Teeth of the ursine and piscatorial variety
Days three and four surrendered several more shallow-running lake trout as we flew out to Tillie and Wolverine lakes, two more fisheries in the Inconnu's concession of 20 lakes and 10 rivers.
Still no sign of the 20-pounder we'd been hoping for, but Shaffer brought us close with a 19-pounder that hit an orange/black spoon in 30 feet of water at the end of the day on Wolverine.
Day five brought us a lot closer to teeth of both the ursine and piscatorial variety.
After four straight days of laker fishing, Shaffer and I loaded up with baitcasters, casting rods, short steel leaders and an assortment of spoons and spinners, which we planned to rip across the weedbeds at Posen Lake for pike.
It took less than 30 minutes of fishing under a steel-gray sky to realize that we were in for a hallmark day as we floated over a handful of mid-lake weedbeds, hooking seven 5- to 15-pound pike on a red-and-white Lucky Strike and chartreuse-and-pink Mepps Aglia.
"Weedbeds are the key to pike in summer and fall," Foley confirmed. "You'll catch them occasionally on the surface, but it's not like the spring, when they're really after topwater stuff.
"This time of year, they'll stay down in the weeds and attack bait as it swims through."
After the early-morning bite cooled, we ran uplake to another expansive weedbed, this one butting up against a shallow shoal that dumped off from 1 to 10 feet at the mouth of a tiny, unnamed creek.
The pike bite came in onesy-twosy fashion, but was replaced by a handful of lakers, which we spotted through our polarized sunglasses as we drifted closer to the creek mouth.
We spent the next couple of hours drifting back and forth across the face of the creek, hooking lake trout to 15 pounds on spoons, spinners and flies, before Heighes and the Lauckhardts motored up to compare notes on the morning.
"Hey, boys, check that out," Heighes said, pointing to a dark shape on the opposite shoreline. "Looks like a griz."
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The basics: The best fishing in the Yukon Territory is on remote lakes and rivers located deep in the wilderness of this 300,000-square-mile Canadian territory. Access to these fisheries is fly-in only, and concessions are tightly controlled by First Nations tribes and four remote lodges. Lodging/outfitter: One of the best of those is the Inconnu Lodge, owned by Warren LeFabve (who father Jack pioneered the first lodge in the territory in 1975). The Inconnu operates from June through September, on a concession that includes 20 world-class lakes and 10 rivers in the McKenzie Range, 185 miles northeast of Whitehorse. The lodge sits on McEvoy Lake, but guests fly via float plane or helicopter to a different fishery every morning (all flights are 40 minutes or shorter). All-inclusive packages include five- and seven-day guided fly-in or float fishing days (flies, lures, waders and tackle are all included), and deluxe accommodations in the lodge, which offers carpeted cabins with private showers, and a 6,500-square-foot main lodge with conference facilities, bar, lounge, game room, laundry, fly-tying station and satellite television. Gourmet meals set the lodge apart — the venison and duck prepared by the Inconnu's Croatian chef are the best I've ever had. The fish: Yukon lake trout typically run 5 to 25 pounds, but 50-plus-pounders have been caught in a handful of lakes. Northern pike range from 5 to 15 pounds, although 30-pounders have been confirmed (the lodge record is 32 pounds). Dolly Varden go 3 to 8 pounds. Arctic grayling run 1 to 3 pounds. You'll also find sheefish (Inconnu), burbot and whitefish. Travel: Flights into Whitehorse depart from Vancouver, B.C. daily via Air Canada and Air North. The lodge provides flights between Whitehorse and McEvoy Lake. Booking: Check out the lodge's Web site, Fly flinging: Flyrodders should bring the following: Hardware basics: Gear fishermen should have the following: |
We stowed the rods and slowly motored across the lake for a closer look, peering through bazooka-size camera lenses until the form of an immature grizzly came into focus.
It was the first I'd seen in the wild, but he was obviously agitated, stalking back and forth along the shoreline in a 20-yard path in front of a stand of willows.
He became even more so as we slowly approached, occasionally standing up on his hind legs and snorting at us.
We were just ready to fire up the motor and leave well enough alone when we realized two things: the shoal ran a lot further out than we thought as our prop brushed against gravel, and the griz had decided to leave his shoreline patrol to enter the water.
He'd made it to within 20 yards, standing on his hind legs and roaring at us before we managed to maneuver the boat away from the shoal and fire the motor up.
Note to self: 20 yards of water between self and a grizzly is too damn close.
"That griz probably had a kill down on the shore," Heighes said once we'd cut the motor again and drifted back near the mouth of the creek (which we're now calling Grizzly Hole). "You guys just about had him in your boat."
The hair on the back of my neck was just settling down after the grizzly encounter when I was jolted to attention again by a jarring strike on my DareDevle, followed by a heavy, steady run that peeled 40 yards of line. This was obviously something bigger than we'd seen, yet, and Foley knew it immediately.
"That's the big one," he said as he and Shaffer reeled in and started to break out the camera gear. It took 10 minutes to coax the big fish close enough to get a look at it; but when we finally saw it, it became very apparent that we'd broken the 20-pound mark.
We eased the big fish close enough to shore to get out and photograph it, and when I finally lifted out of the water for a brief picture, it looked all of 25.
Not even half as big as the lodge record of 52 pounds, but still the biggest laker I'd ever caught (and from 10 feet of water). It looked nothing like the gray, mottled fish I'd caught at Priest, Tahoe or Chelan, instead sporting deep yellow and orange sides and stomach that mirrored the color of the September leaves.
At the lodge that night, we gaped in amazement at the Northern Lights (visible through most of the Inconnu's summer and fall season) and scrolled through the photos on Heighes' digital camera.
His boat had finished the day with several pike and lake trout on flies, and one 44-inch pike that eclipsed the veteran guide's personal best by several inches.
Novy couldn't resist asking as we headed back to the guest cabins to pack for the morning departure back to Whitehorse, "So? What did you think?"
It was an easy answer: "Yep, Fred, I bleeping loved it."
Seattle-based free-lance writer Joel Shangle is the radio host of "Northwest Wild Country Outdoors" and "B.C. Wild Country."
