A Toss Up

Packed Up

Saturday. I am up early, getting ready to head out to set some traps and do some fishing. It is supposed to warm up throughout the day, so I take my time a little bit. The sled is loaded down with traps, extra gear, bait, a hand auger, and my fishing tackle.

Ten AM finds me a couple of miles down the trail towards other Ikpiks or Quatouruk (I've heard it called both names). There is a smaller creek down there where I want to make a set for lynx or wolverine. Snow in the creek is not drifted too badly so I am able to follow the creek bed quite a ways. I just cruise for a little while to see what there is too see. Finally I reach a point that to go any further there is an increasing likelihood of getting stuck. Since I'd rather not have to dig myself out I decide to turn around. I make the set not far from where the creek joins the big river.

Headed Out

After making this set I head a little ways upriver towards Quatouruk to make another set. It is a small spring creek where there is open water year round. I pull around the corner of trees to a barrage of moose track. Guess its time for the moose to come down to the riverbed. I don't see any moose, but I do see a set of fresh lynx tracks imprinted in the day old snow. I get off the machine and follow for a little ways, to see what it does and where it goes. Fresh tracks only further my conviction of setting this spot, and I waste little time making the set. Through my rifle scope I see what looks to be a couple of mallards feeding in a shallow riffle. "Some good fly tying material there." I think to myself, wishing I had a shotgun.

One more trap to set. This one will be back along another creek somewhat closer to town. Gliding over the cushiony soft powder in the creek bed is a welcome change from the jolting ride over the crusty hardpan of the open riverbed. Up ahead I see a ptarmigan jump from its roost into the snow. I know my 22-250 is overkill but the ptarmigan will make good fresh bait. Bam! An explosion of feathers! I got it alright. I chuckle to myself when I see what is left of the bird. "Good thing I wasn't planning on eating it, not much left to it but the wings." A final trap is set up this creek, baited with fresh ptarmigan. I check my other two traps I had out, but they are both empty.

Time to fish. Herbert already has half a sack of trout when I pull up, so I don't waste any time getting a hole drilled. The fishing is good, not quite as good as it was last weekend, but I don't have any complaints. I change my hook hoping that I won't miss so many fish, and almost freeze my fingers off in the process. I get a few more, still not as many as Herb or John, and I get thoroughly irritated with my set up getting tangled all the time. I will definitely re-rig when I get home.

It was -40 when I woke up this morning, -20 when I left and it must be warmer now but it sure doesn't feel like it. The wind continues to pick up, and the warmer it becomes the windier it gets. The toss up is if it was colder this weekend with 0 F and 25 mph winds or last weekend -50 F with bluebird clear skies and dead calm. The wind really sucks the warmth out of your body. I think I would take -50 F. The only real downfall is that its too cold to drive the snowmachine to fish.