TRAILER
Escape from Stumpfire Island S
BY MIKE LEIN
ome decisions are easy to make. Two winters ago I got a call from my brother-in-law, Dale.
He invited me to fill a spot on an annual wall- eye fishing trip to Ontario’s Lake of the Woods. That’s how I found myself on a houseboat with five other guys beached on Stumpfire Island—a sheltered but somewhat confining two acres of rock and pine trees in the middle of this world- famous fishing destination. Tagging along with this bunch had definite
benefits, like three high-tech fishing boats and years of experience. All I had to do was sit back and fish, while Dale drove his boat and guided me to the best walleye fishing of my life. The trip was great—except for the mornings. I was rest- less, looking for adventure and ready to hit the water at sunrise. The other guys were on vacation and determined to sleep in. I anxiously paced the deck while they sawed wood inside the cabin. Determined to chart my own course on our
next Stumpfire expedition, I purchased a com- pact, inexpensive kayak over the winter and rigged it up for fishing. The following sum- mer, as we loaded our gear for the trip to the
66 …KAYAK ANGLER WINTER 2013
island, I stashed the small kayak on the roof of the houseboat where it wouldn’t attract the ire of my motorheaded mates. Once again, we fished hard, ate fresh walleye and
enjoyed a carefree week. But this year, while the oth- er guys snored away the morning, I snuck out the back door and escaped the island in my tangerine- colored piece of plastic freedom. Those quiet mornings on the lake were most
memorable. My only company was the sunrise, the pelicans, the eagles and the fish. The small north- ern pike and feisty bass showed no fear of the kayak. They attacked floating crankbaits, pulled me around like a toy and kept me laughing like a kid. On the third morning, I got brave. We came here for wall- eyes; I was going to catch some. I paddled down the shore and ventured off a rocky
point into 30 feet of water. While cormorants and pelicans buzzed by and an eagle soared overhead, I dropped a half-ounce jig tipped with a night crawler over the side of the kayak. Walleye after walleye at- tacked it, fighting like mini submarines, testing my fishing and kayaking skills. After an hour of catching and releasing, I flipped a crankbait behind the kayak
and trolled back towards the houseboat with bacon on my mind. I was rounding the corner of the island when
the rod whipped back and the kayak spun around. I grabbed the rod and knew I was in for a fight. The fish smacked my lure hard and then pummeled me with a series of hard runs and violent headshakes. After a back-and-forth bat- tle that had me on the ropes, I wrestled a meaty walleye out of the water and laid the two-foot long fish on the deck of my kayak. I took a few photos as proof for my mattress-backed fishing partners, and released the trophy to fight again. It wasn’t the biggest walleye of the trip, but it’s
the one I won’t forget. I caught it my way, on my own time, while I was master of my own destiny and captain of my little ship. Mike Lein has spent the last 35 years devel-
oping natural resource protection programs in his native Minnesota. Along the way, he picked up many questionable habits, including fishing, hunting, writing, photography and most recently, kayak angling.
ILLUSTRATION: LORENZO DEL BIANCO
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