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| Pat Elza & 42-inch Big-V Pike. |
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Lake Vermilion:
Paradise Anew
By Bob Chochola
Midwest Outdoors, Spring 2009
The first day on massive 41-thousand acre Lake Vermilion (“Big-V” certainly earns her nickname) we scrambled to get settled into our cabin. Duffle bags were thrown into bedrooms to stake claim to sleeping quarters that would be used later – much later. Canned goods were stowed in available cabinets as quickly as eight hands could fireman-drill them away. Perishable items made it from the cooler to fridge in record time. Then it was time to get rigged.
Of course, rig time is usually accompanied by a cold brew and stories of past triumphs, as if the fish were all gathered at the end of our dock impressed by our prowess. But in spite of all the fire power, all the experience, and all the confidence we arrived with, we were in awe of the lake and the wonder of what lie beneath.
It was clear to us by the time we finished day two that there was simply too much water to cover in a week, so we began to focus on hot areas we marked near camp. We raised a few muskies here-and-there and began to take a bite out of the abundant population of pike, walleye, largemouth, and smallmouth bass. Every spot was classic habitat where you could tangle with multiple species. Many spots were massive weed beds with well-defined edges, boat docks, boat ramps, stumps, and rocks galore. Perfect hunting grounds in the event of a condition change.
And so we got that change. By late afternoon on day three the early morning forecast proved right and clouds were forming to the north and it was getting dark. We pounded water until the lightning became too dangerous and we had to take-off for the safety of camp. We still didn’t have a serious sniff from a muskie.
A thin line of thunderstorms made its way through from north to south and the steady light southeast wind we had from the get-go finally shifted hard from the northeast and the front plunged through. Soon the storms passed leaving behind an unusual period of calm on the lake. The first set of storms moved away to our south. We had yet to see signs of the heaviest weather still several hours away to the north.
We grabbed our rain gear and swiftly ripped across the suddenly still Lake Vermilion to one of the areas we had been working and catching fish. It was near sunset and the break in the storm clouds revealed a beautiful painted neon sky – a perfect backdrop to a big strike.
We worked a shoreline that had been productive walleye and pike territory from the moment we parked on it early in our trip. My partner positioned the boat about a cast away from a rock reef that stuck straight out from the rip-rap shoreline and I took aim to the left of the shallow water marker on top of the reef.
About half a retrieve back to the boat a 55-inch muskie came charging from the reef and took a swipe at my lure. The side and belly of the massive fish came clear of the water and she “porpoised” right over the top of the lure. I never had a chance: she was gone before I even realized what had happened.
In years past, no matter what, we have made time two weeks a year to do what we love to do best – the annual trip to Canada with our close friends and dads to just kick-back and fish. What a wonderful time it has been battling lunkers and sharing great memories that even the best digital camera in the world couldn’t capture completely. For our fun, you just had to be there – for the mystery that would reveal itself right before our eyes every day and the magic that would happen with every fish we put in the boat.
Years ago it was no big deal to hike miles through the woods carrying all our gear on our backs. Years ago we camped in tents and slept on the ground and braved all kinds of foul weather - yes we did get wet, real wet – to pursue big fish. Years ago it was “cool” to spend twelve, fourteen, or even sixteen hours straight per day in a rented boat – with a curved metal “beer can” bottom, wooden bench seats, and barely enough food and water and sun block to make it through the brutal daylight hours of dog days, only to find out the grand finale was to be eaten by swarms of bugs after the sun went down. Years ago it was almost a requirement that we not only feel like we were leaving all of civilization behind, but that we did indeed actually part company with anything resembling modern life and human comfort on our way up through the winding roads that took us to the Mecca of fresh water fishing – The Canadian Shield. But times have changed, we have changed, and so too has our vision of the hunt.
The time had finally come for us to explore new terrain. With gas prices through the roof it suddenly cost a small fortune to run a boat with a 90hpw motor for two weeks anywhere, much less north of the border.
Crossing into Canada can be a real pain in the saddle bags these days too. It took two guys with NO criminal record or DUI convictions four hours to clear the check point at International Falls a few years back - we were carrying valid state ID’s and valid passports.
Two men in a pick-up truck full of fishing rods, tackle boxes, coolers, pulling a boat, and carrying several forms of identification, I’m quite sure can be mistaken for a whole bunch of trouble, but we didn’t even have alcohol or firearms. To make a long story short, we decided to spend our US dollars for US accommodations on US soil for a while and started looking for a destination south of the Canadian border.
Our search quickly took us to Minnesota, where the fish are really jumpin’ these days. The fishing magazines all told us that we didn’t have to go to Canada anymore if we wanted to catch a world class muskie or walleye. We also knew that any new lake would be a challenge the first time out. We decided Lake Vermillion would be our best bet, as it was about as close to Canada as you can get without actually being served back bacon on a bun and a glazed donut the size of a truck tire for breakfast.
I must admit that Big-V’s 41-thousand acres were a bit intimidating. She is pristine – a real beauty – with just enough human element to make things convenient and just enough wide open space to make us feel out in the wilderness. We knew we were on the right track on the way up when we ran out of paved road about twenty miles from camp. “Ah-ha! Now we’re heading in the right direction.” I thought to myself, as the blacktop turned to dirt. Don’t worry, we’re talkin’ Minnesota unpaved here, not Ontario unpaved. Those who have been to both places will know exactly what I’m talking about – no boulders, no trees, and no three-foot deep potholes in Minnesota.
Once we got to camp we found an unexpected blend of vacation paradise and local flavor all over the place. Our lodge had full service everything and a big screen TV in the bar. We even had a nice pub within walking distance that served-up tasty munchies, our favorite spirits, and a live band. Smack in the middle of all that water: a bait store, marina, gift shop, grocery store, and local hang. It’s really very charming and does not gouge customers buying fuel either.
If you have had success anywhere on The Canadian Shield, you will find fish on this lake too. She is very much like her big sister to the north, Lake of the Woods. Although the term “deep water” means something totally different ON Big-V: 20 to 90 feet in relatively specific areas. Canadian “deep” can mean hundreds of feet of water spanning large areas of wide open spaces. Lake Vermilion isn’t too unlike fishing the deep, clear Canadian lakes though – just smaller in scale.
Muskie fishing has really taken-off on Lake Vermilion in the past few years. Many trophy fish have come all year long, but the deeper into fall you go, the more big muskies seem to be willing to strike. No matter, this lake is a jackpot if you enjoy freshwater fishing of any kind. Lake Vermilion is approaching her prime and anyone who likes big fish and beautiful scenery will have a good time exploring her wonder.
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