In Manitoba, it's called the "bush." It
is millions of acres of roadless forests, dotted by
innumerable lakes and infrequent Indian villages and
accessible only by airplane — usually only those with floats
that can land on water.
Former Minnesotans Pat and Chickie
Harristhal also call it home.
Actually, their home is a modest fishing
lodge on an island in the middle of Family Lake, a
sprawling, 38-mile-long lake in Atikaki Provincial Park,
which straddles the Manitoba-Ontario border.
Shining Falls Lodge is a 35-minute
floatplane ride from the gold-mining village of Bissett,
which lies at the end of a 25-mile dirt road and about a
three-hour drive from Winnipeg.
The Harristhals spend May to September at
their lodge, catering to about 300 fishing guests, many of
whom come from Minnesota and the Twin Cities.
Everything — and everyone — arrives at
Shining Falls by way of a floatplane from Bissett.
That includes the mail, the groceries,
the diesel fuel for the lodge's generator and spare parts
for anything that might break.
Living in the bush has its advantages and
disadvantages, say the Harrithals, who ran a canoe
outfitting business for 16 years in Ely, Minn., until 2001.
"This is one advantage right here,'' said
Chickie, hefting a two-pound walleye over the gunwale of her
boat. It was a Sunday in late June, and the Harristhals,
along with their hired hand, Noah Manns, had just finished
serving six guests a shore lunch of fresh walleyes, baked
beans and brownies.
After the walleyes and brownies were
polished off, the guests dispersed across the lake, and the
Harristhals were then able to spend a rare moment fishing
together, away from their lodge chores.
While Pat operated the 9.9-horsepower
outboard, Chickie cast a pink jig for walleyes. With few
anglers visiting Family Lake, walleye fishing can be superb,
and it wasn't long before Pat directed the boat to a spot
where Chickie began catching one fish after another.
"It's the bush, all right, and there are
some challenging logistics in getting things here,'' Chickie
said, releasing another walleye.
"I order my groceries from a tiny grocery
store in Great Falls (Manitoba) that is about as big as my
dining room,'' she said. "I send them my order online, and I
usually say, 'I'll take all of your produce,' and they'll
send me what they have. It comes 80 miles by dirt road, then
another 60 miles by air. I asked for a head of lettuce the
other day and got a head of cabbage. So, I made coleslaw."
WORK LIFE
The Harristhals have four cabins and can
have 24 guests at one time. Pat, 49, is in charge of
maintaining all the equipment, the generator and the boats;
Chickie cooks for guests, keeps the books, takes
reservations and cleans the cabins. Their only hired help is
Noah Manns and his girlfriend, Elly-zabethe Gillies, who
also spend the summer at the lodge.
Life is anything but slow on the island.
Boats are cleaned daily for guests, who are always eager to
find the best fishing spots. The generator, which provides
electricity to the camp, runs 24 hours a day, so Pat fills
the tank every few days. (The diesel fuel that runs the
generator costs more than $8 a gallon by the time it is
flown into the lodge.)
Chickie cooks breakfast, lunch and dinner
for guests on an outdoor griddle and four-burner stove.
Meals invariably include a fresh salad (or coleslaw) and
freshly baked dessert (apple strudel was a recent offering).
Pat said he misses two things in the bush
— driving his pickup and eating pizza.
Three weeks ago, Chickie put in an order
for a Chef Boyardee pizza-making kit, and it still hadn't
made it on the floatplane. Three weeks had also passed since
Pat's birthday, and a birthday card from his mother still
hadn't arrived.
"It takes a few weeks for things to get
here,'' he said. "But I'd really like that pizza.''
But for every week that passes without
mail or a pizza, they get other amenities in return.
The world's best walleye fishing is at
the end of their dock. They get spectacular sunrises and
sunsets. The only sounds are loons calling every evening in
the bay behind their lodge and the occasional floatplane
buzzing overhead. There is no traffic, no streets, no
freeways. Their nearest neighbors live nearly 40 miles away
at Little Grand Rapids, a Cree Indian village.
"I guess this is the best way to make a
living I can imagine,'' said Chickie, 48, as she landed
another walleye.
HAPPY GUESTS
Bob and Sue Horning of Lake Elmo read a
newspaper article about Shining Falls Lodge when it first
opened, so they talked their neighbors, Jeff and LeeAnn
Leitch, into joining them on a trip. The Leitches work for
3M; the Hornings are retired from Northwest Airlines (he was
a pilot; she was a flight attendant).
Both couples were back at Shining Falls
in late June for their third annual trip to the bush.
"I call it 'roughing it' but with all the
conveniences of home,'' Sue Horning said.
One evening, the couples were in the
lodge comparing notes from their day of fishing on Family
Lake. "It was as fast as you could get your bait down,''
said LeeAnn Leitch, describing the furiously biting
walleyes. "I've never had fishing like that."
Sue had her story of success. She landed
40-inch northern pike she caught while fishing for walleyes.
She landed it on 6-pound-test line.
"It was longer than the tape measure in
the boat, so Bob had to put a notch in the seat, and we
measured it later,'' she said. "Bob got a 39-incher last
year, and we got a replica made of it."
The two couples developed a routine for
their trip. Every morning, they took out a pair of boats for
fishing, exploring familiar spots on the lake and staying in
touch with walkie-talkies. They ate lunch on the lake,
returning for dinner at the lodge and fishing again after
dinner until sunset near 10 p.m. Then, they played cards
late into the evening, during which samples of new wines
were tasted.
This was repeated for almost five days,
with the couples catching nearly 100 walleyes per person.
Most fish were returned to the water. "It was thrill nailing
those fish just like you always hear about,'' said LeeAnn.
On the fifth day, it was time to go home.
Their bags packed, the couples sat forlornly on the dock,
waiting for the floatplane to arrive to take them back to
civilization. They exchanged hugs with Chickie and Pat and
snapped final pictures.
"Remember those sad faces we saw on the
guests going home when we got off the plane?'' LeeAnn said.
"I guess that's us today."
MODERN
TECHNOLOGY
When they sold their Canadian Border
Outfitters canoe business in Ely in 2000, the Harristhals
thought they were retiring. Their twin sons had
left home for college and the National
Guard, and the Harristhals were looking forward to a life
without phones ringing and pancakes frying.
Then, they got the itch to start a new
life running a fly-in fishing lodge. They searched across
Canada, flying from Ontario to Manitoba to Saskatchewan and
the Northwest Territories.
One day, their plane touched down on
Family Lake and beached in front of Shining Falls Lodge,
which had fewer than 200 guests that summer. The lodge is
named after a spectacular pair of rapids near the lodge,
where the Pigeon River flows out of the lake.
The Harristhals took a boat on the lake
and began catching walleye after walleye. They fell in love
with the lodge, bought it and eventually added a dining room
and upgraded the cabins.
They soon found out technology could
bring city life a bit closer to the bush.
They get high-speed Internet service via
a satellite, which allows them to stay in touch with
customers on a daily basis. Their phone service is provided
by voice-over Internet, though they still maintain a
satellite-based phone service as backup.
Their XM satellite radio service means
they can listen to Twins baseball games, too.
All this satellite technology makes it
easier to keep in touch with their customers and family from
the bush, but it also means one annoying product of
civilization can reach them: the dinnertime telemarketing
phone call.
"Someone is always calling us trying to
reach a person named Julia and selling her
pharmaceuticals,'' Chickie said.
When they sold Canadian Border
Outfitters, the Harristhals had 250 canoes in their livery
and catered to more than 3,000 canoeists a year. Their
business is smaller and more intimate these days — they
greet each guest as he or she gets off the floatplane and
post pictures of smiling anglers on their Web site,
www.shining fallslodge.com.
During the off-season, they live in
Piedmont, S.D., which is in the Black Hills. In the winter,
Pat travels around the Midwest to sports shows, including
the Minneapolis Northwest Sport-show, to promote the lodge.
When they met in the 1970s, Pat's father,
Tom, owned Canadian Border Outfitters and Chickie was living
in Ely, where she was raised. Pat invited her to go beaver
trapping one day, so one of their first dates was tromping
across frozen lakes when it was 40 degrees below zero.
"That's when I decided I wanted to marry
her,'' Pat said.
"When we got married, she asked me,
'Well, how much money do you have?' I said $11.72.' She
thought I was kidding, but it was true. I had just sold the
tape deck out of my truck."
As it turned out, money wasn't as
important as falling in love with each other and with the
wilderness.
So, living in the Canadian bush, on an
island, for three months a year is just another adventure
for a couple who love living in the wilderness.
