These intrepid anglers planned to explore the NWT’s remote Aylmer Lake. The weather had other plans

Sure enough, the next morning greeted us with hope and promise. The skies had broken and the sun occasionally peeked through, while the wind eased to a manageable level and the temperature soared to a relatively balmy 10°C. Taking advantage, Dave and I headed off for the northernmost end of Sandhill Bay—even the now-cooperative outboard seemed to have been rejuvenated.

We arrived a couple of hours later and beached the boat before hiking over the continental divide to Sussex Lake and the headwaters of the Back River. From that point northward, all waters drain to the Arctic Ocean. We couldn’t stay long, as we were expected back at the lodge that evening, but we threw a few luckless spinners, ate a packed lunch, then trudged back to the boat to begin the long run back to the lodge.

Along the way, we stopped at a couple of promising-looking areas to fish and caught lakers at each, including several in the high 30- to low 40-inch range. Arriving back in Rockness Bay late in the afternoon, we bumped into a guide and his client trolling for dinner. We joined in on the fun and in mere minutes put a couple of eaters in the boat. Despite the paucity of fishing we’d been able to enjoy throughout the week, it was still evident there’s simply no shortage of fish in Aylmer.

Returning to the lodge meant a hot shower, a hot meal at a proper table, and a warm, dry bed off the ground, and I embraced it all that evening. At dawn, I arose revived and expecting to get in a last few hours of fishing before our flight back to Yellowknife. Alas, it was the windiest day yet—dangerous winds, in fact, if you were out in an open 16-foot boat. I guess it was unreasonable for us to have expected anything else.

Soon enough, Dave and I were on the road, driving through the night from Yellowknife to our homes in Edmonton. While he dozed, I reflected on our week on Aylmer. We’d ventured there to explore, to fish, and to inhale a hearty helping of the Arctic. It would have been easy to focus on the miserable weather we’d endured, or the fact we weren’t able to fish as much as we’d hoped; I never did wet a fly for lakers. But my mind didn’t go there.

Instead, I thought of the wildlife we’d encountered, from muskox and caribou to wolf and fox, and the varied bird life, including peregrine falcons and two species of jaegers, those iconic birds of the Arctic. I also thought about how we’d walked in the footsteps of renowned explorer-adventurers Seton and Back, across landscapes that few others have seen. And I recalled our evenings in camp, fireless in that treeless land, but warm with tales, new and old, and an abundance of wry humour.

The fish will always be there should Dave and I return one day, but it’s unlikely we’ll ever replicate the experience we shared that week. It’s a truism of fishing that eventually we forget the fish we caught, but we forever remember the lakes and rivers where we caught them. In that respect, by every meaningful measure, our Aylmer Lake adventure was a memorable success.

Learn more about Aylmer Lake and the lodge at www.aylmerlakelodge.com.