Travel Diary — Ontario Part 2

Jocelyn LeBlanc
2 days ago
4 min read

Part 2 — Saugeen, the wind and Georgian Bay

The first day on the Saugeen River was mostly a day of exploration.

Many kilometers. Many country roads. Many stops trying to find access points where I could actually wade in my waders, because the Saugeen isn't a small, intimate river like some of the rivers on Lake Ontario. It's wide. Very wide in places. A real big river with a strong current, long pools, and a lot of water to cover.

I drove up towards Walkerton. That town rang a bell. It was the site of the major water contamination tragedy in the early 2000s. I vaguely remembered it. A story that had affected all of Canada.

I stopped at a small local fishing shop. Another great spot. Good people. I chatted with them for a bit, asked for some advice on water levels and accessible areas. They directed me to an access point near the concession on Route 10.

The day was magnificent. Sunshine. A bit of wind. But a truly beautiful spring day. I went to access point number 7, if I remember correctly. There was a lovely spot to set up camp near the river. Quiet. Clean. Natural.

Exactly what I was looking for.

In the afternoon, I started exploring the Saugeen River. The first evening, I saw a few fish. A few movements. A few follows on my fly. But nothing concrete. No fight. No real contact. Then, late in the evening, just before going back to eat, I saw it. A huge steelhead. A real giant. Probably around 8-10 kilos. One of the biggest steelheads I've ever seen up close. The fish was stationary there, calm, in shallow water. I started presenting it with different flies. No reaction. Then suddenly, everything changed. The fish started rising to the surface. Small flies were coming out, and it was eating them right in front of me. Slowly. Confidently. An incredible sight. The problem was, I was rigged up to fish with a wet fly. I quickly changed my setup. I added a dry caddis. A rusty orange one, recently mounted by my friend Didier Lafleur, which he had sent me in the mail not long ago. The steelhead has been mounted on it twice. Twice.

But without ever touching the fly. I then followed it along the river. The fish was drifting calmly downstream, rising to the surface in different spots.

I threw him everything. Small dry flies. Hoppers. Sedges. Blue Wing Olives. Small emergers. Nothing. He came to look. He inspected. He ignored everything. I even went back to Didier's famous rust-orange caddis. Once again, he stepped onto it… without ever taking it. The fish were moving close to the banks, sometimes in less than two feet of water, completely in control. And me… completely obsessed with that one fish.

I tried until the dead of night. Until the very last minute. But that steelhead never gave me a chance.

I finally returned to the camper, thinking that perhaps our paths would cross again the next day. That night, it was milder than the other nights of the trip. Maybe 9 or 10 degrees Celsius. I didn't use the heating as much. I slept soundly. A really good night's sleep.

And honestly, I needed it. Because deep down, this trip isn't just a fishing trip. It's a trip to see the country. To explore. To meet people. To see different cultures. To discover other ways of experiencing rivers. It's also a way to confront myself a little. To observe what's happening around me. To see nature in a different context. To understand the different seasons, the different behaviors of the fish, the different techniques, the different mindsets. All those things that deeply fascinate true anglers.

The next morning, I woke up at a leisurely pace. Several people were near the boat launch preparing their canoes to go down the river. I decided to try the entire river again, still using the drowning technique. But that day… nothing. Not a single fish. I saw absolutely nothing. However, I did see something else. The river. The trees. The birds. The light rain that sometimes fell gently, and then suddenly thunder flashed across the surface. The wind picked up considerably. Strong enough to break tree branches that fell near me.

At that moment, I understood that the Saugeen trip was going to be postponed. I decided to hit the road again.

Destination: Georgian Bay.

I headed to Tobermory to catch the ferry to South Baymouth on Manitoulin Island. And honestly… what a magnificent place. The Bruce Peninsula is spectacularly beautiful. The water of Lake Huron is so clear it almost looks like the sea in some places. Greens. Turquoise blues. Colors that almost reminded me of certain images of the French Riviera.

The ferry crossing takes approximately 1 hour and 50 minutes. A superb boat, operated by the local Indigenous communities. A magnificent vessel adorned with beautiful Indigenous artwork and paintings.

The crossing itself is a spectacle. Islands everywhere. Rock formations.

The light striking the water. The turquoise waters of Georgian Bay constantly changing color. The Manitoulin Islands practically form a natural boundary across this entire section of Georgian Bay. It's difficult to properly explain in words.

You have to see it.