(Agean Lake, Unnamed Lake, Unnamed Lake, Welkin Lake, Beamish Lake, Unnamed Lake, Unnamed Lake, Unnamed Lake, Unnamed Lake, Unnamed Lake, Haggart Lake) This morning we woke up to the crack of thunder booming overhead and then the sounds of an impending storm. We jumped out of the tent and scurried around camp in the dim morning light in order to ensure that our gear was properly stowed and nothing was going to get soaked. After making our rounds and securing gear under tied down canoes we just as quickly returned to our sleeping bags. A storm is a good excuse to sleep in and my tired bones were all about that. The storm passed over us with one quick dump of water and was gone. By the time we rolled out of bed for the second time the sky was clear and blue. We had our coffee and a pancake breakfast and then loaded up the gear.

The paddle northwest across Aegean Lake for the third time was not as concentrated on fishing. We wanted to cover some ground. The wind had just started to blow and the water had a little bit of chop. The sun was bright and the air was crisp, not cold, but dry.

We made our first portage across barren rock outcroppings, following cairns, to yet another unnamed lake. The lake had tannin stained water and a fair amount of weeds. We did a little casting just to check and see what was down there and caught a few small pike. Then we continued onward to the north. As we reached the end of the lake we came into an area of woods that had recently been burnt. The trees were mostly still standing but barren. By the lack of any green in the forest I would guess that the fire was the year before. The piney aroma in the air had changed to the sent of damp ashes. Finding our portage was a little difficult here but once we found the stream that the portage was paralleling we noticed it.

   A trail crew had been through since the fire and did a little clearing. They were nice enough to leave a few blaze orange ribbons along the way so we had something to follow. The undergrowth of the forest was gone and replaced by charred ground. The forest was lifeless besides a few columbine plants shooting through the ash.    Chet and I were the first to arrive at the next unnamed lake. We put in and watched to see if the others had been able to follow the ribbons. Before long we saw the canoe coming through the woods. Then we got back to fishing for a few pike while we waited.

   This lake was entirely burned out with only a lone tree here and there that miraculously escaped the fires fury. The scenery of the burnout was eerie. We quietly paddled the narrow lake north and gazed at a landscape I had never been in. Once we reached the northern most point and portaged to Welkin Lake we were out of the burn area.    On Welkin Lake we set our sites on lake trout for lunch. We rigged up our fishing gear and took a small break before our paddle west across the lake. Our plans were changed when we reached a small narrow in the lake that had gale force winds coming through it. The wind was kicking up and so where the white caps. Before going through the narrows we got our selves ready to battle the wind and waves by securing our gear and reeling in. Once we made it through the narrow we formed a straight line of canoes fighting the wind. Drafting the canoes in a line the whole way across the lake, we each took our turn in the front breaking the waves and wind until we could find a patch of quiet water behind and island or point to rest in. Once across the main body of the lake the wind did settle down and the fishing started back up. One laker was caught just before the portage but was released. We portaged to Beamish Lake and parked the canoes along some rocks for some much needed “meat n cheese” lunch.

   After lunch we jumped back into the canoes and headed on. We were only on Beamish Lake for a short time before we headed north along a stretch of pike infested unnamed lakes. The series of lakes and small streams were through lowlands and the waters were dark and stained. We fished across the majority of them and only ended up with a handful of small pike. The last of the unnamed lakes was reached by navigating a shallow stream around and sometimes over a maze of fallen trees. We hurried across the last lake in hopes of making it to the massive Haggart Lake before being hit by a threatening looking storm system to the north. We managed to make it but just as Mike had predicted, it wasn’t going to hit us. When we crossed the portage, there was on good crack of thunder overhead and then the sky cleared.    Haggart Lake proved to be good for lake trout. After spending a little time fishing the rapids by the portage catching pike, we paddled into the lake and started trolling to the north till we could find a campsite. I had all but given up hope on catching a fish when my rod bent back and I set the hook. After a little fight I hauled a healthy laker into the boat. By the time we reached a campsite the crew had at least five lake trout for dinner. The paddle up Haggart was also very long. We paddled over 3 miles of lake before finding a site to camp. During this time I recall there were some shenanigans going on between the other guys. The other canoes had tangled lines and the person who untangled the lines had switched out lures on the other guy, taking off a shad-rap and putting on a heavy jig head in it’s place.

   Once we arrived at camp we were all pretty beat. After setting up camp and stuffing ourselves with lake trout, it didn’t seem like anyone was going to be up very late. Just as we were thinking about getting ready to crash for the night the northern light came out. This site had a prime rock outcropping facing north for us to view it from. The show was a mix of green streaks shooting up in the sky and a sometimes distinct curtain stretching across the horizon. Unfortunately as soon as we were all down on the rock to watch it, it would fade away. We would sit there and wait for a while, get bored and go back to the fire, and look up and see it again. Then go back down on the rock to watch. We went back and forth from the fire two or three times before we finally hit the hay.