IGNACE, Ontario – Our boat strained at its anchor line as a nearby torrent of white water poured into Seseganaga Lake.
A few hundred yards away a common loon called.
And close at hand a “click-click-click” from our reels broadcast a connection to a wild inhabitant in the water below.
“Another one,” said Mike Bartz of Grand Marais, Minnesota, as he lifted his rod to stout resistance and a fish pulled out line. “Now I’ve officially lost count.”
The roar, the yodel, the click of drag provided as perfect an angling soundtrack as I’ve ever known.
Bartz and I each worked in a 20-inch-long walleye, our fourth straight “double,” then leaned over the gunnels to flip out the hooks and watched the fish swim away in the clear, tea-colored water.
“Unbelievable,” Bartz said, sitting down in the stern of the 14-foot aluminum boat to contemplate the moment. “Just unbelievable.”
The sentiment was shared by all in our 10-member group that traveled to the remote lake for a fishing trip from May 28 to June 3.
The caveat, though, is this: It was as real and substantial as the granite lining the shores of Seseganaga. And it happened multiple times over the course of the week.
It’s the kind of “fish on almost every cast in a pristine setting” experience most anglers dream of.
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That certainly described those in our group, all with Wisconsin ties, including seven retired Department of Natural Resources conservation wardens.
In addition to Bartz and me, the party included: John Glennon of Oregon; Rollie Lee of Black River Falls; Bob Stark of Little Falls, Minnesota; Randy Stark of Oregon; Doug Thoresen of St. Paul, Minnesota; Tom Thoresen of Fitchburg; Tom Wrasse of Arbor Vitae; and Dave Zeug of Shell Lake. Our group ranged in age from 29 to 80.
It took some travel, of course, and such extraordinary angling is getting harder and harder to find with each passing year. Ignace is a 720-mile drive from Milwaukee.
“It’s a bucket-list trip, for sure,” said Zeug. “And some of us have been fortunate to do it more than once.”
Zeug was on his fourth trip to Seseganaga. I was among four “rookies” in the class of 2022.
The tradition of the Wisconsin group formed about 25 years ago when Aaron Smith of Marathon traveled to the Ignace area and learned about Ten Mile Lake Camp run by Richard and Michelle Carpenter of Tomah.
The couple own and operate Ten Mile Lake Camp in Ignace as well as the outpost camp on Seseganaga from May through September.
Aaron told his dad, Bill Smith of Shell Lake, about the quality of the lodging and fishing and the Smiths began an annual trip to Ten Mile Lake Camp.
Bill Smith said he inquired for years about the outpost on Seseganaga — which has two cabins and can only be accessed by float planes — but returning customers always had it booked solid.
Then in 2013, an opening presented itself and Bill and family immediately placed a reservation.
“It was just a wonderful experience, peaceful and rustic, fantastic fishing, just hard to beat,” Smith said. “Then I got back and talked to Dave (Zeug) and said, ‘Wouldn’t it be neat to get a bigger group and rent both cabins?'”
That plan was put in action. An extended group of family members, former co-workers and friends has filled the two cabins each year since.
The site features a four-person unit named Caribou and the adjacent six-person Lynx.
This year, Bill Smith missed for the first time due to a granddaughters graduation. A few other regulars, including Kyle Zeug (Dave’s son) had other family obligations that prevented them from traveling.
So Bartz, Lee, Bob Stark and I filled in.
It was the stuff you usually only dare to imagine.
Seseganaga covers 26,855 acres, bigger than any lake in Wisconsin except Lake Winnebago. It features walleye, northern pike, burbot and lake trout.
But it has no roads leading to it and only a handful of outpost camps. The shores are undeveloped and likely look the same as they did 300 years ago.
We saw only one other boat from another camp the entire week. Other than our group, our companions were bald eagles, common loons, common mergansers, herring gulls and red squirrels.
On the 20-minute float plane flight in, I also saw two woodland caribou along a shoreline.
The outpost includes gas and appliances for cooking and refrigeration as well as wood stoves for heat, but has no running water or electricity. We packed in plenty of food and beverages to augment our daily meals of fresh walleye.
We fished out of 14-foot aluminum boats equipped with 9.9-horse power outboards. We slept on bunks and gathered for meals in the kitchen of the large cabin.
A fire ring on the eastern lawn hosted campfires.
A solar shower was also available.
“Heaven,” is the way Tom Thoresen described it.
We settled into camp the first day and went out to learn — or get reacquainted with — the water.
One of the first things that was apparent was the volume — the north is running very high this spring. The lake was about 2 feet above normal.
Zeug and Lee led Bartz and me on a quick tour, including to the “falls,” one of the inlets to the lake.
It was roaring. The area was also full of fish, mostly walleyes that had traveled there to spawn.
Although technically the spawning season was over, many males were still milking.
Spring 2022 had been wet and also late.
It didn’t matter — all the fish were hungry.
We had minnows with us, but all that was required to catch a walleye was a jig with a plastic tail.
Plenty of northern pike were around, too.
On the first day, I landed and released a 42-inch pike on a small jig. And Bartz and I caught-and-released a steady stream of 13- to 23-inch walleyes.
The daily bag and possession limit on Seseganaga is four walleyes per person. Each boat brought back two to four fish for the big meal of the day in late afternoon.
Per group tradition, we rotated the cooking and cleaning duties each day.
Tom Wrasse whipped up a delicious baked walleye dish the first day that set a very high standard. Then Glennon produced a peach and a berry pie.
It was soon time for a nap before another fishing outing afforded by the long hours of sunlight in late spring at this northern latitude.
A new daily rhythm became the norm: rise about 6 or 7 a.m., eat a leisurely breakfast and socialize, then head out mid-morning for a fishing outing, returning at 2 p.m. to clean fish and prepare for the big meal of the day at about 3, followed by a nap and a second fishing outing from 5 to sunset or later, then a campfire and more stories until the eyelids began dropping.
Then sleep and repeat.
All of this was done without electricity or electronics. No TV, no Internet, no smartphones.
Our only link to the outside world was a pair of transponders carried by Bartz and Glennon that could be used to signal an emergency.
For 2022, it was a momentous break from modern technology.
After a couple of days to adjust, it was glorious.
There was no shortage of entertainment and enrichment courtesy of stories and conversation.
Perhaps the greatest challenge was coming up with different fish recipes. The week’s menu included walleyes baked, almondine, deep-fried and in tacos.
At least two days I ate leftover walleyes for breakfast.
Over campfires, we mused about what was happening in the world. Could the war have ended in Ukraine?
We couldn’t do anything about such matters, of course. We could only deal with what was right in front of us in a most beautiful and peaceful part of the world.
The fishing was outstanding. The largest fish of the week were a 44-inch northern caught by Glennon and a 24.5-inch walleye caught by Wrasse.
Bartz, who has fished for many decades in the best waters of Wisconsin and Ontario, caught the biggest walleye and northern of his life on Seseganaga. On the same day.
At the end of a week, the float planes appeared and the next groups walked down the pier to take our place.
Among them were Bryce and Maxine Luchterhand of Unity, Wisconsin. The couple were back for their 23rd fly-in with Ten Mile Lake Camp.
“I live for this trip,” said Bryce as we formed a chain gang to off-load gear. “The best thing is no Internet and news, second is the scenery and solitude and third is the fishing, which can’t be beat.”
We flew out under blue skies and minutes later were at our vehicles at Rusty Meyer’s Flying Service depot.
And then it was back to reality. But the memories of Seseganaga were etched in our minds.
“You go there and fish all day long and not see anybody else,” Zeug said. “And no other buildings, exactly like it’s been for hundreds of years. It’s priceless. Each year I leave and just hope I can do it again.”
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