Typically, I would reserve this Trip Logs section of my Website for true wilderness expeditions, and not vacations to so-called "wilderness resorts." However, because I had such a good time last weekend, I will make an exception - just this once.

Ever since I was in high school, my dad and I talked about going on a fly-in fishing trip someday. We had pictures in our heads of white-knuckle floatplane rides, undeveloped wilderness, pristine Canadian lakes, and fish so big they could swim away with small humans in their mighty jaws. I went on to college, however, and as the years passed by, that fishing trip took a seat on the back burner.

Then one day, I guess the old man couldn't take it anymore, and informed me that we would be doing this trip very, very soon. We did some Internet research and talked to a few people who had done similar outings, and ended up booking a four-day excursion to a remote lodge 40 miles north of Fort Frances, Ontario. The place was called Slippery Winds, and seemed to have everything we were looking for.

Another north country winter came and went, and soon it was early summer; and time to dig out the tackle boxes and rods that have been doing nothing but collecting dust for at least the last five years. We met in International Falls, Minnesota on a particularly warm June evening and got everything ready to head into the bush the next morning.

We took off from Rainy Lake right around sunrise, and soon we could see nothing but green forest and big lakes in every direction. Near the border, there were cabins here and there, but the farther we went, the less we saw. Soon we were over untouched Canadian wilderness, and I thought of the Gary Paulsen book I read as a kid, "Hatchet." In the book, a small plane went down over country just like this, and a young boy had to survive on his own until he was rescued months later.

I had my "Oh Shit Box" with me, basically a survival kit containing everything I'd need to make a home in the bush should the unthinkable happen, but opening it was not in our cards that morning. After a 25-minute flight, we made a hot landing on Yoke Lake and taxied to the docks at the lodge, where a hot breakfast of bacon and eggs was waiting for us.

Float pilots are definitely a little crazy, and rightfully so. When I was training for my private license, I landed on paved runways and grass strips, but landing on water is something else entirely. Not to mention the skill involved in taxiing and docking a plane in a shallow, rocky lake channel.

The lodge was located on one big, multi-thousand acre lake, but there were a total of six different lakes for us to explore; each one undeveloped and crystal clear. These were reached by portaging, and the other lakes had boats already on them, gassed up and ready for us to use. Maintaining the equipment on these other lakes really keeps the guides up there busy!

Getting to one of the lakes in particular was a rather lengthy process; involving a multi-stage portage down a creek, past a waterfall, and over a large beaver dam, and THEN a hike through the woods. It felt like we were in the BWCA, ony we had motorboats and we could take a hot shower in our cabin every night. That was definitely a plus.

There was even a bear in camp a few times, a young black bear with an unusual brown coat. Apparently, the bear has been becoming something of a nuisance lately, despite the proprietor's repeated attempts to discourage it by means of a flare gun.

All in all, Slippery Winds was everything I would expect a wilderness fishing camp to be. It wasn't very big at all, and with the different lakes, we could fish all day and not see another soul until we came back to the lodge. It might be a few years, but I will definitely be back there someday.