Sport Fishing Holiday Destination Fit for Non Anglers – Canadian Nature Tour at Plummer's Arctic Fishing Resort, Great Bear Lake, Canada

It was one incredible week! Plummers Arctic Fishing Lodge tucked in the northeast part of Great Bear Lake, in the Northwest Territories, Canada. Almost nine (9) years have passed, yet I can transport myself back with all the sights, sounds and feelings as if it were yesterday. My recollection of that Plummers experience is as vivid as the hundreds of photographs and video footage captured during this dream working vacation. The hospitality, the gourmet meals and the unending attention to detail exhibited by Chummy Plummer and his staff at the Great Bear Lake Lodge provided the rooted harmony that balanced the sometimes overwhelming awe of nature that constantly and completely surrounded us. Mother Nature reigns supreme in this Arctic wilderness. People are insignificant participants in the daily cycle of life in this true north.

This 'up close and personal' touch with nature makes Plummers Great Bear Lake a must-go-to Nature Vacation destination. At least once in your lifetime experience a place on this earth where truly the slogan could be:
“GREAT DESTINATION ENGINEERED BY NATURE. GREAT MEMORIES GUARANTEED BY PLUMMERS.”

Five-star fishing, five-star fishing camp accommodations, five-star hospitality wrapped up in the memorable five-star natural vistas and untouched nature of Canada's North. Back in the late 1990s Plummers was a mecca for the most serious sports anglers from around the world. Plummers Great Bear Lake Arctic Fishing Lodge has now been discovered for its “not just for anglers” amenities - Plummers now boasts family week, annual dental and medical seminars.

Visiting remote Canada, north of the Arctic Circle, in late August was one of those 'planets-all-lining-up' opportunities. Accompanied by my business associate John, our week long adventure leaves memories as crisp as the early northern morning air. And what better way to start our morning than hearing a Plummer's staffer call out “Coffee gentlemen.” A carafe of steaming coffee placed outside of our door accompanied our 6 am wake-up call each day. That first coffee of the day set the pace for the short walk to the lodge dining building and for a 'whatever your heart desires' breakfast.

Plummer's Arctic Fishingactually has four separate Lodge locations: 1. Great Slave Lake near Yellowknife; 2. Great Bear Lake; 3. Trophy Lodge, on Great bear Lake; and 4. Tree River Lodge on the Coronation Gulf in Nunavut. During our week long stay we experienced two of these four fishing venues – Great Bear Lodge and Tree River Lodge. Ideal locations for capturing first-rate photographs. And perfect enough for President George Bush, Senior, along with a few of his closest Canadian friends, to visit both these Plummer venues every summer.

Just flying to The Great Bear Lodge is something in itself. We flew out of Winnipeg, Manitoba on a Boeing 737 Jet, first landing at the Great Slave Lake Lodge on a gravel runway and then on to Plummer's Great Bear Lake Lodge, once again landing on a gravel runway! The jet had special flanges behind the front wheel to prevent stones from being ejected into the jet engines. It is something else to look out the airplane window to the rear of the plane as it lifts off and seeing a cloud of dust coming off the runway. Once airborne, it sure looked like some good ol' boys were rippin' up a gravel road below us!

The fishing on this Lake is nothing short of THE BEST. Great Bear Lake is the eighth-largest lake in the world and fourth largest in North America. Awesome! Incredible! Some o f the world's largest lake trout have been reeled in on Great Bear Lake - 72 lbs . Seventy-two pounds makes this fish over 140 years old! It's sport fishing only at Plummers. All catch and release. Plummers practices strict conservation rules, so there will be plenty of fish to catch for centuries to come.

For every two anglers there is a guide assigned for the week. He or she takes care of operating the boat (18 foot aluminum), determining the best location to fish each day, preparing the fresh fish lunches on one of the hundreds of islands (now there's a culinary treat!) and any fishing tips/tricks. John and I were not preoccupied with fishing and so we turned our attention to aggravating our guide, a young University of Manitoba student named Kelly. And we drove him to the limit; asking him all sorts of stupid questions. We did have some coaching from a few of the Plummer's staff on the top 'best stupid questions' to ask, so we mixed them in with our earnest questions:



“So how many pounds of potatoes do they go through in a season at this lodge?” (Stupid)

“How many trout do you figure are in Great Bear?” (Stupid)

“How big is this lake anyway?” (Earnest)

“How much Red River Cereal do they go through in a season?” (Stupid)

“Who is that lady that drops the coffee carafe at our door each morning?” (Stupid)

“How many gulls do you think are on this lake?” (Stupid) Gulls, nature's garbage disposal crew, always showed up when the guide was finished cleaning the trout for lunch.

“How cold is this water?” (Earnest ) If you are wondering, 42- 45 degrees Fahrenheit is the correct answer.



John and I arrived at Plummers with only our clothing and camera equipment. No need to bring any fishing gear of your own. Plummers equipped us with all the rod, reel and tackle gear we needed. They did a great job because, as novice anglers, John and I caught over 40 fish between us! An activity that we never tired of was enjoying the afternoon Northern Sun and scouting out the many islands that dotted 'The Bear'. Much to our guide Kelly's chagrin, we really weren't there for the fishin' – we were the sightseer type of tourist that comes to Plummers. The solitude afforded us with the gentle rhythm of the trolling boat and the anticipation of when we would see the next eagle, or caribou or musk-ox on 'The Bear' shores was just the ticket to help two hardworking executives from the big city of Ottawa, Ontario to unwind.

We became known to other guests at the lodge as the two 'anglers' to stay away from! Perfect! Come to think of it, we always had fishing places completely to ourselves. Bob Izumi was filming a show for his “Real Fishing” TV series at the same time as our visit. Even he didn't seem the least bit interested at my elation that I had snagged what our guide said was the smallest trout he'd ever seen – less than 1 pound 'soaking wet'! Kelly said the lure weighed more than my prize catch! Now there is fishing talent I don't often forget to boast about! John was on the opposite end of the scale from me as far as being a sports fisherman. He did capture, and I mean capture, a trout that was the size of a dog – a 34 plus pounds! Wow! Ya gotta see the pictures!

I went camera crazy here! Images of fishing in the 9 p.m. dusk light, casting right off the lodge's shore. Wolves near the camp, caribou that hadn't been seen this far south of the Arctic Circle so late in the summer season! The ultimate trip within the trip was our fly-out to the Tree River Camp, Nunavut. This camp consisted of eight (8) tarpaulin-roofed, stilted bunk houses and a cook house in the middle of 'no where north'. Flat tundra and low bush were contrasted by mountainous visas that could only be described as a “black grand canyon”, moon-like terrain. We were on the Canadian Shield. Tree River itself is edged with hardened mud river banks where arctic squirrel-gopher-like creatures known as 'sik-sik' were housed in borrows within the river banks. The camp cook, Carol, and her helper, Mary, treated us to a incredible dinner of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. To top off this sumptuous meal we had ice cream and cake for dessert. Did I say we were in a remote camp on the Arctic Ocean? Sure felt like the Ritz!

We unsuccessfully tried our hand at Arctic Char fishing. Enough of that story! With our guide Kelly we continued with our boating down the Tree River river to touch upon the shores of the Arctic Ocean. We stood next to an authentic inukshuk, saw weather bleached caribou bones, ate some not-so-sweet blueberries and walked the bluff at the mouth of Tree River. We scanned the Arctic ocean waters and could see a sliver of land on the horizon. Victoria Island maybe?

A desolate yet primitive beautiful land in August, we imagined how harsh the winter climate must be to those living here in Canada's north. No time for those chilly thoughts now! The late August sun was warm; perfect for standing near the cliff shore while watching seals play in the mouth of Tree River below us. At that moment we felt as though we were a small speck in the northern universe. I'm certain it was the solid black rock of the Canadian Shield beneath our feet that kept us from being swallowed up by this “Arctic Vortex”. Everywhere I turned there was a photo to be taken. My Canon EOS A4 'photo-exercised' through 20 rolls of film that trip. I scanned these pictures and share some of the best ones with the world. Go to Picasa Web Albums - “plummers arctic fishing”.

Returning to our base camp at Great Bear, we fished a couple of more days and then continued this incredible nature trip with one more memorable experience: we jumped into the frigid Arctic Circle waters of Great Bear Lake. Good news! We did receive a special Plummer's tee-shirt for our stupidity to brave this dunking. Printed on the tee-shirt is “ I was Stupid enough to Swim in the Arctic Circle”. Yes, in our finest dress of long red underwear we jumped off the wharf at the Plummers Lodge into the 43 degree Fahrenheit water! For the record, at that temperature everything shrinks! To this day, my tee-shirt is proudly displayed in our family room.

Plummer's Arctic Fishing is one of those destinations you should put on your must do list. “GREAT FISHING OUR CLAIM, MOTHER NATURE OUR FRAME.” In January 2007, Field and Stream rated Plummers Fishing Resort at the #1 fishing destination in North America.What a perfect way to experience the beauty of Canada's north. Take your whole family on a trip of their lifetime!

Sport Fishing Holiday Destination Fit for Non Anglers – Canadian Nature Tour at Plummer's Arctic Fishing Resort, Great Bear Lake, Canada

Tic-Toc This Den is Locked – Picking Blueberries in Cape Breton Nova Scotia (Caper Society)

The 60s were a magical time. Magical and unique in so many social aspects. and changin' time all over the world. Life on the Island of Cape Breton, Nova Scotia had a particularly unique social climate for children and teenagers of that decade on that island oasis.

August was the time when blueberries were ripe for the picking and moms all over the island would send their children out to pick this miracle blueberry. One of nature's most healthy foods. In the fields and on the hills of Cape Breton blueberries flourished. This little miracle of nature grew in low brush areas; especially, areas that had sustained a brush fire in the previous 2 years.

The blueberry picking venture could bring you to the hill near the Sydney Radar Base, the secret-to-this-day location called 'Blueberry Hill' in Whitney Pier, or the woods near communities like New Waterford. Blueberry picking was almost always a group outing. Ages 5 to 25 ventured out together in the early morning, with lunches in hand and dressed to protect against the heat of the noonday sun.

Each person in the picking troupe was assigned their own container into which their blueberries went. The youngest would likely have a plastic margarine container. The older ones would pick right into a 4 quart basket. I remember other people whose berries went into those old glass 1 quart milk bottles. The basket was open to the air and stopped the berries from sweating and getting mushy, a problem people had with the glass milk bottle.

Tall tales of weird nature sightings or stories of pranks-pulled were lively dinner table talk after a day of picking. There always seemed to be a practical joker in every crowd! Like when my older sister, Marie, went on a blueberry picking outing. Our cousin, Karl, was in the same berry-picking group. He brought Marie to a rich ripe blueberry patch and let her pick a full container of berries before telling her that he had 'peed' on that berry patch! Was he telling the truth? He hasn't said a word to this day!

There was one rule of blueberry picking etiquette that remained the cornerstone of social order. A simple phrase that was respected by all berry pickers, no matter their age. Simply, when a picker found a berry-ladened bush, he or she was able to claim is as their own. In an authoritative, but polite voice, the picker would call out, “TIC-TOC, THIS DEN IS LOCKED!”

Once spoken, it was clear that the blueberry patch was singularly owned by the picker who called out “Tic Toc this den is locked”. For the most part, this real-time land claim to a blueberry patch was respected. Others in the group might move nearer to the newly claimed patch. But, unless invited to pick, other pickers stayed away from that 'Tic-Toc'd' area. They would go off a find their own private blueberry bush. Soon you would hear that cry repeated throughout the day “Tic-Toc this den is locked!”

Now this cry of the wild blueberry picker was common in Cape Breton. Its origin is unknown. Was it unique to blueberry picking in Cape Breton? Did it filter out into mainland Nova Scotia and on to the continent of North America?

Respect for rules. Respect for others. Growing up in Cape Breton Island was full of these tidbits of social order. Nice memories! Blueberry picking memories are still being made today on the 'Island of Islands', Cape Breton.

Tic-Toc This Den is Locked – Picking Blueberries in Cape Breton Nova Scotia (Caper Society)

Robins Nesting - up close and personal – “Bob, Bob, Bobbin' at our front door” in Carp Ontario

A frightened bird flew off our front porch when I opened the front door to retrieve the newspaper. OK, I jumped too! It was 11:00 pm. Imagine my surprise when I looked up and noticed a birds net carefully tucked on top of one of the porch posts.

My raised voice, “Well we got visitors. We got Robins!”, brought my wife to join me at the front door.

“This nest wasn't here this morning. They must have worked all day to build it. Boy they're fast”, I exclaimed.

“Well I guess we are going to be surrogate grandparents”, my wife laughed. “We've been chosen to witness a beautiful part of nature – the nesting and raising of Robins. Odd, they would be nesting this late into the summer. It's July 3rd already.”

So we settled in for a period of time, but we didn't know how long they were going to stay. We were always a curious couple and I knew that we would want to capture the entire Robin Nesting process. An avid photographer, I set up the camera props to ensure the best 'nest' visual, yet non-intrusive, vantage point. The front door to our house now became a “no entry” zone. A four foot step ladder was positioned inside the front door and my Canon D60 Digital SLR was mounted on a Slik mono-pod, adjusted so when it rested on the top step of the ladder, the camera was at the perfect height pointed through the transom window directly across from the Robin's Nest - a mutually comfortable 6-8 feet of distance between us.

The nesting mother and protective father robins grew accustomed to seeing my face (but mostly the camera lens) early each morning and then a few times throughout the day. We were going to see a lot of each other over the next month. We were the best hosts to our bird visitors. Every night around 9 pm, the front door light would be turned off earlier than usual, so as to give mother robin the comfort of darkness in which to sleep, protect and incubate her eggs. As she settled into the nest, she would point herself in the direction of our transom window peering at us in our living room.

The entire egg 'laying-incubating and hatching' process occurred over a two week period – from early July to the third week in that month. The photo images captured mother robin's diligence and gentleness. How she moved the eggs (number unknown at this point) with her beak and the hours she spent incubating them. We spent many quality moments just looking at each other – up there through the transom – Robin in her nest, me on my ladder.

We knew something exciting was happening! Mother robin was spending more time sitting on the edge of the nest reaching into its depth with her beak while retrieving what looked like pieces of egg shell, which she would eat. This, in fact, was one of my major observations about nesting robins – they eat everything in the nest that is debris, and I mean everything! When you are peering through a camera lens, you see every detail. This biological waste reclamation by the parents is an environmentally friendly aspect of robins. They exemplify 'recycle-reuse'. And this has all been captured in 6.2 mega-pixel digital images! You bet!

The robin parents began a tag-team of alternating trips returning with worms for the ravenous robin chicks. And look we could count the tiny skyward pointing, bright-orange-colored beaks. There were three! Three robin chicks had hatched and now were competing for as much food as the parents could drop down their little throats. No robin parent 'pre-chewed' the food. Whole worms where dropped into those three chick gullets. Bring it on!

Over the next two weeks that we captured the obvious and amazing day-to-day growth changes in each of the three robin chicks. The parent robins continued the parade of worms. They plucked away the baby fuzz and ate this plus any dropping that the three chicks produced. The area around the nest, namely our front porch floor and chairs, remained surprisingly “bird dropping” free for this month long miracle. They were truly a ' recycle-reuse' creature. And it makes sense. The robin chicks just swallowed any food that was dropped into their always wide open beaks. Completely digesting this food would be difficult for these infant birds. Naturally when it came out the other end, either robin parent would just grab and eat it. Hey there is still some nutrition left in that stuff!

The chicks matured and started perching on the edge of the nest. Each one now seemed focused on preening, constantly pecking at their feathers in, under, over and around their wings. Each chick now took personal responsibility for removing the remaining baby fuzz and preparing their wings and bodies for that inaugural flight.

We watched, and digitally captured, near falls out of the nest, some typical 'child-bird' pushing and shoving, and frustration that generally accompanies bird nest overcrowding. And then on August 7th around 9:30 in the morning we looked up through the transom and there was only one bird left in the nest. His other two siblings had already flown the coup. And then number three flew off! Oh, maybe more like fluttered and flapped to the floor of our front porch. But once he got his 'land-legs' he then flew into the front garden. No doubt, to hunt for food.

So we rushed outside to grab a few more pictures of the robins now free from the confines of the nest. And then they were gone. We left the nest undisturbed for a another week, thinking they might return. But they never returned to the nest. Not the babies. Not the parents. They were off being robins! And it all happened in just over 4 weeks.

But they did leave us a little gift for being gracious hosts. Remember I commented on how clean the area remained from bird droppings. Well I guess the terror of that first free-fall from the nest, that first 'leap of faith', just before those wings grab air.... well, er who wouldn't poop themselves! Oh well, time to engage the pressure washer.

I waited another week before removing the empty nest. It sure is quiet around here. We miss the grandkids.

All of this Robin Drama is captured on hundreds of digital images. Some of these can be viewed on Flickr.

Robins Nesting - up close and personal – “Bob, Bob, Bobbin' at our front door” in Carp Ontario