For an angler, the day never holds as much promise as when viewed from midstream at first light. When I stepped into the river the world was still shades of gray. But with the lightening sky, shapes flat and indistinct became bankside willows, yellow and pale green; peaks ochre and brown and slate; sand and gravel bars bleached-bone white and flecked with silver mica.

This remote location is so distant it requires multiple plane trips to Murmansk, and another two-hour flight in a helicopter over desolate Russian tundra to reach the Kola Peninsula. From there it’s a few more days to reach Ponoi—where wonders await.