Conundrum? Not really...

We’re a few weeks into this year’s trip to New Zealand. In a million years I wouldn’t have guessed the trip to go the way it has. It has been odd in a peculiar way. From the day we landed and the first fish, it’s been a bizarre circus for me personally. I’m getting a take from every single fish I line up on. No matter what we’re fishing for, rainbows or browns, it’s the same. See a fish, get a take. The only fish I haven’t have been a rainbow that was holding deep in a run, holding beside a fish we’d caught and I simply didn’t want to tie on a longer dropper nymph to get it. The other two were both browns on a formerly impossible spring creek that has been very good to us the return engagements. Those two simply looked at the flies but either took and I missed or ignored me altogether. Otherwise, It’s getting a little ridiculous. To the point that it’s almost a little tedious.

I stopped typing to read what I wrote above. I cringe in sharing that. I honestly don’t mean to sound like a pompous ass. Honest. I’ve been taken aback at how it has gone thus far. Between last year and this year’s trips, it’s been quite amazing fishing. In one run on one stream a few days ago, Amelia & I had 2 double headers and a single in a 10 m bit of water. All were 3 to 6 pound browns. In New Zealand?

 

I had a fellow earlier in our trip comment on my string of takes. His suggestion has some validity: why not go fish more heavily pressured rivers where the take isn’t guaranteed? While there is merit in that, the thoughts in my head are as follows:

WHY? If you know New Zealand enough to explore and to return to previous year’s waters that treated you well, or are able to deduct others that offer similar fishing, or you know the weather and water cycles to know where to be and when, why would you deliberately seek out pressured waters that others fish simply because they are known to produce big trout, especially when we aren’t here to simply catch big trout? As we’re here to enjoy intimate moments on some neat streams and creeks, with a few bigger rivers here & there, simply to engage some cool moments with trout (regardless their size – be it a 3 lb brown or 10 lb sea runner) then what is the point of going to where others fish with regularity and risk the chance that you’ll run into others and disrupt their or your day, especially when we’re all simply here to enjoy our time? Quite a conundrum.

We are completely comfortable to ‘only’ catch 2 to 7 pound trout from the type of waters we love, the ones that put you 13 feet from a 6 pound brown holding tight under a rounded mat of tree roots – where only a bow & arrow cast can be used as side, rear, upper back casts are blocked. To watch a fish respond and charge 3 or 4 feet to take your dry when you were hoping it might just consider your nymph… that kind of thing. Why seek out pressured waters where that is less likely?

The more popular waters also have a missing element: surprise and exploration. We’re excited about what we might or might not find on a new reach. One day earlier in our trip we literally bush bashed for an hour following a dry creek bed. As we walked up there was a bone dry channel. Then a trickle; then a corner pool; then a long glide and some almost waist deep water. It was looking great! Google Earth recon was looking excellent. But, then we came around a corner and the now babbling stream began to disappear into thickets of gorse and broom (nasty, thick and spiked weeds).  We marched onwards but only found ourselves mired in the thickest of nasty bush and the stream spread out considerably. A complete bust for trout. But, it was our bust, our wee exploration. Fun, hot, sweaty, miserable, hopeless, painful, hopeful, and full of anticipation that we might find a hidden gem with a trout or two. Of course, we’d likely catch them in that scenario, but the point was finding them, not the catching. The catching, by that point, is only a reflection of the effort. We weren’t so rewarded then, but 90% of the time we are, if only for one. And often, one is enough.

So, it has been an interesting trip for sure. We’ve fished some waters from years gone by. We have explored successfully (be it trout or not) and enjoyed our time. The weather hasn’t always lined up with the good fishing and the video work is a little lacking by our hopeful standards, but it has gone exceptionally well in so many regards. It’s been an interesting bit tho. I’m not used to the words “I’m getting a take from every fish I’ve lined up on for a month” and “New Zealand” in the same breath. It’s similar to last years’ trip where Amelia landed every fish she lined up on during an incredible 3 week run.

It simply reflects that it is no longer simply the fishing that brings us back here. Great friends, hope for new ones, hope for some amazing photos and video moments, avoiding the hellish winter at home this year, finally getting a great video of a fantail flitting about in a streamside forest, and countless small moments that go along with the endless string of trout that we seek in unique, intimate moments. At this point what is missing is a small cabin (batch) to call home, to share it all with friends, to enjoy what we’ve been able to enjoy. It’s getting to be so much like home,  a place to settle into might be the next phase of this experience in life. It’s all part of how amazing life can be, rising out of the simplest means of life as a fly fishing guide in Alberta, Canada. Life is wonderful, even in the smallest of things. We need more time with the people we care about, spent watching fantails, pukekos, wekas, and keas… or completely immersed in a moment with a trout…

Life indeed can be amazingly wonderful

 

Top 15 Canadian Moments 2012 - #1 - Floating through Heaven

When you have a vision, a dream, it is vivid.

Dreaming in Technicolor... hadn't heard that one for a while.

What about living in Technicolor?

If you are lucky, your vision, your dreams, and your life... they once in a while meld together a moment.

Or a day.

And blow you away.

Our last day of the Fortress Lake Retreat season this year... magical. We closed up and waited for the plane. Not a cloud. Not a breath of wind. Not a worry. Everything went smoothly. After our 7th season, with the hiccups, hurdles, the big recession, the reconstruction, the learning lessons, the completion of the 2011 season had us in a place of knowing our business fully - who to allow involvement, what it takes exactly, what we are, what the facility is about... all those key identifiers in a business. It took some time to mature to this place, and that last day truly reflected everything and offered perspective. A wonderful thing. The interactions have rounded some sharp edges off us as well. By no coincidence, through it all, we've grown.

After catching a few more brook trout to end the season, it was time for the flight home. Simply... 50 minutes of floating like a cotton-ball cloud in a land of giants. Every one of the tallest peaks in the Canadian Rockies stood tall against the blue skies. It was awesome.

 

Top 15 Moments Canadian 2012 - #2 - Hello Mary Lou

I had a couple of great ladies join me. The hope was to do some sight-fishing and enjoy the afternoon fly fishing. Prior to the trip, they'd had a chance to buy and view our Sight-Fishing Trout Rivers DVD and wanted to join me in seeing how we go about it.

We walked the banks of a central Alberta brown trout stream. It was a sunny day and the water wasn't crystal clear but only had a stain in it. The conditions were tough for any insect hatches but very good for sighting.

The day was consistent. Nothing of any great shakes happened for much of the day. We spotted some neat fish and I was able to show what I was looking at, where, and what key features I was looking for and why I was looking where I was looking. It was a lot of fun and they were really nice gals.

Towards the end of the day, having had a few hook ups, some sighting, and a lot of fun, we came around a bend of stream to find a fish popping along the bank 40 yards up. It was neat to see. It was also a decent brown for the stream.

Mary Lou was up and she was in the water, wading toward the riser. We stayed up on the bank, watching the brown rise at the pmds drifting sporadically past its lie under a bankside stick. It was just subsurface and we could see its full body swaying left and right, down, then out. It had quite a feeding window and was willing to move quite a distance. Mary Lou was blind for the glare on the water at her position, save for the rises, which actually didn't help all that much because after the rise, the fish would be 3 feet left or right of the ring. We could see everything from the bank, but could only use the bank, the middle, or a rise ring as a reference point to her as to where to cast. It was a bit of a 3-ring Circus just trying to establish communication at times, the fish was very active. One thing was very clear, while she was focused on making the best cast, the fish was so active that any cast would get its attention, so we made sure that any cast within 10 feet (it could move that far in a couple of seconds as she was false-casting) wasn't dismissed and given full attentiveness for line control and anticipation. After one more rise, the brown took back to the bank. Mary Lou shot her line and the fish rose slightly out from the bank as the line laid out. From the bank, we saw the fish slide back right, she was anticipating it coming left. That didn't happen but when her flies landed, the trout literally turned 45 degrees downstream, charging 15 feet to take her dry. Her friend saw the full event - the fish turn out and up, charging. "Here it comes!" And sure-as, the head broke surface and took. Awesome. The event is always amazing when showing it to people for the first time, and these two had an incredible moment. Sharing it was amazing. A lot of fun, positive emotion comes from an engaged moment like that. A little New Zealand fly fishing here at home. And what better gals to share it with. :)

Top 15 Canadian Moments 2012 - #3 - 2Day

Back in May, the fishing on the Red Deer R was quite good - a shock given the sporadic fishing the past several years, since the 2005 flood. It's the same river it has always been, the fish in the exact same waters they have always been in. This spring was quite interesting, mind you, as one bend of the river had 19 trout rising one afternoon. You could sit and watch them feeding - something I hadn't seen in 10 years. Amelia & I got into 14 of them and missed the other 5 thanks either to a missed set, a jet boat, or the wind finally picking up and putting the rises away for the afternoon. The trout were all 12 to 19" and most slender females that looked like they were about to take that next step of growth and start tacking on weight.

 

But don't let this fool you, the Red Deer is the Red Deer. It can be that good... or the opposite. It's why we guide how we do - if we don't think it's a likely chance of a decent day... forget it. Let's go elsewhere.

Every once in a while you get family trips that turn out splendidly. Late May I was able to guide several times on the river. On one of the days, two brothers joined me for a float. Did we hit it right! Like the Red Deer of old, I was able to float along and point out rocks that prior to the big flood housed good trout. That day, most of the structure I looked to had trout rising. In the exact locations as they have been since at least 1997 when we first started floating the river. And I mean the exact seams, rocks, and pockets. And the fishing went very well as we tried different things and worked together.

It was late afternoon that the day went from wonderful to special. I was able to let the brothers take care of the fishing and put time into filming a neat moment of them together.

You don't always get the opportunity to honor people but in this case it all came together perfectly and I was able to do just that as shown in this video:

Top Canadian Moments 2012 - #4 - Ice Age

Every fishing season brings something new. If you fish a water regularly or are a keen observer in fishing it only once or twice a year, you'll notice little things change. Sometimes they are big things. I recall logs moving, new log jams forming, the massive amounts of gravel moved after the 2005 flood on the Red Deer, new channels open, islands form, or subtle things like an undercut that forms after high water. Lots of little or major things can change in a river.

You don't think much changes in a lake that doesn't have a big inflowing water. Sure, some trees can fall in, or dead heads can move around, but, really, it's status-quo.

Every year at Fortress Lake, we arrive and the same sequence of hatches occur. We're very thankful for the opportunity to own & operate the Fortress Lake Retreat, especially in years like 2012 where Alberta rivers were in high, generally unfishable condition for much of the prime summer months. Fortress Lake has some excellent chironomid hatches about the time high water kicks in back home.

Add the above, and it's consistent. Reliable. Gorgeous. Somewhat static but in a valley that compares to any other valley for beauty, even after 7 years of owning the Retreat, you can't help but see something different at every turn, be it time of day, angle on the lake or to the lake from a hiking vantage. There's always something different to see in a manner you hadn't.

This year, upon arrival, the differences were pretty obvious. It had clearly been a heavy avalanche year before we arrived. Along the two rock faces that come to the lake (well away from our location - we're more than safe where we are), massive avalanches had come right to the lake. In fact, one such avy covered the outlet in about 30 feet of ice and snow. The Wood R cut its way through the avalanche, but it was a winter wonderland as we drove through the ice slice, then got out to walk about the top of the avy pile. It was one of the coolest things we've experienced.

 

To go along with that pile, new avalanche chutes had come into the lake, dropping piles of trees (3 foot diameter) into the lake. New, great structure (not that the lake isn't full of wood!). It was awesome to see the sizes of trees simply snapped like twigs and either pushed aside or dumped into the lake.

To go along with all the above, it was one of the most impressive years for avalanches coming off the two shaded peaks to the south of the Retreat. Off Chisel and Sadlier peaks, avalanches rumbled and roared down the cliffs and into the spruce forests. June was perpetually alive with avalanche viewing.

And if that weren't enough, the spin-off of the cool weather, this little ice-age effect, the hummingbirds were amazing! It took time for the vegetation to get going. So, for the month of June, the hummingbird feeders were electric.

While not any one specific moment, the entire series of scenes and moments of Fortress Lake this June were spectacular. Add in the amazing chironommid hatches and a stunning rainbow event, and it was stunning. Here's a couple of videos from this June.

Top 15 Canadian Moments 2012 - #5 - Return to sender

Pierre & his wife, Karen had planned to fish with me in July. July was kind of wet. Kinda ugly. The morning we met in Rocky Mountain House was ugly. The blackest skies. The wind was howling. The forecast had heavy rain. I had just driven through some heavy rain. Ugly heavy rain. Well, a humor filled, ugly kind of rain anyway. I was able to take this photo of the rain on the drive out. Apparently the grain elevator decided to take a quick rainbow-pee before the storm set in!

So, we canned plans for the day & rescheduled for Sept. It just wasn't going to be a good day - and it wasn't.
September came and we again met up. It was a fabulous September this year, the kind that makes you yearn for Sept all year. It was as good as New Zealand fishing, just a different scale of fish and different species / dynamics, of course.

We headed up to fish cutthroat trout for the day. Again, low, clear water and perfect weather for spotting in the canyon. The day did not disappoint. It started as all Sept cutthroat trout days do - sighting them deep in the pools and nymphing with little action on top. By noon in the canyon the sun has peaked over and acts like it found its best friend - a big, bright smile and warm hug.
The first sighted fish was in a seam and quite active. Karen was with me and we practised sighting and casting to the fish. First cast in, her dry - dropper sat on the water on the slack edge. The dark shape came up from the depths to her fly. "Here it comes!" Sure enough, the big, dark, red cheeked male smoked the dry. She missed. Ah well. We worked another nice trout and it took but we missed the subtle take. At the top of the slot, a big cutt whumped the nymph. Bugga again on that one. Fun!

The day went amazingly. We spent time together, watching each other fish. I was able to really put them onto some great sight-fishing moments, with cutts holding on rocks, edges of troughs, slots, at tailouts, in head seams, all sorts of neat stuff. A few fish were caught blind, but 90% were sight-fished then engaged. It was a lot of fun because the pace to the day, their happy contentment to let me do my thing and find fish for them, the conditions, everything was wonderful.

Some nice fish were caught, certainly. Funny, in catching so many big browns the past several years both in New Zealand and Alberta, along with those fat brookies, sizes of cutthroat aren't that important. Big cutts are still big cutts, but you don't generally go fishing to catch monsters.

It was toward the end of the day when that day tied in to the #5 moment of the season, however. We came upon a pool with 5 nice cutthroat feeding. I think we managed to land three. Pierre hooked into the largest fish twice, missing both times. We could see it feeding, then chasing another around the pool a couple of times. After first hooking it, it simply went back to feeding along the wall while Pierre focused on the other fish before returning to it, missing another take. Again, he focused on another fish. The bigger one returned to feeding and again Pierre cast over. This time, after another great cast, the fish took once more. It was a nice cutt, in that 20" range.

After a good fight, the tippet broke! 
Ugh.

We made our way out of the canyon after that, leaving it to a fish story.

Two or three days later I hosted Brian on his 4 days of fishing. We wanted to do a sight-fishing day on a cutthroat river. We did the same reach of water, just coming at it from lower down. Sure enough
our day ended at that pool as well. And this time only 3 trout were in the pool, in the same exact positions they held 2 or 3 days previous.

Brian prceeded to land a nice 20" cutt. And as it came to the net, I noticed something and smiled. When I got home, I emailed Pierre this photo of his flies that we removed from Brian's nice, fat cutthroat:

Eat, Sleep, Fish

We have an article in the latest issue, a fun write up about our 3 months in NZ.
http://eat-sleep-fish.co.uk/

Top 15 Canadian Moments 2012 - # 6 - Forgiveness

There are days where I know that my guest thinks that I'm disappointed how things turned out.

Nothing is ever further from the truth.

Pierre joined me on the Bow R in September hoping to do some head hunting and sight-fishing. As we left McKinnon's little did we know what we were in for. The day was sunny. Not much wind. Not much cloud. The water was low and crystal clear. Amazing. Right off the hop we decided to stop and slowly walk a bank in search of active fish, sub-surface. There were 3 holding together under a gentle, subtle seam in slow water. It took some time to show him what I was looking at but he did see them. In dark water I looked for the glow of a lighter colored, flagging tail on top of the dark rock. The dark head of one brown sat on a lighter rock, the light bodies of the two rainbows atop darker rock. When he moved into position to fish, he was somewhat blind, but knowing the general area, he put a few casts in. "Here it comes... set!" I called straight away. Swing, miss. Bugga. That fish took hard and bolted to the river. The others remained. A few casts later, another took his nymph on a downstream take. I again called. Miss. And the third missed as well. We had some work to do, both in the setting of the hook, but also in our giving/receiving of communication to ensure the timing was a work-together event and not an opposing one. It was quite good discussion for sight-fishing.
Alas, that was the end of our sight-fishing for the day.
We spent an hour and a half on that bank, spotting a dozen trout, hooking 2/3 but missing them all for various reasons. It was painful for him, I was simply loving the opportunity of engaging him into the fish that were lined up.
We opted to have a go in the drift boat. As we hopped in one of us commented at the numbers of midges on the water. The wind remained dead-calm, the water a flat, oily slick. A fuzzy one, mind you. The midges were coming... in droves.

We made it 20 yards in the boat before the fish started popping. One rose, we'd move over to work it. Then another would pop. And another. We'd slide from one to the other, the the next, slide down to the others, on to the next. We worked 30 fish as we moved downstream. The water was low, at the lower end of the flat I simply pulled out, rowed upstream to the top of the flat and worked down again. At times, we'd move off one fish that stalled to another, then row back up to work the former. And we hooked some amazing fish. We spooked some fish - a few I got too close to with the boat, others simply stopped at the cast or line landing, or line drag.
Nothing landed, but an amazing experience for sure. We spent another 2 1/2 hrs on that 200m of water and had some lunch.
The day continued just like that. Fish popped everywhere. Over and over we lined up on fish, some spooking, some bolting, some returning to feed, some taking straight away. Honestly, we saw so many fish that it was a complete blur. The entire day was incredible. We had to have lined up on 100 fish, getting takes from many. And I can't honestly recall if we landed anything - all I know is that he was frustrated at times while mixed in with awestruck disbelief that this day was happening. Me too!

Hours passed and that special moment fish never happened, despite the literal dozens of opportunity. It was a pleasure to be on the water with someone who so appreciated it all, mind you. I think a few small fish were landed - but I can't recall - the day was simply too enjoyable to think about that. Yes, frustration in some misses, but let's keep that in perspective. It's fishing frustration. We're on the water, after all.

The rises began to dwindle and became sporadic spacing. Evening set in. Things were quiet, still, warm. As we drift the second last great bank, we were sure a nice fish would show. Not much happened. We switched up to a hopper-dropper for luck. It had slowed. But he missed a couple of random takers. To the tailout. Hope faded.

Then, as so often happens, his hopper was sucked in by a good brown in one of those methodical, slow water brown trout takes! Yessss....

It's funny how an enjoyable day fades to an enjoyable evening, and on those special days that special moment just rounds the day into a perfect blend.

And it's funny, just as you think you are at your wit's end at times, how if we just let the river and day unfold, and settle into accepting what comes our way, that the world can actually be quite a forgiving place. That nice brown at the end of the day... what a forgiving turn for someone who not only hoped for exactly that, but for someone who kept at it and persisted... and enjoyed the ride.

The hardest part of that day came 2 days later. I floated the exact section of water with another long time guest. The wind was west 50, gusting 60mph. We caught fish but it was a completely different experience, as you can imagine. I was sore after that one!

Top 15 Canadian Moments 2012 - #7 - I can see you!

Brian has been a great guest through the years. We've done a lot of different fishing trips and most have gone as planned. I recall only one trip that was blown out back in 2001, but otherwise we've made a go and usually a great go of things.
He booked 4 days together this fall and things went better than they ever have. Honestly, it was as though we were fishing in New Zealand. The sight-fishing was unbelievably good. When the world lines up all roses and puppy dogs, you enjoy it.
As walked up the stream late September, I noticed one redd with 5 or 6 browns on it. Bugga. I instantly feared the recent cold snap had kicked spawning into gear. I began to consider back up plans - this would either be a spawning viewing day or we'd move waters - unless it was a one off red. But, that location has always been known to be the first, so we continued. Obviously, we left those trout alone. As we moved upstream the browns were actively feeding and that one redd at the start was a one-off. As it turned out the spawning didn't kick in until the next cold snap a couple weeks on.
But the fish were on that day. Active. Feeding. Very few were solely focused on the pre-spawn antics browns go through - the antics that take them from feeding and see them chasing each other, nipping, false digging... anything but feeding and it gets somewhat pointless to fish even though they aren't actively spawning. There's a cross-over time and we hadn't gotten to it as yet that day. Perfect!
The day was bright and sunny. The water was low and clear. The fish seemed to all be up, surfing, holding beside the structure. It was quite consistent, to put it mildly.
Brian had an incredible day, but not the least of which was a nice male that held in a treed reach of this stream. It held under and over hanging spruce (common theme in these blog posts!). The bad news was that there were a couple smaller browns surfing just below this one - they were feeding and doing so aggressively. Anything in the area would surely be eaten by the tiny tykes. It was like looking at a one-way aquarium of feeding fish from 10 feet back. I can see you!
Then something happened. The small fish got too close to the big one and it turned and put on the chase. The small fish scurried away and the big fish returned to its lie.
Two things were instantly obvious: if we waited maybe that would happen again... and the fish is willing to travel.
Sure enough we missed that unexpected window of opportunity. Brian was mostly blind on his side of things, the reflection killing low angled sighting. But I could see plain-as. We waited a touch longer and the smaller fish cycled back up. Again, the big fish gave chase.
We'd pre-ordained our moves. I would let him know when the fish was moving out and he would cast out from the spruce in hopes that it would take on its way back home.
The fish gave chase "There he goes, give it a go!" and Brian made his cast. But the fish didn't go to the fish. Instead, it turned and went to the bank. As soon as the flies landed, however, its lateral line picked up the plop 6 feet away... and swung rapidly to inspect the flies. "Here he comes!" I beamed. The fish sucked in the fly as Brian stuck it. Awesome!

Top 15 Canadian Moments of 2012 - #8 - "Worse than Poaching!"

Fortress Lake, mid to late June, has a chironomid hatch as good as it gets. When noted Stillwater author Phil Rowley pumped several hundred chironomids out of one stomach sample, he shook his head,"that's the most packed I've ever seen. Anywhere."  It is thick and the big, fat brook trout are big, fat brook trout because of it.
It's a big reason why Fisheries have found brookies at Fortress put on 1 1/2 to 2 1/4 pounds in their third year.
We see quite a few folks that have never fished the mighty chironomid hatches before and it does take some coaxing to get skeptics to have a go at the preferred method of indicator, long leader, and a small stick looking fly that looks more like someone jokingly wrapped some thread on it as took the time to actually call it a tied fly... an art form. But it works.
One particular trip this season, two fellows were catching fish but the results differed from others. I suggested to come with me in their boat, me in mine, and set up nearby. I went through the entire approach and dropped anchor off a usually good shoal. Literally, they dropped anchor 20 yards away. I set up my line and flipped it out. 30 seconds. Fish. Fought, landed, released, cast. 30 seconds. Fish. Repeat. Repeat. After each fish I suggested maybe trying where I'm fishing - take my spot for all I care. Nothing. More fish.
"Here, take my rod". They rowed over and tied off on my boat. The fellow in the front took my rod and flipped it out. I began to set up the other fellow's line with the chironomid set up. BAM! Fish. Released, I returned to rigging the other line. BAM! Fish. Released, I continued. BAM! Fish. Three fish in the time it took to rig up an indicator, swivel, and tie on a fly.

We disengaged and I simply rowed 15 yards away and again dropped anchor.
Well, for the next 2 1/2 hrs it was perpetual. Every 30 seconds they had fish. And I'm talking double header, double, double, single, double. I sat there shaking my head, them theirs. For something they'd never tried before they were getting pretty good at it. A few times we had triple headers when I cast. It was a foregone conclusion so I didn't fish too much more.
But the clincher was, upon yet another double, the fellow in the bow of the boat looked at the other and said,"This is worse than poaching!"

In watching, it was a game of "no, you net my fish first," followed by "hey, hurry up and let that one go so you can take my picture!"

A great moment. Wonderful to see. Awesome.

Top 15 Canadian Moments 2012 - #9 - Into the Dark

At #9...
When you have finite time to fish, you tend to think when & where based on the weather & water conditions. Some days are so good or so bad you can't decide (there again, if things are that poor, there's sometimes better things to do - like edit video, pictures, or type an article). But, you play the best-guessing game and have a go at your selected water.
When fishing brown trout, the daytime isn't always the best. Some folks swear that evening or dawn is best. I don't agree with that as a carte-blanche, but at the peak of summer or on a bright, hot, still, sticky day things can get slow for bug hatches and browns tend to get shy here in Alberta, lest you sight-fish, then that's perfect opportunity! So, at times, when time is short and nothing is likely happening, you pick the evening stand-by. That's what we did one evening of a hot day.
Kevin & I got into the boat and made our way to our preferred reach and literally waited. The big mayflies were going to come off, we simply had to wait. And wait. And wait. Being so hot and bright, it was going to be post sundown most certainly this day before anything would happen.
As we sat, I mentioned to him that the previous night there had been a big slurp under an overhanging spruce tree but we didn't have a shot at it as my guest picked off the tree rather than the fish. It had been rising quite nicely and - as so often goes - he who casts 'iffy' catches trees while the fish are rising, and he who can cast very well doesn't cast because, generally, there are no fish rising.
And, there we were. No fish rising. We chatted. We waited.
Kev finally had enough, hopped out for a quick pee and then grabbed his rod. "Where?" he asked.
"Put it 2 feet above the spruce bow, drift it 5 feet. 2 - 3 feet off the bank", I suggested.
He did.

All was happy after that. The bugs came and the fishing got silly. In some spots there were a few  good browns rising in ear shot, some surprisingly close to the boat. As we came down one long bend there was a brown rising off a log. Try as he might, Kev couldn't get the right cast to it.
It certainly didn't help that he was going be sound. It was pitch black. I was 4 feet behind him, rowing, holding us in position and could just make out his light hat. That's all I saw. The water was black, the bank black, and you could only hear birds back across the river. I held us in an eddy and lightly stroked us closer up to the seam coming off the log. The fish rose a few times under my oar as I reached the top of the inseam. Still rising, the popping right below us, right in front of Kevin.
Kevin still couldn't see but made many attempts at getting the drift in.
After about 3 dozen casts, in what he thought was the same timing of the drift, he heard a popping take. And he set.
The fish hadn't taken the fly. The fly was stuck in the tip of the log. As it turns out, he said every drift would have been off by a foot or two. I pushed us up gently, trying to not spook the fish while getting Kev close enough to dislodge the fly. In the pitch black, he followed his fly line to the leader to the tippet with his hand.

As his had reached his fly stuck on the log, he felt the fish rise to take a mayfly, the head popping into the palm of his outreached hand.

He never caught that fish. It took a 5 minute break from rising after the encounter. But, when will you ever have that experience again?

Top 15 of Canadian 2012 - #10 - The Simplest

Back in July Amelia & I were once again home together and able to book a day off to fish together. As I wrote in the blog post about the day, it had been some time since we visited this little alpine lake.

Now, this blog post won't go into too much detail as the trip was covered well in that blog post.
The fishing was wonderful, everything you'd expect from a postcard (remember those?) afternoon. I'd hiked in my boots and chosen not to wear my sandals. I waded wet & barefoot and covered maybe 150m of shoreline. Lots of fish, sure. The sun felt so good. The water so refreshing. As we came upon the mossy clearing of the lake, the wet moss in the sun felt sooo good.

But there were two moments that set themselves apart that day and they comprise #10 on the Top 15 list.

First - the barefoot lunch. After catching a whack of fish - and it was an addict's dream as wee fish after fish came past and the sight-fishing wonderful -  Amelia & I sat and had lunch. No biggie as the world turns, but the 1/2 hr we took to sit and eat little ciabatta bun sandwiches, twinkling your toes in the cool, wet moss with your wife on day off in the mountains, not a care in the world... those are pretty good moments in time. Just the fact we can, sometimes, is the gift.

Not to undermine that moment...

Later that evening, another moment equalled that lunch moment. We simply enjoyed doing something we'd not done together in years. We van camped. Simple As. No bugs, no clouds, a sky full of stars, no wind, and a moon that barely skirted the horizon. The doors all open, the music playing. Warm. And we fell asleep in each other's arms.

Simple.

Top 15 of Canadian 2012 - #11 - Superfine Hoppers

In mid August, Amelia & I found ourselves with a day off - we had a couple together this past August - a joy! The weather was perfect for almost anything. Hot, high cloud, sunny breaks, following up a recent cold spell. Really, it didn't matter what trout species, what stream, what region of the province we fished, it was going to be good fishing.
About 1/2 hour before we were going to leave home, the doorbell rang. Amelia opened the door to find the delivery man with two boxes with our names. Those wonderful triangular, 3 foot cardboard Orvis boxes. New Rods! Oh Boy!
We had purchased 2 new rods for our waters here in Alberta. Two 4 wt, 9 foot Superfine Touch rods. We'd had the pleasure of casting the rods with the Hydros Superfine fly line at the Orvis Guide Rendezvous in the spring and made ourselves promise to but a pair for ourselves. They were in our mitts - Sweet As!
Yes, we took them with.

And they were exactly what we'd been waiting for. They are the perfect central Alberta trout stream fly rod. While the new Helios 2 is a cat's-ass all around rod, the 4 wt Superfine rods are the rod I would fish 90% of my time in my home region. No questions asked. They are a touch softer than the old Scott G-Series rods; a touch stiffer than the old style Superfine full flex rod from 15 years back; definitely more finesse than the original Helios 4 wt, mid-flex rods we have. We've loved the Helios rods unconditionally the past 3 or 4 or so years they've been out and our 4 wts are what we used exclusively in that time - both at home and New Zealand.

But... you know when you arrive at home? Well, for home, we have our new home rods.
See if you can spot the #11 moment of the 2012 Canada season in the "Supperfine Hoppers" video we did for Orvis after that first day on a local brown trout stream. It was magical.

Top 15 of Canadian 2012 - #12 - "Blind-X"

A few years back we put together a short video "Q-The-X", looking at a tiny spring creek in west-central Alberta. Things have changed in that spring as the nearby river has braided closer. During high water of early summer the channel is now part of the river for 6 weeks. The 3 springs that join up to form the body of the main creek are consistent as always and the trout are still there, though there are fewer these days as the high water allows for movement to the main river.
I was guiding a long time guest for a few days in September. The weather had been amazing but completely crapped out this day. Howling winds, cloud, and some showers joined the 20C temperature drop.We needed to find shelter from the wind and a treed back drop to allow us to spot fish. The X was the place to be!
We made our way to the lower end, a couple of hits and a fish landed before we came upon the run just below where the creek turned sharply into the trees - ergo, we had our wind protection and glare-cutting trees providing a dark reflection. Of course, just before that glorious point, we had to fish the tailout of that run. Total glare. We were simply prospecting. Meh. That's not what The X is about, so I hopped up on the bank to have a look. I had to swing far & wide to get a sliver of spotting window and called out to him to cast to the V between bank-side logs. He made a good cast and the hopper sat on the slow water.
"Pop it a couple of times," I called. He did so. Nothing. The fly was about 4 feet off the logs and I suggested a couple more twitches.
In the narrow window of spotting window, I saw a dark shape turn 90 degrees and come straight out. "Here comes a decent fish", I called. He was totally blind to it all - the grey glare a nightmare from his vantage. But he trusted my call.
The brown slowly panned towards the fly but was almost having none of it. It stalled its approach. "Give another twitch". He did. The fish continued its approach. "Two more!" I excitedly called out. The first twitch got the trout moving and just as the second twitch began, the brown's lips broke the surface and sucked in the hopper.
The sight-fishing moment was amazing. It was simply a lucky moment in time played out on instinct and a hunch. My guest was really happy, I was thrilled. It wasn't the biggest brown but it was a moment and engagement that made the day truly special.

Top 15 of Canadian 2012 - #13 - The Hungy Hopper

We continue the countdown of top moments at #13. It's the Hungry Hopper.

Amelia & I don't get a lot of opportunity to fish together once things really get rolling in our season. In 2012 we had a few staff up at Fortress Lake Retreat take care of a moderate, consistent month of August. While there's a ton to do to support the Retreat from the home office & supplies stores, we were able to sneak a few trips in together.

One such day opportunity came later in August. We weren't sure what reach of what stream to do, it was as though we were stunned we had time to fish. We decided to go off our regular route and hit a  stream we'd not fished previously and a reach we'd never heard anything about. It was not by happen chance that we wound up on the section we did after asking access permission. A little satellite reconnaissance and we found the perfect sight-fishing set of banks. We walked the stream and were treated to a steady diet of browns in the 14 to 22" range. It was magical - not a breath of wind, and not a cloud in the sky. We simply spotted trout holding in the water or spotted rise forms upstream as we walked. And most fish - all they needed was a hopper landing somewhere within 10 feet of them - up, side, or down stream of their lie.

As we came around one amazing bend, looking upstream, I spotted a gorgeous brown rising at the top end. It was slurrrping shamelessly. Its wake... impressive. It was Amelia's turn too, so I was getting excited behind the camera to shoot the event. But then she moved a little slower, suggesting she saw a good fish rise just above her in what looked to be 10" of water in a shallow trough under overhanging grasses. Sluurrrp went the upper brown. Painful, that girl, sometimes... just cast to that big fatty up top already! But no... she waited. Her lower fish rose again. I didn't think much of it, more hopped up on my hopper happy fatty at the top end. I framed it on video, the two fish rising in unison. Her cast was perfect - a foot above the lower fish, the hopper draping off the grasses and into the trough. SSSSUUUUCCK.

I'll go on record as being wrong... again. The take - amazing. Hookset? Spectacular. It was one of those - set the hook and watch the world explode moments. All you saw was thrashing white with a dark tail wiggling from the froth... kind of like that alien popping out of dude's chest in the first Alien movie. You can't not see it, you know?

And then the fight was on. It went upstream - a huge wake and an arcing fly line. I was so convinced the upper fish was a monster that on video you hear me telling Amelia to horse her fish back as to not spook the tank upstream. It rose once while she fought her fish. That was the last we saw of it as her fish owned the 4 wt a moment. And she did horse it, I guarantee you, I'll give her that. And it was a spectacular fish from start to finish. As it came to net with it's big, rubbery tail, maybe hers was worth sacrificing that top fish after all. It was in that 25 or 26" range.

Top 15 CANADIAN moments 2012 #14 - Jets

Ok, so as of looking through our 2012 season, it became clear, this is going to have to be a bit longer review! We've narrowed it to a TOP 15 moments of Canada and then we'll get into our New Zealand hi-lights. So, check that last post in at #15...

On to #14

If you've followed anything on forums, blogs, and the like, I've been quite adamantly opposed to jet boats in the wrong situations. I suppose this forces me to look at the bigger picture and check what constitutes the 'wrong' situations. Really, any time that a jet boat can't go about its business without potential of killing someone or ruining another river user's enjoyment of a peaceful day, or having a directly negative environmental impact would be the key points to where jets shouldn't be.  Used properly, on larger or wider reaches of rivers, there should be no issue if they honor other river users. For the larger rivers in the province that don't have a high fly fishing following, jet boats simply aren't an issue. Add us fly fishers into the mix and you'd think that the world was ending with each passing of a boat. Most of us can own that we're a little too sensitive. That said, most jet boaters can admit that they simply be doing what they're doing when taking someone else's life in their hands when traveling 90mph in tight reaches of the Red Deer, or doing laps of non-motorized craft when it's patently obvious they're irritating the river's other users.

I recall when I hosted the old Fly Fish Alberta Forum the jet boat thread that had literally 250 replies in 36 hours as jet boat users and fly fishers came to an amazing, heated argument. I simply gave notice that folks needed to clean up their act within the day or the RCMP would be given all information - the threats were that bad - from both sides.

So it was that Amelia & I were invited to jet a big river by a guest this fall. We'd fished it previously, but we wanted to enjoy another experience. So there we were, at the end of the day, having had such a fun time of fishing together, that I looked at Amelia sitting in a passenger seat, hair blowing in the wind of the jet boat. Having fun. Me? Loved the day. That moment of clarity, that you don't have to go looking for conflicts between users, to simply enjoy a moment - while keeping an eye out for the possibility of coming upon another user and honoring them - was an enjoyable moment.

We had the river to ourselves. Had we not, there was so much room to avoid anyone else that it wouldn't have made any negative impact, save for the minute of noise. I asked myself if I was on the shore and the boat went past if I would have been upset? A quick answer - not at all. You don't go to a big river known to have jet boats on it and expect there to be none, then get upset when there are. It was something I'd come to grips with about 7 years ago, and having the chance to see it from the other side simply cemented it.

Thanks Marv, for a great day. We loved it!