Exploring The Kazan - A Far North Angling Odyssey

[solopaddler]

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...

[solopaddler]

Oh Look, There’s A Caribou!

Once again we all slept in the next day. We were all really enjoying the late evening fishing and were starting to get into a routine. Fish late, eat late, then sleep in a bit longer in the morning.
This particular morning was boiling hot and humid with not a breath of wind, not exactly inspiring fishing conditions.

I got up earlier than everyone else at 7am to drink a coffee in the screen porch and without even moving a muscle I was bathed in sweat just sitting there. It was going to be a pressure cooker out there and I was in no real rush to get out on the water. It didn’t help that the warm humid air seemed to increase the mosquito horde ten fold. They were joined by a virtual army of bird sized horse flies that battered themselves senseless against the mesh screen in a vain attempt to seek entry and devour me.

For some reason a particular scene from Stephen King’s classic “The Mist” sprang to mind. If you’ve read the book or seen the movie you’ll know what I mean.

Eventually though everyone arose, and after a good breakfast of pancakes and bacon we made a mad dash for the boat trying to get out on the lake as quickly as possible. Despite my urgency to get moving I couldn’t help but notice trout swirling almost within casting distance right in front of the dock.

I puttered out a few hundred yards, cut the engine and both Brendan and I casted out…

I got one almost immediately, then Bren caught one and I caught another. It did cross my mind that perhaps it wasn’t really necessary to travel long distances in order to catch fish and we likely would have stayed a bit longer if not for the bugs.

Leaving our bay and the bug horde behind I sped a couple of kilometres over to a rocky mid lake shoal I’d marked a couple days previously. Throwing out brightly coloured Husky Junior spoons we began a slow zig-zag trolling pattern across the top of the underwater mound.

I made a turn and Brendan’s rod doubled over under the weight of a heavy fish. It screamed out line initially and we both thought it was a good sized laker. Wrong. As he worked the fish closer to the boat I was shocked to see it was an enormous whitefish. That was okay in Brendan’s books as he’d never caught a whitefish before and it was another notch in his belt.

Who would have guessed that a whitefish would hammer a giant oversized spoon? In these far northern waters nothing surprises me. Oddly enough there were fresh teeth marks on the things back and I honestly can’t even fathom how big a trout would have to be to go after a fish of this size. It certainly made me think.

The funny part was Joe isn’t all that up on his fish ID, so for at least a day we got him going telling him that Brendan had caught a new world record grayling. To the uninformed they do look kind of similar minus the huge oversized dorsal which we told Joe was folded down for the photo. I know, I’m evil.  









Shortly after that we headed upstream on the Kazan with the idea being we’d push our way as far upstream as we could exploring and fishing as went. It was a good plan. Once again we started at the deep swirling pool right where the river entered the lake and Brendan immediately connected with a beautiful fish swinging a 5” white grub through the deep trough.

We caught lake trout everywhere on this day, the numbers were ridiculous. Nothing huge, but they were long, lean, muscular fish toughened from spending a lifetime living in the powerful currents. On light tackle it was incredible sport and was perhaps the easiest and most enjoyable fishing we’d experienced on our trip to date, and that’s saying a lot!














Heading further upstream we came to a widening of the river that was like a small lake. It really was nothing more than a vast mud flat and about 1/3 of the way up the deeper river channel running down the middle just disappeared.

Standing on the bench of the boat to get a better vantage point I could see nothing but shallow mud and frankly I wasn’t 100% sure we could get through it, but if you know me at all you know I like a challenge.

Giving her full throttle I stuck dead centre to the flat whizzing over the shallow muck at high speed. Standing in the back so I could see better I was astounded at what I saw. Every so often vast schools of big whitefish rooting around in the marl for insects would scatter like leaves in the wind ahead of me. I’ve never seen anything like it. Made me wonder what stalking those things on foot with a fly rod might be like. Bonefish of the north without the sizzling fast runs would be my guess.

The river poured into the far northwest corner and I made it there without incident. Right at that spot it got deep again and the current had carved out huge deep holes in the muck. A couple were over 40’ deep and they were literally polluted with 5-10 pound lake trout. Brendan and I had a heyday catching them with both of our arms getting sore from the strain. Those fish pull hard!

A little further upstream the current quickened again and Bren nailed a beautifully coloured trout casting a tiny spoon on his light rod casting for grayling. What a thrill for the kid!

Pushing even further upstream the river split around a huge island with enticing channels on either side. This I thought, was perfect.

We beached the boat and grabbed our grayling rods, Bren had his light spinning rod while I picked away at the fish with my fly rod. The banks of the island were rocky and easy to walk and we spent well over two hours slowly working our way around the island catching grayling almost at will.

Brendan was catching more than me at first as I stubbornly stuck with small dry flies. I caught a few that way, but it wasn’t until I switched to a sinking leader and small bead head nymphs that I really began to lay a beating on them. This is the type of sport that most anglers who visit the Kazan indulge in. It’s all great, but the grayling fishing is absolutely world class.










These fish are easily the hardest fish I’ve ever seen to hold for a photo. Pure tightly packed muscle and slippery to boot. Brendan had some issues at times…



















Heading back downstream in the early evening I was motoring through the middle of the mud flat when I glanced to my right and said to Brendan, “Look, there’s a caribou!”

He was really hoping to see one so I turned the boat towards shore to hopefully get a better look. As the water got shallower I realized with dismay that it was in fact a large tawny and black caribou shaped rock and before I could turn the boat around we slowly slid to a stop in the quagmire and were stuck.

I looked at Brendan, he looked at me, then we both burst into laughter. Pulling the motor up and locking it I had no choice but to hop in and start dragging. Once again Brendan was super helpful offering suggestions like “I think you need to get your eyes checked dad!” and “Are you going to pull us all the way back? That would be cool!”

I finally made it to deep enough water and was able to drop the motor and get the heck out of there. Ravaged by mosquitos, sweaty and wet from the waist down I was both hot and cold all at the same time. I might have been hallucinating as well.

I beat a hasty retreat back to camp and wasted no time getting out of my wet things and pouring myself a stiff shot of scotch.

The “Caribou” incident aside it was a remarkable day as every day seems to be on this remarkable river.  



A Return Engagement

The lake trout and grayling fishing Brendan and I experienced the day before was so remarkable it was unanimously decided all four of us would return. The weather this day was warm, but it was overcast as well as being humid and the bugs seemed to revel in it.

I know I’ve mentioned how bad the bugs were more than once, but the truth is they were only a nuisance on shore. Around camp or walking the river for grayling they were beyond belief but out in the boat they were quite tolerable.

Everyone readied themselves for the run to the boats in the screen porch, or as we liked to call it the decontamination chamber. Full gore tex top and bottom, gloves, mesh head nets and lots of bug spray.

Joe and I went first carrying our gear and provisions to the boat and getting things ready. Once the motors were started and the ropes untied we yelled “Go!” and the kids burst from the screen porch like scalded cats and raced madly down to the dock. Hopping in quickly we were off.

Personally I think this race could be a new olympic sport, perhaps combining it with the mud flat drag and the outboard motor lift. Kind of a far north decathlon for sportsmen.

This day there were no caribou incidents and we made it safely through the mud to the lake trout grounds.

Just as Brendan and I had done the day before we all began to catch lake trout almost at will. It’s virtually impossible to have a bad a bad day of fishing on the Kazan, but some are better than others and this one was shaping up to be special.

I’m not a numbers guy, never have been, but if I had to guess I’d say we easily caught 80 lake trout between the four of us.

Brendan and I opted to brave the hordes and walk the banks for grayling again and had a riot doing it. Bugs aside it’s hard not to have fun catching such acrobatic little fish.

Shockingly - and it really is - I was so engrossed with the fishing on this day that I took very few photos or video. I did however capture some of the action…


























Round about 8pm Brendan and I headed back to camp with the plan being we’d stop and catch a couple of trout for dinner. About halfway back we dropped our spoons into a deep slot carved out by the river current next to an island. Almost instantly we had twin 4 pound lakers on which I quickly dispatched. It doesn’t get any easier than that.

Heading out into the main lake I stopped right in the middle and grabbed a small chunk of plywood I’d stashed in the nose of the boat. Using that I quickly filleted the two fish in as bug free a zone as its possible to find up there, packed the meat into a zip lock bag then headed back to camp.

Rolling the trout in cornmeal and fried in butter along with salad and fresh veggies it was a fantastic meal. The meat on those colourful little trout was bright red and absolutely delicious!




Fortune Favours The Bold

As I always do now when I’m off the grid I have a Delorme inReach satellite communication device with me. It allows me to stay in touch with the outside world via emails or texts. About the size of a handheld gps it’s a pretty cool little unit. The night before my wife had given us a detailed weather forecast and it sounded perfect: sunny skies and most importantly light winds. This was important as my plan was to head down into Ennadai and travel a good 40 kilometres up the lake’s eastern shoreline then swing over to the west side and work my way back down the east side towards camp.

There was so much incredible looking water I was dying to fish, I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t. Joe and Cam wanted to stick with the easy fishing close to camp and I really can’t blame them, so it was just Bren and myself on this tour.

I made lunches the night before and anticipating a long day roused Brendan out of bed at 6:30. He was up in a flash and after breakfast we were on our way by 7. The route to the river’s outlet was old hat now and I skimmed along at full throttle making good time.

The weather forecast thankfully seemed to be bang on, it was another perfect day and my spirits were soaring as we entered the broad expanse of Ennadai at 7:30.

Looking at the map the night before I knew my first destination would be a small bay about 6 kilometres up the east shore. Here a small creek spilled in and by my standards it looked great. It was. We pulled into the bay at shortly after 8am and for the entire time we were there we were catching fish.

Remarkably they were all pike. I say remarkably because the bay was rocky and deep and the creek was substantial with a jaunty little riffle bubbling it’s way into the bay. It screamed trout, but the pike had other ideas.


























The amazing thing was there were no small fish! The bulk of the pike were mid sized specimens in the 35-38 inch range with a few larger thrown for good measure. I’m not quite sure how long we were there, but it was a while and I can honestly say we caught fish constantly. There were no lulls.

I did manage to shoot this short video of the action…







With a bit of regret we pushed on further up the lake stopping at every bay, prominent point and rock pile along the way. We caught fish everywhere, mostly smaller lake trout.

As we made our way up the east shoreline I was shocked to see a massive ice floe to the west stretching for several kilometres. With the warm weather over the last few days I hadn’t expected to see any, but this was substantial! There was a wide channel of open water paralleling the east shoreline so we were fine now. The question was when I cut over to the west side would we get caught? I had no way of knowing at the time so I pushed on.

The previous winter while researching this lake I came across several vague references to another outpost camp located on a mid lake island far up the lake. I actually found it on Google Earth and pinpointed it on my map. Round about February I spoke with a former Kasba guide who also mentioned this camp. He said it was an unused private camp owned by some Americans and strongly suggested we use it as a base for at least one night so we could explore the northern half of Ennadai. It was a good thought, but ultimately way too risky. What if I dragged my boy all that way preparing to stay overnight and the thing was collapsed? Well, as it turns out it wasn’t.

Precisely where I expected to find it we saw it perched high upon a lonely mid lake island and we pulled into a shallow sandy bay to check it out.






















Inside was a small oil burning stove, a tiny table and chairs and nothing else. Still it was in surprisingly great shape and I had a twinge of remorse about not risking the overnight stay. Ah well, in the grand scheme of things it was probably for the best.


Continuing on from the camp we explored our way further up the lake catching a surprising mixed bag of pike and lakers. The pike was a bit surprising as we were trolling mid lake structure not far from the massive ice floes. The water temp was averaging 42 degrees in this part of the lake and I would have expected all of the pike to be in the sun warmed shallow back bays. As is often the case fish don’t always follow a script and it really made me wonder. That’s what makes fishing so interesting at least to me, it’s like a giant puzzle that constantly needs solving. You’re always observing, learning from your your experiences and making mental notes - or at least you should be.

I shot this short video of some of the action…











At that point we navigated over to the western shore and began to work our way south back towards the rivers inlet and camp. I expected this might get dicy about halfway down but we forged onward regardless.












Not unexpectedly we came to a point where we could go no further. I tested the ice, and while it was separated in large chunks it was at least 6 inches thick. There was no getting through.








I do believe the fish gods were smiling on us though, because if I hadn’t been forced to backtrack in that precise spot…well, you’ll see.

This particular floe was big, but not covering the entire lake. Following its perimeter back around for about a kilometre we found a wide channel of open water on its south side and we were able to sneak back over to the west shore. Following the edge of the ice we came across a tiny mid lake rock pile rising up out of the icy water like a monolith. Hmmm…

We began a slow troll and not 30 seconds in Brendan had an enormous hit. Still, I wasn’t sure it was big initially as the head shakes just a bit too rapid. It very quickly became evident that it was quite substantial though. Complicating matters the camera I was filming with died in mid fight so I lost much of the battle before I was able to grab a second camera.

I did however manage to get some pretty great footage of a very excited little boy. Take a look!











After a bit of celebration we continued our way down the west shoreline hitting a few back bays and trolling along the edge of the ice floe as it pushed us closer and closer to the shoreline pinching us off.







Roughly 3/4 of the way back our passage was finally blocked much to my dismay. At that point if we’d have had to backtrack and drive around the ice floe it would have been a huge delay. It was roughly 8pm at this point and both of us were more than ready to head back to the comforts of a camp and a warm dinner.

Surveying the situation roughly 1/2 a kilometre ahead was two small islands side by side right next to the shore. There was no way to get around them, but standing high on the boat seat there appeared to be a small band of water right in front of them. The narrow channel in between looked tight but maybe doable, and my guess was if we could make it through there we’d find open water on the other side. “Guess” is the operative word.

I REALLY didn’t want to back track! Nosing the boat into a large crack I nudged it forward and moved us ahead 20’. “This” I thought “isn’t too bad!” In fact it wasn’t at first, it was pretty easy, however halfway through it got more difficult. I put Brendan on the tiller and I lay on the nose of the boat pushing at the ice with a paddle. Bren did a great job with the motor and with my direction we made it through the ice sheet to the islands after 1/2 an hour of tough slogging.

At that point I still didn’t know whether I’d be able to get through the islands. The possibility was very real that we’d be forced to reverse course and be forced to plow through the ice field once again.

Nosing our boat into the narrow open water channel between the two islands it very quickly came to a major neck down with almost no water. Looking past it I still couldn't see beyond as the south end of the eastern island curved around blocking my view.

There was nothing else I could do at that point beyond the obvious. Once again I hopped into the water and began to drag the boat through the sandy shallows. As usual Brendan was helpful telling me things like “This is a bad idea dad, you should have driven around the ice!” and “do your legs hurt? That water looks cold?”

I pulled us through the neck down then with my heart in my throat cruised to the back side of the islands where I immediately let loose with a wild war whoop. She was free and clear of ice all the way to the river mouth.



Fortune, as they say, favours the bold.

We made a beeline straight back to camp at that point arriving back at 9:30pm. Joe and Cam had a pretty great day themselves and the two boys babbled on excitedly regaling each other with tales of the days exploits. Brendan and I each grabbed a hot shower then scarfed down a pretty great dinner of chicken and ribs which Joe had made and left warming for us in the oven.

Joe and I retired to the screen porch shortly afterwards with a drink while the boys played inside. We had a few stories of our own to share…



Fish Don’t Follow The Rules

The first little rocky bay Brendan and I had fished the day before wasn’t really that far a run, and our plan this day was to bring Joe and Cam back with us so they could experience the fabulous fishing themselves. Once again we were blessed with spectacular weather so there was nothing holding us back. I can’t stress enough how truly fortunate we were in this regard, for my part I was mildly amazed.

Once again we loaded both boats with plenty of kid approved provisions and we set forth at a good pace. By this time Joe was an old hand at navigating and operating the boat and we made great time racing down the river then up the east shoreline of Ennadai to our killer bay from the day before.

A small island blocks the entrance of the bay and as we slowly cruised past it the water erupted with miniature cisco skipping across the surface. Lakers no doubt, but we had pike to catch and I figured we’d get to the trout in due time.

Conditions were virtually identical to the day before, but oddly the pike weren’t there. We caught a handful, but it was nothing like the bonanza of the day before.





To the day I die I will never really understand fish. Initially it was a bit disappointing more so for Joe and Cameron, but at times you simply have to roll with the punches. Creeping a bit further out into deeper water near the island where we’d seen the ciscos skip I quickly hooked a trout. Brendan soon followed suit and we had a double header. Not long afterwards both Joe and Cam hooked trout of their own and thus began one of the more amazing little angling sessions I’ve ever experienced in my life.

The sun was at just the right angle allowing us to see into the crystal water like an aquarium. The bottom here was clean sand and ranged anywhere from 8 to 12 feet deep, a perfect backdrop to see what was going on. On any given cast if you DIDN’T hook a trout you’d see 3-4 of them streaking in chasing your lure boat side. Cast - catch - repeat. It was the kind of light tackle sport that many people dream of and we revelled in it.
 






We fished that bay for a good 4 hours and the action never slowed for a moment. Finally though we were getting the itch to try some new water and perhaps target some larger fish in the process.
Switched tacks we ventured out into the main lake and began to troll rock piles and points surrounded by deeper water. Not surprisingly we caught fish everywhere we went…











Later in the day I spied another tiny rock pile jutting out way out in the middle of the lake. This particular pattern seemed to be producing larger fish and in this case I couldn’t have been more right.

Snapping an oversized hot pink Husky Devle onto my line Bren and I began a slow troll across the northern tip of the rock pile. Watching my graph the bottom was was 20-25’ and littered with boulders. About three hundred yards past the island it dropped into 35’ and was as flat as a table top - almost certainly sand. I had planned on making a wide slow turn swinging back towards the rocks when my rod suddenly bucked bending in half and almost ripped from my holder. The pressure was pretty intense and I could barely get it out. It was obviously a giant.

Finally wrenching my rod free the fish took off on a blistering run that saw line melt from my reel at an alarming rate. With the very real possibility I was going to be spooled I had to start the motor up and follow it.

What a rush! It took some time and my adrenaline level was racing, but ultimately it finally hit the mesh.

At this point I’ll let the video tell the story. The wind noise is a bit of a bummer, but I believe you’ll sense my excitement…









45” on the tape, thick and fat, it was a true behemoth of a fish! I don’t ever weigh my fish - never have, but if I had to guess this fish was at least 30 pounds, perhaps even larger. Not that it really matters anyway, it was BIG!

After such a momentous catch you might think everything else would be a let down, but that wasn’t the case. We poked around the bottom end of Ennadai until early evening fishing the delta area where it spilled into the lake, catching smaller lakers almost at will. By this time the lake was flat calm and the vista was like a post card.











We had plans to hit the river once again for grayling on the way back to camp, and once again my little guy needed to be roused awake to put on his life jacket before entering the rapids. One minute he was happily chattering away, the next he was crashed in a heap at the front of the boat.





As usual Bren was ready to rock and roll once we reached our chosen spot upriver. We both hopped out onto the rocky riverbank rods in hand after beaching the boat, with Joe and Cam right behind us. Spread out along the bank of the river we all began to catch grayling and a good number of muscular lake trout that fought like demons in the heavy current.

It was a splendid way to cap off this most memorable day…








































Winding Things Down

This was our last full day on the river and for the first time in the entire trip we awoke to gray skies and a steady chilling rain. In a way I was almost relieved as we’d caught more than enough fish, had some incredible adventures and everyone, myself included was a bit burnt out.

The cabin was a semi disaster so after a leisurely breakfast Joe and I packed things up and cleaned readying things for our departure early the next morning. We packed away most of our tackle as well, but left out one rod and reel each in the hopes that the sky would clear later in the day.

Eventually around 4pm it finally did and we set forth for one final crack at the fish. Joe and Cam headed south to a spot where they’d consistently caught trout all week long - smart man that Joe.

Looking at the map there were a couple of spots in the north end of the lake we’d yet to try and I knew it would bug me if I didn’t.

In the extreme northwest corner a narrow shallow channel led into a fairly substantial bay with several creeks flowing in. As we entered the bay, almost a small lake unto itself, I was amazed at how deep it was in spots - well over 40 feet! Almost immediately we began to catch small lake trout trolling and casting the deeper portions of this little gem. Moving further into the bay we headed straight for one of the creek mouths where a small stream tumbled in creating a small pool. Directly in front it was 12 feet deep and a perfect spot.

Easing us close with the paddle I cautioned Bren to get ready - I knew he was going to hook something. Turns out he did, and on his very first cast. The bend in his rod made it obvious this was a good fish and Bren seemed slightly panicky which is unusual for him. I couldn’t see as Bren was at the bow of the boat, but he suddenly blurted out “Dad, it’s a HUGE pike!” It most definitely was. With light rain falling my camera gear was packed away in my pelican case and while I scrambled to film the event I probably could have netted the darned fish 10 times.

Stupid me. As I finally got the film rolling the giant pike cruised boat side and I managed to get a shot of it as it cruised by. Just as I was preparing to scoop it up it streaked off like a rocket and became unbuttoned. It was gone.

Perhaps an almost fitting way to end our far north odyssey.







Wrapping Things Up

The plane was scheduled to pick us up at 7am the next morning and it was right on time. It was change over day and two friendly young Kasba staff hopped out to help us load. Kasba takes nothing to chance and those guys stayed behind to make sure the camp was perfect in every way before the next guests arrived later that day.

We winged our way south back to the lodge where once again we were greeted warmly and ushered up up to the dining room where they fed us another amazing breakfast. It was a time to reflect over the happenings of the last week and decompress and we did just that.

Kasba has wifi and when I turned on my phone it “pinged” for 5 straight minutes as a full weeks worth of emails were downloaded. Right back into the frying pan.

Our charter flight back to Winnipeg was right on time and in short order we were headed back to civilization. A somewhat surreal feeling after spending a week in such wild and remote surroundings - we were all just a teeny bit melancholy.

On so many levels this trip was something special and there’s no doubt it’ll be forever etched in our memories. Both Joe and myself were thrilled that our boys were able to share this with us.

On a final note I need to thank Kasba for their incredible hospitality and excellent service. There’s a reason why they’re one of Canada’s top lodges and we saw first hand why. At some point a return trip to sample the fishing at the main lodge would be fun, perhaps with my wife Joanne. It’s certainly something to aspire to.

A special thanks goes out to Matt Hill who right from the get go was a true pleasure to deal with. Thanks Matt, you’re a good man!

Finally if anyone has any interest in this trip of a lifetime you can see all the details on Kasba’s website at www.kasba.com

For those adventurous souls who are contemplating a trip to the Kazan outpost I filmed this video tour of the camp and the facilities, hopefully it helps.






Hope you enjoyed this long and lengthy tale!


Until next time,


Cheers,  Mike
 

[Steelheadphycho]

Mike,

 

You have the life!!

 

Thank you for the incredible read!

[BassMan11]

Wow

[manitoubass2]

Thats is a lifetime of great fish! Nevermind one trip!!!

 

Holy smokes you and your son(especially) are very lucky to be able to do these trips! (I say that tongue in cheek because I know you've worked hard for it Mike)

 

Unreal...

 

Unfriggenreal

[davey buoy]

Man O Man Mike,wow.!!!,Not sure how you can do all these,but what a life you do have Sir.Your son is one lucky guy.Great read and videos as always.The quality of fish continually is what I can't get over.Thanks for the great read.

[solopaddler]

Thanks guys! For what it's worth I was really on a tight timeline with this one - it needed to get done today.

 

I finished editing my photos on Tuesday then spent Wed to Fri editing video all day. I sat down to write this thing at 6am Saturday morning and finally finished up around 2pm today, so 33 straight hours of work with nothing but coffee, red bull and junk food to keep me going.

 

I only tell you this for one reason. Looking at my post I mixed up some of the photos and it's bugging me to death. It's about 90% correct but there are some mistakes. Saying that I'm likely the only person who'd notice, but still.

 

I'm good with 90% at this point and hopefully you guys are too. I'm now packing like a mad man for my next fly in leaving Tuesday morning. I'm not going to lie it's a tough grind at times but it's also a heck of a lot of fun, and yes I do feel very fortunate.

 

Cheers

[Steelheadphycho]

I'm not going to lie it's a tough grind at times but it's also a heck of a lot of fun, and yes I do feel very fortunate.

 

Cheers

Indeed, you'd have to work diligently to get the report that you produce, ah but that's my kind of work!

On behalf of OFC, thank you for all your efforts! I live vicariously in that northern paradise because of your work. One very strong reason of many that keep me coming back, and make me feel fortunate to be a part of this incredible community!

 

Thanks again!

[TennesseeGuy]

Thanks for an evening of great entertainment.

[Skud]

Holy crap! When do you sleep? What a report. Sweet job

[Jds63]

Just when I think your last adventure was incredible, along comes another to blow it away.

Mike , thanks for putting together such an incredible report !!!

[chris.brock]

That's a pretty unique place for sure. Sounds like a great adventure.

 

Kasba should acquire that unused cabin, what an idyllic spot.

Edited July 13, 2015 by chris.brock

[manitoubass2]

Documentary time

 

10 discs each 5 hours long please

Edited July 13, 2015 by manitoubass2

[wormdunker]

Awesome report - once again! Thanx Mike

[solopaddler]

As always thanks for responding, very glad you liked the story!

 

 

Thanks for an evening of great entertainment.

You're most welcome Connie!

 

Holy crap! When do you sleep?

I don't LOL! Worked the night shift last night and will again today then I leave again. I'll get to sleep Tues night in Wawa. The last sleep I had was 4 hours worth on Friday night.

 

 

 

Kasba should acquire that unused cabin, what an idyllic spot.

 

I mentioned it to them. They have an outfitters license that encompasses the entire Kazan all the way to Baker Lake so it's a possibility...

Documentary time

10 discs each 5 hours long please

Maybe one day, that's actually not too far fetched.

Edited July 13, 2015 by Mike Borger

[mattybculp]

An enjoyable read as always Mike ! Now all I gotta do is save up $10,000 to take my old man LOL!

Edited July 13, 2015 by mattybculp

[ckewley]

Man yet another completely mind melting adventure, another place to add to the bucket list!!

[mr blizzard]

Mike did u win a lottery,just kidding LOL, my God what a great life u guys have , thank you for sharing and posting such magnificent videos, pics and narration. Many of us can never do what u do but because of your dedication, and your willingness to share. we feel we have already been there, Still waiting to catch my first grayling lol

[The Urban Fisherman]

I honestly don't know how anyone could come up with the proper words to describe this awesomeness! lol Thanks so much for hte write up and the awesome pics buddy... livin' the dream bro! haha

[solopaddler]

Once again thanks gents, appreciate the kind words!

 

 

I honestly don't know how anyone could come up with the proper words to describe this awesomeness! lol Thanks so much for hte write up and the awesome pics buddy... livin' the dream bro! haha

 

HEY!! Don't you answer phone messages or emails anymore? LOL!

[wallyboss]

!

[wallyboss]

Previous post meant that I was speechless. Thanks for sharing that epic story

Edited July 13, 2015 by wallyboss

[BillM]

Was waiting for this one, great job man!!!!

[RickOnt]

Wow!! Wow!! and Wow!!!!!

 

Amazing, Narrative, pictures and videos Simply the 'best'

 

Your big Laker video with Bren's comments "Is it bigger than mine?" and "I don't think its bigger than mine!"

 

Bring back some great memories for me with my boys, No Go Pro back then but those memories never fade!! LOL

 

Brendan's big Laker video, "priceless"

 

The long distance released Pike at the end of the trip even more priceless With the fact you could of netted him at any time You and Bren are enjoying this huge fish then he gets off. For a second Bren is obviously disappointed Then, with huge confidence, he fires of another cast as if to say "I will get another"

 

 

Epic for sure

 

Cheers

Rick

 

 

PS Say hi to Joe for me That is a 'beauty Laker' he has there also

[DRIFTER_016]

So I guess you know why I chase those troots now Mike.