A Dead End Lake - Five Portages You Have To Do Twice

Trout Whisperer posted on October 29, 2008 10:33 :: 3244 Views

It's five portages you have to do twice. Once on the way in, and once on the way out. A dead end lake.

Not too many folks go in due to its lacking of a circuitous route. Two of the dry land forays are so easy it makes for a lazy leg stretch. Two get your blood pumping. First, the uphill, down hill, the second, is a mucky morass you wade through. The final portage on the way in is what cardiac doctors earn there bread and butter with.

It angles side slope uphill at a 30 degree pitch. Maybe a boot width wide on the earthen surface with branches to hold your canoe back as you try to ascend. About half way up I start thinking lake trout. It helps to seek the positive. When I get to the top, I just breathe. When my heartbeat is back in my chest and out of my head, I know I just cheated the good doctor out of a golf outing.

The fish can wait. Heck they waited all year for me to get here, what’s another hour. My boots need to come off, now. Maybe if I didn’t drink so much water I wouldn’t sweat so much? There are easier lakes to fish in. Mr. cranky got out of my Duluth pack. I should have tightened the straps better.

Angina abated, Mr. cranky repacked, I’m glad to be here. The good old days are right here. I mean in this very spot. This lake takes care of itself. The fish do what fish have done forever. They make more fish all by themselves. They grow big. Not one metal sign on this hallowed ground.

You catch them here, you earned one. It’s too far to pack a limit back out. You eat a meal of one fish per day. The lake is so difficult to get it’s got its own built in set of regulations. Nobody in there right mind would haul a monster out of here without ice and nobody I know is that crazy to carry that kind of weight. You photo em and slip them back in the water. Maybe two little fish for dinner is more than perfect.

The slot limit on this piece of water is for the person going in, not the fish. You better be careful. You have to travel light. No live bait. No motors. Its work. It matters in here that you don’t screw up. You can’t haul enough chow, you better be able to catch a fish. It matters. It makes the difference. The lake decides who comes and goes. The fish stay.

You look over the map and see that hill on a flat piece of paper it doesn’t bother you too much. All the rumors are true. The fishing is beyond your wildest dreams. The scenery and cold clear water is like a eye candy. Yup nothing to it. Then you hit that hill. The junk abandoned over the years along side that hill could make a complete cast iron stove.

I once made a pile of four littered cast iron skillets in various rusty stages as marker. Just at the base of mount kill ya, to worn folks. This year they were gone. Maybe Bigfoot needed them? The lake teases you on paper. It’s no joke when you decide to go for it. You get done fishing that water and it like a bittersweet vine. The bright fruit grows and the vine chokes its host. This lake, I can’t stop coming too.

One day its gonna kill me. I’ll cheat the good doctor that day also.

The trout whisperer

Karl "Trout Whisperer" Seckinger is a respected JustNorth author and outdoor adventurer. His guide service, DuNord Guide Service, and the trout waters that he fishes in the Superior National Forest, are some of the most tightly guarded secrets among Trout enthusiasts in Minnesota and Wisconsin.