"An Ice Skating Fishing Trip" by George Theriault in 'Trespassing in God's Country' See book order info at end!!

George Theriault flew in northern Canada since the summer of 1934 when he began work as a dock boy at the seaplane base in South Porcupine, Ontario, according to an outline of his career in his awesome book 'Trespassing in God's Country''>

Before establishing his own air service in Chapleau in 1954, Mr. Theriault had served in the Royal Canadian Air Force, and after World War II ended in 1945, he established himself as a skillful bush pilot and sportsman. I enjoy returning to "Trespassing in God's Country"perhaps because my father Flying Officer Jim Morris who was killed on active service if the RCAF on July 16, 1943, learned to fly planes from the early bush pilots who landed on the Chapleau waterfront. Had my father returned home, my mother told me he would have been a bush pilot or commercial pilot. Such was not to be but George Theriault has given me a glimpse into their lives.

Thumbing through his book again I came across a chapter entitled 'An Ice Skating Fishing Trip' -- the title intrigued me so I decided to share some of this adventure with you.

In 1950, still in the RCAF he was posted to the base at Goose Bay, Labrador, He met a couple of men who worked at the base but lived in a community named La Vallee Heureuse or Happy Valley in English. These men told  him about a river that was full of sea-run speckled trout. "When the river froze , the trout would run up it to spawn in the open rapids." The only way to reach it was to cross the lake then walk.

"Once the river was about three inches thick, the native men attached their tie-on skates, and skated down the the river looking for the migrating trout. The timing was critical because the trout were only visible through the ice when the river had just frozen. Once it snowed, the fish were hidden."

The good ice skaters at the air force base were excited about a skating-fishing party, Mr. Theriault wrote. They arrived at the spot and "hurriedly put on their cold ice skates and began skating on three inches of glossy ice. "As soon as our bodies got into the rhythm of skating we started to thaw out and enjoy the bright sunny day"

They had a hearty meal at the home of the Beauvais family and then off they went to fish each with two short poles about 24 inches long with a line about the same length.

The shadow of a school of trout appeared under the ice 

Here is how the fishing worked. As a fish went for their lure they quickly jerked the lure out of the water with a fish on it and they dropped their other line in the water. Amazingly they could pull about 150 trout that came flying out of these holes in just a few minutes.

More amazing!!!!

"Eventually one school of migrating trout would be joined by four or five hundred more trout in another school, and in no time, there were about fifteen hundred trout moving up the river'. They were easy to spot."

Later Mr, Theriault caught a nine and a half pound speckled trout and put it a freezer but forgot to take it with him. "As luck would have it, someone ate it".

'Trespassing in God's Country: Sixty Years of Flying in Northern Canada' is a must read for anyone interested in our north country..

George Theriault died on May 26, 2015 at age 95. I leave you with the final paragraph from his book: "That's the most amazing thing: life just goes on  -- with us and without us. None of us are permanent fixtures on this landscape; we are all trespassers in God's country."  May he rest in peace.

Thanks  to John Theriault, one of Mr. Theriault's sons who provided me with a copy of his father's book. My email is mj.morris@live.ca

TO ORDER BOOK!!!!!!!!!  John Theriault kindly sent me information on ordering the book....retail@bushplane.com...the contact person is donna barill...the book is 20$ and postage about 10...

Elizabeth (Theriault) Pasco shares her father's vison in 'Trespassing in God's Country' by George Theriault

As I read an article by Elizabeth Pasco about how she assisted her father with the writing of his book 'Trespassing in God's Country', I could not help but recall the words of the American writer Reynolds Price that the "sound of story is the dominant sound in our lives."

Elizabeth was helping her father George Theriault who established an air base at Chapleau in 1954 after retiring from the Royal Canadian Air Force with his book. She shared her article 'Sharing My Father's Vision' which appeared in Iowa (Fairfield Source) with me after learning that I had used an excerpt from it in my column at the end of 2018.

In her article which she gave me permission to use, Elizabeth made the "sound' of her father's story come alive as she worked with him on the book.

Elizabeth wrote that "Fathers share their career with their sons because it's practical -- farmers' sons are more likely to become farmers than policemen  My father shared the most important aspects of his life - flying. fishing and hunting with his sons. It was no wonder that my three brothers became commercial pilots.

However, when Mr. Theriault decided to write a book: "When my father sent me a 35-page manuscript that began the story of his life, I wondered why I was the chosen one. Why not one of my brothers? They knew more about flying, fishing and hunting than I did.

"The manuscript was a series of run-on sentences with no punctuation. Yet I read it with the passion I have for my favourite novels. Two months later we outlined the rest of the book. It took another year to flesh it out".

The father had aroused the sound of his story in his daughter!

Elizabeth adnitted that the hardest part of editing the book was the subject matter especially the hunting and fishing part of it. "Having grown up with sportsmen and trappers I am not shocked by a dead animal on display. But others find this lifestyle offensive. How could I reconcile the opposing views?"

She had to take this issue to her father, "not the way daughters usually listen to their fathers -- I had to listen to his heart. His experience in nature are far richer than we could ever imagine. Throughout the book he displays a reverence for the land."

She shared an example as her father described the country north of Chisaibi along the coast of James and Hudson Bay.

"When you land on  any of the lakes or rivers, you immediately feel the silence of a country that has not been developed, not even intruded upon when you breathe the pure air. You find that land is your home. This is when you start to remember that you are inseparable from all other life. If you take time to listen, you can hear the earth breathe.

"Then you realize that you are one breath in the same rhythm. As you peer up at the night sky, filled with stars and galaxies and stretched by the endless shifting cloud formations you can imagine all of life must be connected, like each strand of a spider's web".

Elizabeth also noted that her father's vision of nature was strongly influenced by his close association with native people.

"The old native people had visions about the land. They never claim to own it. No one can own the land. They said that they the caretakers. They were responsible to protect the land for future generations."

She points out that the title of the book 'Trespassing in God's Country' refers to our status as human beings on this earth. 

"That's the most amazing thing; life just goes on - with us or without us. None of us are permanent fixtures on this land -- we are all trespassers in God's country."

I first became acquainted with 'Trespassing in God's Country' some years ago now, when John Theriault, Elizabeth's brother kindly sent me a copy. I am delighted that Elizabeth got in touch and sent me a copy of her article sharing some of the highlights of working with her father on the book including some excerpts. Thank you. It is a great read.

The book is still available for retail sale at the Bush Plane Museum in Sault Ste. Marie ON and Amazon.com and Amazon.ca. Her  brother George Jr (Harvey) and his son Joel sell the book at their airbase Air Ivanhoe on Ivanhoe Lake near Foleyet ON and her brother John still has some copies at his house in Sault Ste, Marie. Elizabeth also has  copies for sales in the USA.  My email is mj.morris@live.ca

George Theriault provides moose meat for Prime Minister Lester Pearson's 'VIP game dinner party' with help from Ross Sawyer

Shortly after Lester B. Pearson became prime minister of Canada in 1963, George Theriault received a phone call from his secretary who made a special request.

Mary MacDonald, the prime minister's long time secretary, said Mr. Pearson was hosting a "VIP game dinner party".

Writing in his fascinating book 'Trespassing in God's Country', Mr. Theriault explained that "He wanted to serve moose meat as one of the main courses. He had specifically asked if I could provide him with a hundred pounds of meat for his party. Even though it was late in the moose hunting season, I was confident that I could find just the right moose to satisfy his desire, so I agreed."

How did Mr. Theriault become acquainted with the prime minister of Canada?  Mr. Theriault met him while stationed at Rockcliffe while he was serving in the RCAF and Mr. Pearson was a "high ranking government official". Later when Mr. Pearson entered politics and became the member of parliament for Algoma East, which included Chapleau, They renewed their friendship.

Mr. Theriault had established his air base at Chapleau after retiring from the RCAF in 1954.

After the phone call, Mr. Theriault flew out to Sahler Lake with his friend and hunting buddy Bill Clarke to dismantle a tent camp they had used during a busy two weeks for moose hunting.

"We finished our chores quickly then paddled the canoe across the lake to a creek. We pulled the canoe onto the shore and walked up a trail along the side of the creek. About three quarters of a mile up the creek, we caught site of a young cow feeding in the shallow water of the creek. Instantly Bill and I both had the same thought  --- there's the prime minister's moose. Without hesitating for one moment, I raised my gun and shot it."

Everything was working out well and within a few days the moose was hung and butchered, and then ... Mr. Theriault entered his office at the airbase only to discover that someone had broken into the building through one of the windows. 

The prime minister's moose had been stolen!

Mr. Theriault notified the Ontario Provincial Police who had coincidentally stopped a car the night before with moose meat in it. However, after visiting the home of the car driver, the police found no meat. 

Now Mr. Theriault was in quite a predicament. It was too late to go hunting.

Ross Sawyer to the rescue!!!

Ross gave him a hind quarter of a moose that he had shot for his family, and this was sent to the prime minister for his party.

"It may not have been as tasty as the young cow, but it was moose meat nonetheless. The dinner party turned out to be a success after all, and the prime minister conveyed his appreciation."

'Trespassing in God's Country: Sixty Years of Flying in Northern Canada' is a must read for anyone interested in our north country..

George Theriault died on May 26, 2015 at age 95. I leave you with the final paragraph from his book: "That's the most amazing thing: life just goes on  -- with us and without us. None of us are permanent fixtures on this landscape; we are all trespassers in God's country."  May he rest in peace.

Thanks  to John Theriault, one of Mr. Theriault's sons who provided me with a copy of his father's book.

Also, I extend my most sincere best wishes to all for the holiday season. Enjoy! Stay safe! Peace be with you. MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! 

My email is mj.morris@live.ca

Chapleau like a 'western town with a frontier attitude' in 1937 but George Theriault returned to set up air base

After retiring from the Royal Canadian Air Force in 1953, George Theriault was looking for a place to set up an airbase, run a flying service and establish outpost camps for fishing and hunting.

Although he would have liked to return to his hometown of Timmins to establish it, the existing air services had sole rights to fly commercially in the area.

Chapleau became a possibility, Mr. Theriault wrote in his wonderful book 'Trespassing in God's Country'. He had first flown into Chapleau in 1937 when gold mining camps were active in the area.

He describes his first impression: " In 1937 the community of Chapleau was like a western town with a frontier attitude: even the stores had fashionable false fronts. The highlights of the main street were the Chapples (Smith and Chapple Ltd, now Village Shops) and the Queens Hotel. The hotel had little balconies on the front where the airmen sat and socialized after they finished flying for the day,

"All the famous bush pilots of the time - including Matt Berry, Phil Sauve and Punch Dickens - came to Chapleau at some point because aircraft supplied the mines in Swayze Township for at least five years."

Mr. Theriault, and his wife Joan, had two young children in 1953, were looking for a community with schools and a hospital.

He noted that Chapleau was "prospering" as a major centre for the Canadian Pacific Railway. Highway 129 had been completed and the town had become easily accessible for American sportsmen from Michigan and other states.

He arrived in Chapleau in 1954 with a Stinson Stationwagon on skis and a set of floats to change over in the Spring. He "bunked down" at the YMCA, and bought an old boathouse on the Chapleau River.

He brought his wife and children to Chapleau on May 5, 1954, "in a snowstorm". 

He sums up his decision to set up his business in Chapleau: "The town of Chapleau proved to be a perfect location for an air service. There was plenty of charter work as well as many excellent fishing and hunting possibilities. 

"The walleye and northern fishing was highly rated and the speckled trout fishing was better than I expected. 

"As I entered my first year of  operation, I was certain that I had made the right choice. Despite the long hours of work. it was a fulfilling experience to create something of my own. I was doing everything I enjoyed -- flying, exploring and fishing. Every moment was worth the years it had taken me to get there."

Over the years Mr. Theriault established outpost camps throughout the area, and he noted that all his children grew up "reading maps. Each took their turn sitting in the co-pilot seat acting as the navigator."

'Trespassing in God's Country: Sixty Years of Flying in Northern Canada' is a must read for anyone interested in our north country..

George Theriault died on May 26, 2015 at age 95. I leave you with the final paragraph from his book: "That's the most amazing thing: life just goes on  -- with us and without us. None of us are permanent fixtures on this landscape; we are all trespassers in God's country." Rest in peace George.

My sincere thanks to his son John for providing me with a copy of the book. My email is mj.morris@live.ca

George Theriault relaxes with prime ministers Mackenzie King and Louis St. Laurent

When George Theriault was in the Royal Canadian Air Force, on numerous occasions he was called upon to fly dignitaries like the prime minister to a secluded lake for a few hours or days of fishing, hunting or just plain relaxing.

In his wonderful book 'Trespassing in God's Country - Sixty Years of Flying in Northern Canada', he includes a chapter, 'Relaxing with the Prime Ministers'. In 1954, after retiring from the RCAF, he established the main base for Theriault Air Service at Chapleau. He had joined the air force in 1940 during World War II.

He reveals that before Prime Minister Mackenzie King retired in 1948, "I had several opportunities to socialize with him at his summer home in Kingsmere, a small lake in the Gatineau Park, where he loved to spend the weekends. He enjoyed the simple pleasure of sitting on his verandah and chatting about all the unimportant details of life."

Mr. Theriault gives an insightful look into the life of Mr. King when he was out of the public eye. One day he relates that the prime minister in "his very shy way" if he would do him a favour.

"He had some young children visiting from Ottawa, and he wanted them to see the country from the air in my J-3 Cub which I usually flew to the lake on weekends. He even offered to pay for the gasoline for the trips... Naturally, I agreed to the trips but wouldn't accept payment for the gasoline."

He tried to convince the prime minister "to come up for a spin but he politely declined saying that he only flew when he was on business. He preferred to have his feet on the ground when he was relaxing."

Just imagine sitting on a verandah with the prime minister today "sipping some cool drinks." Well, Mr. Theriault did, and was asked by Prime Minister King  what the average air force pilot earned as a yearly salary, then added how much would a similar pilot flying for Trans Canada Airlines (now Air Canada make).

Mr. Theriault replied that he made about $4800 a year, and a TCA pilot about $10000 a year.

One of the other air force officials present asked the prime minister his salary. Mr. King "was silent for a while , and then responded that he made under $10000; this was in the summer of 1948!"

Turning to Prime Minister Louis St. Laurent, who succeeded Mr. King later in 1948. Mr. Theriault wrote, "we found a boss who really liked to relax in a boat or canoe."

"If Mr. St. Laurent only had a few hours to relax and fish, I flew him in the Norseman to a private camp North of Ottawa ... we could leave Ottawa after 5:00 pm and return by 10 pm."

Mr. Theriault always enjoyed fishing with him "because he would just paddle a 16-foot canoe out onto a lake and sit for hours. There was no competition, no hurry to catch a fish. It seemed to be a way of meditation for him. After a few hours of fly fishing his whole countenance brightened and the weight of office seemed to grow lighter on his shoulders.

"Catching a fish seemed less important t o him than the experience of just sitting in the canoe moving his fishing line in and out of the water. In the privacy of nature, he seemed to allow the pressure of government business to dissolve. The hours spent with him in a canoe were beyond the realm of time. The transforming power of nature worked its magic on us both."

Mr. Theriault has provided an insightful behind-the-scenes look at  two of Canada's long serving prime ministers. "Trespassing in God's Country" in its entirety is a great read. Russ Bannock, the former president of de Havilland Aircraft of Canada noted that it is a "magnificent story of his (Mr. Theriault's} life as a Canadian pilot.

My thanks to George Theriault and his son John for making a copy available to me. My email is mj.morris@live.ca

John Theriault asks 'Is this an alligator?' after 35 pound Northern Pike landed at Alcorn Lake near Chapleau

With warmer weather hopefully in sight, it seemed like a good time for a fishing story.

John Theriault kindly sent me a copy of 'Trespassing in God's Country' by his father George, who arrived in Chapleau in 1954 and founded Theriault Air Service. He had also served in the Royal Canadian Air Force.

Mr. Theriault now in his 94th year lives in Sault Ste. Marie.

Here is the story:
 
BY GEORGE THERIAULT from his book 'Trespassing in God's Country'
During our first year in Chapleau, I met Mr Ralph Stedman from Flint , Michigan. We had the pleasure of taking care of him and his son Larry for many years. He was such a naturally amicable man that within a year or two our business relationship turned into a long standing friendship between our families. 

In the fall of 1956 my five year old son, John, and I accompanied Mr. Stedman and his son Larry to our little tent camp on the north end of Nemegosenda Lake. I didn't have any boats at the site, so for safety we tied two canoes together--a 17 foot square stern with a 9.9 hp motor and a smaller 16 foot canoe, loaded with our gear. We motored down the river to Alcorn Lake and spent the better part of the day still fishing for walleye.

Once we had our fill of catching walleye in the holes along the shore,we decided to troll down the center of the lake. I was using a red and white daredevil in hope of tempting a northern pike to hit my line. Most northern pike are found in shallow water near weed beds where they feed on smaller fish. Ralph and Larry were using casting reels whereas I was using an Alcock spinning reel with about 300 yards of 6 pound test line. It wasn't monofilament line: it was actually made of silk like the thread used on parachutes.


All of a sudden I felt my line tighten, as if I had hooked into a huge log. Ralph immediately saw my line go down and told his son Larry, who was running the motor to turn around because he thought my line was snagged. There was no reverse on motors back then , so Larry turned the boat around and I held the rod up. We motored back up the river about a 100 feet. The line was still out another 200 feet. At this time I began to entertain doubts about this snag. Larry pushed the motor a little faster until we were a 100 feet from where the line was hugging the bottom. Only then did I coinfirm my suspicions that this had to be fish. Whatever was on the line took it on a run for another couple of 100 feet.

We had to wait 10 minutes to get a glimpse of the fish. As soon as it surfaced, I knew it was a northern. It barely stayed on the surface for a few seconds before it dove to the bottom, pulling at least 50 yards of line.Then it sulked and pulled and held the 6 pounds of drag. We sat in this suspended state for several minutes. I knew if I expected to land this fish , I had to make the next move.


I asked Larry to paddle the canoe so that I could put side drag on the line. The northern made a dash and we followed, running the motor slowly enough to keep the pressure on. After a few minutes of this chasing game, the fish stopped, turned 90 degrees and took off a little faster. By now we were in the middle of Alcorn Lake, at a depth of 30 feet and the fish still on the bottom. The pressure was so intense that I could only imagine that I had hooked a 15 pound northern by the tail.


It seemed we had been trailing this fish for an hour, but when I looked at my watch, it had only been about 20 minutes. My hands were sore and tired, but I wasn't about to give up until I had gotten a good look at my opponent. Finally the fish eased up and I could reel in some of the line. This time I got it within 30 feet of the boat. 


From our vantage point, we could see a huge northern. It looked like it was about 5 feet long. I knew my line couldn't handle much more pressure and I figured if this fish decided to take another dive to the bottom it was going to take all my line with it. I began to feel satisfied just to have seen this monster.


Just about the time I was giving up all hope of landing it, the line slackened. I quickly used the opportunity to reel in. My last ditch efforts to get the fish close to the boat paid off. Fortunately the fish seemed to have given up all its will power. By the time I got it within a foot of the boat, there was no fight left in this brute. Larry leaned over the boat and got his hand on the gills. 

With a litle help from  Ralph, he managed to hoist the fish into the small canoe.

My young son John took one very nervous look at the fish and said "Is that an alligator Mr. Stedman ?" His fear of the fish soon subsided and curiousity took over. He climbed over to the other canoe, examined it and decided it was the biggest fish or alligator he had ever seen. It was a huge one. The fish turned out to be a 35 pound northern--the biggest one I ever caught. We had the fish officially weighed and measured and the Stedmans took it home to have it mounted.

WINTER IN CHAPLEAU by jody terio

WINTER IN CHAPLEAU

glimpses of snow banks falling 
salt
momentos in dark black dots of old pieces
familiar 
once a part of your life and melted
in snow in spring, a mitten, hockey glove puck.
Recovered          
My mother tied the mittens on with string  
made of wool by grandma watson they would shrink
and muffle, get smaller and smaller
til they only fit the smallest, then got lost 
under snow.
Red or blue.
And i would know a friend 
only by her snowsuit.  Her face wrapped
up frost on the eyelashes, we are marching
down the road to school.
Every day.  I hardly remember 
but for the marching. 
Can’t remember undressing.  Except for
puddles. Far reaching into  corridors.
And shoes inside of boots
A mother doing six of them.  Boots with buckles
Heaps of them
at the door, at home,
at friends, coats and boots
sweaters, hats, snowpants.  Everything is
shiny slick, damp. 
And finding yours in the pile, yours 
are red this year. Passed down through
hundreds of distant brothers and sisters
you are fittest red cheeked
and hungry for soup hot chocolate.

                                                   -jody terio

jody terio is the daughter of Joan and George Theriault. She is the artistic director of Little Red Theatre. http://www.littleredtheatre.on.ca/home.html

Chapleauites everywhere 'returning home' to vote for community to win Ultimate Fishing Town contest with social media making participation possible

The other day when Henry Byce messaged me on Facebook, "Sorry Chief.......they're a little bigger than the 2 you caught!! LOL", it struck me just how involved Chapleauites had become in the contest to decide the Ultimate Fishing Town in Canada.

From the Chapleau Express I knew that people living in Chapleau were fully supporting it, but suddenly it seemed, given social media like Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, and yes, even email, that everyone with a connection to the community was voting and contacting friends and family, near and far, to vote for Chapleau.

Every morning when I get up and log in to Facebook, I am greeted by folks who no longer live in Chapleau but are part of the virtual community united in a common effort to bring victory to their home town. Fishing stories abound.

Just this morning, Hugh McGoldrick, Earlene Chambers, Paul Carson, Jamie Thibault, Bob Lewis and Lise McCarthy had posted messages on Facebook urging us to vote. Others were indicating they had. It happens several times a day as Chapleau remained in a tight race with Port Colborne for the title. Voting ends on May 31. Here is link: http://www.wfnfishingtown.ca/town/chapleau-on

I am delighted that Chapleau people are rallying in support of he community. It is great to see the community spirit.

Also as many know, after joining the faculty of College of the Rockies I led a team that developed the first college post graduate program in New Media Communications in Canada, way back in 1994. Many back then told me that email was okay but would never really catch on and virtual communities were a non starter. Social media consisted of chat rooms.

Today, Chapleau, the little town that can, is receiving global attention as it battles to win this contest, all because internet technology is providing the tools and Chapleauites everywhere are participating. To adapt an old dictum: "You can take the boy or girl out of Chapleau but you can't take Chapleau out of the boy or girl".

The photo of me to which Henry was referring was taken at Healy on Lake Windermere, 17 CPR miles west of Chapleau at our camp circa 1948. I had caught the fish from Sunday School rock, so named because Mrs. F. M. 'Maud" Hands would conduct Sunday school classes there. Henry sent me photo from his catch, taken in 2010 on a fishing trip home to Chapleau. You win Henry!

Dr. Vince Crichton, who still spends summers at the family camp on Mulligan's Bay was in touch ny email with an interesting insight into how the pickerel arrived in the Chapleau (Kebsquasheshing) River.

Vince wrote: "Where did the pickerel (walleye) in the Chapleau River between the 18 mile rapids and Chapleau come from? They were not always there. For many summers while attending high school and university I had the privilege of working for Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources which in the late 50’s and 60s was known as the Ontario Department of Lands and Forests. The only fish in the aforementioned part of the river were pike, suckers, whitefish.

"One of my summer jobs was to live trap pickerel in Nemegosenda Lake and these fish in turn were relocated to Henderson Lake which is about half way between Chapleau and the 18 mile rapids. Myself along with Robert Lemieux and occasionally conservation officer Tom O’Shaughnessy would spend almost all of July camped in a tent at the north end of the lake capturing pickerel.

"My father (Vince Crichton Sr.) would come in with the Beaver aircraft every 3 or 4 days and airlift the fish to Henderson Lake. The aircraft was fitted with appropriate tanks and oxygen to ensure there was no mortality during the short flite to the river. We used what was called a trap net - when the fish were removed for the trap they were placed in holding pens which we had constructed along the shore. The camp site was at the north end of the lake and the trap net was just below the old dam at the point where the Nemegosenda river exits the lake. The net was secured to the old dam and it had a long centre lead extending down river from the capture box and 2 wings extending at 45 degree angles from the centre lead all of which helped divert fish into the capture box. Care had to be taken when lifting the net (which was pulled over the side of the canoe) daily to ensure the square stern canoe we used did not flip in the current."

Hugh McGoldrick

Here is one of Hugh McGoldrick's Facebook messages to rally us to vote: "Chapleau is movin' up agan.... We need to keep it going. We got "plenty of fish" and people know it!!! Now lets prove it with "plenty of votes!!" Come fishing, maybe you'll catch the fish of your dreams!!!! Vote Chapleau!!!"

Hugh also recalled: "One of my best fishing memories was the time I flew out with John Theriault and John Tangie for an afternoon of fishing. With a canoe strapped to the pontoon we took off in the Beaver and headed about ½ milenorth of Chapleau landing on Trump Lake. It didn’t look like much of a lake but the lake trout we pulled in suggested otherwise. We spent a few hours there and then packed all of our gear back onto the plane and headed about ½ hour east to the Chapleau River. We landed just below a nice rapid and within an hour we had our limit of pickerel. So, we jumped back in the plane and flew home to Chapleau. You can’t ask for much better fishing than that".

John Theriault

Bill Groves, long time Chapleau resident has been sharing some of his fishing photos starring his grandchildren who are clearly enjoying their trips on the pontoon boat.

Paul Carson shared a precious moment on a fishing trip with his father Ron: "In the morning we would venture up the lake to a larger camp and fill our stringer with walleye and lake trout, never go hungry because we always caught plenty of fish.... lunch would be a shore line lunch over a camp fire.... and dinner would be even more fish.... trout on the fire with lemon wedges and spices, how the meat would flake off because it was cooked perfectly.... the smallest things about fishing with my dad and brother as kids I remember fondly."

Janice Selin reminded me of a tradition started by the Chapleau Int A Huskies in the 1970s. "There is a small creek just when you turn onto the Sheppard & Morse & Island Lake road. When it was not dried up we use to creep up not to let the fish hear something was coming.

Bill Groves on pontoon boat with grandson

"All you needed to do was drop a small daredevil in & we would get many little brook trout. On New Year's day it was a tradition that all the Husky team would go to Five mile lake & ice fish. The guys chipped in & bought an electric ice auger & the girls would get a fire started on the lake & place down the Hudson Bay blankets. All the kids were very young then but we all had a great time."

Reflecting on fishing and the Huskies, I have to admit that I never went along on any of their fishing trips in Chapleau, but I did go deep sea fishing with a number of the players off the Florida coast. Danny Vaughan caught a shark, and he was in touch recently so we shared memories of the experience.

In fact as the voting ends on May 31 to decide the Ultimate Fishing Town, I am planning  to be on my way to Florida for my first visit in years. I am not planning to go shark fishing though. Keep voting Chapleau wherever you are. I will vote before I leave. My email is mj.morris@live.ca