Day three: cooler still, windy, drizzly. Damp. Fishing time on big Insula.

We caught a couple of small walleyes & after a period of inactivity, switched over to pike. We caught a few snakes, a few respectable fish, & then the trip...changed.

I hooked a fish on the bottom in about 20’ of water with my Dr. Spoon & it reacted immediately like a big fish, coming along agreeably towards the boat. I dragged it for a while & saw the whale’s back come up towards the surface. It must have seen me, or the canoe, or both. It RAN.

My drag, set correctly on the smaller pike we’d been tussling with, sizzled. My rod bent. The canoe lurched forward under the propulsion of the big pike. I yelled something incomprehensible. The pike ran towards shore. I shouted at John to paddle us out from the rocks. I didn’t want to lose the beast. We fought for about five minutes until it surfaced again. Not liking the looks of us, it took off again.

We played this game a couple more times, the runs shortening, thankfully, because my wrist was starting to hurt. Now, the fun begins. I’ve landed plenty of 30” pike by hand, but this fish was in another league, so we decided to land the canoe to release it. Up it came to the rocks & took off again, & again, & again. Finally we got ahold of her. Concerned with the long fight I didn’t even take her out of the water for a photo. I knew it was the right thing to do, but...(&*^&*^ I wish I had a picture of her! We marked her length against a paddle & measured it later at 42”.

A monster. My friend John said, “Just touching that fish made my trip!” Mine, too.

The balance of the day proved anticlimactic. More drizzle, more little eyes & smaller pike, & an early, damp bedtime.