Where do I start when I’ve just been on the fishing trip of a lifetime?

Stac and I, along with eight of our friends and clients, just returned from Labrador. This is a trip I’ve dreamt about since I started fly fishing 25 years ago—a trip I never thought I would actually take. They say when you dream, you should dream big, and Labrador is called The Big Land for a reason.

I remember 25 years ago, being at a sportsman show with my dad. We stopped at a booth for a lodge in Labrador—the one with the giant trout. I dreamed about that for years. But then reality set in. Responsibilities kicked in—kids, house payments, life. But with time and saving, all things are possible.

Fast forward to July 24th: ten of us land at Igloo Lake Lodge in Labrador. It’s hard to describe the feelings we were all experiencing. I was choked up, holding Stac’s hand, thinking, We made it. Together. Brandon was a little teary-eyed, and Zach and Bryan had dreamt of this since they were 17, watching The New Fly Fisher. That’s just what I could see—because we were all glued to the plane’s windows, amazed at all the water surrounding the lodge as we came in for landing.

Igloo Lake Lodge sits in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by endless water. I can’t imagine they’ve even begun to explore all that’s out there. As we got off the plane, the outgoing guests were being loaded on. We were taken to the main lodge, served an amazing breakfast sandwich, then introduced to our guides and sent out to fish.

You’re assigned a guide for the week, and each outing you fish a new location. Our first stop was some pocket water that led into a section of rapids. The water was dirty from recent rain and wind, but the fish were still eating.

Stac and I both threw streamers, covering water. I waded around while Stac fished the tail of the pool, where she hooked and lost two fish. I managed to land three brook trout—12”, 14”, and 16”. I was happy to get my first fish in Labrador, even though they weren’t monsters.

At 11:30, we all headed back to the lodge for lunch and to hear how everyone did. No one else had even hooked a fish—but spirits were still high. We checked into our rooms, unpacked, and geared up for the afternoon.

This time, we headed farther downriver to a promising-looking run. Two separate shoots of fast water fed into a pond—one deeper and faster than the other, but both held fish. I was upstream fishing pocket water, giving Stac the better water, when I looked over and saw she was into something big.

I started running toward her just as the guide netted the fish. Stac started screaming and jumping with joy. I was yelling, Don’t let it go! I want a picture! As I got closer, I saw it—a huge brook trout. Not the biggest of the week, but an incredible way to start things off. The guide estimated it was 6 pounds—a true trophy.

Stac gave me the run next, and I threw a streamer. Instantly, I was on. Not as big as hers, but a solid 18-inch, 3-pounder. I tied on a red-eyed leech pattern and stripped it through the same area—and hooked into something big. We didn’t see it at first, but it made four big runs. As it came near the net, we finally got a look: a massive northern pike. It taped out at 35 inches!

All those fish came from the same run. I was fascinated that pike and brook trout were coexisting like that. I think I landed a few more pike after that, but before long it was 4:30—time to head back for dinner and stories.

Stac and I were on cloud nine. She had caught a giant brook trout, and I had landed some nice ones along with a 35-inch pike. I expected everyone else to be just as excited when we got back—but that wasn’t the case. There were some long faces, and some doubt about how the trip was going.

But what some were missing is that it’s not just about the fish. The fish brought us all together. We were in an amazing place, with amazing people. The fish just got us there.

And this was only day one of six—so much still lay ahead for everyone.