As some of the regular readers of this column might know, I spend much of my summers guiding anglers in the Nipigon area of northwestern Ontario. Nipigon has a diverse fishery, with good opportunities available for walleye, bass, pike, lake trout, chinook salmon, and rainbow trout. However, it is the native brook trout that most people seek, and recently, I saw one of the largest of my life caught by a client.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
My two clients on this trip were regulars from southern Ontario. Alyssa Lloyd is from Bancroft and Anneliese Bochenek lives in Hamilton. They are usually part of a larger group of fly anglers, but two of the women had to take a pass in 2025. So, in early August, the three of us were exploring what the Nipigon had to offer, and they had been doing well. On the first day, Anneliese had already beaten her personal best brook trout with a 23.5-inch beauty. The following two days were exceptional as well. Heading into the final leg of the four-day trip, expectations were high.
The last day was a full, sturgeon moon, and the water in the Nipigon was exceptionally cool for August—all good things for trophy brook trout. However, as we sat for breakfast at the Lodge in Red Rock, the mood was somber. A storm was rolling in and the radar was promising. We tried to drive to South Bay, on Lake Nipigon, but howling winds, lightning, and pounding rain turned us around. It was so dark I had to put the headlights on. We decided to return to the town of Nipigon, grab some Robin’s coffee, and gas up the truck. It was also a perfect time to get a new net. The second day of the trip ended with my Frabill net quietly exiting my trailered boat somewhere on the Trans Canada. We made it work on day three with a beautiful, handmade net, but I needed a long-handled boat net in the heavy water. So, we made a stop at the Canadian Tire in Nipigon—the smallest in Canada—and bought a Lucky Strike net with a 6-foot handle. This would come in handy.
With the rain starting to die off, I made the call to fish the lower Nipigon River, which runs into Lake Superior, in Nipigon Bay. The ladies were anxious to fish and readily agreed. We started by fishing some spots that had produced fish on day two. After a couple of hours hard-casting, there were no takers. It was starting to look like the last day might be a wash. However, a little further downstream Alyssa hooked a 15-inch brook trout that provided us some hope. Shortly thereafter, she hooked another fish. This one was larger and bulldogged in the very strong current. It was a gorgeous 25-inch rainbow trout. By this time, the sun was peeking out and the day was warming. With fair weather settling in, the trout turned on. Anneliese tossed an olive streamer into a current break and was met with a hard strike. This fat brookie put up a good scrap and was brightly coloured. The tape said 19 inches long. It was carefully released. She followed that with an unexpected pike of about 30 inches, and a brookie half that size. The day was looking decidedly better.
With a light rain returning, I began our boat trip back to the launch. However, there were a couple of spots that needed to be tried before we packed it in. One was at the top of a rapids that had coughed up large fish for me in the past.
“I don’t think I’ve ever caught a fish in this spot,” said Alyssa, as she threw her white “Sex Dungeon” fly to the edge of the bank.
“This spot has been underperforming this year,” I noted, “but I always have to try.”
Anneliese and Alyssa are both excellent fly angers and follow direction well. This really helps as a guide. Alyssa had also caught both a 24- and 25-inch brookie on previous trips, so she knew the odds of topping those personal bests would be very difficult.
We’d fished for about 20 minutes and I was looking at the clock. “One more cast,” I said.
“Ahh. Can I have one more after this?” said Alyssa, who was already swinging her fly.
The words had barely come out of her mouth when I saw the strike. Alyssa leaned back and yelled “Fish!”
It was obviously a big trout, and it was rolling at the lip of heavy current. I had the 36-volt trolling motor on spot lock, but I started to move it slowly upstream—the fish going downstream in shallow rapids was a recipe for disaster.
“This fish is getting very pully, Gord,” said Alyssa, leaning on her fly rod.
“Hang on to it,” I urged, knowing that this could go badly.
Finally, the boat was out of the main current and I grabbed the net. This trout looked very large on the surface, but it wasn’t until that brand-new net was scooped under the fish that I could see the size and feel the weight.
“That thing is a monster,” said Anneliese, with dead on accuracy. The brook trout filled the net and my live well. There were hugs, high fives, and some spontaneous emotion. After a few pictures, I produced the bump board and laid the mighty brookie on the ruler. The total length was 26 inches with a girth of 15 inches. I’ve been fishing brook trout a long time and I’ve never seen a trout this long. It was a majestic fish and profound moment. Alyssa, hands trembling, released the great fish back to the water, then sat back to soak the moment in.
There are some days in life you never forget. For the three anglers in that boat, it was one of those days.
