Quinte Fishing

Right, I'm back. All-you-can-eat sushi. No walleye, though....

My dad and I spoke on the phone last night. "I don't think there's a snowball's chance we'll get in tomorrow, so let's not bother going too early." He didn't get any argument from me. We met at 9am, and hit Mr. Burger in Oshawa for a couple of their kick-ass toasted westerns. You exit at Park Road, and it's just a seven-iron shot from [what appears to still be] Gagnon's and the now-defunct Barkley's. Their burgers are superb as well - highly recommended!

On to Picton we drove, passing through drifting snow blown by the 50+ kph west winds. Lake Consecon was open in the centre, giving us a bit of hope.

Picton Harbour was of course a skating rink, with the ice line well east of Merland's. We stopped briefly at the entrance to McFarland's Conservation Area [five or six km east of Picton on the south side] where there is a launch ramp, but the laneway was blocked by a snowplow pile.

Still free of our trailered boat we continued on to Glenora, and up the hill to Lake On The Mountain. The words of my late uncle Harry "Sandy" Sanderson, formerly a warrant officer with the RCAF in Trenton, echoed through my head: "There's a galldarn lake right on top of the gall-darn mountain...." Indeed there is! If you've never seen it, go take a look sometime! The west wind had whipped up the east end of the lake into three-foot breakers, and the surface of the lake is actually above the road - it's quite a view looking up to the water! Beneath us, plenty of open water around the ferry beckoned, flat as a millpond where it was sheltered by the high bluffs to the west.

We continued along the road to Prinyer's Cove, 18km past the ferry, and proceeded to drive right past the ramp without seeing it, so covered in snow was the place. Roughrider's landmark of the two white poles told us we were there - it's just before the clump of green mailboxes at the Y in the road. With six inches of snow on the ground, we weren't about to try going in. Besides, this far down Adolphustown Reach the winds had whipped the bay into a frenzy.

Back towards the ferry we went, passing a guy in a black Explorer trailing a red boat going the other direction. "I wonder if he's a website guy going to check out Prinyer's....."

I had one desperate notion. "Let's stop at Glenora Marine, and ask buddy if he'll launch our boat for us on his little launch ramp using his tractor." Buddy would have nothing to do with it. "The ramp is blocked off and closed for the season, I can't do it. Sorry."

Nah, I thought, it's not that you can't do it, but rather that you won't do it. In fairness it would have been a pain in the ass for him to have moved the thingy that he had blocking the ramp, but it was clear he had put it there to dissuade the likes of us. A true diehard fisherman would have understood that we had driven three hours for a chance to go in the water, that he was our one and only chance, and would have accomodated us. What can I say? Some people get it, and some people don't. I will say he's a fine mechanic, and when he worked on our 60hp Johnson the year before, he got the thing running better than it ever had.

Beyond the tip of his pretty-much-clear-of-snow boat ramp, the Bay of Quinte was flat in the lee of the shore and free of any ice whatsoever. Had I really wanted to go out and suffer more, I might have pushed him a bit. Then again, I doubt it would have done any good.

Back at McFarland's, we noticed that someone had driven through the snow blockage, so thought we'd drive down and have a look. We met a chap with a pickup truck who is a local fisherman, and had driven down with his two young daughters. It was obvious with our 2-wheel-drive van that we wouldn't be launching any boat here, either!

Thence began our mini-epic of trying to drive back up the very modestly-inclined slope to the road - easier said than done! It took a really good run and the two of us pushing while my dad drove, and with full-on sprint-pushing that left me foundering and gasping with crud-filled lungs from massive exertion in frigid air, my dad still only got halfway up the laneway before he slid to a halt on the virtually frictionless surface. Man!

A bit of shovelling, considerable sand and more than a little horking got the van enough traction to make it back to the highway. Seconds later buddy in the pickup slid up behind us. For the purpose of greater traction he had filled the back of his truck with snow and two girls, the latter who were giggling in merriment at their dad's expertise of having driven a quarter-mile uphill in reverse!

About this time, buddy in the Explorer showed up, with a printed copy of the very post you are now reading. "I'm 'Pass the Pitons' Pete. What's your user name?" I asked. "I just read, I rarely post." In internet parlance, we refer to such people as Lurkers. "My wife said to me yesterday, 'Hey - read the Quinte website - I know you've been dying for one last chance to go fishing, maybe you should go...' "

"Geez," I said, "if I had a wife with ideas like that, I might still be married!" It later occured to me that I might instead be dead. Perhaps Ron's wife had Inside Information and was sending the poor bugger to a certain frigid death. At least that's what my ex-wife would have been hoping for.

Ron kindly offered to let us join him in his boat should he actually get the thing in the water, and just as we were about to drive back down and have a better look at the ramp, three dejected-looking guys showed up. "I'm 'Mike the Pike' - they call me that because all I ever seem to catch is pike." A-ha! Buddy from Montreal. His providential and fortuitous arrival immediately promoted me and my dad to "Only The Second-Stupidest Dumbasses Here" since Mike et al had driven all the way from La Belle Province. Ron was by default the Least Stupid, having come from nearby Bramladesh.

Back down at the boat ramp and watching the now 60kph crosswind, I was secretly relieved when Ron scraped away the snow to reveal an inch-and-a-half-thick coating of ice on the ramp. "We'll never get the boat out of here," he declared. Obviously, Ron is one of these guys - despite his yuppie business card - who actually has some experience with his 4x4, and knows what they can really do. However such is not the case with many SUV owners - ask any towtruck operator and he'll tell you he pulls more 4x4's out of snowy ditches than all other vehicles put together.

So we bailed.

Anyway, that was the view from the South Side. With continuing cold forecast for the rest of the week, I reckon that's it for the season, barring any week-long warming trend that would melt all the snow from the ramps, and give us one more shot at open-water fishing.

Mike the Pike and crew came in from the east, and presumably had a look at the Bath and Adolphustown Ramps, and also rejected them. Maybe they can post and fill you in.

I reckon it's time for the ice fisherman. As for me, I'm going caving. Hasta la beaver, eh?

Cheers,

Pete

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Self-unemployed and available for fishin' mid-week most days.