Jack Lake Fishing Report, August 21-22 2004

“We were no longer men. We had become something more. We were like gods, fishing from the clouds in search angels…”

Our day started late, we arrived at Jacks lake around one in the afternoon. The sun was bright and shone down with great heat. We layered up with sun block, packed up the canoe and set out on our way. We covered the opposite shore with soft plastic baits in search of lunker bass. We quickly advanced over shallow shorelines covered by weeds and rock. Within a couple hours we had reached the bay we wanted to fish. We decided to stop and prepare some food, allowing the afternoon sun to cool down.

We headed directly to the spot we planned to fish. Prior visits to this location had led us to believe muskie
could be located here. We cut the motor a hundred yards away. A cool breeze drifted us perfectly into position. I tied on a Mepps black fury (Musky Killer) with a black bucktail. Jon did the same. The smell of muskie was in the air.

First cast was a long distance cast which landed just outside our targeted area: the dead heads. Within in seconds I felt the tention on my line grow, I set the hook. A muskie! After a short fight the musky was boat side and well over thirty inches. As I got ready to reach down and grab him, he gave one last pull and the hook slipped free. Jon turned, and made a cast without hesitation. Within seconds he was now fighting a muskie, possibly the same one. Quickly, he brought him to the boat. He picked up the mighty fish and held him up for a quick picture. He seemed to be the same size, and we concluded that it was indeed the same fish. As soon as the picture was done he reached for his pliers to remove the hooks. At this point the thick musky decided he had enough, a quick thrash of his head left Jon empty handed with a large gash across the bend of his thumb. As Jon pulled out his knife to cut a piece of his shirt off to bandage the wound I reached over and released the angry musky back into the cool water. He took off immediatley, and after having a better look at the wound we decided we should head back to the marina to clean up.

All our first aid supplies were in the car, which was about a twenty minute boat ride for us. Jon kept pressure on the wound while we raced back as fast as our two horse power motor could take us.

Once bandaged up we headed back out. On the way back to our spot we stopped at the marker of a large weed bed between an island and a deep section of the lake. I made a long cast with the wind and started reeling. Before I was even able to reel in the lure five feet another muskie hit. I set the hook. The fight ensued. He started pulling line out as soon as he caught sight of our red bottom canoe. I used my thumb to slow him down and pull him back to the boat. After a few minutes I had him by the tail, hoisted him up for a picture and released him to fight another day.

We called it a day shortly thereafter, it was difficult for Jon to reel the large muskie lures with his injured thumb. We headed in, made a fire, and prepared dinner. We sat fireside while the sun faded and the darkness took over. I fell asleep to the sounds of the night, my dreams where filled with giant muskies.

I awoke early the next morning, lifted my sleeping bag from my face and felt the warm sun shining down. The sun rising quickly over the mist covered the lake. I woke Jon with a swift punch and headed down to the dock to make some casts. You couldnt see across the bay the mist was so thick.

We were no longer men. We had become something more. We were like gods, fishing from the clouds in search of angels. But there were no angels. Instead, there were large toothy creatures lurking below. The sun rose sharply to the east warming the frigid air of the night. Mist rose like clouds, sweeping across the surface with a warm breeze. You could see no more then fifty yards beyond you rod tip.

We fished from the dock and watched as the mist slowly disappeared. When the sun rose was high enough to illuminate the whole lake, I set out on my own . Jon opting to remain at the dock as to avoid further trauma to his thumb. I started out trolling a six inch Rapala original until I arrived at the same area the muskie mishap occurred the prior day. Changed my bait back to the “Musky Killer” used the day before and within a few minutes the rod tip bent sharply over. I knew right away it was another muskie. I set the hook and started playing the fish. When I got him closer to the boat, I could tell he was smaller then the others caught yesterday. I reached into my bag for the camera, and took a few pictures.

I released the muskie and continued to cover heavy structure. Within twenty minutes I had another, this one about thirty five inches. Again I did my best to get a picture and released the fish. I watched as she swim away. I sat motionless for a moment, drifting slowly. Two musky in a matter of minutes, it just doesn’t get much better then that. I decided to end the day on a high note and I headed back to our camp to brag to Jon about the great fishing he missed.

How to get there: (from Toronto)

• Take 401 East, just past Bowmanville
• Exit at highway 35/115
• Head north to highway 7A
• Then take highway 28 to the town of Apsley
• And follow signs to boat launch.
• Camping is permitted on crown land on the lower lake.

Southern Ontario maps available (Map 3 and Map 6). Cottage Rentals available through Cottage Link, and lodges are available through Jacks Lake Lodge.