Thursday, July 15, 2025. The first part of our ride is really choppy, as shown in this video.
One reason we booked a return trip to Plummer’s Arctic Trophy Lodge was because the guide we had last year, Manny, said we’d be able to go to a cabin that people seldom use, which is near good fishing spots seldom fished. When we told Aidan that our hearts had been broken when we learned Manny wasn’t able to return this year, Aidan agreed to take us to the cabin. He spent extra hours packing up camping gear last night and our boat is full of supplies when we greet him at the boat in the morning.
We head to the cabin on Good Hope Bay.
Because I had told Aidan that caribou were on my bucket list, he drives the boat closely along a steep, cliff-like area. We are cruising along, looking hard at the hillside when he says, “Rock…oh never mind.” Then he slows down suddenly and says, “The rocks started moving. That’s a mom caribou and calf!”
The mom took her newborn calf behind some trees, hid for a moment and finally stepped out where I could take the second shot. The calf never moved from behind her mom. The photo above, right, is greatly zoomed in and shows that the mom had a split antler on her right side and no antler on her left side. My first caribous ever! And here’s something we didn’t know until we looked it up online: male caribou drop their antlers in November or December after mating in the fall; female s drop their antlers after giving birth. So it’s possible, the female I saw had dropped half her antlers and had yet to drop the other half. How cool!
I ran this video to show more of the shoreline. The shoreline continued to amaze me because I ihad magined the tundra mostly to be flat, with sensitive plants. The steep slopes and rugged shoreline were amazing.
En route we also see these ducks, which are mostly white-winged scoters.
In the top right photo, the bird in front is a male surf scoter.
Above and to the left are white-winged scoters.
These are surf scoters.
This is a shot of the sun reflecting on the water of Good Hope Bay. It was 9:30 in the morning. This video does this setting much more justice.
As we fish near the cabin, we see an immature bald eagle flying around nearshore. It swoops at something and we see a seagull take to the air with something in its mouth, the eagle in pursuit.
En route to the cabin–and perhaps three football fields away–is a cabin, a shed, a tent and other structures owned by a Canadian man who flies in each summer for the entire summer, along with at least one dog. As we ride by via boat, he walks from his cabin to the white tent. He looks up but does not wave.
I have brief thoughts of weird things happening to us during our brief stay at the cabin. But they pass quickly because it’s not like there are a lot of suspects out in these parts.
This is the cabin Manny had mentioned last year. It looked like a “UP Special” to me–the type of structure one might see in Michigan’s upper peninsula, made of plywood and held together with a few nails, a little paint and a prayer. I ran this video as we approached.
Up close, the cabin exceeded my expectations in that, from a distance, the window looked like a gaping hole. It was, in fact, a sealed window that kept out the bugs.
I did not, however, at first notice the lack of a door knob, the hole for which only needed a sign for bugs: “Enter here.”
The inside of the cabin contained plywood bunkbeds, a couple of chairs, a stove-like contraption, a crate with a few miscellaneous items, and some worthless sinks–a single sink on top of the bunk beds (to the left of my head in the photos), and, to the left of the photo, a pair of sinks on the floor. I also notice a small pile of pine cone bits from an animal’s chew-feast on the table, and a pile of some kind of scat and a huge pile of pine cone bits on the floor by the door…along with a hole in the flooring that let some creature come and go.
As Aidan unloads a big tote consisting of inflatable mattresses and sleeping bags, I also notice one piece of plywood on the floor rotten enough to give way, so I point that out to Mark in the hopes neither of us will stumble over–and through–it.
Having lightened the load in the boat, I use the restroom that is the great outdoors and shot this video. The view was amazing. My mosquito pals are seemingly endless. It is the second time in my life I wish I have a tail.
Around the corner is another set of structures, including an old cabin that was once used by trappers back in the day. It made our cabin look like the Taj Mahal.
We fish for a couple of hours in the area of Good Hope Bay, with no big fish to show for our efforts. When I announce it is time for a shore break–because my goal is to never use the coffee can in the boat like I did last year–Aidan takes us to shore and once, again, we get to walk around.
One of the birds I see when we stop is this bird, a whimbrel. I’m always amazed to see these birds, especially when they land at the top of a tree.
We also see this little bird in a tree. This one turned out to be a buff-bellied pipit, which was a first for me.
We continue fishing, with little to show for our efforts. I feel a theme developing.
At 12:33 I notice that the wind has stopped and the water calm enough to be perfectly flat. When the color of the water and sky come together, it’s easy to think the world is flat…and that we’re going to boat right off the end of the earth.
I ran this video and noted that when going to the end of the earth, it’s important to go with the right person. I feel blessed that Mark is with me.
This video shows us returning from the end of the earth. It was all part of a very eerie landscape.
In the middle of the afternoon we see this enormous muskox. At first (see first photo, above), I think there are two muskox. But there is only this one, and it’s huge. I have so much respect for these prehistoric animals.
At 3:30 we stop for another break and I climb up a hill behind Aidan and take this video, which gives a great perspective on how hilly the arctic really is.
I also see another small bird quite a ways away and it turns out to be a white-throated sparrow, which we see in Michigan.
I also spend time shooting an arctic bumble bee. I liked it so much I shot a video.
Between rocks I saw several spiders like this one.
We had come, of course, for the lake trout. And in the late afternoon, the fishing turns on.
At 4:26 p.m. Mark gets a lake trout that is black and white. It looks really cool. This video shows the fight Mark had with this fish.
What we love about the lake trout at Great Bear Lake is the variety or morphs, of lake trout. At the top left is the typical lake trout–which we catch in shades of green or silver. Above is a redfin. Below is what is called a butterfly. Look at the size of its pectoral fins compared to the fish in the top left.
They are all beautiful and I will never tire of taking photos.
We fish from 4 p.m. until about 8 p.m. catching small and decent sized fish. We keep one for dinner and it’s not a redfin because Mark and I both like redfin too much.
Sometime after 8 p.m., Aidan finds a nice shore with some sand and rocks and upland area to explore. He begins prepping our dinner; Mark and I go exploring. Above, rocks spotted with lichen.
I noted that every time we got onto shore to take a break, we’d found a trail. This trail is about 50 feet from shore.
I love finding stuff in the arctic. These, I assume, are mushrooms.
This is a plant like none other. Check out this video.
This skull, which is about 4 inches long, is on the ground near a small pond. We guess it’s a baby beaver. Poor thing.
This spot instantly becomes one of my favorites. The selfie at right was taken at 9:22 p.m. This is a video of the area.
Aidan’s fresh trout, french fries and canned corn are super tasty.
We finally catch–okay, Mark finally catches–a fish worthy of being weighed. It’s 30 pounds. Photo taken shortly after 10 p.m.
We keep fishing. The fish keep biting. We agree midnight is our cut-off point. I catch (and we quickly release) a fish at 11:59 p.m.
Between 4 p.m and midnight we figure we’d caught well over 100 fish.
Before we wrap up our day and night, we take a quick selfie. It’s after midnight.
Back at the cabin, Aidan makes a fire. Mark and I don our bug jackets and I discover that even at 12:39 a.m. the mosquitoes are awful. In fact, we end up sleeping with our bug jackets on. This video will show why.
Aidan stays up until 3:30 a.m. and promises he’ll be quiet when he enters the cabin. Such is impossible in such an old, squeaky cabin. So it is that we finally fall into a sound sleep around 3:30 a.m. on July 16, 2025…to the high-pitched buzz of hangry mosquitoes.
