WOODS AND WATERS
Labrador’s Northern Pike By Len Rich
Barry Acton, cameraman for The New Fly Fisher television show, had the camera rolling as my large jointed lemming fly skittered over the slow moving water of Second Rattle. The big guy we called “the bear”sat in the front of my long Gander River boat which was anchored in the pool.

As the furry 4 inch creation swam past a submerged rock near the boat, there was a large swirl beneath it. A clear miss, but the fish was certainly interested!

“Wow, there’s a big fish just next to the boat. Get ready, Barry, I’m going to drag that fly back across the same place, and this time he might take it,” I called out.

I flipped the soggy fur out again, well beyond the lie, and pulled it back across with a twitching action on the rod. This time the fish rose as the fly passed overhead, a large torpedo, mouth wide open and teeth showing. It all happened in a split second.

The big fish turned, we noted the sleek shape and spotted sides, the rod was pulled down in a powerful jerk, and then everything went slack. The fly was gone, severed by the razor-sharp jaws of a Northern pike that would have gone 15 or more pounds in weight and 36 inches in length.

I knew the barbless hook would release from its tenuous hold in a matter of minutes, but by not using a piece of leader material resistant to such force I had missed a battle with this freshwater denizen.

“Damn,” I muttered, “why didn’t I use a piece of Spiderwire between my tippet and the fly?”

From the other boat anchored nearby the show’s producer, Colin McKeown, seemed pleased when Barry told him he had it all recorded on tape. “Great stuff,” he shouted, “it should look super in slow motion!”

We were filming a segment of the popular television show at Eagle Lake in Labrador, where brook trout are the prime species pursued, but Colin had decided that many of his viewers were interested in some Northern pike footage for at least one of his shows, and Eagle Lake had some dandies in its system.

Guides and many of the Labrador outfitters seem to consider Northern pike as a scrap fish not worthy of promotion with anglers or even worthy of catching, yet many of Colin’s viewers on PBS, Discovery and the Outdoor Life Network (OLN) clamored for shows featuring that species. Perhaps it was because of the Northern pike’s wide distribution throughout many parts of North America, perhaps it was because while we looked upon them with disdain, most people gave them respect as a noble quarry on a fly rod. For whatever reason, Colin and Barry were determined to film us catching Northern pike in Labrador, and that’s what we were doing!

Armed with a variety of large, brightly colored flies, we had our heaviest rods rigged for casting to these big pike. The four and five weights used for delicate presentations to finicky brookies were replaced by nine weights. Leaders were removed and replaced with a short length of heavy monofilament, with a minimum of 10 pound tippet material. We were after big game, and it would take heavy equipment to cast these enormous flies.

Some of Colin’s patterns would have been more comfortable fished in salt water. Among the selection were large Dahlberg Divers in a variety of bright colors, huge Mickey Finns, doll-eyed bunny strip leeches in black and purple, and a selection of sculpin patterns to imitate bait fish.

I had a few surprises of my own to toss at them, including the jointed lemming. Weighted muddler minnows, large Clouser minnows in bright color combinations, marabou streamers in red and white, and other oversized creations were pulled from my fly box. The tea-colored water of Eagle Lake would not prevent these pike from seeing our presentations!

In the boat with Colin was a 12-time visitor to Labrador, George Linton of Hudson, New Hampshire. George was hoping to catch a big brookie in this same pool and had changed to a standard Muddler minnow on a #4 hook. The result was two pike on that fly, and, when it sunk so low in the water that it touched bottom, he pulled up a large freshwater clam that gave him quite a tussle in the current. We all got a big laugh when he pulled that one from the river!

George changed to a deer hair mouse which was subsequently lost to the sharp jaws of yet another Northern pike. We had learned our lesson, and that evening I spent more than an hour tying in a loop of braided Spiderwire on my pike flies, determined that we would lose no more to their vicious bites.

With their filming finally completed, Colin and Barry returned to Ottawa where they would piece together the six to eight shows they planned to gain from their several hours of footage. At least one of the shows would be dedicated to the pursuit of Northern pike on the fly, and some segments shot at Eagle Lake would also appear in other future shows.

Now that the film crew had gone, George and I were intrigued by this species. We paired up to complete our quest for a large specimen, and later in the week we were successful. George taunted a 14 pound Northern to accept his red and white marabou streamer fly fished with a sinking tip line.

The savagery of the strike and the initial surge of energy were what surprised him. Catching a big fish is nothing new for George, who in his angling career has caught and released several Atlantic salmon of more than 40 pounds. Northern pike can’t hold a candle to the power and acrobatics of a salmon, yet he was still suitably impressed by the battle fought by this pike.

The remainder of the week passed quickly. We landed and released several more smaller pike which measured up to 18 inches, and the Spiderwire was successful in preventing the loss of more flies. By the time George departed for home we had figured out the places where the pike could usually be found and what it would take to catch them. But it wasn’t until I guided a small group from the Italian Air Force stationed in Goose Bay that the biggest pike of the summer was taken. It was the first fish ever caught by this fisherman, a complete novice, and it was taken on a spinning rod equipped with a heavy wire leader and a small red and white spoon.

Major Michele Minenna became the unlikely hero of the day. With daylight waning, we had decided to fish in the channel just in front of the lodge where two parts of Eagle Lake come together. The water is moving slowly here, and both brook trout and Northern pike share the space.

I was his guide, and we had just left the lodge in one of the Gander River boats to fish the opposite side of the channel. Several large submerged boulders formed back eddies which would be good hiding places for pike. They could dart out and snatch any likely looking food which passed by, then return to the safety of their havens.

I had just anchored the boat when he tossed his lure into the water. As he cranked it back on the second cast there was a large swirl beside the boat. “There’s a fish!” I said, pointing to the place where the circles were just beginning to disappear. He hadn’t seen it, but his lure was still in the water and as he turned toward that side of the boat the fish came for it a second time. The rod bent, and on this effort it was hooked.

I saw the shape as it turned. It was long and deep. This was a Northern pike, and a big one. It had grabbed the lure not six feet from our craft.

Luckily, drag on their rods had been set prior to leaving. Line peeled off as the spool spun, the fish taking out several yards as it ran into the current. Major Minenna was as surprised as the pike.

“Sit down and crank that handle,” I shouted to the wide-eyed Italian. His English was broken but he understood what I said, and sat down hard on the seat. His right hand turned the handle and his left kept the rod tip high. Even for a novice, I thought, he knows what to do.

The battle was on. The Major kept his cool, as the pilot of a Tornado jet should do, maintaining tension on the rod. That wasn’t hard to do as the big pike sped out into the current and tried to shake the hook Five minutes passed, then seven, and the fish showed no signs of weakening.

The Major did, however, and as the big pike circled the boat yet again I gathered the large boat net in a firm grip and readied for a quick plunge to intercept it. It came close to the surface and I saw my chance. With one scoop I had it in the net and with a heave it was in the boat.

This pike was no piker. It measured nearly a meter and was estimated to be about 20 pounds, one of the largest Northern pike to be taken at Eagle Lake. As it lay thrashing in the bottom of the boat the lure fell out of its mouth. The one hook which had been imbedded in its jaw was bent nearly straight. It was obvious that the fish would have been lost if it hadn’t been netted when it was. Fate had been kind to the young Italian Major, who by this time could only stare and say, “I can’t believe it!” over and over again.

We decided to call it a night about an hour after that episode. Two more small pike were caught by our boat and a few in the other which contained a visiting three star General and a Lieutenant Colonel. The Major had outscored both superior officers, so rank didn’t count when it came to fishing!

We passed the fish from person to person for photos and learned a valuable lesson. Once we had bathed our fingers in hydrogen peroxide and applied several bandages to our wounds, we all agreed that gills, gill plates and teeth of Northern pike are nothing to be taken lightly. Slices and punctures were the order of the day, and even the General was not exempt.

Later that week I saw the predatory traits of the Northern pike. I had caught a small pike of about 15 inches and was reeling it in when the rod suddenly bent nearly double. A huge pike rivaling that of Major Minenna’s catch swam into view under the rod’s coaxing, with my small pike caught firmly across its jaws. It had attacked the smaller fish as it struggled for freedom, and was intent on taking it from me.

I had it near the boat a few times before it finally released its grip. The smaller pike was dead, crushed in the grip of those killer jaws and nearly severed in two. It slipped off the barbless hook and dropped over the side.

As it sank slowly from sight in the sluggish current, I made a silent bet that it wouldn’t travel far before that bigger pike finished the job and had it for a meal. I also made a silent vow not to dangle my fingers too near the water in future.

Always a believer that discretion is the better part of valor, in the Northern pike waters of Eagle Lake I couldn’t think of a better application of that principle! -30- SIDEBAR

Northern pike are indigenous to many lakes in Labrador and share habitat with other species such as Eastern brook trout, lake trout, land-locked salmon, and whitefish. On the upper Eagle River watershed at Eagle Lake we located them in shallows and along the edges of flowing water near submerged rocks and underwater obstacles, usually segregated from the large brook trout which shared parts of the pools. Late in the summer, when these events occurred, water levels drop and brook trout move into spawning areas, leaving the aggressive Northern pike to roam the lake - a prime time for fishing this species.