As first light filtered through the tent walls I awoke and slipped outside to enjoy the view from our elevated campsite. The lake was calm around our campsite and foggy vapors were ghosting over the water, an inspiring beginning to the day.

There was no sign of life from any of the other three members of our party so I pushed a canoe off the landing and paddled around the island to the area where Elissa and I had caught fish the evening before. Trolling a crank bait along a rock-strewn shoreline kept me busy with northerns and SMB in some of the most productive fishing of the trip, which everyone else was missing. When I caught a 24 inch walleye (which ended up being our trip’s largest walleye) my conscience forced me to return to camp to see if anyone else wanted to join the fun. There was no sign of the girls but Byron was having a cup of coffee and when I hoisted the walleye he decided that he’d join me for some fishing.

Byron and I fished the same area and caught several SMB and an handful of northerns, but no more walleye, much to Byron’s disappointment. I think he was trying to wish “walleye-ness” on this pike:

Yes, Byron smoked cigars even when fishing at sunrise! After an hour of SMB and northerns we heard signs of life from the campsite (all the action was within a couple of hundred yards of the island) and returned to join the girls for breakfast. Byron made blueberry pancakes that were probably the best I ever tasted.

Today we planned to move our campsite to an island site on Fran Lake that Byron fondly remembered from his trip 15 years ago. So, after breakfast we broke camp, loaded the canoes and headed south on Saganagons. Soon after leaving our campsite we passed through a narrows between the mainland and a small island and spotted this gal:

She wasn’t happy about our proximity, but I was using a 300 mm lens to get this photo, so we weren’t too close and she was never disturbed enough to leave her nest. Leaving her behind to continue her motherly duties we rounded a point for a two mile open water run to the south, and surprise of surprises, there was a stiff southerly headwind on the choppy waters. I’ll bet the indians didn’t even create a word for “tailwind” as I don’t think they exist in Quetico. In less than an hour we reached the very short portage to Slate Lake, crossed over and paddled across Slate Lake’s southern arm towards the portage to Fran Lake. This was another fairly easy portage and we were ashore at our intended campsite on an island on Fran Lake by lunchtime. It was easy to see why Byron had wanted to return to this site, it was elevated, had plenty of firewood, and featured a great fire ring complete with first-rate seating! These flowers were right next to one of the tent pads, almost as if planted as a window box.

We ate lunch, pitched tents, and left the island for some fishing. Byron had been touting the excellent smallmouth action they’d had here 15 years prior, and consequently we’d planned this night’s dinner to be a fish fry based on the fish we were sure to catch during the afternoon. Risky strategy maybe, but Fran Lake did not disappoint and we caught better quality SMB here than anywhere else on our trip including a number of fish like this.....

And this one of Elissa’s.....

And we caught several walleye here also, including this 22 incher taken by Stacey which later anchored our fish fry.....

We caught a few northerns, and Elissa eventually scored with this chunky smb which we taped at 19.5 inches:

We caught some of the smallies on crank baits, but the Berkley Gulp leeches on jig heads that had worked well on Blackstone Lake yesterday were hot again, so hot that the fish would even pick them off the bottom while dead-sticked.

While we were fishing a group of three or four canoes hove into view from the southwest and paddled up to Byron and Stacey. Turns out they had been hoping for the campsite we’d claimed shortly before, so we were lucky to have arrived when we did. They continued out of the lake to the northeast, leaving via the same route that we’d used for our arrival. After the afternoon’s good fishing we adjourned to the coveted campsite for our fish fry, which was prepared in short order via our fish-fry-assembly-line with all hands pitching in (except for the guy goofing off with the camera).

This is a truly beautiful campsite and offered breathtaking views, evening without the cruise-by from these loons:

Now, I don’t know exactly why an open air campsite fish fry with just-caught fish is so good, but it is, and this one ranked as one of the best of my life. As darkness fell and we finished the fish feast it was time once again for our nightly s’mores ritual which we accomplished with enthusiasm. Each night we’d been swarmed by mosquitos and this night was no different, until something much larger started flitting all around Byron as he sat by the fire, cigar in hand. We tried to identify the culprits with flashlights but couldn’t get a good look because they moved very fast. Finally I got out a camera and after several attempts managed to capture this shot:

In Florida we have something called a sphinx moth, which is what these resembled. They must have been attracted to Byron’s cigar because they stayed with him no matter where he moved around the campsite. A little creepy maybe, but at least they weren’t biters. Soon it was bedtime and the day was done.