On the Up & Up

If you look to the top right of the present layout of this blog, you'll notice a new video we just posted "On the Up & Up". It's a fun moment from our latest trip to New Zealand with a full flex rod. Yes, we're Orvis Endorsed. No, it's not a shameful plug. Yes, we really do love the Superfine rods. No we don't use them in every situation. Yes, we'd recommend the rods for Alberta trout waters. They can handle a lot and have an amazing feel. We hope you enjoy this latest vid!
The good news is the season is coming on strong. There'll be some early season headaches with weather and water condtions, but things will roll soon enough!

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 - #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 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 - #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.

The Sighted, Downstream Take

It was quite spectacular, really. An overhanging spruce tree with a stump on the top end. The water was low, gin clear. An ochre tail flagged in the sunbeam arcing through the spruce into the water. A good brown. 25". Large, heavy male. Thick as. Feeding, swaying. Popping and nymphing.
Brian was up. We'd spent the day sighting browns in heavy cover and got a few good breaks. Most fish were straight ahead, both he and I could see them from our respective vantages. This one was different. Plain to see, my vantage was gold. He sort of saw the fish when he stepped on the bank and I showed him where.  I think he was more relying on the sporadic rises to position the fish. The trouble was that the rises were not always on spot with its lie, often to the right. And with that, his cast landed slightly to the right and a foot downstream of the trout.
To this point of the day, he'd not had to rely on my communication, having been able to see the movement of every fish we'd spotted. This was different. As his cast land, the bead headed nymph plopped. The fish's lateral line keyed up and detected its presence. It turned a snaking 180 a foot to its right, moving downstream.
"Here he comes!" I called.
As the well laid out nymph began its pendulum drop in the water column below the dry, the large brown took the nymph and continued downstream with the flow of water. I saw its large, incredibly large, white mouth open wide. "Set! Set! Set!" I called to Brian. The dry fly never moved. Brian had no reaction. The fish continued down, its large, incredibly large, white mouth opened once more to release the nymph as I continued to call. Finally, after a two seconds of calling, he set. By then the fish had left the nymph alone and had become reclusive, shy.
I described what had happened. Having anticipated the dry fly movement, he missed it altogether. Having seen everything, I was beside myself. We both were enthralled at the engagement, mind you. We left that moment with a clear understanding that when the spotter calls, the angler responds in a controlled manner.

A good thing!

We stepped 5 yards upstream and a nice brown was coming slowly down the middle of the current. I called to place a cast 2 rod lengths up, literally anywhere mid stream. His cast hooked to my shore, a rod length away in the bright afternoon sun. The fish had already moved downstream of the cast. The plop of the nymph dropper was again picked up by the lateral line. The nice male turned 120 degrees and came back upstream, angled right at the bank below my feet. "Here he comes!" It rose in the water column. Like watching golden trout feed, it flared its pectoral fins to slow. But it lurched forward. "He's giving it a good look". And then its large, white mouth opened and closed. "Set! Set! Set!" I called out. By my second "Set!", the fish was well hooked.

In both cases, the browns relied on the lateral line to pick up food falling into the water. It was glorious to watch, a completely enthralling set of engagements. The day had gone that way for us. But it served as a reminder that the downstream take/feed is such an important thing to be aware of. It likely happens a third of the time as our casts don't quite cover the 'proper' water when fishing tight to structure, unable to cover the fish with the best drift above and down to the fish's location. It's in those circumstances I really try my best to get a good look to spotting trout in order to help my guests with the best chances of landing what is often a very nice brown.

Sight-fishing is a wonderful game. And there are many opportunities in Alberta to enjoy it. If interested in joining us next season, please email info@flyfishalberta.com 

Cheers

Dave Jensen