There’s something magical about hearing the spool of a baitcaster unwind as my favorite Super Spook rockets out across a-glassy bay in the evening mid-July, deep in the heart of the Boundary Waters. The water lies still, disturbed only by a pair of Loons and the gentle drift of our 1994 blue 16ft Lund fishing boat. We were fortunate enough to secure an overnight motor permit to fish the treasured Basswood Lake, granting us rare access to these pristine waters with a little extra mobility. Below the surface, submerged weeds stretched like green fingers, hiding fishing trophies waiting to ambush. Each cast with a Spook or El Chopo carried the promise of an explosion—a sudden, heart-pounding eruption from a smallmouth bass or a northern pike, breaking the silence with a violent splash. It’s the kind of thrill that keeps us day dreaming without rod in hand.
Mastering the Super Spook
The Heddon Super Spook is a favorite for these conditions, and working it creatively can make all the difference. The classic “walk-the-dog” technique—zigzagging the lure across the surface—often draws curious followers. But when the fish are hesitant, switching things up can trigger a reaction bite. A pause mid-retrieve, a sudden twitch, or even a fast, erratic burst can mimic a wounded baitfish and provoke a strike. Sometimes, letting the lure sit motionless for a minute, allowing all to fall calm around the bait, before resuming the retrieve, is all it takes. It was surprising how altering a few strokes could make a large improvement to catch rate.
The Catch and the Chaos
My father and I spent much of our time targeting larger fish holding off the weed edges in deeper water. The results were rewarding—both largemouth and smallmouth bass found their way into our boat. But the real spectacle came from the northern pike. These toothy torpedoes launched themselves from the depths like tarpon, clearing the water entirely in their acrobatic attempts to shake the hook. It was chaos and beauty all at once, a wild reminder of the untamed spirit of the Boundary Waters. Perhaps the violence of their strike on such a calm surface only emphasizes their tenacity. While the pike were always amusing, sometimes missing our baits by a foot or more, the bass blowing up always got our blood surging through our veins. The deeper sound of water erupting when the large bass hit just adds to the anticipation of the fight; and also quickly mentioning ‘Get the net’.
Memories That Stick
The highlight of the trip wasn’t just the fish—it was the time spent with my father. One moment stands out vividly: we hooked a pair of 4-pound largemouth bass at the same time, both rods bent in unison, both of us shouting across the boat in excitement—nothing beats the thrill of yelling “DOUBLE!” on two big fish As the sun dipped behind the treeline and mosquitoes launched their evening assault, we reluctantly wrapped up our sixth “last cast” and motored back to camp. The air buzzed with insects as we roared out of our favorite bay on Basswood Lake, heading into the dusk. We had found fish—good fish—but more importantly, we had found one of those rare, perfect moments where neither of us would have wanted to be anywhere else.
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