Welcome to Week CCVII of ‘Fishing Parkland Shorelines’. Like most of us I am a novice fisherman, loving to fish, but far from an expert. In the following weeks I’ll attempt to give those anglers who love to fish but just don’t have access to a boat, a look at some of the options in the Yorkton area where you can fish from shore, and hopefully catch some fish.
Fishing season in Saskatchewan in the zone which includes Yorkton opened last Thursday.
Now you might expect I’d be on the water somewhere that day, and you would be right.
Fate had me on the shores of Katepwa Lake in the provincial park there, but alas there was not a fishing rod in my hands. I was there doing some leg work for a possible disc golf course. Since that is another of my great passions it was a satisfying enough sojourn, although I was having some opening day envy too.
We rolled up and actually had to ask directions of a fellow pulling his fishing gear out of his truck. I nearly asked if he had a spare rod I could borrow, then I remembered I hadn’t purchased my license yet.
So Friday I headed out to a local retailer and signed up for a license. I’ll pass on commenting on the system in place for that any farther.
But before signing on the dotted line I saw the flash of the fishing lure aisle in my peripheral vision. Like a hungry pike I headed over for just a quick look, after all I had a rather loaded tackle box at home, something which was quickly reaffirmed by the better half quicker than you can say ‘Len Thompson’.
The fishing aisle is truly a magical place, even more so in spring when they are bursting with new lures. If you stand real quiet you can actually hear them calling you to buy them. Like a siren they promise to catch you more fish, bigger fish, the kind of fish to make Captain Ahab weep.
And so I took the bait.
Before I knew it I had a four pack of Williams lures in my hand. Truly I am not sure how they got there.
Then it was a Kamooki Smart Craw in Purple Rain colour. I have good vibes on this one given the movement of Kamooki lures. It should mimic a grayfish well.
A Blue Fox Strobe Spoon in a perch pattern came next, just on a whim.
Then a Ginns Gator Illusion effect in purples and back, which should scream tasty leech to fish.
Add in some rubber tails, a pickerel jig, or three, weights and leaders, and my hands were admittedly kind of full.
I tried to move silently to the rod and reel aisle, but I was blocked out by the better half, doing her impersonation of Lebron James rejecting a driving guard.
Still fisherfolk you know we need new gear, and generally lots of it. Bear with me a moment and you will learn why.
Finally it’s Saturday, a day that in the annuals of good Saturday’s should be in a top 10.
It would end in a bud’s basement with a five hour session of Dungeons & Dragons, myself as Game Master running the party through my own wonderfully twisted world creation.
The afternoon was highlighted by a burger and brew lunch at the Hotel California then 18 of disc golf at the great Springside course with a couple of buds. I won’t mention I putted lousy, because that was the lone negative to the day.
For this space though, the day began at 5 a.m. Yes that early, even though I am generally anti morning.
By 6 the gear was in my son’s truck, a fast food breakfast was being consumed, and we were on Highway #9 headed north to the Canora Dam.
We were not the first arrivals, although any earlier in my world would be a stretch to pull off.
Later comers, or not, it did not take long for the pike to please us.
Voraciously taking lures at times.
So voracious one early biter was that it was impossible to return him to the water. I had had no intention of keeping any fish unless a walleye, but the jack was kept, and he was a fine and tasty fellow consumed at lunch Monday.
Fortunately no other pike was so badly hurt by the experience of taking a lure that day, among the 50 or so caught by each of my son and I.
I did not keep an exact count, but the pike were a hungry lot that morning.
Of course the water did exact its toll as Canora Dam generally does. I lost a Len Thompson sampler; a hammered perch, a red five-of-diamonds and a red and white — hence the brilliance of my foresight to buy the new lures a day earlier.
My son added three spoons of his own to the watery depths.
So take a moment and do some math with me. Six spoons is about $35, add the gas, and the fast food breakfast and Monday’s pike lunch was a pricey one, even before adding a few spuds for homemade french fries (a must with pan fried fish when possible).
Such is the reality of passions, and hobbies. Rarely are they cheap.
Oh, and I should mention here too, in the hopes the better half reads it, the bail on my main reel is no longer snapping back when I start a retrieve. Several times it needed manual help. The reel, faithful as it has been, is showing its age (sort of like myself on Sunday after such a long active Saturday). The prognosis of the reel’s long term viability is limited, unless there is divine intervention from Neptune himself, and that seems unlikely.
So I may just have to check out the rod and reel aisle sooner than later — call this a forewarning of joys yet to come.
