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!