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!

Expectations & Interactions

The fishing was good. In fact, kind of dumb good. The way the Bow R is when the trout lose inhibition. The good of the golden stone hatch when you get 2 double headers and each miss a few others in 250m of a fast moving bank. When you put too much pressure on the fly and tippet just to get the trout in so you can shake it off and get back to casting, working the water - that good.
It wasn't like that all day but over two mornings last week it was that good in spurts. Amazing stuff with browns and rainbows in the 17 to 26" range hooked. When you get to work every seam while drifting in a drift boat, and you time it well, these things happen.
By the time things slowed down though, we asked ourselves if we wanted to continue to catch fish badly enough to do anything but dry fly. None did. Others drift past, catching on streamers and nymphs. We continued on the dry. We likely got out fished. So? We all began the day wanting one fish on the dry, and we each did that the first 10 minutes. But we fished how we wanted that day.

It was with that in mind that we pulled out beside a field with good shoulders. A long tailout glide with knee to waist deep water and good, trout holding rock. I was interested to see what I could see, so I got atop the bank. Immediately I saw a good rainbow holding. And another. Interesting. Kevin moved into position and for the next hour we worked up the shoreline, me spotting and directing from the bank, and Kevin casting to what he interpreted my communication to mean. It went fairly well and we had a lot of fun.
Then the entourage of pontoons and drift boats, rafts and car toppers began to come down the river, each really enjoying the day and the good fishing. Each was doing the same thing, nymphing the river and catching fish here and there. It was neat to see the action from my perch, able to see 600m down and at least that upstream. Lots of fish were caught.
But we were doing something different and - when crowds occur - he who is different generally is cast aside. And we were. A few pontoons got in tight to the bank. A little too tight. One raft with a stereo booming came down 12 yards off shore. I watched as the fish I'd sighted just upstream bolted off the bank for deeper water cover. More pontoons came down. One fellow lifted his line - I assumed to avoid Kevin - only to cast his bobber 3 feet from Kevin's knees. His partner was right behind in another pontoon maybe 7 or 8 yards off shore.
This gets back to the point of my blog post on the jet boats on the Red Deer R. In that case, we know that the jets, inner tube and air mattress crowds are all going to impact our fishing. We're the oddballs. So, why should we expect preferential treatment? In the case of the Bow, it's painfully obvious to anyone who has ever tried to wade the shoreline that folks in boats, at least 20% of them, simply don't know or care about etiquette. It's unfortunate, but part of the way it is. Do you yell and scream at every boat to respect your water? But even if you protect your 100m of water, if that's the only water you fish that day you might be fine doing so, but the water above or below that "ME" zone is going to get fished too - what are you going to do about that? You can't control every inch of a river, let alone what happens on or in it.
No matter how much we each set our boundaries and try to keep others outside their parameters, someone is going to cross them. How we act and react ultimately sets how much we enjoy our time on the water. Allowing external forces to impact that makes no sense. Sure, I suppose Kevin and I could have been upset that others came floating over the fish we were sighting and easily could have gotten into a heated argument if we were that kind of people. But why? We knew that boats would eventually come down. We knew that a few would likely cast into or float over the fish we were working. We knew those people would be indifferent or clueless. And we knew that once the boats came down the river, our way of doing things and the enjoyment we had would quickly end. And it did. But, again, if you know the parameters going in to a situation, you certainly can't get upset when you watch them unfold exactly as you knew they would.
And we simply knew it was over, each enjoyed the time we had, and walked off that bank with smiles on our faces and a few really nice photos. It was very enjoyable.
I only mention this because I see some interactions that aren't positive. I read internet forums and see conflict about this exact scenario on a weekly basis. It's so odd - and there's no need. We simply encourage folks to take a look at the larger view of what's happening, the likelihood of someone impacting your enjoyment, and realize that you don't have to come away with a negative experience.  A simple reminder that we can't control anything about fishing - the fish, weather, or water conditions, etc - so why on earth would we ever expect to control what others do? People are more unpredictable than the weather. There's over a million people in Calgary, and generally only one or two weather fronts a week. Odds are people are going to impact your fishing more than the weather. Enjoy the moments as they unfold. Expect nothing more than to look back on the day after it unfolds and enjoy the moments you experience while encouraging others you interact with to do the same.