Seanook
Member
About five years ago my cousin and I were working in Thorold. Being aware that I always keep my fishing gear in the trunk of my car he suggests that we check out the Niagara River. I was skeptical. I clearly remember saying "Niagara...where and is the fishing even any good?". He looks at me like I'm nuts and says "You have never fished in Niagara?". Now generally as far as fishing is concerned I have been just about everywhere in our vicinity (GTA/Hamilton area) and tried just about everything at least once so it came as a surprise to him that I was unaware of the quality angling available in the Niagara River. We managed to get some local advice and were given directions to the Queenston Docks. Upon arrival I observed only one angler standing on the rocks next to the launch. Immediately I began to ask him about the spot and general fishing info. As I was about to walk away and gear up I heard the unmistakable sound of his drag screech. I watched him haul in a nice steelhead. Well cue the Benny hill theme music because we went into high gear equiping our rods and tackle and running to beat each other to our respective spots. For the first hour we hauled in a few S/M Bass and not much else, not a total loss but I was hoping for more. The urge to explore a little got me thinking about some possibilllities. So off came my socks and I waded into the shallows just left of the launch to see if I could see what was around the bend. Obviously the current even in the shallows was quite strong and I found myself hugging the shore/cliff face for dear life. Just as I was beginning to curse my stupidity I notcied a lone Gausling (baby Goose) about 10 feet further up stream from me, caught in a small rapid along the Gorge wall. The poor little guy was having a really hard time and didn't look like he had much energy left. It was constantly calling out for what I suppose was it's mother. I felt awful. The 10 feet inbetween us was not an easy trek and I stood there for a few minutes debating whether I was going to risk my life for a Gausling that without it's mother alone, had little chance to survive. I decided to go for it. Inching towards the little bird I half expected it to just give up at the sight of me coming towards it but it didn't, in fact it seemed to be trying to swim towards me, although the current was too strong. I managed to get over to it and scoop the little guy up. I put the shiverring little guy in the pouch pocket on my cargo shorts and slowly made my way back to safety. Looking back at my actions that day I must they they were wreckless and plain stupid but what happened next made me feel like my good deed was being rewarded. My cousin came over to see what all the Ruckus was about. As he was scolding me he casted his little Blue Fox Spinnerbait in the direction I had just come from.......WHAMMO! His rod bent at an angle I've only seen a few times while fishing (other than reefing to free a particularily nasty snag). His drag was screaming. He was backpedalling along the slippery bank like a cartoon character who's legs spin just before catching and taking off. He had hooked into a very large Musky only feet if not directly where I had waded in and possibly stood momentarily only a minute or two before. The fish fought hard for almost an hour. Numerous times it seemed to tire and give up although every time we got the Monster within inches of shore it would take off again. The one piece of equipment I had not brought was a net......"Crap". Well I've already done some incredibly stupid things on this day, why not do another. I volounteered to get in the water again!. No sooner had I got into the water past my ankles than the Musky decided that I was getting out. It torpedoed towards me. Mouth wide open. I leaped clean out of the water. One hop. Seeing the commotion upstream another Angler came to investigate. "Oh you got a Whopper on there" he said. "Yeah but we can't land it" my cousin says. "You wouldn't happen to have a net would ya?". Of course he did. He went back to his car and got his net. We landed the exhausted Musky. It was one of the roughest looking fish I had ever seen. Almost toothless and scarred from years of battling the rocks and rapids in that mighty river had taken a toll on this beheamouth. @ 3'8" and 42 pounds it was quite a haul. We weighed it and took pics(Which I tried to get for this post but my cousin is a computer retard and has no idea how to scan) as fast as possible and released it. Before heading home I left the Gausling with a local woman who assured me she would turn it in to the spca. I will not only remember that day for the rest of my life because of the Muskie,Gausling and my trek. I remember it as the day that I discovered the the place I would return to hopefully for the rest of my days.
