I’ve got this thing for boundary waters and rivers; I love them. For vacation this summer, we decided to head for the St. Lawrence River on the international boundary of the United States and Canada, in the true geographical “upstate” region of New York. As much as city people call this area “upstate.” When you explain where we live to people from most other states in the U.S., it is hard to convince them that being on the southern border of the state along Pennsylvania should be called “upstate,” but I digress. 

Back to the St. Lawrence trip. My GPS said three hours and 51 minutes from my home to Wellesley Island State Park, the largest state park in New York. Under four hours? I thought, wow, I did not realize how close this region is. 

My wife, two-year-old daughter and I hit the road a bit before noon on a Monday. We drove while our daughter napped, but inevitably had to stop a few times and cater to the boat we were trailering, loaded with two bikes plus a bike trailer for Desirae. 

Checking straps and driving through rainstorms, we made it in a little over five hours to the small town of Clayton, NY. We stopped by the Antique Wooden Boat Museum and spoke with a local who ran the museum. It was raining so hard we delayed going to the campground, knowing it would be nearly impossible to set up in weather like this. 

We went to the campground around 6 p.m., set up camp between storms and made a quick meal before going to bed. 

We woke up and had a lovely river view right from our campsite. There were some tents around, but it did not feel too crowded. There are many loops in that campground, ranging from cabins to full RV hookups and tent sites. My daughter was loving the gentle hills of the paved campground road she was biking on. I could tell she was getting more and more comfortable with speed, but this also meant an out-of-control crash was bound to happen. Of course it did, but just like the little girls in her books, she cried a little, brushed it off, and biked all week. 

We were able to have our boat in the water right near our campsite, and the first day during our daughter’s naptime, I was granted a two-hour fishing window. I motored out to some nearby islands and tried to get a sense of the water and fishery. I quickly stumbled upon large schools of small yellow perch chasing my lures in. I wasn’t sold on the spot, so I kept searching. 

There was a small pinch point in the distance among the Thousand Islands; I noticed quite a few boats motoring through and decided to head over there. The man at the boat museum told me not to discount the channel markers. “Fish will hold there in the shadows,” he said. So I threw a cast at the green channel marker, and shortly after I began reeling in my line, I felt a good thud. I set the hook and felt movement, not much, but heavy weight. 

As I pulled against it, I knew it was a large fish. I loosened my drag, knowing it would likely go for a run or two once it neared my boat. I got eyes on it and saw it was a northern pike. I netted the fish, and it was by far the largest one I’d ever caught. A welcome greeting from the river. 

That was the second personal-best fishing moment I had when my wife was on shore nearby. She is my good luck charm in many fashions. 

I botched the photo opportunity with that fish, and it was released to swim another day. 

My whole family was able to get out on the boat for sunset viewing sessions, slow cruises across and through island channels, and even for a full nap session. We had a great trip seeing a variety of wildlife, camping outside, and boating and fishing around the St. Lawrence River. We didn’t think twice about the weather, and stuck to our plan to camp and experience this new place. 

As we were packing up, my wife said, “I’d come back here.” That brought a smile to my face, and we hope to head back next summer with friends and have another great outdoor-based vacation.