Fifty-seven years. That’s how long I’ve been making this pilgrimage to Bear’s Den Lodge on the
French River, accompanied by a ragtag group of fishing enthusiasts who somehow still manage
to surprise me. Every year, six to eight of us embark on this adventure, armed with fishing gear,
tall tales, and an unwavering love for the great outdoors.
Some years, fishing is more about the camaraderie than the catch. We’ll throw our lines in, reel
up what my brother called “Hammer Handles” (because these Northern Pike resemble, well, the
handle of a hammer), and share exaggerated stories about the ones that got away. But this
year? It was a year to handle, a sledge hammer handle and we pounded them. This year was a
sledge of a year.
From the moment we stepped onto the dock, something felt different. The water practically
shimmered with promise, and boy, did it deliver. We caught fish—big fish, fat fish, more fish than
we had ever seen before. We had “Hat Tricks” – three catches in a row. We pulled off several
“Grand Slams” – four in a row. One in our group was, at one point, batting 800 – that’s 8 fish in
10 casts. At that point we don’t call it fishing. That’s catching!
Bass? Oh, we caught bass. Not just ordinary bass, but large smallmouth and even larger
largemouth, which sounds ridiculous but was completely accurate. It was as if the French River
had decided to show off, and we were the lucky recipients.
Then came the walleyes—or was it pickerels? In Canada, “pickerel” sometimes refers to
walleye, which is highly misleading because true pickerel belong to the pike family, while
walleye are in the perch family. But when we pulled those hefty golden beauties from the water,
we weren’t thinking about taxonomy. No, we were thinking about dinner.
And let me tell you, nothing tastes better than fresh fish after a day spent battling the
elements—the sun bearing down or the rain trickling down your back, the occasional miscast
that hooks someone’s line, and the endless laughter that echoes over the river like music.
What are we fishing for? People ask us that all the time. And our answer never changes: Fish.
It’s simple and it’s usually honest if there is a witness to your story. Fishing is an art form. You
are trying to convince a fish to make a poor life choice and sometimes they get hooked.
Here’s to Bear’s Den Lodge, to traditions that hold strong, and to the French River, a river delta
that never fails to surprise us.
Until next year when, once again, I will cast away my worries.
Jim Johnson