by Bill Howard

I’ve been taking my 16-year-old son Parker fishing since he was three years old. I still have the picture of his first "catch" – a 3-inch bluegill – in my office. Back then I used to dream of the day when I could take him on a real fishing trip, the way fishing was meant to be, in Canada.

He used to listen in disbelief as I told him countless stories of monster pike, lake trout and walleye, non-stop action, and the beauty, peace, and magic of fishing in Canada.

Thanks to our trips to North Knife Lake Lodge, his disbelief has turned into ear-to-ear smiles, uncontrollable laughter, and his own stories of fishing that while true, simply sound too good to be so.

As fall approaches, we are both in awe, as the experience we shared this summer is truly almost  unbelievable. This summer was our second trip to North Knife Lake Lodge.  During our trip last year we caught hundreds of pike, lakers and walleyes – including several trophies. In fact, on our very first cast last year we caught a 38 ½-inch trophy lake trout. We were in disbelief. We had such a good time last year that we booked another trip for this year. Starting last August, we began counting down the days on the calendar on the fridge. It was a painful, yet pleasant, reminder of how many days we’d have to endure until we returned to our little slice of heaven. Last year’s trip was simply amazing – this year’s was epic.

Prior to this summer’s trip, I had been fly-fishing for a decade, but never for trophy pike. This year, our guide Ryan, showed my son how to fly-fish. Within an hour, Parker was out-casting me, double-hauling and false casting like a veteran. I used to tell Parker stories about getting a strike "on every cast." The stories he used to listen to have now turned into his own. Fishing from our boat in an idyllic setting, in a bay so quiet you could hear your line passing through the air, your fly settling on to the surface of the water, and the line passing through your fingers as you stripped your retrieve. . . and then all hell broke loose. Fish hit our flies literally every cast. It seemed the pike couldn’t resist.

We had monster pike bending 9-foot fly rods in half. With "double-header" after "double-header," our reels were buzzing as the drag whined while the pike made run after run after run. We were laughing and cheering and repeating over and over, "I can’t believe this, I can’t believe this."

Our intimidation of fly-fishing for northern pike quickly changed to confidence and then almost an addiction. We never put the fly rods down.  We couldn’t, the fishing was just too good. This was the once in a lifetime fishing experience I used to dream about sharing with my son. He was here, we were here, it was actually happening.

Even as I write this note, I still can’t believe how I was blessed with being able to share such an awesome and unforgettable experience with my son. When things seem too good to be true, many times, something happens, and your luck changes for the worse. Well, this time, our luck got even better. We had probably caught a couple of dozen fish each when all of a sudden, I looked down five feet to the side of the boat and saw what looked like a submarine. My guide Ryan saw it too and immediately yelled, “side of the boat, it’s a least 47 inches!” I quickly casted my line past its face and starting stripping line fast.

As soon as the fly swam into the kill zone our submarine engulfed the fly and the hook was set. I couldn’t move the line, I couldn’t raise the rod. My line starting moving slowly left to right in the water. Still, I couldn’t gain any line. Then we saw it. A large dorsal fin and tail emerged quite a distance from my line. I yelled to Ryan, "what is going on, it must have wrapped me under a log!" 

I’ve been fishing with Ryan for years. The more quiet he is, the bigger the fish. He was very quiet, until he whispered under a slight chuckle, "Oh Billy . . . she’s a pig." He was right. There were forty-eight inches of monster pike between my line and that huge tail. I looked upon the biggest freshwater fish I have ever seen in four decades of fishing . . . and it was on the end of my line. I looked at Parker, he watched the fish with an open mouth and a smirking grin that implied, "Dad, you’re never gonna get that thing in." I told him, "this was it, this was what we were looking for, this is a freak of nature."

I can’t even try to describe the fight. It lasted for what seemed an hour but was certainly under 5 minutes. She ran and ran, over and over. She leaned nose-down on a 45-degree angle, that monster tail slowly  moving back-and-forth propelling her body downward. I gained line, I lost line. My mouth was dry, my heart was pounding, my bicep and forearm were cramping. After our tug-of-war, she was finally close enough that I could actually see her on the surface. I told Parker, "take a good look, we may not get her in the boat and she’s a one-in-a-million-casts fish, you could fish your whole life and never see another fish like this."

She was perfect. Not a mark on her. Her back was so wide we could never pick her up out of the water. Awe-struck and raw-nerved, I was finally able to finesse her into the cradle. She must have heard my repeated pleas of "Just let me touch you, just let me touch you." The silence of that quiet bay was broken with hoots and hollers, knuckle-and-high- fives, hugs, laughter and face-breaking smiles. She was in!

What a beast…what a natural wonder. We handled her gingerly and quickly took a measurement and a picture or two, but they don’t do her justice. Beauties like this never look as  majestic in pictures as they do in person. We got her back into the water quickly and admired her as I nurtured her prior to her release. I knew I may never have the privilege of touching such a masterpiece-of-nature again in my lifetime. We took a picture of her release. She’s back in the water to pass-on her trophy-genes for generations of fishermen to come.

The magic continued as we pulled in another eight trophies in the next two days. Not to mention hundreds and hundreds of quality high 30- and 40-inch beauties. I’ll never forget that fish, this experience, or my memories of this trip with my son Parker to North Knife Lake Lodge.

To all at North Knife Lake Lodge, I can’t thank you enough for this trip and these memories – they’ll stay with us always.