For power and
stamina, sea-run Arctic char are unbeatable
I have been fortunate
in my travels for game fish over the years, but Arctic char
had always eluded me. True, I was busy fishing for everything
else from Atlantic salmon and brook trout here in the Maritimes,
to rainbows and Pacific salmon in Alaska, to bonefish and
tarpon in the Caribbean. But the economics and time involved
in char fishing were also factors. The homes of Salvelinus
alpinus is so far from the temperate zones where we live,
and so far north, that few Labrador outfitters actually outfit
for them due to the logistics and costs involved. Those that
do must charge accordingly, which in turn not only calls for
a more endowed investment from the angler, but more time as
well. Just getting to the char’s home ground can be an adventure.
Reaching char country, along with lodging, meals, and guides,
costs more than a week of Atlantic salmon fishing at a top
lodge. The point is, because of these factors the char is
perhaps the least-exploited freshwater game fish, and the
least known and publicized of the salmonids. Fishing for them
is something most anglers would like to experience, but rarely
do, including me.
 My
luck changed about three years ago, when I made my first trip
to northern Labrador, where the char is a true king of the
domain. With that said, char are a quarry you really want
to commit to. I did, and said “to hell with cost and time”.
It was all simply part of the experience. I finally discovered
an outfitter, Labrador Outdoors, which-besides a brook trout
lodge on Little Minipi Lake, and several caribou hunting camps
north and west of Schefferville, Quebec-has a char camp on
Umiakovik Lake, about 75 miles out of Nain, the northern settlement
on the Labrador coast. In early September, I stepped from
a DeHavilland Otter after a two-and-a-half-hour flight, and
found myself in some of the most spectacular country on earth.
Located about
a dozen miles inland from the sea and drained by the North
River, Umiakovik Lake varies in width and is perhaps four
miles in length. The south end ascends gently from sand beach
and bog to rolling hills, speckled with black spruce. The
Torngat Mountains run the length of the east coast and west
shores, some rising to heights of 2,000 feet, dropping ancient,
exposed granite cliffs straight down several hundred feet
into the lake. Packed in a crevice of one of these cliffs,
protected from the sun, I could see snow from the previous
winter. On the north end lay a valley of intensely rugged,
eerie beauty. The barren summits above it were in low clouds,
a warning of poor weather pending, and cool wind was blowing
out of the north, rippling the surface of the lake. I was
soon standing on the water’s edge with a trusty fly rod in
hand, struck by how primeval the place looked, as if it had
been locked and forgotten in time. It was a scene straight
out of a Jules Verne novel, and I suddenly felt insignificant,
yet humbly inspired.
Approaching a
spot where the mouth of a small inlet dumps into the lake
in back of camp, I picked a point in knee-deep water. Just
off my rod tip I saw char through my polarized glasses: they
were stacked in like sardines and the school extended into
the lake a hundred-yards! It was an incredible, almost unbelievable
sight. Those closest to me gave off silvery reflections as
they moved and dashed about, aware of my presence. I made
my first cast and almost immediately hooked a char.
Char are the most
northerly of freshwater fish, and the further north you travel
the earlier they enter natal streams. On Baffin Island, some
400 miles inside the Arctic Circle, runs begin to appear in
early August; but at Umiakovik, the season begins a couple
weeks later. Having a short run upstream from the coast, they
appear at the outlet behind camp full of piss and vinegar,
and bright as a silver dollar. They will stay that way until,
several weeks later, morphological changes darken the females
and turn the males a tapestry of scarlet red. Everything I
read prior to my trip proclaimed that it is the bright fish
you want to feel on fly or spinning gear, since the alteration
seems to sap them of strength and stamina. Most fisherman,
however, seem to prefer males in their coloured state, and
consider them in full spawning dress to be the ultimate prize.
I have to agree. I have caught male brook trout in some of
the world’s last remaining strongholds, measured in both inches
as well as pounds; when it comes to pleasing the eye, the
male char has them beat.
By the same token,
during my visit I discovered little difference in the power
between bright and coloured char. This may be due to the relatively
short migration upstream Umiakovik char take. Whatever the
case, new waves of bright char seem to arrive daily, and it
is common to take fresh as well as deeply-coloured fish from
early September on.
My first char
was taken on a Polar Shrimp, a bright steelhead pattern popular
on the West Coast. Having no experience with the fish, I had
packed my vest with as many recommended offering as I could
muster before, which included any bright, flashy, or gaudy
fluorescent morsel. I later discovered that these fish are
not overly selective, regardless of how long they have been
in freshwater, and many of the West Coast steelhead patterns-the
Thor, Admiral, Polar Shrimp, Skunk Red Butt, Shykomish Sunrise
and Umpqua Special-do very well, as do the brighter Atlantic
salmon patterns, and even trout standbys such as the Mickey
Finn, Red & White, and Warden’s Worry. That seems to be
one of the great joys of angling for char. Anything subsurface
is apt to work. If Umiakovik char can see your fly, odds are
high that they will nail it.
Invariably, taking
char will always be kissing the bottom. There are times when
fish will roll and sip the surface, but rarely are those fish
receptive. To find consistent action, it’s necessary to get
down to their level quickly, and to maintain that level throughout
the swing and retrieve. At Umiakovik, it quickly became apparent
that a productive technique is to cast slightly across stream,
drift, then mend the slack out of the line and let it hang
in the current. A series of short twitches as it hangs there
and during the retrieve, will greatly increase success. Keep
in mind that the strike can come at any point. In fact, it
seems usual for those fish to follow a fly before finally
accepting it.
At Umiakovik,
the biggest concentration of fish is found in the lake, at
the mouth of a rather small tributary. Even when levels are
low, the downstream tide carries enough volume to push a rip
and strong current well into the lake. Conditions are only
enhanced following a period of rain (which is always a possibility).
Because of this, high-density sink-tip lines and weighted
or beaded-eye patterns, such as those mentioned, can greatly
increase one’s catch rate.
It’s also imperative never to underestimate the power and
tenacity of these fish. That first char smashed my fly, and
followed with a long bullish run that nearly stripped me to
the backing. Every char I caught on that first trip, and on
every subsequent trip, has continued this pattern. There is
little doubt in my mind that char are the strongest of all
freshwater fish. They also compare to saltwater quarry: they
hit like a small tuna and fight like a tarpon. And char do
possess acrobatic skills-not the same skills as Atlantic salmon,
but the same underlying determination and belligerence.
Because of this,
8 ½ to 9-foot fly rods designed for 7 or 8-weight line
with a stiff tip and power into the butt section, along with
strong leaders, are highly advised for Umiakovik char, as
are reels with sufficient backing and a smooth, adjustable
drag. Even so equipped, since a good number of fish run 4
to 7 lb. (and seen twice that), the fish will make inrods
into your fly box. Along with a habit of head-shaking, long,
rod-bending runs and untiring strength, char are well endowed
with small but sharp dentures. Break-offs and bite-offs are
common. Carry lots of flies: you’ll need them.
While I am rather prejudiced when it comes to ways of catching
fish, char are receptive to other offerings besides flies.
Several of my co-guests at Umiakovik that year did very well
on light and medium spinning gear. Reels with a smooth drag
and 150 yards of 8 to 10-lb. test line are recommended. As
with fly rods, spinning rods should have plenty of backbone.
As for offerings, just about anything in bright colours-or
nickel and chromre-plated-will do quite well. Unless water
conditions are high, small and medium sizes will suffice as
long as they sink quickly and hug the bottom, on the drift
as well as the retrieve. However, because water conditions
do change, and at times quickly in the north, a host of spinners,
spoons, and flies in various sizes is always a good idea.
My first experience
with char was everything I imagined it to be, and more. During
the course of my weeklong visit, I caught no fewer than two-dozen
char each day, all on flies. Those using spinning gear did
equally as well. On my best day, I caught 42 fish, the biggest
just more than 8 lb. It was a male in full spawning dress.
As usual I was exhausted and fished out at day’s end. After
a well-prepared supper and several cool beers, I slept like
a log that night. The only sound to break my slumber was the
cry of a wolf on a distant hillside. The next day at Umiakovik,
the magic and wonder started all over again.
Since that maiden
visit, I have returned to Umiakovik three times, and each
time it has been a spiritual revelation of sorts-a combination
of country and fishing that can’t be compared.
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