8 hard-earned lessons for fishing a backcountry lake you’ve never seen before

#4  START WITH THE TEXTBOOK SPOTS

The first joy of backcountry fishing is being alone in a place barely sullied by humans. Close behind that is healthy fish populations (assuming you’re with an outfitter, such as White River Air, who’s been a good steward). When a lake has a healthy population, the fish tend to be found in classic, easy-to-identify holding spots such as points, humps and narrows—or whatever your target species prefers. That’s unlike heavily pressured water, where fish may be pushed into secondary, less obvious locations.

This is where time with the map and your plan of action come in—especially on wilderness water without cottages and docks, where almost everywhere looks vaguely fishy. Hit the high-percentage structure, and fish it methodically, changing depths, speeds and presentations until you find a successful pattern. Portable sonars are a godsend for this. I have a basic little one that shows depth, bottom composition and the classic little arcs of fish, and it runs for almost three days on a single charge.

And be mercenary about ignoring the “maybe” spots. The long, deep middle of Dayo was almost featureless, for example, so we trolled the steep edges of the basin, and it paid off.

#5  CELEBRATE YOUR FIRST FISH

As promising as your backcountry destination might seem, and no matter how well you prepare, you never know what’s going to happen. When you’ve put a lot of blood, sweat and treasure into a trip, it can feel like a lot of pressure—especially if your angling personality is, speaking from experience, wound a little tight. For me, at least, all of that just melts away once someone catches a fish. It could be a leviathan, but even if it’s a tiny one, it’s full of promise and cause for celebration. Every fish in the backcountry is a team effort, and every team member deserves a pat on the back.

Before setting out, I was cautiously hopeful we’d find lakers on Dayo, given its sterling rep. But our fly-in day was wet and grey, and we didn’t arrive until noon. Then after stowing our food, finding and assembling tackle, and getting the boat set up, we didn’t get lines in the water until about 4 p.m. But just 20 minutes into our first troll, in a narrow channel right by the cabin, Wes landed a small laker on his Bully spoon. And the first thing the next morning, Mark had a fish—his first ever trout, and about the fifth catch of his life. In celebration, he filleted it and cooked it on the BBQ, completing the angling circle of life.