Of Wind, Water, & Wilderness
Bill Kuntze
The morning had gotten off to a dynamic start. The first fish of the trip, a smallmouth bass, had been caught in sight of the ranger station on Beaverhouse Lake. Added to this were three chunky northern pike taken in quick succession. I wasn't paying much attention as John snapped back on his rod to set the hook once more. The "zing" of the drag caught my focus and right off we knew this was going to be a good fish. Our first glimpse of the big northern pike confirmed it was unlike any we had ever seen. John carefully worked the fish back toward us after each powerful run, while at the same time I guided the canoe to a convenient landing. Both of us now standing in the shallow water near shore, John played out the fish bringing it in close. Six, seven, eight times, I lost count, each time the fish driving back out to deeper water. The runs became shorter and each time the fish pausing a moment longer before exerting a burst of energy. The pike was now held only by one barb of the twin sets of treble hooks on the gold colored minnow bait, and that being on the outside of its mouth. It was time to land the fish or lose it. John guided the fish between my legs and with one motion I gently guided my hands beneath its gill covers and lifted it out of the water. A measure of forty three inches proved this catch was truly a rare occurrence. We took time for two photos and placed it back into the water. The pike revived in a brief time and slowly made its way out of the shallows. It was not yet ten o'clock in the morning of John's first Quetico experience. To say we were elated would be an understatement.
The next surprise came as we paddled up the Quetico River channel minutes after leaving the portage landing. A black bear meandered along the rocky bank completely aware of our presence. It seemed as if it had come out of the woods to greet us. We edged in close for a photo shot. The camera had been stowed in a dry bag and took just a bit too long to retrieve. The bear strolled back into the alders, perhaps to wait for the next group to pass along. It was a grand start to our trip. I felt as though it were something more than the warm sunlight shining down upon us that morning.
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