We first "discovered" Dragon Lake on a British Columbia steelhead trip several years ago. It had been raining steadily for a week, the rivers were raging and the color of Irish coffee. We were 18 hours north of the border with seven vacation days and a rental car. With all hope of 20-pound steelies shattered, we decided to investigate the trout fishing in the Cariboo region of central B.C. Fleeing south and inland, away from the torrential weather, we hit sunshine just north of the town of Quesnel, where we stumbled into "Cariboo Fly & Tackle."

In answer to our "How's the fishing around here?" the owner, Blair Powell, pushed a scrapbook of photos across the counter. To be sure, there were steelhead, salmon, and even some impressive brook trout--but what caught our eye were the numerous beautiful, heavy bodied, double-digit rainbows.

Dragon Lake rainbows average 22 to 24 inches and 3 to 5 pounds. Much bigger fish are caught every season.

"Wow, where was this one caught?" we'd ask, to which Blair would answer simply "Dragon."

The next morning found us on Dragon Lake, which turned out to be about five minutes from our motel—not exactly a remote destination in the B.C. backcountry. Well-kept cottages dotted the shoreline on the north end of the lake, nestled into the aspens and birch, or overlooking the lake from the pines on the surrounding hills. Rolling pasture and farmland formed the balance of the lakeshore. Since the marshy shoreline made bank fishing impractical, we rented a boat at a lakeside campground. Judging from the thriving weed growth extending far offshore, it was apparent Dragon had the fertility to produce big fish. While rowing to a hotspot suggested by the camp host, my partner John spotted several sizeable rainbows cruising the shallows. We dropped anchor near an island as a huge fish surfaced nearby.

The first fish hit within ten feet of the boat. A quick "thunk" and it was gone. On the second take I did slightly better--a short run, a cart-wheeling leap, and a beautiful 5-pound rainbow took fly number two with him. In short order I was out a half dozen flies, and I hadn't landed a fish! John shared my frustration, having lost a few bugs as well. We had been warned—"Stick with 3X or 4X fluorocarbon"—Blair had said. Call it cockiness, but who the heck fishes midges on 4X? By the time we'd beefed up our tippets, the sun was bright on the water and the action stopped.

A while later we anchored near an angler playing a good fish; and then another, and another. From our position we could see he was using a strike indicator about six feet above his fly.

"Hey, we can do this!"

John and I rerigged, and armed with indicators, 4X flourocarbon, and long, shock-absorbing leaders we began to pick up some amazingly beautiful fish--topped by a stunning 26-inch rainbow just before dark. Sometimes you have to pay your dues.

With newfound confidence (and stouter tippets), our catch rates soared over the following days. Typically we'd boat a dozen or more fish by noon, and double that number by dark. I wish I could say we hooked the 10-pound monsters we saw in the scrapbook, but if we did they were the unseen Humvees that burned 50 yards of backing before parting our tippets in weeds. What we did experience was one of the finest rainbow fisheries in Canada: A lake with fat, healthy rainbows that average 22 to 24 inches (three to five pounds), and where 26-inch or 27-inch trout barely raise an eyebrow. These trout fought like steelhead, with many fish going to the air for half a dozen high leaps, others running far into the backing.