The White Otter Wilderness
Ontario, Canada

by Patrick O'Malley

Somehow it doesn’t seem like it could be in the past already, having spent the last year and a half or so looking forward to it, but I was fortunate enough to spend the first week of this last July in Canada. Not in any city, or even near what could be called such. No, this was a true wilderness trip in every sense of the word. Primarily, a fishing trip. The closest civilization was a western Ontario town called Atikokan, north of the Minnesotan Boundary Waters Canoe Area and Quetico Provincial Park in Ontario. The outfitter responsible for sending my father and his friends on fishing trips for the last twenty years or so, Canoe Canada, is based in Atikokan. I’d done this whole trip once before, around age sixteen, and now it was time to do it again. The last time I had fun, but I knew that this time around I’d be able to appreciate it on a much higher level, having in the meantime become somewhat of an outdoorsman (if this is even remotely possible living in Chicago). At the very least I’m a well-read naturalist, so I knew the magnificent beauty and isolation would not be lost on me this time around. And in the White Otter Wilderness, isolation is certainly what you get. This type of fishing trip was what’s referred to as a fly-in, tough to figure out, I know. The seaplane ride is definitely a highlight of the trip, soaring just a few hundred feet above the endless expanse of lakes, rivers, and forest that is the White Otter Wilderness.

It’s only about a thirty minute flight, but the views are spectacular. Unfortunately you can’t talk to each other, and you’re limited to the view out the window next to you, none others. The only real reason I call this unfortunate is because my father saw a moose on the ground out his window, but due to the aforementioned limitations I missed it. This would turn out to be one of several moose that I missed a chance to view, let alone photograph. Throughout the course of the week we’d see plenty of wildlife however. Besides fish of course, we saw numerous raptors such as Bald Eagles and Merlins, a myriad of wildflowers, Loons and other waterfowl, and Beavers. Soon our cabin was visible below us, as well as the first plane’s passengers from our group unloading on the dock.

Once we’d all arrived and the gear had been unloaded it was around nine in the morning. Needless to say everyone was giddy with excitement and ready to hit the water, and net that first fish.

So there we are, that was our group. From left to right; me, my dad John O’Malley, Ben Blonder, Josh Johnson, Doug Johnson, Dan Blonder, and my brother-in-law Joe Dascbach. My dad and Doug had done this trip together numerous times dating back decades, including our lake specifically, so they were the vets and the go-to guys for all questions fishing. They happily obliged. Speaking of our lake, here she is, Irene Lake:

The whole week the fishing was exceptional. Our main targets were Small-Mouth Bass, Lake Trout, Northern Pike, and Walleye. For the week, we caught just over six hundred total fish between the seven of us. The weather also cooperated for the most part, with the exception of a thunderstorm that was a truly awesome reminder of the power of nature, and of our insignificance. Despite the danger we all faced, as we were on the water when the storm hit, I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. It left us all intoxicated with it’s spectacle, and prompted a long night of drinking and vivacious storytelling.

There’s no denying the natural beauty of this Canadian wilderness, as we were constantly reminded.

Everyone had some wonderful catches, and we all chipped in for the dirty business that is gutting.

On the last day my dad, my brother-in-law, and I shared a boat and had a landmark day. Between the three of us we caught one hundred ten fish, a number that exceeded even my father’s lofty expectations. Who caught the century fish you ask, number one hundred? Well by pure luck it was me, but by then we’d been on the boat approaching ten straight hours so I was spent. I was glad to reach a hundred just so I could convince my maniacal dad and brother-in-law that we’d caught enough.

It was gratifying but I have to say that for me the discovery of a wild orchid on a portage trail between lakes, a Pink lady’s Slipper, was the single best experience I had on the trip. The rarity and delicacy of these flowers makes them unique in the realm of wildflowers. I’d intended on finding any wild orchid at some point in my life, but I had no idea how soon that would get checked off my list.

Personally I think the pictures say it all, with wider smiles on all our faces than at any other times in recent memory.

The White Otter Wilderness, and therefore every aspect of our trip, was nothing short of magnanimous.