Fishing Stories and Tall Tales

[OldTimer]

Father’s Day Gift:

In the mid 70’s I gave my dad a 1 Day “Fly-In” fishing trip for two for his Father’s Day present.

He had always wanted to do a fly-in and had mentioned a few times that Billie Bear Lodge, just outside Huntsville, had such a service. So……. That’s what I bought him, - he was thrilled. He wanted to go in late July.

Billie Bear Lodge is on Bella Lake which itself had decent fishing, but the air service out of there flew people in to remote lakes (not accessible by road) to the north west of Algonquin Park.

Dad insisted that he wanted to go for Brook Trout rather than go to a “Pike” lake as the pilot suggested (since it was July and the lakes with Brook Trout might be slow)………..OK…………..

We left our family cottage near Dorset and arrived at Billie Bear just before the sun would rise. The bush pilot was waiting for us and we all quickly got on board the waiting Cessna sea plane that was already loaded with a small 2HP outboard motor and fuel for our day of fishing.

Gorgeous flight to the lake, with the mist rising from the forest as the sun rose.

On arriving at the chosen lake – the pilot taxied the plane up to a very rough looking dock to offload. A 14 foot aluminum boat was already there chained to tree. He helped us launch the boat, put the motor on, test fire it, and load our gear, lunch, and supplied bait into the boat.

The pilot leaves…….. And we begin.

The lake itself is quite small, narrow, - maybe 300-400 acres with a creek coming in and one going out (spring fed we were told). Water is stained and the surface is warm to the touch.

We both put on a #2 Mepps Minnow with a piece of worm and begin a slow troll around the perimeter to scope out the lake. Wham! My dad’s rod almost jerks out of the boat and he’s fighting a good sized fish……….. gets it boat side – it’s a brookie……. and a REAL nice one (at least 3 pounds)……. But it gets one look at us and bolts… Spitting the hook and gone.

I think “FANTASTIC – here we go!”

Was I wrong – for the rest of the day we trolled, and cast, and still fished every inch of that lake with everything we had with us ……..and the best we saw was a few chub.

So……….. At 2:00 pm we are back at the “dock” awaiting the plane as arranged with the pilot. Pretty quiet………..

Round about 3:00 he shows up in a much larger Beaver aircraft. Apparently the Cessna had mechanical difficulties. And now…..since there wasn’t much wind there……. The pilot wants to fly us out separately to lighten the load apparently.

It’s decided I will go first; my Dad will come back on the next trip. The pilot runs the plane to the extreme end of the lake (the tail is actually touching the trees on the shore). Off we go down the lake……….. gee seems to be taking a while to lift off…………..suddenly the pilot jerks the plane sideways one way then the other getting the pontoons broke free from the water………..gee the trees are getting REAL effing close………….. UP we go! …. I MEAN UP WE GO………. ALMOST STRAIGHT UP and I hear something hit the underside of the plane. Back to the lodge we go, and I get dropped off.

The pilot goes back for Dad. It shouldn’t be much more than an hour to get Dad and return back again.

Wrong.


2 ½ hours later I manage to get a girl at the lodge to radio the pilot………..turns out my Dad wouldn’t get on the plane until the wind came up a whole lot more to make liftoff better…………. But they are just now on their way. (Note: my Dad served in the RCAF, could fly, and knew his stuff about prop driven planes……).

They finally get back, and I meet them at the dock (I was totally bummed out that my planned great day for my Dad was a sad piece of sh&#).

Dad jumps out of the plane smiling and says “Did you know that you two clipped off the top of a tree on the way outta there?”

I was amazed, but still sad and began to apologize for his wasted disappointing day.

Dad grinned at me, winked, and opened his large wet canvas shoulder bag – then pulled out a matched pair of bragging size brook trout he had caught using worms from the dock while waiting to fly out from the lake.

“You’re cleaning them and cooking them for us tonight” he said……. And …”I’ll get out the Scotch when we get home… it was a great day, thanks!”.


SOB.





Cheers,

OldTimer