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Arising in a string of peat filled bogs in northern Saskatchewan, the Kazan River begins life in a most unassuming manner. In Inuk language Kazan means “place of much fast flowing water” and it is well named. Flowing placidly northwest with no real hint of the grandeur to come, its course soon becomes a cartographers nightmare as it enters the Northwest Territories. It disects a myriad of sprawling arctic lakes with short but powerful lengths of river connecting them. These short stretches of river teem with world class Arctic Grayling as well as firm, thick bodied Lake Trout that seemingly hit anything. It’s incredible light tackle sport. The lakes within the system remain virtually unfished and harbour trout of enormous proportions as well as gigantic pike lurking in the back bays. The river soon becomes substantial as it carves its way north through the tundra for over 1000 kilometres before finally spilling into the ocean at Baker Lake. It’s a land of caribou, muskeg, broad sweeping vistas, wild water and fish. A Canadian Heritage River, it’s one of our country’s crown jewels and a land that only a fortunate few ever get to experience. The name “Kazan” has always resonated within me. As a young boy and later a young man possessed by the desire to explore, the river was always a dream. I vividly recall reading an account by Bill Mason as his group travelled its entire length by canoe, captivating my imagination and planting a seed. Recently that dream became a reality as I had the opportunity to visit this untamed land, staying at a rustic outpost camp located on a widening of the river called Tabane Lake. Operated by Kasba Lodge, the outpost is one of the very few operating within Nunavut, making it even more special. As much as I love lodges - and I do - I’ve always been more of a single cabin outpost kind of guy. Joining me on this adventure was my young son Brendan as well as my old friend Joe Kondrat and his boy Cam. It was the father-son fishing trip of a lifetime - one that inspired. astounded and amazed us. I hope you enjoy the tale… Kasba Style Kasba Lodge has long been considered one of Canada’s premier angling destinations since they first opened their doors for business in 1975. Owned and operated by the Hill family they set the bar pretty high for everyone else. As our hosts at the Kazan outpost I had zero doubt we’d be well taken care of and as it turned out I was right. The amazing thing is getting to and from camp was easier than many of the usual fly in trips I do. All of Kasba’s trips originate out of Winnipeg so we flew out of Pearson in Toronto the day before and stayed overnight at the 4 Points Sheraton located right at the airport. The only negative was the shocking loss of my rod tube by the airline, it didn’t arrive in Winnipeg with us. This caused much consternation on my part. I knew I’d get them eventually, but would it be in time? We were slated to fly into the lodge early the next morning via charter aircraft. If they didn’t show up on time I’d have been in trouble. Thankfully at 11pm I received a call on my cell from baggage services saying the rods had arrived and we hustled over to the terminal to grab them. Disaster averted. There was a large group of anglers flying into the lodge with us and we met early the next morning in the lobby for coffee before grabbing a shuttle bus over to our plane. As most anglers are on the eve of a big trip everyone was in great spirits including both of our boys. This was a big deal to both of them. The plane itself was pretty cool, an old twin prop affair which I was told used to be British military. A rugged old girl, she had large spongy oversized wheels tailer made for landing on beaches or fishing lodge airstrips. I knew it was old right away as there was actually tiny ashtrays in the arm rests. Opening one up I found remnants of cigarette ash still lingering. The bunch of us quickly boarded and strapped in, including a number of Kasba guides, a couple of dogs and some happy guests eagerly anticipating the first week of the season. Weather was perfect as the plane droned ever northward, all of us craning for a peek out the small oval shaped windows in the plane. We stopped briefly in Lynn Lake, Manitoba to refuel then we were airborne again winging our way ever northward finally arriving at Kasba Lodge 45 minutes later. Bumping down on the dusty gravel runway we taxied up to a large group of people waiting at the end with a huge old flat bed truck next to them. What amazed me more than anything was the sight of vast sheets of ice still covering large portions of Kasba lake. If there was any doubt as to just how far north we really were that was laid to rest. Stepping off the plane we were greeted warmly and the Kasba team set about unloading the planes cargo into the bed of the truck. At Kasba’s request all of our things were tagged with our names and our assigned a cabin number, the Kasba tags were there for us in the hotel lobby when we checked in. This allowed the staff to deliver everyone’s gear to its proper place as we were ushered into the main lodge for breakfast. Our tags read “Kazan Outpost”. During breakfast we were approached by a lovely young woman who took or ID and filled out paperwork for our Nunavut fishing licenses, handing them to us in a small waterproof pouch with Kasba stamped on them. Honestly I’ve dealt with a lot of outfitters over the years and these guys really do think of every single detail. Very impressive! Upon finishing we met with the chef regarding our food menu. Kasba supplies the outpost camp guests with all of of the same 5 star food they feed their lodge guests, and the menu was impressive! Steaks, chicken, ribs, burgers, fresh veggies, salad, cold cuts, bread, bacon and eggs, the list goes on. After that I had time to sit down with Matt Hill, son of the owners, assistant manager and guide at the lodge. Right from day one Matt had been the guy I dealt with directly and he honestly is a truly nice young man with an obvious passion for the north. Spreading a large map out on a table he offered a few suggestions as to where we might start fishing once we arrived. Funnily enough he was marking spots literally all over the map - there was a lot of water to cover, both lake and river and by all accounts the fish were everywhere. Ambling down to the float plane dock we checked out the lodge boats (very nice!) then proceeded to load the Beaver with all of our gear and provisions. Matt saw us off and in no time at all the pilot revved old Beaver aircraft and we were on our way. As you’ll see in this video clip of our flight in, the sheets of ice still floating on the lake were impressive. Being part of a large river river system I wasn’t overly concerned about ice where we were headed, but it gave pause for thought. As you’ll see later in my tale it foreshadowed what was to come… Alone In The Wilderness It was a bit windy so the pilot deftly maneuvered the plane in backwards beside the dock and tied it off. With the plane secured we set about unloading and hauling all of our gear up the short hill to the camp. It’s not the ritz, but like everything Kasba does it’s clean, tidy and perfectly functional. Considering just how far off the grid it is I was pleasantly surprised at how nice it was. There’s a large and much needed screen porch in front - a most welcome haven from the hordes of bugs. Inside the main cabin it’s spartan. One main room with bunks at one end, a table and chairs in the middle, and a kitchen at the other end. Propane fridge and stove, hot and cold running water and the big bonus - a small bathroom with a flush toilet and shower! The pilot showed us the ins and outs of the camp, then in a rush as all pilots seem to be he hopped in his plane gave us quick wave and was off. I stood on the dock watching the small plane grow smaller against the horizon then finally disappear. Just like that we were left alone in the middle of a vast roadless wilderness. Have to admit it felt pretty good. Big Rapids And Big Trout It took us while to organize the camp, put our gear together and ready the boats. By the time we hit the water it was around 3pm and the skies were threatening a bit. Joe and his son Cam sped off to the south with the idea being to explore Tabane lake and not stray too far from camp. On my end I had a one track mind. My main goal this day was to suss out the rapids downstream from camp to see how difficult it was to reach Ennadai the next big lake in the chain. It’s a mammoth lake and very little is known or documented about it. Leading up to this trip I’d spent hours poring over topo maps and satellite imagery and by the time Bren and I left the dock I was practically foaming at the mouth to get going and see it for myself. I took things a bit gingerly at first as certain areas of Tabane are quite shallow. The last thing I wanted to do was a bust a prop before we even got going. Later in the trip after learning where to navigate I sped around at full throttle everywhere, but not on this day. Eventually we found the outlet of the river and began our descent. “This” I bantered to my boy “is a piece of cake!” The river was powerful, but mostly broad and smooth flowing. The first few sets of riffles I navigated through were almost too easy. Then I turned a bend in the river and far ahead saw the standing waves of a more substantial piece of river real estate. Bren tightened the straps on his pfd while I circled above the rapids to get a better read on them. Finally satisfied I could handle them off we went, shooting this short video in the process: Reaching Ennadai with no difficulty we found the lake as flat as a sheet of glass. There wasn’t a breath of wind. The broad wide open vista of the open lake was breath taking. It’s the kind of landscape that makes you feel small, but in a good way. Straight out from the river mouth was a small rock pile and I made a beeline for it. As we cruised up to it we could see trout dimpling all over the surface in the crystal clear water. We hastily cast out spoons and hooked up immediately. None of the trout were huge but they fought like tigers in the cold water and were aggressive as any fish I’d ever seen. After catching a bunch and getting our feet not just wet, but soaked we continued our exploration. There was a large back bay nearby and I was thinking pike, so off we went. Fishing in the back end of this bay in 4’ of marshy water we caught more lake trout - many more! I immediately realized two things: 1.This lake was crawling with trout and 2.They hit anything. I shot this short video of Brendan, momentous because it was his first ever lake trout and he was quite proud, as well as the amazing back bay action: When you have 24 hour daylight as we did up there you tend to lose track of time when you’re fishing, and that’s exactly what happened. Looking at my watch I was shocked to see it was already midnight! “Bren” I said, “guess what time it is”. Engrossed in the process of landing yet another lake trout he mumbled “that’s nice dad….”. He’s a pretty intense young lad when he’s fishing. Taking the bull by the horns I told him we had to go and we quickly packed things up and headed back upstream towards camp. Sliding into our bay at 1am I was greeted with this remarkable sunset. “Sunset” is not exactly accurate as it never really got any darker than this. It was more of a gloomy twilight in the middle of the night. When I stopped to take the photo Brendan flipped out his spoon right in front of the camp and hooked up immediately. He got a big kick out of that even though he lost the fish… Here’s a short video of our ascent back up the river and Brendan losing the fish right in front of camp: Back at camp I was surprised to see Joe and Cam still up, but they were still on a high of their own. Out on Tabane they’d caught a pile of mid sized lake trout in the 5-8 pound class which was reason enough to celebrate, but they had a story of their own to tell. Skimming across the lake watching his finder Joe found a spot where a shoal arose out of the depths surrounded by deep water. Trolling oversized yellow 5 of diamonds Husky Devle spoons they let out a pile of line once they dropped into the abyss on the other side of the shoal. Trolling a few hundred yards past the hump young Cam hooked into what turned out to be the fish of the day. 38” on the tape, thick and muscular, it put up a heck of a fight. Especially so for a kid who doesn’t fish all that often. Perfect end to a perfect first day… A Moose, A Goose, And A Bunch Of Fish After such a long day none of us were in any rush to get up early. I had to remind myself we’re there for 8 full days, no need to get burnt out right off the bat. Bacon, eggs, toast and good strong coffee for the dads got things off on the right foot this morning. It was a warm bluebird day as well with not a cloud in the sky and a light breeze from the west - perfect! I kind of had a rough game plan in my head where I’d alternate between Ennadai and Tabane and this was going to be a more leisurely day for sure. Brendan and I started things off heading south down the lake where Joe and Cam had fished the day before. There’s a cluster of islands about halfway down that looked interesting on the map. Trolling slowly with oversized Dardevle spoons we picked off fish consistently. As the sun rose higher in the sky it highlighted numerous sunken reefs as well scattered about the lake. With the reefs clearly visible and a perfect breeze to drift us we spent a couple hours casting spoons at the edge of the sunken rock piles. Most often you could actually see the trout streaking out from the rocks to intercept our lures making it particularly heart stopping. It was great fun! In between we picked off a couple of decent sized surprise pike as well. Surprise because these fish were caught off mid lake structure far from the nearest bay. Poking around one of the smaller mid lake islands Brendan was battling a smaller trout to the boat when he suddenly stopped reeling. “Dad, that huge rock over there just moved”. Glancing to my right I saw the biggest cow moose I have ever seen in my life. I honestly wouldn’t want to speculate exactly how big it was, but even from a safe distance it looked ginormous. At its side was a tawny coloured calf and they both lazily munched on leaves while we drifted in closer for a look. As is often the case when there’s babies involved moose and other animals will use islands as protection from predators. We drifted in a close as we dared then spent a good 15 minutes watching both animals as they went about their business. I can only assume they’d never encountered humans before and didn’t perceive us as threats. I think Brendan got as much of a kick out of that as the fishing… After the moose encounter we hit a couple of bays near the south end of the lake in search of pike. In one small rocky bay with a marsh in the back end Bren immediately had a follow from a pike of titanic proportions. Clearly visible in the gin clear water it turned away lazily boatside and finned back into the depths. I raised what I think was the same fish twice more but it wouldn’t commit. In between the panicky excitement we did manage to land a number of thick bodied pike much to my sons delight. Exploring further down the lake we entered a small bay where a pretty substantial little stream tumbled into the lake. It was a natural hotspot and we caught crazy numbers of both pike and smallish lake trout in the deep pool where it entered Tabane. We were on a roll now so we decided to push on a little further and explore the Kazan upstream from camp. We’d yet to see what it looked like and we were itching to find out. On the way there we stopped at a number of bays looking for pike and caught crazy numbers but nothing huge. At one point I was faced with a bit of a decision. There was an incredible looking back bay with a small creek filtering in that looked amazing. Only problem was the entrance was blocked by at least 300 yards of 6-12 inch deep water. “Hmmmm…how badly do I REALLY want to fish this spot?” I thought to myself. I looked at it for a minute or two then broke down lifting the motor and locking it, then hopping out into the shallow water to drag the boat. It was a tough slog, took me at least 15 minutes anyway of heaving, grunting, sweating and cursing. Brendan was a huge help saying things like “Go faster dad!” and “Man are you slow!” Eventually however I did make it in there and I hopped back in the boat with relief and we grabbed our rods. I wish I could say we slayed a bunch of giant pike back in there, that would have made for a great story. The reality was we caught nothing and the going out was even harder (foolishly I tried a different route). As they say though, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Heading upstream from there into the Kazan we stopped at the first good pool we found, a deep swirling beauty that was fed by two different channels as the river flowed around a small island. Almost instantly Bren connected with a beautiful trout, take a look: It was getting a bit late at this point, but I pushed even further upstream as the pull to explore was strong. I’m glad I did as we encountered a phenomenon I’ve never seen before in the bush. A slow section of river was littered with easily over 100 Canada Geese. As we motored up to the pod a large bird charged across the water honking at our boat, flapping its wings but not flying away. Time and again this crazy goose flapped its wings, not flying, but doing a kind of water-walk as it charged our boat threateningly. Finally I revved the outboard a bit as I wanted to get past the flock. They parted like the red sea but not one of them took off, all flapping-waddling madly to escape the wrath of The Boat. We were back at camp at 10:30 pm, early by my usual standards. That comment is kind of tongue in cheek, but not really. It all boils down to what Brendan wants to do and how he’s handling things and most often I need to force him to quit fishing. He’s as hardcore as I am. It’s a nice problem to have. Back Bays And Bruiser Pike Once again the day dawned clear and warm, it appeared as though we were winning the weather lottery on this trip. Most important was the lack of strong wind. The lakes especially could quite easily blow up making them dangerous to navigate. Never one to waste an opportunity we loaded both boats with enough food and provisions for the day and headed downstream into Ennadai Lake. The plan being to target back bays and big pike. Joe is a little greener than me when it comes to boat handling skills and there was a bit of trepidation on his part as he’d yet to tackle the rapids leading into Ennadai. “Just follow my lead” I said to him, “keep a firm hand on the tiller, don’t deviate from the course I set and you’ll be fine!” He eyed me a bit dubiously but I knew he would manage just fine and in fact he did. We sailed through both sets of rapids with ease and when we made it to the base of the second Cam said “it was like a roller coaster in boat” with an ear to ear grin. Entering Ennadai we made a beeline for a large network of bays in the south west corner. Here a series of small creeks filtered into the sun warmed shallows and its tannin stained waters were a good 4 degrees warmer than the main lake. If you looked up “classic spring pike spot” there would be a picture of this bay. Joe and Cam held back as they wanted to fish lake trout a bit, telling us they’d find us when they were ready. There was only one way in and out of this network of bays and they planned to fish around the entrance. We wished them luck and off we went zooming straight to the most obvious spot where a pretty substantial creek flowed in. Nothing. On to the next spot where once again a small creek entered the bay. Shockingly nothing once again. I was beginning to wonder what was going on but we forged ahead and began to work some more subtle bays, these ones with no creeks anywhere near them. The difference now was the wind was blowing directly into them. I’ve mentioned this before but it bears repeating - time and again wind, or lack thereof is the number one most critical component when it comes to choosing a productive early season pike spot. It was like a switch was suddenly turned on and we began to catch fish after fish including some real dandies! The wind blew us right into the back end of one of the bays right up against a matted fringe of tag alders. We sat in that one spot for almost an hour as the pike simply wouldn’t stop biting. It was unreal. For some time we’d both been wondering what had happened to Joe and Cam. We weren’t really worried, but wanted to try and get them in on some of the great action we were enjoying so I fired up the boat and off we went to find them. Joe had intended to fish the pike bay but the numerous willing lake trout wouldn’t allow it. As we entered the main lake we saw their boat right away about a kilometre ahead and we raced to meet them. Not long before Joe had bested a huge lake trout that according to him was just a hair over 40” long. He was as giddy as a school girl as he described his epic battle of man versus fish. That in addition to the couple of dozen other trout in the 8-10 pound class they caught and it was easy to see why they passed on the pike. As always I try and figure out exactly why the fish were there, because even on the best waters in the world you don’t catch them everywhere. On the surface it seemed like a barren flat devoid of any structure whatsoever but that’s never really the case. Fish are simple creatures and the two strongest factors that influence their choice of location are food and comfort. The wind was blowing into this end of the lake which means it would be a degree or two warmer than the rest of the lake. Looking closer at the situation a huge sand esker paralleled the west shoreline giving an obvious indication of what lay beneath the surface. This entire end of the lake was sand and a light bulb suddenly went off in my head. Time and again early in the season I often target sandy areas for lakers with the easiest way being to simply look for beaches. Sand sucks up the suns warmth like a sponge and holds onto it unlike cold unforgiving rock. Sand and warmer water attract the baitfish which in turn brings the big lakers cruising in. A couple of times afterwards we hit that spot and every time we did it was with success. After looking at our watches and having a quick confab on the lake it was decided we’d head north up the lake and poke our nose into another large bay with a huge sand esker blocking the entrance. Good decision. Upon entering the bay it bottle necks down to roughly 200 yards wide before ending in a large round bay at the end. Wind was blowing into the bottle neck straight down the chute making for a perfect drift as we began to cast. At first I didn’t think too much of the spot, it was seemingly too shallow, only 3-4 feet deep with a pretty clean bottom of mostly sand and scattered boulders. The pike however were in there - big time. For the next 3 hours we worked that bay from end to end firing up the motor and zooming up to the entrance to begin the drift anew. Every single drift saw at least one of us caught a trophy pike, sometimes more than one. We started out casting spoons and caught a bunch that way before the fish seemed to slow down. Slowing things down myself I re-rigged our pike rods with unweighted 5” plastic paddle tail swimbaits and it was game on. The pike could not resist them! A rough count saw us boat 18 pike over 40 inches long with a couple of thick backed brutes pushing close to 45. With the spectacular weather and two very excited young boys it was the best of times… We literally had to tear ourselves away from that spot as the fish were still hitting when we left, but it was getting late in the day and the kids were finally starting to tire a bit. Joe feeling confident decided to go ahead of me and navigate the rapids heading back to camp by himself. It was 8pm at that point and he was getting a little burnt out himself. Brendan and I followed, but we both wanted to stop along the way and cast a few spots for grayling, something we hadn’t done much of yet. Skimming across the placid surface of the bay headed back to the river mouth my little guy collapsed in the front of the boat. He’s the type of kid who can sleep through anything and he was zonked right out. Upon entering the river I woke Brendan up to put his life jacket on and he perked right up. “Are we going grayling fishing now dad?” He asked me. “Only if you want to bud, we can head straight back to camp if you want”. “NO dad - I WANT to fish for grayling!!” That’s my boy. We motored up to a lovely cobbled river bank and beached the boat, hopping out onto the rocks. For a little over an hour we walked the river flicking tiny spinners and spoons into its margins. Fishing the edges was key as they didn’t seem to be holding in the swifter, deeper current mid stream. Most likely because they’d have been gobbled up instantly by a lake trout. I couldn’t tell you precisely how many grayling we caught with big bite marks across their back but it was a lot. What was amazing was how well those fish could camouflage themselves against the river bottom. The water close to shore where they were holding was glass water clear and you could see everything, yet time and again these fish would materialize from out of nowhere and smash our lures. It was really cool. We caught a good number of the acrobatic little fish before the hordes of bugs and hunger pangs finally drove us back to the boat. It was a great little session though and a memorable capper to an already memorable day. The sky was spectacular as we pulled into the dock and unloaded. Bren raced ahead to get inside and change and tired as I was I had to stop and marvel at the sight before me. After dinner both kids perked up and Joe, techno nerd that he is had a surprise. Hanging a bedsheets over one of the bunks he unearthed a small projector and speaker along with a handful of movies downloaded to his phone. The quality of the picture was really quite amazing and both boys stretched out on a bunk to watch a flick. http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a323/solopaddler/Kazan%202015/Joes%20Kazan%20Pics/IMG_8717.jpg Joe and I poured a drink a drink and retired to the screen porch to unwind. Not much was said - we didn’t have to. Continued...