It shouldn’t have been as easy as it was, but, considering how few flies these massive rainbows see over the course of a season, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. Sure, the river looks plenty fishy, and its features are Rocky Mountain-typical: long runs, undercut banks and then a stretch of aquarium-clear water that flows quietly among the willows until it dumps into one of several lakes as it courses south and west. But, as the first sizable, deeply striped rainbow gulped a size 12 Adams cast kind of nonchalantly to the bank, I did a double take.
It doesn’t look that fishy.
Accessible only by float plane, this lonely stretch of backcountry river meanders through a verdant valley in the northwestern mountains of British Columbia. Here, in the extreme headwaters of a heralded salmon river, well away from the sea — and generally anything else, for that matter — this game population of massive rainbow trout lies in wait for anglers lucky enough to have a seat on Michael Schildknecht’s Cessna Caravan.
Over the course of maybe seven hours, we chased these eager, unpressured rainbows — hook-jawed males with luminescent, rosy cheeks and bright, flashy hens that looked like fresh steelhead. Fly selection was immaterial, and we threw everything we had at them. Some gobbled up dead-drifted mayfly imitations. Others absolutely savaged big, articulated streamers on the swing. And a couple even raced after mouse patterns skated over fast water.
Each time another massive rainbow ended up in the bottom of Michael’s net, we’d elbow one another out of the way just so we could get a good look. And, each time, we exchanged befuddled glances and goofy grins.
Embrace the variety
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It’s no secret that British Columbia is fishy. Along its western edges, where the Rockies push north and mingle with the coastal mountains that push into Alaska, the Canadian province includes two distinct drainages. The rivers that flow generally west end up in the Pacific, and they’re home to species that are familiar to most fly fishers. Here, the rivers hold not just these brilliant rainbows, but also a thriving population of surly bull trout and more mountain whitefish than you can possibly imagine.
Just a hair north, though, the rivers all find their way into either the Bering Sea via the Yukon River, or the Arctic Ocean. Here, spunky and surprisingly chunky Arctic grayling replace the rainbows. Northern pike and walleye enter the equation. Lake trout and bull trout persist in both drainages and only a seasoned fisheries biologist with a minor in geographical hydrology can explain why.
From the central “home base” of Northern Rockies Adventures on the shores of Muncho Lake, just off the Alaska Highway, anglers feast at what amounts to an all-you-can-fish buffet. The homey lodge, owned by the Schildknecht family since the late 1980s, is a bustling adventure destination, and not just for anglers. But anglers, I suspect, are the most direct beneficiaries of the lodge’s two float planes — the aforementioned Caravan and a bigger DeHavilland Otter. Both planes are pressed into service on an almost-daily basis. In August, the planes deliver sheep hunters to and from their chosen camps high in the Canadian Rockies. During the rest of the season, they’re busy transporting anglers looking to sample the fly fishing hidden among towering mountains and the dark timber.
The lodge's guides have access to a number of rivers that are each home to big rainbows, and they do a purposeful job spreading anglers around so each fly-out trip puts guides and clients on water that's lightly fished. Some rivers might see just four anglers a week. Some might not see any for weeks at a time. Regardless, the idea of spreading anglers out among a host of these trophy rainbow trout waters is noble.
“We want to make sure everyone who wants to can enjoy that experience,” says Daniel Schildknecht, Michael’s brother and part of the family that owns the lodge. Indeed, by all accounts, the trout fishing at that particular destination is world-class. Keeping it that way makes sense, both for the lodge and for the anglers, who might pine away a winter in hopes of getting another shot at the fish the next season.
Lots of fish in the … rivers
We were tempted to try and talk the brothers into another day on another rainbow river. But, with so much variety at our fingertips, we opted to try something different. And it worked out just like it was supposed to. The first morning offered but a taste of what was to come. After lifting off the glacial, blue waters of Muncho Lake in the Caravan, it was clear that the daily “commute” to the fishing — regardless of the fish were after on any given day — was going to be incredible.
As the Caravan flew between the peaks of the Rockies, we were told to watch for mountain goats on the cliff faces and wild sheep wandering the high-elevation tundra. The area is also home to woodland caribou, wood bison and moose, all of which made an appearance at one point or another during our six-day adventure. The area is also grizzly and black bear country — and we saw signs of the former and actual specimens of the latter on our sojourns.
But, of course, we were in it for the fishing. And the fishing was good.
One afternoon, Daniel touched the Caravan down on a hidden alpine lake where a couple of skiffs awaited. We hopped aboard the boats and, within minutes, we’d managed to convince both a mid-sized bull trout and a small lake trout to hit flies. We motored the boat to the mouth of a mountain creek that flows into the lake, and one member of our group hooked and fought what turned out to be a lake trout that Daniel estimated to be about 12 pounds. Sadly, we never got a great look at the fish — the angler’s rod snapped at the base as the laker made a final run. When the line went limp, the big char came unhooked and sulked back into the depths.
Later that day, after wandering down a small river that connects one lake to another a few miles downstream, we managed to nab a couple of 15-inch rainbows. While fighting the last of the rainbows, I noticed a big shadow appear out of nowhere. The trout connected to my leader panicked and sprinted into the shallows, almost at my feet. The big bull trout that caused the commotion followed briefly but then disappeared into the watery ether.
I released the rainbow and quickly tied an orange and black “fire tiger” Slumpbuster to my leader. On the second swing through the run, the streamer stopped in its tracks, and the line pulled tight. A few minutes later, we were snapping photos of a gorgeous, healthy bull trout.
The spice of life
On subsequent fly-outs, we spent one day going after absolutely stunning Arctic grayling, a couple of which pushed the 20-inch mark and all of which danced and tumbled over the water once they realized they’d fallen for our flies. Grayling are an underrated game fish, likely because where most anglers encounter them, they’re not very big. But here, in the wilderness of northwest British Columbia, a “grayling day” is not to be missed.
Indiscriminate dry-fly eaters, the grayling played ball all day long. To say that it got downright silly isn’t an exaggeration — I even managed to coax one grayling into eating a small Moorish Mouse. And each time a larger fish would come calling among our group of three anglers, the appreciation for these lacy acrobats grew exponentially.
Our final fly-out of the trip was devoted to the region’s ill-tempered predators — northwest BC’s tooth-heavy northern pike. The flight to meet the pike was a bit longer than our other excursions, but the scenery out the window of the Caravan was incredible. The craggy peaks of the Rockies slowly gave wave to rolling hills and the boreal forest that stretches from one end of Canada to the other. Scarred with thousands of pothole lakes, this is the country that puts the “northwoods” into the ubiquitous northwoods fishing lodge.
Not long after touching down on the glassy surface of a spruce-shrouded lake seemingly in the middle of nowhere, we were casting long, swimmy streamers over froggy weed beds and battling perfectly respectable northerns to the boat. It was August, and it was plenty warm, especially by Canadian standards, but the fish were surprisingly active. In other boreal destinations, pike are notorious for sulking to the bottom of lakes on scorching summer days, but pike in this particular lake rarely turn off.
Out with a bang
On our last evening on the shores of Muncho Lake, as we sat outside on the deck of our homey little cabin slowly sipping some solid Canadian whisky over a couple cubes of ice, our trip to B.C. delivered its final hit.
It was one of the first nights of the summer when it was expected to get truly dark and yet an ambient light lingered over the mountain tops. At first, we were mystified, but just minutes later the dancing lights of the Aurora Borealis exploded above the waters of Muncho Lake. The Aurora glowed for over an hour and we reveled in the cosmic event.
If you go
Getting there
Anglers visiting northwest B.C. for a fly-in fishing trip can choose one of two ways to reach the lodge. First, for the adventurous who love a road trip, the area can be reached via car — it is on the Alaska Highway about three hours north of Fort Nelson. The second, and the easiest option, is to fly into Vancouver and spend the night. The next morning, a representative from Northern Rockies Adventures will pick you up at your hotel and transport you to Pitt Meadows and a small, regional airport. There, you’ll board a small plane and fly north to Fort Nelson — about two hours. From Fort Nelson, it’s a three-hour scenic van ride to the lodge. But that’s only if you’re fishing the area from the lodge.
When to go
The rivers, lakes and streams of northwest B.C. are fishable from June through September, and there really is no bad time to go. Pike and lake trout will be more active and in shallow water earlier in the season and again in September, but both seem to be willing to hit flies regardless of the date. High summer offers great dry-fly fishing for rainbows and grayling, and streamer fishing for big bull trout is likely best in August before the big char start to spawn. There are walleye available from the lodge, too, and for gear anglers, these fish can offer fast action all summer long.
Choosing an outfitter
There’s no real choice here. While there is some excellent roadside and backroad fishing for grayling in the area, to access the trophy fishing in this stretch of northwest British Columbia, Northern Rockies Adventures is the only real option. The lodge offers full seven-night/six-day packages with both four- and six-day flyout options.
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