I was sitting with my friend, Darrell, in my dad’s living room when he shared this personal story of one of his fishing trips from years ago…

The story goes that, Darrell, and a friend had been fishing Tim Lake in Algonquin Park. They had been fishing hard without any success and were constantly weighing anchor, from spot to spot, around the lake. Finally, they decided to quit and return to the river mouth that would lead them to their vehicle.

As fate would have it, the winds picked up and they began to struggle against the wind and waves. They quickly became frustrated from the amount of work they were doing while fighting the wind. An hour and half into their epic and blustery battle, Darrell, noticed that they had canoed past the river mouth they were attempting to find.

He told the man in the bow who was paddling ferociously against the wind. Darrell did not get a reply.

Fatigue and desperation began to ‘set-in’ for the two paddlers. Despite the wind, they should have reached the river mouth sooner than they had.

At that moment, Darrell noticed something.

He debated whether or not to tell his friend in the bow. He yelled one more time over the wind,

“We forgot to bring the anchor up!”

“What?!”, his friend yelled.

“WE FORGOT TO BRING THE ANCHOR UP!”, Darrell repeated.

The story ends there. I guess the look that, Darrell, received from his friend was priceless.

The lesson is simple

When fishing in high winds, don’t forget to bring the anchor up.

On a practical note – Is life, away from the fishing boat, sometimes like that? We all paddle furiously, at times, to get ahead and reach our goals. It can be so frustrating when the ‘over-worked’ ground we make is so minuscule.

Check for anchors.

Perhaps there is something that is holding you back. An anchor long forgotten. Something like a broken relationship, or a mis-management of priorities, or a wrong you need to make right.

Your hardest and best work may all be for nothing if you have not dealt with a forgotten anchor. It can also keep you from seeing what is important – like the river mouth that leads you to your car.

End of sermon.

*My reloaded blog posts are some of my favorite previous posts made current again.

It was very exciting for me to exchange emails with Bob, and ask him some interview questions. I appreciate the time Mr. Izumi took to respond.

Bob Izumi Host of Real Fishing Show

1. Can you describe how you developed your love for fishing. What was the catalyst that started it all for you?

My father raised myself, brother and two sisters as a single parent in southwestern Ontario in a farming community of Blenheim. To forget his worries he used to take us as well as the neighbourhood kids fishing. All of us used to enter the Rondeau Rod and Gun kid’s fishing derby and Dad would help/coach us all into catching lots of fish. As a result we used to clean up on the prizes every year we entered. So you can say I got the bug at a very early age. He also started the first organized professional style bass tournament in Canada when I was 15 in 1973. It was a draw for partner tournament. There is no question that it was a turning point for me to want to do more competitive fishing from that period on.

2. What do you believe to be the keys to your success as a TV show host and tournament angler?

The funny thing is I grew up watching fishing shows. Red Fisher at first then Roland Martin, Bill Dance and Al Lindner. Never once do I remember saying to myself that, hey that’s what I wanted to do for a living! I really wanted to be a tournament angler. But after doing tournaments, seminars and promotional work full-time in the fishing business for 3 years and barely making enough money to put food on the table I knew I had to do something else in addition to what I was already doing to fund my tournament addiction. That’s when I decided that a fishing tv show may be worth trying. Tournament fishing is definitely what keeps my enthusiasm peaking. To be honest I just love being on the water!

3. What has been a highlight for you in the 2010 fishing season?

In August my son Darren and I won the Renegade bass tournament in Cornwall with the largest 5 fish limit weighed in to date in one of their series. We weighed 24.76 pounds for our five heaviest including a smallmouth that was big fish of the tournament that went 6.13. This was the 2nd tournament Darren and I have won together. As a parent it’s hard to describe how awesome it felt! It also has given me tournament wins here in Canada in each and every decade since the late 70′s.

4. How do you feel is the best way to excite Canadians about fishing in the years to come?

We live in the most diverse fishery in the world! The opportunities are endless even though many Canadians take it for granted. I have been fortunate enough to travel around the world sampling some pretty amazing places yet still would choose right here at home as my number 1 choice as having the most options in terms of species and waters to explore! And the overall fishing is as good as it’s ever been right now!

5. Without giving away some tournament secret, what lure/rig is the first you tie on in new bass waters and why?

That’s the hardest question you’ve asked…..since I have a number of baits I like to have with me I’m on the water. Every place we visit has different types of cover, water colour, etc. so I’ll fish the moment as opposed to the magic bait. I look at lures as tools for different jobs. I will say that Berkley’s Gulp has been the hottest bait for catching smallmouth in deep water the last few years. It has been my number one go bait for drop shotting!

6. Has there been an epic battle with a particular fish that stands out in your mind?

Some saltwater fish have been memorable. More of a brute strength type fight that can be almost be like work getting them to the boat! Big tuna, marlin, rooster fish, and many others are hard fighters. However I really enjoy horsing big largemouth out of heavy cover with either my Shimano Crucial or G Loomis flipping stick. It’s an adrenaline rush that I’ll never get tired of!

Thanks for your responses, Bob. I still have an old baseball cap you signed for me back in the 80′s. Your love for fishing inspired a younger generation to experience it first hand.

Catch The Fish of a Lifetime at QCL!

Several guests at Queen Charlotte Lodge have been catching chinook over 40 pounds last week! The question is, when will you be hooking into YOUR monster chinook or coho? Better yet, between the fish battles on QCL’s guided boats, you could get a chance to snap some photos of the other behemoths of sea, Humpback whales.

The great folks at at QCL like to keep me updated as to what their guests are experiencing at their Lodge. Here are some of the highlights from The Kingfisher Report at Queen Charlotte Lodge:

August 14
Greg McCoach boated a nice 44 pounder Friday but it wasn t quite enough to beat Joe Phillip’s 46 pounder.  Paul Reid released a beauty that taped out to 37 pounds – great job Paul!  Ross Wilmots 45 was the big fish on Saturday. Nice flat water on Sunday should see lots of boats offshore after Halibut and schooling Coho…

August 18
With sunrise coming a little later these days there is a certain urgency in the dining room at breakfast.  The staff is hustling just to keep eggs in the pan! Everyone wants to be on the water as soon as possible to capitalize on an awesome morning bite.  We are getting Chinooks just a little farther from shore this week, usually down about 40 feet in 140 feet of water…  First timer Andrea Dietel and her husband Chris, fishing with guide Mike Borelli have had a great time catching Tyees – a 35 & 37 on Monday, 32 & 48 on Wednesday.  Jeff Lund boated a beauty 40 pounder early in the week while Jessica Eussen, fishing with her dad Remy and guide Mike McLennan, landed and released an awesome 43 pounder off Parker Point.  Well done Jessica!  Burmah Martin has 3 big Tyees so far in her trip with 39, 40 and a 33 pounder which she chose to release.  Lots of fish in the mid 30s are keeping the Tyee bell ringing every evening…

August 21
The flat water and blue sky combination provided one of those dream days to be out on the grounds.  Some anglers took advantage and ventured offshore to watch the Humpbacks feeding steadily on needlefish and krill, a totally awesome experience that really should not be missed…Gonzalo De Braganza took the lead early on Friday, choosing to release the biggest salmon of the weekend, a chrome bright 45 pounder at Parker Point.  Great job!  Tony Vigini boated a nice 38 while Preston Kelts managed a 33 and a 38 pounder on his first day.  Tia Walsh celebrated a beautiful 37 lb Chinook on Saturday and Brent Lobson came to the scale with a fat 40 pounder.  The perfect water conditions had everyone fishing Halibut and Tom Levesque found a 69 pound reward Saturday with guide Derek Poitras out off of Eagle Rock…

Now, I trust you understand why QCL is at the top of my ‘Bucket List’. Contact the Lodge and book your next trip. Please tell them Muskoka Outdoors sent you…

*photos and report content used with permission from the QCL Blog

First catch of the night - walleye

We are not exactly sure what initiated the fish’s return to the lake. It has been said that a dam upstream broke or water levels peaked causing the pickerel to escape from lakes further upstream the watershed. Whatever happened, I dare say the walleye are making a welcome return comeback into my favorite lake.

I should have felt the winds of change into our favour when dad asked to stop and buy some worms before we hit the water. Any event that rarely happens unless we are taking the kids fishing.

As the sun began to set, we trolled around to the dark side of a Vernon island and hit a 12 foot stretch of water. That was when dad’s walleye rig, with a golden spinner and worm, began to shine. Within a few minutes he had hooked, netted and released two 16″ – 18″ walleye. The walleye would have made excellent meals, but we wanted to ensure that these spawning sized fish would help their species’ make a comeback.

Dad's second fish

We trolled back and forth in the 12-foot trough and had numerous near ‘catches’ and several worms slurped off the hook. I tried using a white Gulp twister tail in place of worm, but the pickerel did not seem to bite at it with the same intensity as the worms.

This night, at least, the pickerel enjoyed staying at 12-feet. Anytime we ventured out of this zone, the fury stopped or slowed. The surface temp was 66F and troll speed was set at 5 on the Minn Kota dial.

I hope to see you all out there this summer. We’ll be hovering off an island point to the left – legend hunting!

I first met Tigerback while practising some swimming lengths at the camp’s waterfront. Something caught my attention in the shallow end of the waterfront while I exited via the the deep-end ladder. A large smallmouth bass was swimming very close to the surface of the water. I could clearly see the ‘tiger-like’ formations (at least they looked like that to me)on it’s back as it swam back and forth between the docks.

I named it Tigerback and it soon became legend!

After a few minutes of swimming, he disappeared into the murky depths.

Later that week, I managed to call mom to bring me fishing gear. I was going to go Tiger hunting. For three afternoons I threw everything I had in my tackle box to try to entice a return visit from ‘Tigerback’. I casted spoons, plugs, jitterbugs, and Mepps around those docks with not , so much as, a swirl from its tail. When I was not working  - I could be found at the docks casting like a mad man.

Captain Ahab would have been proud.

After several days defeat, I visited the waterfront again – without my fishing gear. I thought some swimming would get my mind off the behemoth fish. After a relaxing swim, I started to towel off my hair when I noticed Tigerback swimming some victory laps in the shallow end again.

Oh, if I only had a harpoon!

I left the waterfront in disbelief as I watched the wary bass swim back out into the river.

Two weeks later I returned with a new battle plan. Six of my campers wanted to try fishing. They had never done it before. We raided the craft cupboard and found some 20lb test line and a package of hooks.

It seems destiny favored the creative.

Then, we found some sturdy sticks that we could tie 6ft lengths of fishing line on to. The final touch consisted of some worm hunting in the camps flower beds. With a dozen, or so, worms in a coffee mug we marched down the waterfront hill and started fishing with our rustic equipment.

The kids loved it. Their eyes were wide with amazement as perch and sunfish would swarm their hooked bait. I would spend several minutes that afternoon going over the parts of fish, identification, and hook removal procedures.

I forget which kid it was, but suddenly, we had an issue. One of the kids said, “I am hooked on something!”

As we peered over the edge of the dock I saw old ‘Tigerback’ with a hook coming out of his mouth. The 6ft line did not leave room for a fun fight. I simply helped the kid pull the brute out of the water and on to the dock. The kids swarmed around the lucky angler and watched with gaping mouths as held ‘Tigerback’ by his bottom lip and unhooked him from the small hook.

One of the kids remarked that they swim with that thing and hinted that his final afternoons at camp may be spent canoeing and not swimming. With some more questions and pointing, the kids waved to ‘Tigerback’ as I released him to the dark depths.

These kids became hooked on fishing from that day forward. That was the secret of old ‘Tigerback’.

No one has seen him since.

I suspect he is still out there.

Somewhere.

If you want to catch him. Take a kid fishing.

*My reloaded blog posts are some of my favorite previous posts made current again.

Craig and I found that the trout did not start to bite until we reached and area of shallow to medium rapids that were impassable without portaging. The specks were hunkered down in the riffles and ambush points found within the fast moving sections. We used light cahills and casted upstream of potential hiding spots and watched them drift down with the current. IF the drift was right, we were rewarded with great aerobatics from the leaping specks.

To change things up in this post, I have put the photos together in a video slideshow format. The pictures should speak for themselves. Regrettably, there are no fish photos. It seems I could not juggle 6 to 11 inch trout and work my camera very effectively. Craig’s fish seemed to always be out of range for me to get to him quickly. We felt it was better for the trout to ensure quick releases.

The fast moving water seemed to retreat around him with every step. It was at that moment I knew that I had entered the water with a real Streamwalker.

Craig Releasing a Big East Brookie

When the fly, I tried to cast into the chosen pool, got hung-up in the branches on shore behind me – I knew my journey to becoming a Streamwalker was just beginning.

While untangling my fly line from the offending bush,  my eyes tried to ‘take-in’ where I was. I had never fly fished in an area like this before. It was like the pages of my favorite  fishing magazine had come to life and I was wading in a western Canada whitewater river. I was only 40 minutes from home and wading in a virtual trout paradise – somewhere on the Big East River. It was the kind of place only a Streamwalker would know about.

When I was ready to try a second cast, I noticed that the Streamwalker was already releasing a second trout. Amazed, excited and almost discouraged the words of another master came to mind,

“Do or do not. There is no try…”

I started my backcast and methodically started working the deep pool with a small Adams. Slowly, I began to work my way towards the angling master. It took me awhile to notice at the beginning, but I am pretty sure he would watch and anticipate my route down the noisy river. He would leave some pools and underwater ledges untouched by his fly. He at least hoped that the trailing rookie moving, clumsily, toward him might be able to tempt a wary trout.

That was the only mistake I saw him make. I could not catch anything but suspended branches behind me and hidden rocks in the babbling stream.

Halfway through our journey down this section of the Big East River, we both stopped and rested on rocky boulders. He asked me what I was using and hesitantly I showed him the tattered fly barely clinging to the hook.

“That’s no good,” he said. “Use one of these.”

Craig - Streamwalker

I think he slowed time as he reached for my fly rod with its shortened tippet. The route downstream had been hard on it.

Before I could protest with any kind of significant resistance, he placed the reel back into my hands with a new marbly, green-beaded nymph and fresh section of fly tippet. This time our adventure continued with the Streamwalker showing me how to read the water for ambush points, rocky ledges, and depth changes. He reminded me to start my casting close and finish towards a 12′oclock position when I approached a new section of stream.

“The least amount of times your fly hits the water before you let it drift increases your chance for a strike,”, he instructed while I struggled to get my nymph to reach a suspended tree trunk on the far side. My friend made his way upstream to me and kindly gave me a lesson in false casting. My casting distance improved slightly after that but it became quickly apparent to me that I may not ever become a Streamwalker.

With a looming sunset on the horizon, we decided to make our way back to our vehicle. The walk back upstream was silent and tiring. The problem with fishing in a spot chosen by a Streamwalker – is the walk back. I found myself wanting to make one last cast back into the pools we had fished hours earlier. It did not help that I had not hooked any trout. Despite this fact, the experience of fishing in such an incredible and seemingly remote area made this trip very memorable.

Later that evening, I tried to explain to my father where I had just been fishing. It seemed my description of area landmarks triggered some old and almost forgotten memories in his mind. He shared some stories of, some 50 years past, how he had spent time on that very section of the river with his father. He then proudly announced that his dad had once caught some nice speckled trout in the very pool my adventure today started in.

It would seem that my grandfather was once a Streamwalker…