Like a poorly tuned engine that runs a little rich, the Canadian Tire model spinner wasn’t spinning quite right, so after reeling it in for the third or fourth time, I let it hang half way up the water column over the side of the boat while I worked to get a new lure. Replacement in hand, I picked up my rod and peered over the edge into the depths of the gin-clear water just in time to see the pictured northern pike rise up and engulf the lifeless lure.
That pike was the first I’d ever caught, and at nineteen inches, it might as well have weighed nineteen pounds. Over the rest over that weekend and in subsequent years I went on to catch a dozen more pike of about the same size. But then we moved to Iowa my pike fishing took a debilitating hit.
These days all of my pike fishing happens in Minnesota’s Boundary Waters Canoe Area (BWCA). A couple of weeks ago my Dad and I spent a week in the wild as we canoed, camped and fished our fills. The next few posts on Picture This Life will share a few of the highlights of our trip.
By the way, while I’ll never forget the story of my first pike, I’ll also never forget the stories of pike (and other fish stories) I’ll tell you about over the next few posts.