A few weeks ago, I found myself in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness of extreme Northeastern Minnesota. For those of you who may not know, the BWCAW sprawls the border between Minnesota and Canada. I do not know the total size of the BWCAW, but a recent blowdown fire burned 600 sqaure miles of forest and most of the region was yet unharmed.  It is a vast wilderness.  Hundreds and hundreds of lakes wait to be explored by adventurous folks, and routes can be made through several of these watery gems if one is willing to portage their watercraft across the rough terrain between them. There are no roads, no air travel over the BWCAW is allowed, and motorized boats are also prohibited. It is indeed one of the wildest places left in the lower 48 states.

Corey, Margo and I planned a route that would find us on a lake stuffed with lake whitefish, and our trip was planned to coincide with the midsummer hatch of Hexagenia Limbata mayflies. Whitefish will come up to feed on the surface during a good hatch, and we were hoping everything would come together for a memorable excursion. We were hoping to learn something about lake whitefish behavior, and hopefully bring back a canoe full of the tasty fish for the smoker as well.

Our gear was minimal - I brought a small bag of tackle, 3 rods(only used one), a tent and sleeping bag, raingear, my buck knife and my Vexilar. Corey had an additional dry-bag with foodstuffs such as gorp, noodles and rice, a folding saw and tiny MSR stove. We also had a water purifier. I traveled in Corey's kayak, while he and Margo shared an aluminum canoe. We paddled across vast open expanses and through islands of solid rock dropping straight into hundred foot depths. Hex mayflies were observed fluttering in the air and their empty shucks collected in calmer areas. We took this as a good sign that we would find rising fish on our lake. After a final portage which was a 45-degree angle uphill and studded with boulders, we found ourselves on our chosen lake and set up camp next to a stream outlet. Our tents were tucked away in the thick cedars, and with strong winds howling down the lake we put off fishing until evening and collected firewood and explored a bit during the afternoon.



Winds remained strong into evening, so we headed out anyway to catch some fish for dinner. I kept a small pike, and Margo kept a pike and a smallmouth bass. We fried them over the fire, then the wind calmed down a bit just before dark and I paddled out again. I caught a few spunky smallmouths on a topwater lure, then headed back to camp and crawled into my tent, eager to see what tomorrow would bring.

The lake was calm at dawn, and I couldn't resist tossing a topwater lure around. I caught a handful of smallmouths and saw a cow moose and a black bear, then as the wind picked up I paddled around the open expanses of the lake with a map and my sonar unit searching for schools of whitefish. My kayak rocked in large swells in the middle of the lake, and my sense of balance was off as I stared at my sonar between my legs, looking at the lake bottom below me that was almost at the maximum readable depth of 120 feet. However, I did not find the large schools out here like I expected. Next I searched around steep-dropping points and islands. I found scattered marks in a few areas, all hanging just 8-16 feet down over 25-50 feet of water. My stomach was growling, so I headed back to camp to have some lunch and report my findings with Corey.

The afternoon brought even stronger winds, sustained at 20 mph and blowing right down the narrow lake. These were not good conditions in which to target lake whitefish. I explored a bit around camp and stumbled upon a secret waterfall which was a place of great beauty. I sat there for a long time.


Once again in late afternoon I fought the waves in my kayak, staying on the lee side of points and islands as much as possible. I found very good success for smallmouth bass, hopping plastic worms on the rocky bottom along point edges in 10-15 feet. This was a tactic that I have used for largemouth bass for many years, and I was happy to find it work so well for the smallmouths in this lake. I kept three nice bass for dinner.

Up at dawn, I set out to explore a part of the lake that I hadn't seen yet. A narrow, marshy channel connects the two main basins of the lake, and I wanted to try for pike here. On the way, I fished a few nice smallmouth spots and caught a dozen or so spunky bronzebacks while losing a few really big ones. Smallies have always been a favorite target of mine, so I was having a very good time with these fish! As I searched a cliff-faced point for whitefish, the wind picked up stronger than ever and I decided to make the trip back while I still could. Paddling directly into the wind, I was soaked by spray as I surfed over the waves. However, a big smile grew across my face as I traveled up the lake in my kayak, on a beautiful wilderness lake which I had all to myself. My shoulders were loose and in prime paddling shape, my bare torso was being bronzed by the sun and my hair blew in the wind because my hat kept blowing off. This feeling is what I really came here for, complete freedom in the midst of a wild adventure. I will never forget that feeling, and will think of it whenever I am mired in the ugliness of city life.

After a good and hearty lunch, I once again paddled out to explore the narrows. Along the way I fished a cliff face being hammered by the wind, and hooked six large bass but landed none. These fish would bulldog deep at first, then come skyrocketing out of the water and throw the hook mid-air. The wind would push me across the point very quickly, and I would hook and lose a fish then have to paddle like crazy into the wind and waves to get into position for another drift. I repeated this six times, then - a bit discouraged - I headed for the narrows. The lake was very different here, as weeds actually grew in places. I found many small fish rising to small flies in an area back here, most likely 3-6 inch whitefish or ciscos. My first cast with a #3 Mepps produced a 4 pound pike, which I put on the stringer. Next came a nice bass, which joined the pike on the rope. A while later as I burned the spinner through a patch of green cabbage, I set the hooks into something with weight. The fish shook it's head and ran across the flat, then the big pike cartwheeled into the air. After a great battle, I hoisted the 15 pound pike into my kayak and admired him for a moment before releasing him. Another nice pike threw the hook after leaping onto my kayak(!), then I made the long, wet, rocky ride back to camp.

After another excellent dinner of fish fried over the campfire, we all headed out to try for whitefish. I found scattered marks on the sonar between an island and a point, and we fished crawler pieces under slip-floats but caught nothing. The wind made it extremely difficult to present a bait to them. As light faded, I tied on a plastic worm and caught a beautiful 3 pound smallmouth along a boulder-strewn point. We headed back to camp, where a small bottle of whiskey was shared around the campfire on our last night in the BWCAW.

Early the next morning we awoke and broke camp, then made the portage and paddled across the big, open water before the wind picked up. Hex spinners piled up along the shore in the other lakes we paddled through, indicating that a good hatch took place here. No hex ever hatched on the lake we camped on, however, foiling our plans to catch whitefish on dry flies. The high winds throughout our stay also hampered our fishing greatly. No matter, though, as it proved to be a soul-cleansing adventure anyway and I for one cannot wait to embark on another paddling adventure in the BWCAW.