Look, there’s just something oddly thrilling—almost like cracking open a cold one on a hot day—about poking around a lake you’ve never stepped foot near. It’s that “what’s behind this bend” feeling, you know? That slight flutter you get when you’re holding a map and wondering if this random blue blob holds a monster with a face full of razors.

And yeah, gas ain’t cheap, and weekends fly by faster than a mayfly hatch, so, like, why waste time guessing? Google Maps—yeah, that thing you usually use to find burger joints—is actually, in some respects, one of the best tools a pike junkie can mess with from the couch.

Pike aren’t, like, overly complicated fish, but they do have their weird preferences. Kind of like your uncle who insists hot dogs need peanut butter.

So anyway, when you’re scanning satellite view, here’s what tends to get a northern’s motor running:

• Back bays with, like, a bit of green soup — That mucky weed mess that warms up fast? It’s basically like an all-you-can-eat brunch for the fish.

• Sharp ledges or those little pointy peninsulas — Almost always spots where the deep drops off quick. Pike kind of love that setup.

• Spots where creeks sneak into lakes — Usually there’s food washing in, and that’s kind of like ringing the dinner bell for anything with teeth.

• Logs, big boulders, junk from a storm — Stuff lying around underwater gives pike places to hang back like a villain in the shadows.

Some of it’s obvious, but, like, sometimes it’s that subtle patch of shadow you nearly skipped over that ends up being the golden ticket.

Alright, let’s get into the weirdly satisfying process of digital fish-snooping.

🛰️ Try Satellite View and Don’t Be Shy With the Zoom Button

Honestly, flip it to satellite mode and just start bouncing around. Zoom in ‘til it’s a mess of pixels, then zoom back out like you’re rebooting your brain. Darker water patches? That’s usually weeds. Sandy-looking spots? Maybe shallows. That weird green halo around the shoreline? Could be cabbage or coontail.

Basically, just stare at the screen long enough, and your brain starts seeing stuff. It’s kind of fun in a nerdy way.

🗺️ That Terrain View Button? Yeah, It’s Got a Purpose

If you hit that terrain toggle, you’ll notice hills, ridges, and all that topography stuff. A steep hill by the lake often means a steep drop under the water, and guess what? That’s usually prime ambush turf. Flat as a pancake shoreline? That might be more beach than bite zone, unless it’s early spring or something.

🌊 Don’t Just Look at the Obvious Lakes Everyone Talks About

So this one’s kind of key—don’t just punch in Lake BigDeal and call it good. Sometimes it’s the no-name puddle off a sketchy-looking trail that ends up holding the real dinosaurs.

Try this: just scroll around the general area you’re curious about—no names, no expectations—and zoom in on any blue blob that looks like it might fit a canoe. Those are the ones that people sleep on.

Ok, so this sounds dumb, but Street View is kind of your backdoor into figuring out if you can actually get to the lake without trespassing or bushwhacking like a maniac.

You might see:

• Some crusty old boat launch that still works

• A dirt patch with tire ruts that screams “someone parks here and fishes”

• Trails that kinda snake off toward the trees

If there’s no Street View, don’t worry. Zoom in and check out if there’s a forest service road, a logging trail, or just some rutted-out path that suggests folks might be hauling in kayaks now and then.

Google can get you close, but, like, if you want the full scoop, you kind of have to sniff around elsewhere.

Try:

• Fishing forums – Sometimes messy, sometimes gold.

• Facebook groups with names like “Mabitoba Pike Freaks” – Ask a vague question, then just read the chaos unfold.

• Apps like Fishbrain or Navionics – They drop waypoints where other people caught stuff. Use that info wisely (or sneakily).

Let’s say you find this suspiciously fishy-looking bay on Google Maps, and then some guy three provinces over casually mentions that exact spot and a 41-incher he landed there last fall? Yeah. That’s not a coincidence. That’s fate texting you in all caps.

So yeah, not every lake is gonna be magic. Some are, in fact, really boring. Here’s what should make you raise an eyebrow and say, “ehhh… maybe not.”

• Wide, shallow puddles with nothing going on — If it looks like a soup bowl and there’s no depth or cover, it probably sucks. Sorry.

• Surrounded by “NO TRESPASSING” signs and angry geese — Like, you could sneak in… but maybe just don’t?

• Lakes with, like, 14 rental pontoon boats parked next to a beach volleyball net — That noise tends to freak out the bigger fish. And you. Let’s be real.

So now your Google account is full of pins, notes like “good weed blob” or “maybe a trail here?”, and you’re just kind of itching to go. Cool. But now, ya gotta go.

Put together a quick “spot-check” list. Pick one or two of your best guesses and just try them. Worst-case? You waste some gas and end up casting into silence. Best-case? You find a spot so good you don’t tell your buddies about it.

Honestly, sometimes it’s that weird backwater with no real parking and zero cellphone reception that ends up coughing up a fish of a lifetime. That’s just how it works sometimes.

Google Maps can’t feel the breeze off the lake. It can’t tell you if the fish are biting, or if the weeds are nasty, or if there’s a moose standing where you were about to cast.

But it can help you get a little closer to the kind of water that’s got some mystery in it. And mystery, frankly, is what keeps us coming back.

So throw on a hoodie, open the laptop, and let your curiosity go rogue for a while. That next pin you drop? It might be where the big girl’s been hiding this whole time.