It was early morning and I had all the necessary gear waiting at the side of the plane dock ready to be loaded onto the otter for a flyout destination, Branson's Lodge.

As the time came, my guest, Aivars Slucis, doctor of Radiology in Mora, Minnesota and I were warned by Glen (pilot) that the flight might be in vain as heavy cloud cover to the south could prevent us from landing in the rocks and canyons surrounding our destination. But, we took off with the hope that the sky would clear enough to allow the plane to land safely. As we made our way further south it became evident that that was not to be the case. After making several attempts to find breaks in the clouds, Glen decided to turn north and head back to the lodge. When we arrived I quickly began to unload the gear from the plane so as not to waste anymore of the day. With some quick packing and makeshift organization of my boat and tools, we were finally fishing bound and on the water. The spot I had in mind was Caribou Point; a long, narrow peninsula some 30 minutes ride southwest of the lodge. The area around the point had been good to me so far this year and there were a few spots I had yet to try.

Approximately 15 minutes into our ride I noticed fog moving in fast and low from the southeast. It crept the shoreline and slowly made a thick shroud that encompassed the entire point and much of the area surrounding it. I decided to turn around and head due north to the outer stretches of an island chain known as the Narkays, to a reef I had found a week before. I was close to the reef, as per my distance counter on my GPS, I slowed down and began scouting the area with my sonar and looking for fish holding in the area and distinct changes of depth around the reef. Just as I had come up with the trolling strategy for the reef, a boat pulled up out of the fog and made its way toward us. As it drew closer I could see that it was guide Pat Alexander and his guest Alf Taylor. The two of them had been camping on the north shore near the Bloody River some 27 miles from the lodge. Pat asked us to join them at the Bloody River to fish but Aivars was reluctant because of the boat ride.

After about an hour of riding in the boat we broke through the fog and found ourselves less than a mile from our destination which was a shoal that runs from east to west across the mouth of the bay. I pulled up, turned on the sonar and began looking through my tackle for the proper lure. To match the grayish light of the sun behind the fog I wanted something lighter in color but not quite florescent; something with a soft but solid color and flashy silver sheen on the backside. The lure of choice for the conditions became the solid pink Husky Jr. by Eppinger. I put the spoon on the end of the line and dropped it down letting out line until we had approximately 75 feet behind us. I began trolling a zig zag or switch back pattern on the north ridge of the shoal heading east as a general direction. I was changing speed a lot, letting the motor fall into neutral rather than reverse so as to sink the spoons or let them flutter slowly down.

I would follow this up by putting the motor back into forward and giving about 1/4 throttle for about 3 or 4 seconds, then repeat. I was basically jigging the spoon entirely with the boat. After approximately 5 minutes we got our first strike! The fish turned out to be a strapping 20 pound trout. It hit the spoon as it was fluttering down when I put the boat into reverse. The fish was released and we began to fish again. This time, I decided to switch from zig zagging from deep to shallow water to doing large figure eights over the 27 foot hump we had found on the shoal.

Half an hour went by without even a hit, which isn't long but it always seems like hours. I was about to turn right and begin the slow outer turn of my figure eights. I started dropping the motor back into neutral and then reverse. When I put the motor back into forward and gave it some gas. My guest's St. Croix rod continued to bend as the boat moved forward. I toyed with the thought of a hang up for a moment then two good pumps assured me that we had a fish on! I asked Aivars how it felt in terms of size and spunk and he replied, "it felt larger than the last one". the fish don't seem eager to fight". In fact, his rod was right beneath the boat in a matter of 10 minutes! It was then that I realized the size of the fish that he was fighting. I could see down close to the bottom and it looked like a blue pig with fins. I started to worry that the 17 pound Berkely trilene XT could break under the stress so I warned Aivars to take it slowly.

The fish slowly moved itself towards the surface until it was sitting at the depth of about 6 feet. It made two quick short runs and then seemed to relax again. Slowly Aivars eased it towards the boat until it was about 3 feet from us. In a last desperate attempt to shake the hook, the fist opened it's huge mouth and began shaking his head back and forth. It was all in vain when the shaking ceased. The hook was caught firmly in the corner of the fish's mouth. It was time to play the waiting game.

I had my cradle in my hands looking for the perfect window to slip it under the fish and complete the job. I knew that if I went for the cradle too early the fish could dive and ruin all chances of landing it. On the other hand, if I waited too long it would jeopardize all the fish's chances of survival. Just then, I saw the back of the "blue pig with fins" break the water. His tail was toward us...I went for the cradle. Five seconds later I had one arm of the cradle hooked under the gunnel of the boat while Aivars silently held the other one in order to allow me to free the lure from the fish's mouth.

It was 12:30 p.m., the fish was out and time for the measuring tape. It was 53" long and 34 1/2 " girth!! The fish was way off the scale of weights that we had so finding the weight would have to wait until after the photo session. Snap, snap, snap for 20 seconds and the fish was back home swimming away from the boat. Grinning, Aivars worked out the weight of the fish on the back of a film box; 78.85 pounds!!!!! "A new world record"! Aivars kept saying..."All he wanted from his trip was a 30 pound lake trout!"