Crocodiles in the Arctic: Fly Fishing the Yokanga River's Special Breed of Giant Atlantic Salmon

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Just what is the attraction of Atlantic salmon fishing? Cast out, let your fly swing around to the bank, take three steps downstream, and do it again . . . and again . . . and again. When I describe this type of fishing to typical trout fishermen, they often ask, “Why would you want to do that?”

When they hear the word “salmon,” anglers often think of rivers filled with fish, and relentless action. But the truth is, a dedicated Atlantic salmon fisherman sets out each day with the expectation of not catching anything. You see, once they’ve returned from the Atlantic to their natal rivers to spawn, salmon don’t eat a thing. They actually can’t eat a thing—their stomachs and digestive systems atrophy as soon as they come home to fresh water.

Atlantic salmon are the fish of 1,000 casts. Not only is our quarry unable to eat anything, but Atlantic salmon populations are in steep decline almost everywhere. In most locations, salmon anglers are increasingly obliged to trot out the desperate old adage that actually catching a salmon is “just a bonus.”

It’s not a cerebral battle of wits, either. In truth, when salmon occasionally do make a grab, we don’t really even know why our quarry take the fly. We suspect some form of curiosity or irritation. But what we know for sure is that the sport offers none of the “match-the-hatch” conundrums we associate with trout or permit fishing.

Apart from a few rivers in Iceland—where the salmon are relatively small—we can’t see the salmon, so there is none of the thrill and skill of spotting and targeting our quarry. And while Atlantic salmon can grow to more than 30 pounds, they will never attain the vast scale of saltwater leviathans such as tarpon and giant trevally. So why do we do it?

I’ve been lucky: I’ve fly fished in 37 countries. I’ve spent long days and weeks chasing lock-jawed permit on shallow Cuban flats and being humiliated by the big, cunning brown trout that populate the unforgiving, gin-clear waters of New Zealand. I’ve caught everything from piranhas to sailfish, and I’ve cast a line on waters stretching from the Arctic circle to the Amazon jungle. I love fishing for just about anything that swims, but in spite of all the downsides laid out above, if I could choose to fish anywhere in the world, it would be for Atlantic salmon in the Yokanga River.

Why? In most watersheds, Atlantic salmon numbers are indeed dwindling rapidly. A brutal combination of factors—ranging from global warming to the catastrophic sea lice proliferation engendered by salmon farming—have had a devastating impact on salmon stocks from Canada to Norway. However, at the extreme edge of the Atlantic salmon’s range, on the far northern coastline of Russia’s Kola Peninsula, Atlantic salmon are still thriving.

Aficionados of the sport celebrate the rivers of the northern Kola as the last true sanctuary for trophy salmon. The rivers of the Kola are virtually the only remaining Atlantic salmon waters that can boast a genuine wilderness setting. They are untouched by salmon farming and pollution, and their fish are as wild as the wind. Many of the rivers are feted for their big fish, but for me at least, the Yokanga stands out on its own.

Arctic Accommodations

he Yokanga boasts the most luxurious lodge on the Kola Peninsula. The original timber lodge was built in 1998 and was completely refurbished in 2020. Each guest now enjoys a private room with an ensuite shower.

The main lodge—called Middle Camp—takes pride in its five-star service. The chef creates delicious dishes using locally sourced ingredients including spider crab, reindeer steaks, native trout, and wild blueberries. After fishing, guests can relax with an icy aperitif on the new decking overlooking the Home Pool, or ease their stiff joints in the new banya (a Russian sauna).

Middle Camp has fast, stable Wi-Fi and has an excellent selection of loaner tackle, boots, and waders for those who lose their luggage in transit. There is also a comprehensive fly shop and a well-stocked bar featuring an array of excellent single-malt whisky and other spirits. The Middle Camp offers access to the river’s most prolific holding pools, including Upper and Lower Norcamp pools, Poachers Pool, and the Lilyok Confluence.

There is also a cozy new camp called the Gremikha Camp, which overlooks the magical Pulanga Junction and allows easy access to the rugged pools of the lower river. This camp also has excellent facilities and helicopter fly-outs every day. Pools like Loopskaya, Zolotya (and the notorious heartbreaker Pool Eighteen) are revered among Yokanga veterans as some of the very best holding pools on the river, and the maelstrom of the lower river is one of the most exhilarating parts of the entire watershed.

The new Suhaya Camp is on the upper river at the Yokanga’s junction with the tributary Suhiya River. This luxury tent camp offers great fishing for trophy salmon as well as big, wild brown trout, aggressive northern pike, and even some remarkably hard-fighting tundra whitefish known as sigue. This camp offers an excellent introduction to the Yokanga at a reasonable price, and some of the biggest salmon in the Yokanga are caught here. Guests at Suhaya Camp have access to the holding water of Cascade, Long Pool, Cliff Pool, and Sand Island, right up to the Suhaya Junction and beyond.

The Yokanga operation uses Solar Inflatable Jet Hulls to access most of the fishing, with additional helicopter fly-outs to the most distant beats. The guides are all trained in whitewater rafting, and they always put the guests' safety above all other considerations. In years past, the Yokanga was fished only by wading, but fishing from the Solar jet boats means that anglers of all abilities and age groups are now able to experience the magic of the Yokanga for themselves.

Hunting Salmon

In its upper reaches, the Yokanga meanders out of Lake Alozero, winds placidly across the flat tundra, and is populated only by a humble assortment of pike, trout, and whitefish.  However, nourished by numerous tributaries, the river starts to swell in size and gains momentum as the gradient steepens. Finally, the Yokanga bursts down off of the tundra tableland, carving through the ancient bedrock and crashing into the Barents Sea near a godforsaken military base at Gremikha Bay.

The lower section of the Yokanga is a seething maelstrom of boiling rapids and crashing chutes, and this savage, uncut diamond of a river has forged a race of Atlantic salmon like no other. The salmon that run the Yokanga during the brief Arctic summer are the strongest, the wildest, and the most formidable fish I have ever encountered anywhere in fresh water.

Geneticists at the Russian Polar Research Institute of Marine Fisheries and Oceanography (PINRO) have classified the Yokanga River’s salmon as the largest strain on the Kola Peninsula. The big Atlantic salmon of the Yokanga are affectionately known as “crocodiles,” and every season anglers catch numerous fish of 30 pounds and more. In 2019, during a single memorable week, 11 fish over 30 pounds were landed. But these fish are more than spectacularly large. The Yokanga’s powerful currents, enormous boulders, and numerous Class V rapids have forged a race of thick-set, broad-shouldered salmon that are spectacularly proportioned and, in my opinion, uniquely strong.

Hooking one of the Yokanga’s titans is as exhilarating as anything you can do with a fly rod in your hand. Yet, with every passing year, I’ve come to realize that the appeal of the Yokanga is not just the remarkable fighting properties of its magnificent fish, but the fact that the topographic makeup of this unique river means that you really have to hunt these salmon.

While many rivers present a series of obvious holding pools—best approached by the methodical “cast-and-step” approach that most Atlantic salmon anglers know—the Yokanga is different. The river is made up of thunderous rapids and wild, turbulent pools, so fishing the Yokanga requires a tough mental attitude. The fish might be in those big, seductive tailouts, but they can also be in any of the myriad pockets that pepper the vast boulder fields. A glassy pocket the size of a billiard table might give up the fish of your dreams. And the more arduous it is to reach and cover, the more likely it is that no one has already presented a fly to a salmon holding there.

Work hard. Explore every little mirror and pocket, wading out where necessary to target each and every lie with tenacity and discipline. Act on your hunches: Switch flies and sink tips whenever your experience and intuition tell you to. Turn over your fly consistently, and don’t try to cast farther than you are able. Listen to your guide, but fish each and every spot you think might just hold a fish. The rewards can be unforgettable.

Seasons

Despite the long days, on the Kola Peninsula the first few weeks of June can be uncomfortably cold. But June also offers some of the season’s best fishing for the largest Yokanga fish, fresh from the ocean. In the second half of June, the landscape begins to turn green, and large numbers of fish start to enter the river. The trophy-size fish are still in the river, but they are joined by their smaller brethren. The end of June is often the time to shelve the heavy, weighted tube flies and switch to small doubles and lightly weighted sink-tip lines.

With rising water temperatures, the fish become much more active and grabby. When you hook them, it’s exhilarating, and the Yokanga’s largest salmon can be almost unstoppable. As the water continues to warm up in July, the fish gather in the big holding pools. While the fishing becomes more visual and surface-oriented, the fish themselves also become more difficult to catch. July is a time for floating lines, long leaders, and riffle-hitched Sunray Shadow patterns and dead-drifted Bombers.

In August, the river starts to cool again, and the resident fish become more active. There is a chance of running into one of the big, late-run silver osenkhas (as the Russian guides call them) that come into the river. But by August, most of the Yokanga salmon are sporting their tartan autumn colors.

The first two weeks in September are the end of the season on the Yokanga. The aurora borealis lights up the sky, the landscape is covered in lichen, saxifrage, and scarlet cowberries, and the big cock fish that have spent the summer in the river now become very aggressive prior to their October spawning. It’s a magical time to be on the Yokanga.  

Gearing Up

Don’t bring a knife to a gunfight. On the Yokanga, a 15-foot, 10-weight Spey rod is the weapon of choice. You should pair it up with a high-capacity reel loaded with at least 350 yards of high-quality backing. I use a huge Mako 9700 Bluewater fly reel, and while I endure a million wisecracks about the dearth of sailfish in the river, I’m secure in the knowledge that I will never be spooled by one of the Yokanga’s big brutes, as many others have been over the years.

Many Atlantic salmon purists frown upon Skagit lines as being crude. But in the brutal hurly-burly of the Yokanga’s early season, they are functional and efficient—even essential. A 700-grain Skagit head gets the job done, no matter how heavy that tube fly is, or how savagely that Siberian easterly is blowing. Skagit lines are also great for fishing short, which is often the way to go in high water, when the fish will hug the soft water close to the bank.

I use RIO’s excellent 50-pound GripShooter as a running line, and keep a Scandi head in my pocket for throwing smaller flies in low water and windy conditions. However, make sure that your fly is turning over consistently. The Skagit will almost always do that efficiently and, regardless of aesthetics, it is often my first choice as a result.

In the early season, I favor the RIO Skagit Max Launch in 700 grains, and if the water is cold, I like to use the RIO Long MOW tips to get my fly down and fishing immediately in the small pockets that often produce a big salmon.

Weighted tube flies such as Snaeldas and bottle-tube Temple Dogs will also help to get themselves into a big fish’s sight line before the river’s brutal currents whisk them away, and the Skagit’s big, thick belly is easy to mend upstream to slow the fly’s progress and keep it in the strike zone for a little longer.

A stout leader of 35-pound-test Seaguar fluorocarbon is the money maker for early season, but it is not always sufficient to prevent one of these runaway brutes from heading back to the sea. A spool of Stroft ABR in a similar breaking strain is better for presenting riffle-hitched Sunray Shadow flies and also big dry Bombers, as it floats and will not drag your surface presentations down the way fluorocarbon will.

As summer unfolds on the Kola Peninsula and the Yokanga’s water level drops, it makes sense to switch to a more elegant presentation. The RIO Scandi Body will present small, light flies and slow-sinking tips with a stealth and delicacy not possible with a Skagit. That said, it pays to keep the Skagit close at hand in case the wind picks up, or if you decide to throw a big, heavy fly to a fish that refuses to commit to a smaller surface presentation.

Round out your kit with a small wallet of flies, a box of super-tough Ken Sawada Tube Fly double hooks, and a small waterproof backpack to store some spare tackle and a few warm layers in case the weather turns nasty, as it often does on the Kola.

A tough pair of chest waders, a folding wading staff, and a good pair of felt-soled wading boots are essential for staying safe and dry on the Yokanga. Don’t bring lightweight boots—you need sturdy wading shoes with adequate ankle support and protective toe boxes to help you navigate the river’s boulders. Metal cleats are not permitted, because the guides use inflatable boats for transportation up and down the river.

Stay warm, stay safe, and you will be able to concentrate on the fishing. Fish hard, and the rewards may well stay with you for the rest of your life.

In the early season, a fresh Yokanga salmon is like no other gamefish: impossibly deep-bodied, with wide, iridescent silver flanks, shot through with a sparkling sapphire-blue luster, and liberally peppered with jet black spots. The big cock fish of the late season—clad in their rusty red tartan livery and replete with cruel, kyped jawlines—are equally memorable, and will fight with a savage abandon that often puts the early-season fish to shame.

To gently cradle one of these magnificent creatures in the icy flows of the northern wilderness, and to briefly connect with this wild, indomitable spirit before you send your prize on its way to complete its epic journey is as special as fly fishing gets. Dumb luck? I don’t think so. Every one of these superlative Atlantic salmon is hard-won, and as you fish out your hip flask and offer a dram to your guide, you have every right to celebrate this special moment high up in the wilds of the Arctic Circle. Enjoy it.

Book Your Destination

To get to the Yokanga, you'll fly to Murmansk, where a helicopter will pick you up. To book through a U.S. agent, visit flyshop.com. To deal directly with the lodge, email info@yokanga.com.

Yokanga Lodge — yokanga.com

Recommended Gear

Bring a 15-foot, 10-weight Spey rod. In the first weeks of the season you'll need a 700-grain Skagit line and matching RIO MOW tips to deliver large, weighted flies. As the season progresses, you'll move to floating lines and smaller flies.

• G. Loomis Asquith Spey 15' 10-weight,  $1,635
• Mako 9700B Bluewater reel,  $2,300
• RIO GRIPSHOOTER running line, $50
• RIO Skagit Max Launch shooting head,  $60
• Orvis Wading Staff,  $150
• Patagonia Guidewater Backpack,  $300
• Simms G3 Guide Wading Boots,  $250
• Orvis Pro Zipper Waders,  $700

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Photographer and author Matt Harris has fished the Yokanga every year since he first visited the river in 2001.

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