Labrador, Land of Giant Brook Trout
The eve of my Labrador adventure has finally arrived, and I am filled with a sense of anticipation as I meticulously check all of my gear and load it into the back of my trusty truck. My heart races with excitement as I make sure that everything is in its place, ready for the journey to the land of giant brook trout. As I prepare for bed, I make one final check to ensure that my coffee pot will be ready to greet me with its energizing brew in the early hours of the morning.
My mind buzzes with anticipation as I drift off to sleep, my thoughts consumed by the upcoming drive and what awaits me on my Labrador adventure. Though I have visited Labrador before, this trip is different - a new lodge, a new area to explore. This time, I will be traveling to Labrador City and then taking a float plane 150 miles northeast to a remote section of northern Labrador. The excitement bubbles in my stomach and I struggle to fall asleep. It seems just as I fall asleep, suddenly, my annoying alarm blares at the ungodly hour of 4:00 am. Groaning, I roll out of bed and quickly hop in the shower, eager to start my day. As I fill my trusty YETI travel mug with steaming hot coffee, I can't help but smile in anticipation for the journey ahead. With my caffeine fix in hand, I hit the road - the New Jersey turnpike stretching ahead of me towards my final destination. The sun has yet to rise, and still lots of traffic around New York City. It will be a welcome sight to see this area in my rear view mirror.
As the soft, golden light of the new morning cast its warm glow over the Adirondack Mountains, I continued my journey through their breathtaking landscape. The trees stood tall and proud, their lush green leaves rustling gently in the crisp breeze. Ahead lay the Canadian border, but first I had to pass through a desolate stretch of land that always left me baffled. It looked like a post-apocalyptic wasteland, with abandoned buildings and barren fields as far as the eye could see. One would think that each country would make more effort to present a welcoming entrance to their perspective territories. But for now, I pushed on towards the border, eager to reach my destination and leave this desolate sight behind.
As I approached the Canadian border, a kind and welcoming lady greeted me with a smile. Her dark hair cascaded down her shoulders in loose waves, and her eyes sparkled with curiosity. When she asked about my destination, I eagerly told her that I was driving to Labrador. A look of concern crossed her face as she mentioned the notorious last seven hour segment of the drive. But I reassured her that I had driven this route before and had heard that it had greatly improved since then. With a chuckle, the border agent waved me through and I continued on my journey. My next stop was in Saugenay, a small town nestled in the lush Canadian landscape.
After thirteen long hours on the road, my body ached and my stomach grumbled with hunger. But as I pulled into the quaint inn and caught sight of the charming duck breast dinner being served to guests, all of my exhaustion melted away. The savory aroma of roasted meat tickled my nose and I eagerly checked in for an overnight stay. As I savored each bite of the perfectly cooked meal, I felt rejuvenated and ready to continue my journey northward to Labrador City in the morning.
The next morning, the sun rose over the horizon, signaling the start of another day on the road. Packing up my belongings and filling up my tank, I made a quick stop in Baie Comeau for lunch before tackling the notorious Trans Labrador Highway. At first, I was pleasantly surprised by the smooth pavement and ease of driving, but my excitement soon faded as the road transformed into a dusty gravel path. It felt like I was driving through a cloud of fine sand, constantly fighting against the wind and grit that pelted my car. With determination, I pressed on towards my destination, eager to conquer this challenging stretch of highway. As the miles stretched on, the fuel gauge inched closer to empty. The landscape was vast and barren, with only the occasional sign of civilization. Finally, a small rest stop appeared on the horizon - Manic 5. It was a welcome sight, and I pulled into the gas station with relief. The air was crisp and clean, with a hint of pine. The locals chatted in French as they filled their tanks and bought snacks from the quaint convenience store. Halfway up the road, this was a popular stop for weary travelers like myself.
After filling up my tank and stretching my legs, I continued on towards Fermont - the last French speaking town before entering predominantly English-speaking Newfoundland. Tall evergreen trees lined the road, casting long shadows as the sun began to set. As I arrived in Labrador City, the sun was setting and the town was quiet. After checking in at my hotel, a sense of weariness washed over me from the long drive. Thankfully, I had a pleasant surprise waiting for me - a nice restaurant located in my hotel in the neighboring town of Wabush. The anticipation of a good meal and a couple of cocktails lifted my spirits. Exhausted from the journey, I looked forward to getting some much-needed rest before our early morning float plane rendezvous at 7:45am. The peacefulness of the night enveloped me as I drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the adventures that awaited us tomorrow.
The next morning, it was time to meet my floatplane for a 1 ½ hour flight to the lodge nestled among the many picturesque lakes of northern Labrador. I joined the other guests at a nearby hotel for breakfast before being transported to the float plane dock. Due to low water levels in the lake, there were initial concerns about whether the plane could take off. However, our skilled pilot confidently loaded us on board and we smoothly glided the turbo Otter across the surface of the lake for a successful departure. The energy on the plane was electric as we embarked on our adventure.
As the plane descended towards the lake for our water landing, the pilot turned back from the cockpit and flashed us the five-finger sign, indicating that we were only five minutes away from arriving at our destination. My heart raced with excitement as I caught my first glimpse of our home for the next week. The lodge was an impressive sight, perched on a point of an island and facing northwest. I couldn't wait to witness the breathtaking sunsets and grandeur of the northern lights from this very spot every evening. The still waters of the lake glistened in the golden sunlight, reflecting the vibrant colors of the surrounding landscape. I knew that this would be a week filled with unforgettable experiences and cherished memories.
The skilled pilot landed the turbo otter smoothly on the lake, and we made our way to the dock where the lodge staff was eagerly awaiting our arrival. They greeted us with handshakes and introductions before transporting our gear to our respective cabins. As the guests settled into the main lodge for a well-deserved lunch, we were informed that we would be fishing this afternoon. Time to get my fishing gear ready for a trip to remember! Our first spot was a rapid northwest of the lodge called Vezina Falls. However, as we approached, I couldn’t help but notice the low water levels and felt a sense of worry wash over me. Sadly, the low water proved to be a problem and it definitely affected our fishing experience.
That night I thought maybe my first suspicion of a late August trip to Labrador was becoming a reality. But ever being the optimist I told myself tomorrow will be a better day. At dinner that night the head guide informed me that I was going to be going to their outpost camp for and overnight fishing trip. This news made me excited as I knew I would love to be in an even more remote location. The morning came and we loaded up the camps 1952 Dehavilland Beaver, which was once a US Army aircraft. Just being in this aircraft for me, was already an amazing experience
The morning arrived in a spectacular display of colors as the sun rose over the horizon. After a hearty breakfast, we gathered up our gear and set off towards the 3rd rapid, known to be a hot spot during this time of year. My guide expertly navigated us through some low sections, and we finally reached a serene lake where we could use the motor to make our way closer to what I hoped would be a prime location for catching big brook trout.
As we approached our destination, my excitement grew with each passing minute. The water level was perfect, the flow was just right, and there were plenty of structures in place that seemed like the ideal hiding spots for large brookies. Little did I know at the time, this day would turn out to be an unforgettable one for both myself and the lodge.
My experienced and enthusiastic guide, Landon, led us down the riverbank, carefully navigating through the mine field of boulders to reach the perfect spot for casting our fly. The crystal-clear water flowed serenely around us, reflecting the bright blue sky above. My heart raced with anticipation as I eagerly scanned the surface for any signs of fish. With a sense of determination, I tied on a large hopper pattern, its vibrant colors and intricate details standing out against the muted tones of nature. As I slowly made my way upstream, I couldn't help but admire the beauty of the fly dancing in front of me. With a skilled flick of my wrist, the line gracefully landed on the water's surface, creating gentle ripples that mirrored the movements of the fly. I deftly mended my line, ensuring a flawless presentation to entice any lurking brook trout below. And just like that, within seconds of my first cast, a hefty brook trout emerged from the depths and eagerly devoured my terrestrial imitation. The tug on my line sent adrenaline coursing through my veins as I fought to reel in this magnificent fish. After a strong battle, we finally landed it and Landon announced its impressive weight - a 7 ½ pound brook trout. Amidst the celebration of high fives and cheers, I couldn't help but marvel at not only the impressive size, but also the vibrant colors adorning its body. This was the reason for my journey to Labrador during this season - to witness the stunning beauty of these regal trout before they began spawning. In my opinion, the brook trout is hands down one of the most visually striking creatures on the planet.
As we made our way back to the outpost camp, a sense of exhilaration and contentment filled me. Today had been a successful day of fishing, with over twenty fish hooked and twelve successfully landed - not a bad average at all! Each catch had been a beautiful brook trout, ranging from 4 to 7 ½ pounds and adorned in vibrant colors for the pre-spawn season. After a hearty spaghetti Bolognese dinner, we settled onto the porch overlooking the lake, sipping on refreshing cocktails as we watched the sun slowly dip below the horizon. The tranquil scene was punctuated by the haunting calls of loons echoing across the water. As I gazed out at the vast expanse of nature before me, anticipation for tomorrow's adventure bubbled within me.
After a peaceful night's rest, lulled by the gentle sounds of the outdoors, I woke to the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Nothing beats the scent of coffee in the crisp morning air while surrounded by nature. Today was Northern Pike day, and I eagerly gathered my trusted Winston Boron IIX rod and headed out just behind the outpost cabin. Landon, our guide, had assured me that there were some impressive pike lurking close by.
As we made our way up the river, Landon suddenly called out to me and urged me to grab my pike rod. He had spotted a sizable 10-pound pike hiding behind a boulder and wanted to catch it before it could feast on any brook trout in the area. Quickly, I grabbed my trusty 8-weight rod with a weighted blue and white clouser fly and ran over to where Landon had seen the pike. With one cast and two quick jigs of the line, we were hooked into an intense battle with the pike.
Some anglers claim that pike don't put up much of a fight after their initial strike, but this one proved them wrong. It took off with a powerful burst, dragging me along as I desperately tried to maintain control of my rod. After a few minutes of back-and-forth struggle, I finally gained the upper hand and reeled in the massive pike. Landon skillfully netted it, marking the end of our exhilarating battle.
As we released the exhausted pike back into the water, we noticed several brook trout gathered nearby, seemingly relieved that their predator had been caught. Our successful catch added an extra sense of satisfaction to their already beautiful day in nature. The float plane was scheduled to arrive later in the day, so we only had a short time left to wrap up our fishing trip at the outpost camp. We were successful in catching Northern pike of various sizes and it was thrilling to see these powerful creatures attack our flies with no hesitation. One even got so close to the boat that its tail hit the side as it went for my fly. Landon and I were having such a good time laughing and trying to entice more pike to bite that we missed many opportunities that afternoon.
The distant rumbling of the radial engine caught my attention, signaling the arrival of our Dehavilland beaver to pick us up. We quickly gathered our gear and headed towards the cabin, eager for our 20-minute flight back to the lodge. As we took off, I was lucky enough to ride co-pilot and capture some breathtaking footage of our fellow guests at different locations along our route. With permission from our pilot, I had requested a flyover of the camp so I could document it from above. Little did I know, this would turn into an exhilarating experience. The closer we got, the lower our pilot descended until we were just above the shimmering surface of the lake. From this vantage point, I could see the lodge nestled among the trees. Suddenly, our pilot pulled back on the yoke and performed a thrilling flyby of the lodge- a moment that felt straight out of Top Gun. It took my breath away and left me with an adrenaline-fueled buzz for the rest of the evening.
Labrador is a rugged and untamed land, filled with vast expanses of nature just waiting to be explored. Hidden within its remote locations are crystal clear lakes teeming with giant brook trout, eagerly waiting for your precise presentation. If you choose to visit during the fall season, as I did this year, you will be rewarded with a quality over quantity adventure, surrounded by the breathtaking colors of the pre-spawn Brook Trout. Alternatively, if you come in July, when the ice has just thawed and the Brookies are ravenous for food, you can witness their impressive appetite firsthand as they eagerly take your dry fly. Regardless of when you choose to visit, one thing is certain – experiencing this remarkable part of the world is an absolute must for any avid outdoorsman.
