. Our guide would be Rueben “The Ghost” Gibbins, a soft-spoken man who grew up on LOTW (his father was a guide). Fishing guides are unique human beings, many of whom deserve sainthood for all that they do and must endure. Sharing a boat with Rueben was an absolute pleasure as he combined service and expertise with innumerable stories.

Our group of 20 blended well. Each cabin shared a table for breakfast and dinner, but everyone mixed and mingled with fish stories during the noon-time beach rendezvous when the entire flotilla gathered and guides prepared a shore lunch from the walleyes we caught each morning.

At the end of each day, dockside chatter continued until dinner and then spilled into the evening around the campfire when stories about the one that got away were interrupted on the second evening by a spectacular display of the Northern Lights.

Pole Overboard – From about 75 yards away I watched some commotion in the boat occupied by Dan Small and his son, Jon, a Bayfield, WI sailboat captain and Northwoods Correspondent for Dan Small Outdoors Radio. Dan was trying to stage a moment for recording some element of his fishing experience there in the middle of the lake. Jon laid his rod down, line and bait still fully deployed on the bottom, and proceeded to position himself for a quick video. When you’re in the outdoor communication business, you’re always looking for moments and scenic backdrops for a story snippet.

The walleye bite had been good that morning and I worried about the risk of leaving a pole out, line still dangling off the bottom, so I kept an eye on Jon’s line. Fish mysteriously know when you are least prepared and this was an opportunity for observation where I would not be the victim, but a bump on my jig pulled my eyes away and our boat celebrated the landing of another nice walleye.

Moments later I watched Jon, a rod now back in hand, using a technique more suitable for snagging paddlefish, and as our boats drifted closer, the sheepish Smalls confessed, a pole went overboard.

Jon dredged the bottom hoping to snag the lost pole with no luck. But about 30 minutes later I felt a bump and reeled in my bait to discover braided fishing line draped across my jig. Ruben grabbed the line and pulled it up, a walleye on one end and the lost rod and reel on the other.

A detailed after-action review later narrated by Captain Jon included a description of how a giant walleye violently yanked the rod and reel overboard, nearly swamping their boat and how they were fortunate to survive the ordeal. Sailboat captains are always dreaming about whales or sirens. In realty, the barely conscious barely legal fish had swallowed the jig pretty deep making it a candidate for shore lunch. Two hours later we ate it.

Figure Eights – Seasoned musky fishers know about the figure-eight, a technique used boatside as a final enticement to the great toothy hunters of the northern lakes. There had been some discussion about the figure-eight days earlier when a nice sized musky was nearly netted as I reeled a small sauger to the boat. My wife was curious and over breakfast asked one of our camp companions and experienced musky angler, Gerard Hellenbrand, to explain the figure-eight technique. Gerard gave a precise two-minute seminar with enough details for any novice to know exactly what to do. A few hours later, our guide Rueben, casting a large plastic sauger bait, brought a decent musky to the boat and led around the figure-eight multiple times as my wife sat in the front row seat watching Rueben’s spellbinding dance with Esox masquinongy.

Grunts at Waypoint 11 - Even with the marvels of fish finder technology, it’s still impressive when your guide can pull in behind an island on a massive lake, cut the motor, and put you right on top of the fish. We had hit this spot a day earlier and thought it to be a good option for getting out of the wind and close to where Rueben would send Dan and Jon to search for muskies with their flyrods. So it was at Waypoint 11 when Rueben baited our jigs and voila, the fun began. When you’re catching walleyes as fast as catching crappies on the spawn in Missouri, you know you’re into something special.

We had hit this spot a day earlier and thought it to be a good option for getting out of the wind on day three, and close to where Rueben would send Dan and Jon to search for muskies with their flyrods.

My wife, who can tell exquisitely detailed stories without terminal punctuation, or running out of oxygen, sat with eyes focused overboard, pitching and bouncing her jig while talking to Rueben. Sitting at the bow, I could barely make out her epic story, but I could hear the conversation frequently interrupted by her fish-on grunt, a sound something in between an oh and ope.

“It’s pretty easy to know when you’ve got a fish,” said Rueben as he reached to net another walleye. I tipped Rueben a little extra for his listening skills.

Memories – There’s a pretty good chance I’ll return to Ballard’s, and better than good chance my wife will agree. Her smile as she caught fish after fish makes this prediction safe. And when I think about the fishing, the challenge of the wind and waves on the final day, the eagles waiting for handouts, the congestion at the narrows getting to the crappie hole, and the new friends we made, it’s easy to want more. I should also mention I was thankful we were not weighed at the border. The fine folks at Ballard’s fed us really well and our weight differential might have suggested we were carrying more than just a legal limit of walleyes and perch.