From June 1975

THE ANNUAL WEEK in the WOODS

Since I have been writing these  columns, which has been going on now for several years, I usually write about a trip into the Park (Algonquin) with one of our old parties. I have mentioned that the six men in this party are all retired, one even older than I am. But they still enjoy this one week get-together, and half an hour after we are settled it does not seem that it has been fifty-one weeks since we had met. Five of the group are retired insurance agents, the other a retired merchant. They come from Toronto, Belleville, one from the State of Michigan, one from Ottawa and one flies all the way from Edmonton just for this one week.

The fishing was decidedly poor. Just about the poorest fishing I have seen in the sixty-four summers I have spent in Algonquin Park. The scarcity of fish was not the real reason, though with the fishing pressure these small lakes have been subjected to in the last ten years it is to be expected there would be less fish, but this spring they just did not seem to be in the biting mood. There are times when lack of experience can be blamed for poor results, but all of these men are or should be considered in the almost expert class, as they have been fishing for many years. But the lures that were usually productive failed, the usual areas did not produce, and 1975 will have to be recorded as the poor fishing year, at least for the period we were in the woods. One thing we did note, and that was that the stomachs of the fish we did catch were empty. The last few we caught did show sign of feeding, but anyone who has caught a lot of fish knows that when they are biting really well their stomachs are full, at times almost to the point of being extended.

So we did have a few meals of fish, but there were none to take home. I had a chuckle when I was told that Fish and Wildlife again had that road block at Novar, and of course this group would be stopped. And for the first time would not have even one fish, though they can in no way be classed with the men who must take out a lot of fish. Only heard one little complaint, and this fisherman was immediately told that anyone who had the privilege of being on these beautiful lakes in such splendid weather should not complain he was not catching fish.

We used, in most cases, boats and motors, since fishermen have been granted a reprieve of one year. And again, it was nice when these men, some not able to sit too long in a canoe, were accepting the new rules which will ban these motors next season. But they are planning for 1976, and doing what they can with canoes. Besides the fishing, there is a lot of bridge played, and at times I get to thinking bridge is more interesting than fishing.

Perhaps I am getting old and a bit (?) senile, but I look forward with a great deal of pleasure to this week. There are other things where I can get to talk to old friends, and visiting is always pleasant. My rather infrequent trips to church, the Lodge meetings are all nice. Perhaps I would have to put at the head of the list the annual Ontario Trappers’ Association as the event I look forward to the most, but this week at Rain (Rainy) Lake with this particular group of fishermen would come a close second. Trouble is, even while they are so nice, years are deciding that they cannot go on forever. So the only thing is to enjoy every minute of each event.

There seems to be less wild life than usual. Some loons, a slight increase in the number of blue herons, and I think fewer gulls. Partridge have done very little drumming, and it does not look well for next season. A few moose, even after the heavy kill of last fall. But in the many portages we crossed, did not see even one deer track. Bears have been reported, some have been doing some damage in the Butt Lake area, but fewer bear signs this year than in many springs. But we did see a few porcupines, these almost totally missing for almost twenty years.

Come next June, I hope I can report that we had better fishing.

Note: Peggy Sochasky (Ralph’s daughter) tells me that Rainy Lake was where her father had his cabins. Butt Lake is now known as Bice Lake. “Dad always thought it (Butt Lake) was a piece of heaven on earth.”