We’re doing the happy dance on the casting deck of the fishing boat. My fishing buddy has just hauled in a northern pike as tall as a seven-year-old child. We are hooting and hollering, throwing high-fives and, yes, we are hugging. The only thing saving us from full on delirium is that this is not our first giant-sized, trophy-worthy fish today. This is our fourth. And it’s not even lunchtime yet.
To say the fishing at Manitoba’s newest fly-in resort is spectacular would be like declaring that the Canadian Rockies are majestic. The kingpins of Utik Lake are the big and brawly northern pike and today, they are hungry.

From the air, Northern Manitoba looks a little like an abstract painting of green brushstrokes broken only by chains of blue-black lakes both big and small. In this swath of boreal forest, civilization is scarce and because of that, the fishing is great no matter where you go. But if there is one sweet spot to be found, the owners of North Haven Resort may have struck paydirt.

At daybreak, our guide, the young Aaron Weibe, gently taps on my cabin door and delivers hot coffee. He’ll even set the fireplace aglow if it’s a chilly morning. But there’s no need for that today—my blood is already running hot with the promise of a fantastic day on the water. Still, I take a moment to pause on the deck, spy on a trio of loons and breathe in that black spruce air. I’m having a Canadian Shield moment.

The first order of business on the boat is to gather some buttery walleye for shore lunch, that quintessential northern experience of eating what you catch at a picnic site. We troll a rocky ridge shouldering an island and peer down into the crystal-clear water, watching the hungry fish take our hooks. That old saying of shooting fish in a barrel comes to mind.

Now it’s time for northern pike fishing, an experience guaranteed to get your adrenaline racing and remind you of that old dislocated shoulder injury: these fish are big, heavy and above all, nasty. Weibe motors to a spot that, after our visit, affectionately became known as Big Mouth Bay. With the motor barely idling, he performs a Cirque du Soleil-style move that has him atop the motor, a perch from where he can see the monsters of the deep. “There. Right there. Cast there,” he instructs. His confident attitude is infectious. We are on high alert with every cast and it’s a good thing, because nearly every retrieve results in a hit.

Once a northern pike takes your hook, he has no intention of returning it. The critical thing to do at this point is give your rod a good stiff pull. “I’m likin’ that hookset!” Weibe shouts over to me. I am beaming.

A pike on the line will dive, race and shake his head to win the battle. Just when you think he’s played out and ready to be lifted into the boat, he’s going to pivot and go for one last run, threatening to unspool every metre of line on your reel. At shore lunch, we brag shamelessly.