Two legendary Yukon fishing lodges are long closed. The pike and lake trout don’t seem to mind

At the shoal near Don’s old camp, I instructed Al to cast to the edge. On his first try, a three-pound lake trout hammered his lure of choice, a yellow-and-red Five of Diamonds spoon. After the fish stopped thrashing and rolling in typical laker fashion at the side of the boat, Al hauled in his wriggling prize for a quick photo. Within minutes, both boats had hooked more trout of the same size—beautiful specimens with vibrant red fins and red-to-orange bellies, a laker variant Don had named “Yukon red trout.”

From there, we moved on to Submarine Bay, also named by Don, in this case for its tackle-busting northern pike. Al and I attached shallow-running surface plugs and began spot casting for pike, but when that produced no results, we switched to trolling.

In a deeper hole off a small island, my 5½-foot casting rod suddenly bent in an arc as a large pike walloped my vintage Lucky Strike wooden plug. As I brought the fish boatside, it dove in desperation and made a second run before I was finally able to subdue it. (Later that evening, the 38-incher would make for a delicious dinner of beer-battered fish and chips.)

I raised Ted and John by walkie-talkie to pass on news of the catch, and they soon motored into the bay to try their luck further along where a shallow weed bed emerged. Al and I switched back to casting, which generated a brief flurry of explosive action.

That afternoon, we fished close to our cabin and caught more red trout. Later, the sun came out and we decided to head in, content to lounge along the shore. At one point, a pair of loons popped up to offer a quick hello, then dove to continue their fishing.

A westerly breeze was the harbinger of a high-pressure front moving in, and the next day dawned clear. Al and I motored toward an outlet stream just south of the cabin, while Ted and John cruised through the narrows toward the western basin of the lake in search of more pike action. Both Al and I caught several 36-inch northerns casting off a shoal not far from the creek.

To our surprise, we also encountered a fast-moving school of red trout chasing Arctic grayling in five feet of water. A five-pounder struck Al’s Five of Diamonds 20 feet behind the boat and fought like a whirling dervish before he managed to land it. The feeding frenzy was over almost as soon as it began, however, when the trout dispersed into deeper waters.

At the other side of the lake, John and Ted also caught a few red trout and northern pike, and by late afternoon we were all back at camp with fish stories to swap. Our steak dinner in the land of the midnight sun was capped off with beverages by the lake under the soft caress of the evening light, lingering over the slopes of Thunder Mountain.