Top of Lake Superior

It's been something I've been planning and thinking about for a long time. Ever since I'd read about the historical significance and beauty of the coaster brook trout. I've wanted to travel Lake Superior's northern shore seeking out coasters in the early fall. Finally I just bit the bullet and said "let's go". I am very familiar with the north shore of Minnesota and stopped there on Friday night. Early in the morning I fished the Arrowhead Brule River and the pink salmon were present in the lowest pools but skittish. The weekend prior I had scored a number of fresh pink salmon that were staging at the mouth of the Baptism River on the spey throwing small, wet flies. These fish were already podded up into dense schools and quite spooky but eating with reasonable frequency. The fish in the lower pools were very spooky and not eating (at least not my flies). They were just shooting up and down the pool almost as though they were waiting for the urge to jump up on the gravel.

It wasn't long though before I knew it was time to head across the border. It was the first time I'd been north of the border from Grand Portage and I was in two minds about putting the boat in at Thunder Bay. Eventually though, I decided to continue up to Nipigon and the mighty Nipigon River.

First Look at Nipigon RiverNipigon River under the trans-Canada Bridge

The town of Nipigon is small and nestled in the hills overlooking the mighty river. And when I say mighty, it certainly is. I put the boat in and soon felt the surging current pushing against the boat. I cast large streamer patterns on a full sink line but all to no avail. I then headed down towards the mouth and out into Nipigon Bay. What a cool place! Towering cliffs and clear water. The town of Redrock looked like a nice place and as the sun peaked over the rain clouds a brilliant rainbow popped out, then a bright sunset filled the sky.

The Cliffs across from RedrockA bright double rainbowAt one point I had a circle rainbow with the reflection in the waterSunset on the Nipigon

After having what turned out to be a curious way to order and pay for a meal and get gas (wow gas is expensive in Canada!) it was time to head the 15km up the Nipigon River to the first of four hydroelectric dams on the river - Alexander's dam. It was dark, I was tired and for all I know it snowed monkeys outside as I slept so heavily. With the first light though I was up and down the short trail to view the river. Oh it was magnificent. Deep with dark edges and fast seams, shallow gravel dropping into the depths and flowing across deep shelves and holding water. I was salivating to break out the spey and start swinging butt monkeys!

Power plant at Alexander's DamThat's an eager fisherman

Unfortunately it didn't start out well. As I was stripping out my line it became wrapped around a rock. As I pulled it split into two. I stood staring at it for a full few seconds as what had happened registered. I didn't pull very hard at all. I couldn't believe it! As it sank in I felt a rage fill up inside me. This certainly wasn't the start I wanted and shouldn't have happened with a virtually brand new "top of the line" flyline. I knotted the two lines together (of course the knot was right at the point half way between the balancing point and head so any fish hooked couldn't be wound up all the way to the angler) and began swinging. I was pretty pissed off and muttering foul words about the line makers. Admittedly though, the line still cast quite well. I was still feeling a huge knot in my stomach and cursing my luck a few minutes later when there came a bone-jarring strike towards the end of the swing. No doubt about it! With the current pulling directly downstream the heavy fish had some room to work and used the river well. I knew I couldn't get down level and shorten up on the fish on account of my knotted line so I tried to stay upstream and have her fight it out against the current. Everytime she'd turn to try and head downstream I'd put the brakes on her. I had no choice with the line, and also because of a heap of old timber and railway spikes just downstream of me. If she got into there I would be done for sure.

I saw the huge red, square tail flailing about and got so excited. I knew what was on the end of the line and felt myself shaking now. This was it! After what felt like an eternity (in reality it wasn't a long fight) I was able to swing the fish into the shallows and handle my prize. Wow. I was one happy camper. Being such a jewel I was eager to get it back into the water unharmed, so after a couple of pics I revived her and watched as she swam away.

First Coaster - swinging on the speyAnother view

There were a number of boats trolling around and catching the odd fish and I originally thought they were coasters but I began to realize there were plenty of pinks and chinook salmon swimming about too. Most were still milling around and waiting for the hormones to push them onto the gravel but there were a few already on beds. I found a few and fished to them pretty hard. I fouled a couple and finally got one in (or maybe just under) the mouth. Close enough but it wasn't in the best shape. I put it back in the water suspecting it would be dead by nightfall. I also hooked and landed another that had the strangest eyes (maybe it had been fouled there previously) but again, not really what you'd call a player fish.

Crusty ChinookCheck out this Chinook - I'm telling you, Canadians are weird

I fished late into the darkness until a bear moving along the bank got a little too close for comfort. I was alone and felt like I was in a wilderness setting. I began to hear wolves howling in the distance and figured it would be wild enough for me in the back of the truck. At one point I did have to chase off a bear that came a little too close to camp but once asleep I was fine. The stars were out and magnificent but I didn't see them too long.

I was out swinging big white double bunnystrips at first light and as the first rays of light poked through a 50cm or so lake trout materialized on the end of my line as I stripped it from the depths. It was a tough battle with dogged plunges and turns but no blistering runs or leaps. As I got to the knot in my line I tried to hand-over-hand the line and almost had the fish to my feet before it kicked and released itself. Damn!

With the coming of light I took my boat out to the gravel I couldn't cast to from shore. There were so many pinks all through the shallows and a few chinooks skulking about. I fouled one that was on a bed but apart from that I didn't see any action. I tried the centerpin - nothing. I tried indicator fishing - nothing. Finally I swung small streamers on a full sink line and picked up one pink before another savage strike on the swinging streamer. Although not as large as my first coaster it was still very hefty for a brooky and a fish you'd be proud of most places. This fish had more room to run in but didn't compare to a steelhead of similar size. Still, you'd have to agree the beauty is stunning. It was late morning, and I wanted to see more of the area. I packed up and headed for the Jackpine River.

Fall colors along the bankAnother nice coaster on a streamer

Typical view along the river - beautifultypical coastline of Nipigon Bay

After the short drive, and even shorter hike, I got to the first pool of the jackpine river and in the tailout there were fins stacked everywhere. It, and the whole pool was loaded with pinks. Just packed in full. Unlike other streams these fish seamed a little feistier and willing to eat. I got quite a few fish (half dozen or so) within ten minutes all in the mouth. After that they became a little skittish and there were a couple more but the ratio of fair to foul became higher. As I moved upstream this repeated itself time after time with the fish quite eager to hit a fly and then it would slow down to a trickle after ten minutes or so. It is a beautiful stream and around every bend I found myself just wanting to go further and further. I did manage one small coaster/brook trout and it wasn't in full spawning colors but still very pretty after looking at all those pinkies. I walked well downstream and found some larger, slower pools jam packed fish pinkies but none would eat at all. I kept looking up around the bends, trained to expect to see other fishermen, but they never came. FInally my mind grasped the fact that they never would come. To be fishing in such a place is priceless. It was getting to be late afternoon so I decided to inspect the cypress river.

A male Pink Salmon from Jackpine RiverAnother Jackpine humpieScenic Jackpine

Another smaller coaster

So pretty

The cypress river is beautiful. Although about five minutes away it is completely different stream. Deep dark pools stilling over scree fields, separated by riffles and runs. Truely this was an amazingly pretty river. Not wide or deep or intimidating in any way. Again the pinkies were in but because the pools were deeper they weren't fouling up. As I walked upstream I was loving the place but with the sky darkening I suddenly realized how remote it was. I had to cross the stream in several places to get back to the truck and just worried about the "what ifs" like spraining an ankle or slipping or anything like this so far from any people. I'd love to explore this river more but the half hour or so I saw of it was fantastic.

Dawn saw me waking up in the sleepy town of Rossport. The view of the place was stunning with sand beaches overlooking forested islands and a sheltered bay. It almost felt like Alaska. There were quaint bed and breakfasts and guest houses and little restaurants but still nothing fancy or over the top. I'll be back some time but I had to head off fishing again and the first destination I wanted to see was the Gravel River. My first impression wasn't good with low, flat water but what I really wanted to do was fish the mouth where it dumps into Lake Superior. Unfortunately the winds were up and there was no shartage of whitecaps. Not really a good day for it. I left disappointed but excited to check out the Steel River.

Rossport at dawnBeach at RossportGravel River

The Steel River is a bit further from the other three rivers, but worth the drive. It is a significantly bigger drainage but a good flyfishing river. Despite my troubles parking because of roadwork on the bridge I fell in love with it instantly. Almost first drift I was struck by a steelhead smolt (indicator fishing) and then a number of pinkies. But the coolest thing was my indicator was being attacked as it hit the water. Seeing that I changed to streamers and began get strikes from aggressive coasters. They weren't bashful but were hitting short and I wasn't hooking up at all. There were plenty of follows and "nips" but few solid smacks. Finally I got one to stay connected and it was a solid fish. I was already well pleased with the river so anything else would be a bonus. Unfortunately for me that was it, but ti was great fun watching the pretty brookies coming up and swatting at my streamers.

Coaster from the Steel River

I had aspirations to fish the flats so I didn't stay too long at the Steel but the waves were still crashing at the beach of Old Woman Bay. It was really rough and not even worth throwing a fly so I had to "settle" for hitting the St Mary's.

Old Woman Bay

It was quite late when I got down to the rapids and not many guys out. The few that were there were either kids or (^^)@)#$%^^ flogging away trying to rip spawning fish off beds that were 2 feet in front of them. There was one other guy out centerpinning in the main rapids so I waded out to the Canadian pool and began indicator fishing. My plan was to drift egg patterns behind spawning fish for steelhead. Well the rapids were full of pinks and decent numbers of chinooks but they weren't on beds yet. They were in that darting around and jumping , splashing in between mood when they don't seem to want anything to do with a fly. While I was fishing I the other guy hooked up with a nice atlantic and landed it but I got nothing. I did get to see a fine sunset though. As the sun dipped below the horizon I fished the tailout of the inside berm and was gobstruck when a smallish steelhead slammed my fly. He was hot as hell and zipped about. I didn't think steel came up into the inside berm in the fall but evidently they do. That was certainly a bonus and it was a fine way to see out the day.

Steelhead from St Mary's - drifting with indicatorSunset behind International Bridge

Next morning I was up early and out swinging away on the American Pool and had no luck until around 10am. Finally a solid slam and fish-on! Plenty of headshakes and solid runs with a couple of leaps. Yeh baby, and atlantic! I was so excited. I knew though at some point I'd get to the knot in my line and have to deal with it. My plan was to play the fish out for as long as I could but that was destroyed when it ran towards me. I grabbed the line and managed to hand over hand a very fresh fish for a good couple of minutes, but without the give of the rod it felt so unsure against the headshakes of the fish. I got it to within a few feet of me before the hook pulled and I was swearing like a mad man at the flyline company (Rio you owe me a flyline!!!). I stood up, looked around and realized I had very little to show for 6 hours of fishing. I decided to move and headed across the rapids and up to the gates at the very top.

It was quite the trudge but after just three drifts the rod just throbbed with a heavy weight and line peeled off into the backing like it was possessed. That fish was 150 yards in no time and again I was wondering about the knot in my line. Luckily for me the current is very strong out there and with so much line out I could play the fish until it was tired. It was all gassed up on eggs and fought very very well. Finally though I nervously swung the steelhead into the shallows downstream of me and collected my prize. Not a big steelhead but certainly a trophy for me. First steelhead on the spey rod. I had a feeling I was going to kill them in there after getting one on only my third swing but it wasn't to be. After some time I switched over to fish the masses of pinkies swimming about.

I won't say it wasn't fun fishing to the pinks but they don't bite well and ............well.............I was fishing an eight weight! I did switch over to my centerpin and finally get a fish on it though. That was something. No I shouldn't complain it was fun but after every half hour or so I head out and swing again in the hopes of another steel or atlantic. I fished all over the rapids during the afternoon and came to the conclusion this is one of my favorite places to fish, especially swinging on the spey rod. It's loud enough and strong enough and peaceful enough to wash away your troubles and let you think again. I love it. I only managed more pinkies as the afternoon wore on and did meet a couple of local guys to chat with about fishing to finish off the trip. I grabbed a quick meal at Wendy's and then it was back to Minnesota. All in all it was a great trip and introduced me to places I hope to visit again and again.

Steelhead swinging on the spey!First fish on the centerpinSo many Pink SalmonA 19 inch pinkyJust me in the rapidsEver wondered why they're called humpies?