Wild in the Wilderness

Fly Guys Head North for Trophy Predatory Pike.

Warm air rushes over the exposed Canadian Shield rocks and scrubby evergreens that encircle both Northern Saskatchewan’s Pilling Lake and us - the only anglers for at least 50-miles in any direction.

I strip out 15-yards of nine-weight floating fly-line into the now rippled water, and roll a large, bushy fly out in front of me.

Loading the stiff rod, I backcast, ripping the deceiver from the frigid water, unfurling 10-yards of line behind my head before I bring my elbow down hard and shoot the cast 25-yards toward the shoreline. The fly follows the line’s tight loop and plops down, light as a feather, just a few feet from the overgrown shore. Tinsel glimmers in the sunlight. I strip three quick pulls and as the bushy presentation suspends above the blackness of the drop-off, I scan the water for movement. The telltale swirl of a predatory northern pike breaks the surface nearby. Like a shark stalking its prey, the pike surfaces for a moment before it savagely attacks.

Slashing at the fly with an explosive splash, its massive, toothy jaws gnash into my presentation, driving it beneath the surface. My rod bends in response and I set the hook hard and dramatic. Instantly, fly-line peels off the reel as the pike makes the initial panic run once it feels the steel. Yards of line disappear and I can’t do a thing about it. It’s a powerful run that would do any pelagic predator proud.

I finally regain control of the situation. Using the leverage afforded by the large arbor reel, I begin the give and take battle that ends with me holding a 45-inch northern pike up for the camera before gently releasing it to feed another day. After I received dirty looks an hour earlier for daring to photograph a specimen under 35-inches, I finally had a catch worthy of the lens. A pike over 40-inches is a quality fish, but 45-inches plus is a true trophy.

I breathe deep and shake the lactic acid from my arm. That makes it a baker’s dozen for me, and it’s not even time for lunch. Pro-caster Scott Baker-McGarva and I stand in our 14-foot aluminum lake-boat less than 100-yards from our companions in their similar craft. Beyond that, the Canadian Shield stretches to infinity. Within Saskatchewan alone, the Shield, one of Earth’s oldest geologic formations, holds more than 100,000 fishable lakes and is an inland fishery like no other.