At this N.W.T. pike lodge on the Mackenzie River, the monsters are real

It’s with very good reason that avid pike anglers travel to Yellowknife, then jump on a floatplane and fly 200 kilometres southwest to Brabant Island—the northerns here truly do grow to epic proportions. For that you can thank several key factors, chief among them the abundant food supply in the form of burbot, ciscoes, lake whitefish, suckers and more. And when they’re not eating other fish, the Mackenzie’s pike will also feast on leeches and insects, as well as hapless small mammals and birds. Add in the myriad shallow flats, weedbeds, drop-offs and other structure, and you have the perfect ambush grounds for these piscatorial apex predators.

Also lending itself to producing massive pike is the area’s very location straddling the 61st parallel. That far north, the colder water makes for slower growth, but the fish tend to live decades longer than their faster-growing southern cousins, allowing them to ultimately become far bigger.

The relatively remote northern location also means there’s minimal fishing pressure, largely leaving the pike alone to grow into trophies. Other than a handful of local Dene fishermen, the only other anglers plying the waters around Brabant Lodge are the guests, so far numbering less than 100 over the course of the short June to August season (at full capacity, the lodge can handle up to 156 anglers a season). Peter’s strict catch-and-release pike policy, coupled with the N.W.T.’s mandatory use of barbless hooks, also play a crucial role in maintaining the trophy fishery.

Knowing there are giant fish lurking in such a large and diverse river system is one thing, but finding and catching them is quite another. Luckily for John and me, we had Luca at the tiller of the 50-horse pushing along our big aluminum Lund. Hailing from Midland, Ontario, the 23-year-old grew up fishing on Lake Huron’s massive Georgian Bay, learning at the knee of his angler grandpa.

Not only did Luca have excellent pike instincts, he also had solid overall fish smarts. He was clearly one of those guys who lives to fish, often spending his leisure time off the water back home tying flies and drinking beer with his like-minded buddies.

Fresh out of Trent University with a Bachelor of Business Administration, Luca was also in his third season of guiding at Brabant, so he had a healthy list of prime areas likely to produce trophy-calibre fish. For John and me, finding those places on our own—with so much geography to cover—would have been a daunting task. “Although the river is full of life, a lot of it is like a desert,” Luca observed. “You have to find the hot spots.”

One of those hot spots was a necked-down area between two islands, just upriver from camp toward the open lake. Called “ The In-Between,” it was our first stop, and in just two and half hours I caught 16 pike on the fly, along with a bonus walleye—all under the watchful eyes of Arctic terns, Bonaparte gulls and bald eagles. John fared similarly well, but neither of us broke the 40-inch threshold.

That evening, Luca shifted gears and took us to a giant widening of the river called Beaver Lake, about a 40-kilometre trek downriver. A reliable producer of big pike, the cabbage-lined channel running down the middle of Beaver is typically one of the lodge’s top go-to spots. Perhaps due to the yo-yoing barometer, however, the fish had turned off and we only picked up a handful. John caught the biggest pike, coming tantalizing close to 40 inches, but we still weren’t on the board.

Back at the lodge that first night, most of the other five guests—all hailing from the U.S.—had rosier results to report. New Jersey’s David Park, a social media influencer, did particularly well, sharing images and videos of his impressive catches with his 600,000 combined followers on TikTok, Instagram and YouTube. In all, he caught six fish between 43 and 45 inches casting enormous baits, and another handful in the 38- to 42-inch range. “Back in New Jersey, maybe I’ll catch one or two 40-inch pike a year,” he said, clearly amazed with his day’s results. “This has ruined pike fishing for me.”

As for me, I now had an additional goal alongside catching a new personal-best pike on the fly—to not be the first person to merit a free return trip.