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I've fished my share of "honey holes" in my life. You know, places
where the fishing is so red-hot that the retelling of their stories makes them
legends in our lives. The earliest such legend I can remember was when I was
about six-years-old. Our family was visiting relatives in Texas and an uncle
told us about a spot down a rural road where you could catch what I believe were
a kind of sunfish (probably warmouth) through a hole in an old wooden bridge.
Now, fishing was a passion in our family. So, it wasn't long before we were
standing on that bridge. It spanned a slow and deep East Texas creek that
meandered through a forest of wild magnolias and long-needle pines.
As I remember it, the bridge wasn't very wide - just some old planks nailed
across two decaying beams. The hole in the planks was triangular in shape, like
someone had fashioned it with a saw. There wasn't enough room for more than one
person to fish the hole, so that job was given to me - probably because I was
the most excited about fishing that day. My father and older brother fished the
same water but over the side of the bridge.
We dangled baited hooks into the water, and I soon had a fish on the line. In
fact, that excited little boy landed a whole "mess o' fish" that day
through the hole. Even though my father and brother were fishing just a few feet
away, they caught very few, if any, until I reluctantly gave up possession of
the hole. Then they caught their share and their right to be part of the legend.
We took home our mess o' fish and had a big fish fry that evening where the
story was  first told and the legend created. Now, that legend comes up again and
again at each family reunion - and I'm sure truth has been blurred with fiction,
but at least the memory is maintained.
Over the years, I've found other honey holes in streams and lakes in the
Sierra Nevada, the Washington Cascades, the eastern slopes of our Rockies, and
even on the rolling ocean where the "hole" was more of a moving target
than an actual place. However, I encountered my most memorable honey hole on a
fly-in trip I made with my daughter, Joanne, and our friends, Keith Kivett and
Bill Erwin, to one of the Canadian Shield lakes in northeastern Alberta.
Alberta doesn't have the selection of northern lakes our neighbors
Saskatchewan and Manitoba boast, but the ones we have are no less jewels in both
scenery and fishing opportunity. They're kept that way by being remote and being
under the care of fishing outfitters that realize the future of their businesses
rides on how well their fisheries are managed. A few of these lakes have
full-service lodges that provide every amenity for the angler. Such luxury is
enjoyable because all you have to concern yourself with is the fishing. But our
little group of anglers that periodically makes a pilgrimage to the North
prefers to experience the northern wilderness a little closer to the bone. We
choose to be responsible for our own day-to-day needs, from preparing our own
meals to exploring the lakes on our own. Not only is it easier on the
pocketbook, we feel we get more out of the experience. Northern Sport Fishing
and Mikisew Sport Fishing out of Fort McMurray offer such opportunities by
providing minimal yet comfortable facilities in camps at several lakes in
northern Alberta. Anglers bring their own food, bedding, clothing, other
personal gear, and of course fishing gear. The outfitters provide a cabin with
bunks and mattresses, propane stove and refrigerator, cooking utensils and
dishes; and aluminum boats, motors and pre-mixed fuel.
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