Welcome to Week LII 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.
This is a tale of a very happy fisherman.
Sunday was among the best days of pure fun fishing I've ever enjoyed.
Ah, but there is a prelude to this story which really must be told, as it was the start to a great weekend.
My regular traveling bud for fishing, my son, and I had decided we'd go find water Saturday, but I wanted to roll out later than usual because the Yorkton Exhibition Association spring flea market.
I enjoy digging around a flea market so made a stop there first.
At one of the tables there was a guy selling stamps. He even had first day covers, but I wasn't expecting to find one I needed since I have most Canadian and American sport fish FDCs.
But I looked anyway and there was a 1971 Wildlife Conservation stamp from the U.S.. The stamp depicts a rainbow trout, and the cachet art was different from the one I had. Two bucks and it was mine. It was the best catch of the day.
Down another aisle, and I have to smile, as my better half informs me a lady at one table told her husband 'that's the guy who writes the fishing articles'.
Really folks I am amazed at the readership for this, and I have to thank every one of you. It's great when a lady comes up to me in a restaurant and relates her husband's loyal readership and how they had to stop at a store in Regina so he could buy a particular hook I had used.
So back at the flea market, I come to a table and find a copy of the Angler's Bible, copyright 1975. The guy smiles and said he thought of me as he was packing the book for the sale. Sure that was likely salesmanship, but for a loonie could I say no?
Then off Adam and I go, destination the Canora Dam.
We arrive and find the water high, limiting access points to stand and cast.
Our usual spot is taken, but they are hoisting a few pike.
We try near the falls and get zippo.
I did manage to lose a hook, snagged on some under water hazard. I yank on the new Berkley FireLine and finally it gives, not the line, but the leader. I do love my FireLine.
So Adam and I trek down river a bit. There's a rusting fridge in the edge of the trees. There is part of me which is really curious how it got there.
But just past the fridge is a spot where we could access the river. It was really quite idyllic, nestled in a stoop where the bank cut any wind. The sun was warm. It was quiet except for the water and a few birds.
Adam tried to listen the the Jays game on radio, but I said to turn it off. I like being away from tech when fishing and besides the Jays are off to a horrible start after so much spring training hope.
As nice as the spot was, no fish, and another lost hook, this one dangling from a tree limb where the sun glinted off it as a reminder of a bad cast.
Adam laughed, then proceeded to hang one of his in the same tree.
Back to the falls. I snagged a small pike, the first fish of a new season. Back he went.
A couple of suckers followed. They really fight, but were in so close it wasn't the fun they could have been.
Adam loses another hook, his third, or fourth of the day, and the impatience of youth overtakes him. He is ready to go home.
I linger.
In time he will come to appreciate anytime fishing is better than most any other time, lost hooks and no fish days included.
I finally get a few casts at our favoured spot as others leave and manage a trio of pike, but it's time to head home for a barbecue.
And then it's Sunday morning. The anniversary date of the first trip I wrote about in this space.
It's back to Canora Dam, this time Adam stays home and Dixie co-pilots, pulling out a lawn chair to watch.
This time the nice spot is busy, but three fishermen, there since 6:30 a.m., are about to leave.
I wade in with my new rubber boots and cast. Bang! A pike takes the split tailed chartreuse grub from Walleye Grabber Jigs, my friends John and Sandra Geres at Langenburg. It's about 9 a.m.
I talk to the others before they leave. They report steady pike and a trio of walleye among them. Encouraging words after a zero-fish opening day a week earlier, and a slow Saturday.
Then I slip into one of those idyllic days of fishing I read about in books all the time.
It's sunny. Not too hot. Not too cold.
I'm standing rubber boot top high, over the tops a couple of times actually, so I am more one with the fish's environment and the pike are famished.
I land one, let it go. The next cast another. Then three-in-a-row.
These are not big pike, but I don't care. The pleasure is the day and catching.
The pike are on side with that on this day. They chew the grub into something almost unrecognizable, and still the next one strikes at it.
I finally hang one in a tree and I don't care because it was so chewed to pieces. In fact twice fishermen in hip waders wandered out to the chartreuse lure, drawn as eagerly as the pike, but they had more discerning tastes, looking at the pike-chewed lure and leaving it hanging in the sun.
It didn't matter I had more Gabber Jigs.
The fish kept pounding.
I lost count after 20.
Then a walleye hit. That one went on the stringer.
The pike count mounted.
Over and over they struck.
Then on five casts three walleye. My limit achieved.
But I kept casting. At times I could see the pike following the lure to within a foot of my toes before striking, then making a run for the river, my hook in their lip, the pull of the FireLine eventually stopping their dash for safety.
It was magical, but still by one I was famished, and Raymond's Family Restaurant in Canora was waiting. Their Chinese hot-plates are as good as any Chinese dish I've had, so after an estimated 75 fish in four hours it was time to go.
One never knows what a day of fishing might hold, but few will be any more fun than Sunday, and even Saturday was just fine, after all I was still out fishing.
