To save ourselves a long portage, we first canoed across another lake to get a little closer. As we canoed, we tried a few casts and caught a few small bass. But as it turned out, this was only a primer to the major action yet to come. When we reached the backside of this first lake we could see the shoreline was rimmed with a 50 foot bog. How were we going to get to shore without getting our feet wet? An old beaver channel provided the access. We had to walk in a couple spots—my 9-year-old son was the lightest so he went first, and things worked out ok. When we reached solid ground, unbelievably there was an old logging road. It was overgrown but was definitely better than busting brush.

Using our finely tuned dead reckoning skills, we decided to go left. After about a half mile we eventually decided this wasn’t the right way and turned around. Fortunately I had left the canoe behind. Right must be the right way. So I hefted the canoe onto my shoulders and off we went. We portaged about a quarter mile, constantly staring into the forest, looking for a telltale sign that a lake lay just ahead. That canoe was getting heavy! Then, there it was—our secret lake with its pristine water glistening in the bright sunshine. The shoreline was wild and beautiful. And the only sounds we heard were the wind, the waves and the local song birds.

So let’s go fishing! But how do we get to the water? This lake was surrounded by bog too. Another beaver cannel? Yes! Onto the water we went.

The water was dark brown and the perimeter of the lake was dotted with lily pads. My son, Chris and I had lightweight rods with 6-pound test line. At first, we tossed out a couple of Mr. Twisters but soon realized that these weren’t the baits to use. They kept getting hung up on underwater lily stems. So we switched to black & gold floating Rapalas.

On the third cast, wham! Chris had a good-sized fish on. It fought vigorously and as we got it to the boat, we could see that it was a nice sized largemouth bass, about 3 pounds. We let it go.

It was late afternoon and as we floated along the shoreline, we could see the water breaking and swirls in many places. Wham!! Chris had another bass on. What a fighter! This one was 2-3 pounds. We let it go.

When was it going to be my turn? I saw a opening in the lily pads that looked like a place where I wouldn’t get my lure caught. So I casted. The instant it hit the water -- wham bam!! I had a fish on that didn’t give in to my line pressure at all. It moved through the weeds at will. I couldn’t play it. All I could do was hang on. It was moving the canoe around!

After quite a while, I was finally coaxing the monster toward the canoe. The water was so dark we couldn’t see what it was at first. Then there- next to the boat- there it was. A huge bass. I eventually got my hand on its lower lip and pull it out of the water. What a beauty!  We could only guess at the weight, but I’ll very conservatively say 6 pounds. My son wanted to lift it. So I gently passed it to him. He kind of shrieked when he felt the fish’s full weight. He had never hefted such a large fish before. We let it go.

Needless to say, the rest of the afternoon was excellent. We caught many bass, the smallest of which was about a pound and a half. We had a lot of near misses and we saw hundreds of surface swirls.

We had circled the whole lake and it was getting to be suppertime. My wife and I were talking about quitting but my son sure wasn’t. He had never experienced this kind of fishing before and he sure didn’t want to quit now. But I told him we could make only a couple more casts.

There it was! Another swirl and we could see the dorsal fin, a huge fin. Chris got there first with his lure. Suddenly, wham bam double slam!!! As I looked at Chris, I could see the apprehension on his face. You know, the kind of look that says ‘please take the rod’. But Chris hung on. This fish was enormous. What a fight! What an endurance contest! Old Mo, as Chris named it, broke the water and up it went shaking its head violently. This thing was way bigger than my "6 pounder" by a long shot. Then it was gone! Just like that. It had thrown the lure. We just sat there. We couldn’t believe it. We would have let it go anyway. But we just wanted the satisfaction of bringing it in, of seeing it up close.

As we were leaving, I asked Chris if he ever wanted to come back to this lake. He just looked at me with a look like "you’ve got to be kidding".