August 22, 2004 Newsletter

 

I hear stories on a daily basis of where someone has fished, their success, how happy they are with the equipment they purchased or built in my shop, the service provided by their guide, travel or booking agents, and thought I would tell more stories of my own that may be a little unique to others.

 

I have had many years experience in hunting and fishing as it used to be known, and many of my ‘stories’ relate to those times when we had to be innovative, be able to adapt to pursue fish in difficult to access locations and with detailed logistics’.  At a great risk of boring my readers, I would like to relate fishing trips to the Artic where innovation, logistics’, and adaptability were paramount.

 

My story comes about as I prepare for what I now consider, and I am only physically and financially capable of, the arranging of my next sojourn to the Yucatan of Mexico to fish the Mexican Caribbean for Bonefish, Permit, and Tarpon.   I began reflecting on what it used to be for trips to the Artic, of which I made many.  It used to be relatively simple to get groups of 4, 6, even 14 fisher’s to make a ten day trip to Great Bear Lake in the Northwest Territories of Canada through Edmonton Alberta, then on to Trophy Lodge in the NWT, a distance of some 1100 air miles north of Edmonton.  On one such trip 14 of us put $100 each into a pot in the airplane ride to Trophy Lodge for the biggest fish (I recall the bet being made just before we ran out of booze on the plane!).  As luck would have it, or as it ended up as bad luck would have it, I caught a 50 pound 8 once Lake Trout and won the pot.  Unfortunately for me, at my insistence (and showing a lack of confidence), I included a condition that the winner buys the losers a dinner of their choice upon returning to Edmonton.  I ended up almost breaking even after a HUGE dinner and fine French wines at the Steak Loft.  But that is not my story, that is another story – 14 pound line, Ambassador 5500C reel, largest Lake Trout in Canada for 3 years, honorable mention in Sports Afield Magazine for ‘story of the year’ etc.  This story has to do with a trip to the Hornaday River on that same trip, (after securing my wager with the other guys), which flows out of the Artic Ocean in search of the true Artic Char.  My fishing companion, Mary Malin, an acclaimed outdoor writer and outdoors person, and I decided to rent the Beaver float plane moored at Trophy Lodge for the trip North.  Enroute we stopped at a lake called Lak Du Bois pulling into an island to add fuel from barrels cashed on the island in order to make the round trip.  The weather was heavy overcast with a ceiling of maybe 100 to 200 feet, but Houston, there was a problem!  We continued North and I noticed the ground was now right under our floats and the clouds were immediately overhead.  The pilot, maybe 21 years old,  casually mentioned there were cliffs at the edge of the Artic Ocean about 300 feet high.  Now, this wouldn’t normally present a problem except we were flying at an elevation of 100 feet which meant we had to go THROUGH the cloud cover and get ‘on top’ of the weather.  We did so into beautiful blue skies and with a thick carpet of clouds underneath.  Now the problem:  where did the Artic Ocean begin and the cliffs meet?  A quick discussion was held and it was decided to go down through the clouds, and strictly by guess and by chance we had hoped to come out over the ocean and not fly straight into the land.  The cloud cover was so thick visibility was at absolute zero, no radio, no GPS (not invented), a magnetic compass only (that was off by a huge degree because of the nearness of the magnetic North), and somehow we saw the white caps on the waves of the ocean barely 50 feet under our plane!  You must realize, the cloud cover and the color of the water are one in the same so it was the waves with their white crests that we could see.  We turn back and came upon the cliffs!  A severe bank left to avoid the cliffs while at less than 50 feet,  we then must decide is the Hornaday left or right of where we broke out.  As luck would have it, it was left and we came upon the opening soon after flying the shoreline.  The pilot turned as tight as the Beaver could up the river.  We landed, fished, caught what looks like a brook trout only they are 6 to 18 pound true Artic Char, and even more beautiful than a brookie!  The river itself was fascinating as pack ice would move in and out, the weight of which would heat the rocks underneath and roll them into perfect spheres.  The rocks become very dense and extremely heavy.  I brought back a few the size of baseballs and golf balls but my friend Marty filled his waders with these rocks, nearly drowning in the river.  On the way back, gliding into our gasoline ‘cache’ on Lak Du Bois I could see many fish around the island.  This is where I intended my story to begin!

 

I was greatly intrigued by Lak Du Bois and asked an Inuet Indian native upon our return to Trophy Lodge if he had any knowledge about fishing the lake.  He said he knew the members of his tribe would, on occasion, stop by the lake during their nomadic travel to net fish for their dogs.  I wrote Trophy Lodge and sent a deposit to have them fly two boats and motors, three tents, cooking gear and food, and two ‘natives’ that knew how to cook to Lak Du Bois the following summer.  I returned with Marty and two of our sons the next summer to explore this previously un-fished water (the lake has about 600 miles of shoreline!), to fish and talk about the rest of all our lives.  We, literally, fished area’s we were certain held NO fish but wherever we went, we found Lake Trout!  Lake Trout averaged 8 to 22 pounds, Grayling were everywhere, Northern Pike unbelievably aggressive in a river, and in the lake, the water was so clear you could see a white dinner plate 100 feet deep.  Mosquito’s were so bad that you actually had to pee through mosquito netting!  Where your jacket met your glove, if there was a ½ inch of exposed skin, it was as though you had a fur cuff!

 

It seems tonight (Saturday) with each consumed cervesa, in my memories new stories of the Artic arise.  I could, and maybe will, open new chapters of Artic fishing in coming newsletters, but somehow I feel it is important to ‘pass on’ experiences I have enjoyed for nearly 50 some odd years.  Perhaps the fascination I maintain for fishing the Mexican Caribbean in the lower Yucatan is the fact they have no electricity, no telephone, no current events or news,  and that’s remotely similar to the far North.  I once tried explaining to a Inuit Indian guide what an American city is like, how it has thousands of people, cars, trucks, huge buildings, and some cities even have millions of people, and after a great deal of thought he replied – “me been to Inuvik”! (An Indian village of nomadic people on the Artic Ocean).  I have talked with Abristo, my guide in the Yucatan that has never been more than 50 miles from where he was born the same thing with the same quizzical look.  Do you suppose these two could find common ground as fishing guides should they ever meet?  For us it is a small world, for them it is not even comprehendible.  If life were a game of golf, I have probably teed off on the 18^th hole (I hope it’s a par 5!) and I think if you are less fearful of dying, you will live a better life.  Taking chances are what memories are made from. 

 

My inventories of fly tying material, finished flies, and built up custom rods are good.  I have a couple of specials such as a Sage 9 weight 3 piece RPLXi custom rod only for $325 (previously $540!); a just built Sage XP 9’ five weight, four piece with Fiddleback Maple wood insert and anodized black aluminum reel seat (can be used in salt), and if packaged with a new Loop Evotec FW fly reel, Lefty Kreh professional 5 weight saltwater line, backing and a D. B. Dunn rod/reel case, I will discount $200!  Those are ‘reel’ deals!

 

Thanks for reading my ramblings and as always, I look forward to seeing you in the shop and I promise I will be a good listener for your stories and experiences.

 

 

Dennis O. Freeman

RODMAKERS

13457 Blanco Road

San Antonio, TX 78216

210-479-3477

rodmaker@rod-makers.com