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.

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

Recently...

A few things to keep in mind that I thought of recently - mostly because this is what we've been doing:

When streamer fishing a small stream, a power taper, WF line is invaluable. Essentially over-lining the rod, this line will flip and shoot with ease, limiting your false casting and have you in the zone with one false cast. Strip in, roll forward, one false cast, lay it on the water. Repeat. Very effective.

When fishing browns during a light hatch on murky waters, being able to shoot line on one false cast helps a lot. Why? The fish will be searching and could move anywhere about a 20 foot feeding window. When it rises, brown trout often are just lazily moving in the soft water looking for food. Being in a good position to simply roll forward, one false cast, lay it 3 feet above the rise will give you a chance. These trout aren't stationed and being able to get the fly in front of them will save you a lot of casting time.

Here's some shots of fish taken by the above means the past week or two.

Spawning Time

We just embedded a short video "Spawning Time". The video was taken this last week out west on a small stream - a tiny spring creek actually. It simply shows some pre spawn behavior of fish nipping at each other, then some nest building. Both browns and brookies in this video. It's been fun just walking and stalking and looking at the fish. Anyway, check the upper right hand column of the blog to see the 2 - 1/2 min vid.
Cheers.

Saturday walk & photos

The weather turned yesterday, finally. We finally broke freezing overnight again. Finally? Yes, we've been waiting for a couple of cold nights - in the -10C range. Last night was the first of those and we took advantage of it. Typically, to see browns spawn during the day you need a cold night and a cool, lower light day - or areas of a stream in shade. Of course, as we walked, we came across a few brookies spawning up in the higher reaches of the stream as well. It wasn't a warm day but the video was great, and a few photos were ok on the new camera. I can hardly wait to shoot some New Zealand tanks this winter. The brown I photo'd in the following shots - feeding - was only about 16". The shots turned out ok for being in the shade, moving, and not being a huge fish. The shots of the spawning browns below were a pair - she's about 17" and he's 22-ish. It's interesting to walk this stream. By the end of each season we tend to walk it without rods more often than not, and focus more on the fish spotting and photo/video. It's neat.

A good day with some good, neat moments.

Saw it coming

If you read the blog this week, the post about the big browns in the pond, the follow up post should have been easy to predict. It was for me. There I was, alone, AJ up in Edmonton. Not a cloud in the sky, not a breath of wind, crystal clear water and cruising, feeding browns below my feet. I even said AJ & I would be going back to try to get it all on HD on Friday. As soon as I'd stated that, I could tell you what would happen. And it did. We went back to that pond yesterday. It was cloudy and windy. Sighting was tough. Video with that glare was pointless. I managed to sight the large male. He wasn't feeding. In the 3 days between visits he'd gone from taking nymphs and cruising the shoreline for 100m to patrolling 5m of shoreline, holding atop his nest. He now sports white scuff marks on his fins. The redd is quite impressive. Didn't so much as cast to him.
So, we decided that it would be a good time to go to another set of ponds a mile away on another tiny spring creek. We tromped through the bush and as we approached saw a school of 9 trout. Pretty cool stuff in a pond that we'd last been to in early spring 2 - 1/2 years ago. The water was murky with ice at that time. Today, gin clear. As we sat on the bank waiting for the fish to cycle the pond, we saw something I'd not seen before. There were 3 browns, 2 in the 13 or 14" range, and one FAT male in the 24" range. The interesting part was the other 6 fish were brookies, and they were all cruising together. It was obvious the big brown was on his game. He was pestering the smaller females, sidling up to them, patrolling the pool. He was likely looking for a place to happen and a fish to do it with, and wasn't interested in any food. I managed takes from 3 of the brookies but the browns were totally turned off. It was fascinating to watch. And now I have yet another pond with another big male brown to visit next year. :)

On other notes, the mountain rivers remain murky thanks to runoff from the snow. Other local waters are in good shape but the browns are obviously getting into the spawn mode now. Area lakes are in great shape, with boatmen hatches and caddis the hilights. The weather is going to change Sunday afternoon - evening with more seasonable temperatures coming. There might be a bounce back day mid week, otherwise it's looking like low to maybe mid teens now. Fall is on its way. Turn over won't be too far away on local lakes.

All for one and . . . well... none for me

I was supposed to be at the computer all day. The forecast was for clouds and a cool +14. The clouds were nowhere to be seen. It was +18 at noon and almost no wind. Perfect sight fishing weather. Where could I go that wouldn't keep me out for hours on end, that I could hit & run? Google Earth teased me with a few tiny spring creeks a couple springs ago, leading AJ & I to come face to face with a monster brown cruising a beaver pond. It's an hour drive and 35 min walk in, but I knew it was one pond. Bingo.

I walked up the tiny little spring and in the tailout of a pool the size of a bath mat spooked an 11" brown. Not what I'd come for but a great sight.

It certainly is a tiny spring creek.

I arrived at the pond, the sun was at a perfect angle for viewing, the wind still, and I stood atop the bench. I hadn't been here in 2 1/2 years, and last time the fish were somewhat sluggish as it was just ice out. Besides that there might be 3 fish sharing the wintering pool as carrying capacity dictates supply and demand opportunity. I saw nothing as I strolled. Strolled might be a big word. Took a small step forward every 10 seconds. Nothing. I decided to take a cast out, just in case something held below a submerged log. Insert dumb mistake here . The irony wasn't lost on me as I reached out for my fly. I just got it out of the tree and was thinking to myself "this is usually when it would swim by". Uh huh. As I pulled my fly out and swung my rod behind me to avoid the reflective shine of the rod on the water, my big brown from 2 1/2 yrs ago came down the shoreline pipe, 2 feet from shore, leisurely swimming and finning. I struggled to race to get my fly out of the shrubs behind me. I looked for the fish. It was within 10 feet, closing, coming right at me. I froze on the spot, hoping to go unnoticed. If ever there was a gimmie fish, that was the moment. 26" and FAAAAT. 6 pounds easily, going 7 likely. And on down the shoreline it went. I was able to untangle my fly and line and give "chase". This was an ant's version of the OJ speed chase. I could see the fish but couldn't rush to it for fear my footsteps would reverberate into the water and spook it. I had to walk around into the bush and try to get ahead of the fish. I last saw it under a pine tree heading for the tail end of the pool. I got behind another pine tree and looked down the bank in the direction the fish was headed. It wasn't there. I looked back up the bank. Coming toward me with a huge head and big, rubbery lips was my Maestro. I bow & arrowed a cast along the outreaching pine. The fish, now less than a rod length from me, turned and came right at the hopper. It looked just like those photos on the New Zealand Fly Fishing Forum, the big head and lips coming straight up from the bottom, mouth agape. Awesome. Incredible. I had ample time to insert adjectives as the fish came in the still water. It turned and refused! Bugger! I lifted and shot the arrow again. It came within 2" of the fly from the bottom and again refused. I lifted and shot the arrow one last time. Another refusal. The toughest gimmie fish of the summer. It went on the opposite side of the pine tree from me and rested for a minute. I waited for it to move, not wanting to commit to taking a walk around the bush again to reposition in case it too moved, causing me to lose sight of it. So I sat. Waited. Took a couple of photos of the fish sitting there. All the while, my last cast lay on the water, waiting for the fish to move back out.

As I put the camera away, I realized I had been too focused on the big boy. At my feet was a smaller, 21" female. Here's the conundrum. My fly was sitting on the water and while it would have been nice to catch the female, I knew that doing so would kill any shot of the male - it would spook the second I hooked up. In a split decision, as the female rose at my hopper, I lifted it off the water. The female actually came out of the water to take the hopper but missed. She stopped, stunned, before sidling up to the male. The two of them swam away together, back up the shoreline. As the big male went, I watched as he took a nymph, his white mouth opening and gill plate flaring. No doubt any nymph would have taken him.
I decided to wait once more, and opened my fly box to tie on a dropper. The corner of my eye revealed the male doubling back. I was still with hopper. Only the hopper. And we played the same damned game once more. This time, rather than station on the opposite side of the pine, he went to the far side. I considered giving chase with a long cast, but as I raised the rod the female swam under my rod. Again, not wanting to spook her and then the male by default, I lifted the fly off the water as she again was coming straight for it. I tried to wait her out. Sadly, she stationed at my feet. About 30 seconds later the male cruised past and the female followed along for the ride. As he left his mouth again opened to take something subsurface. I didn't see them again.
It was one of those trips where I knew I was all for one pool, all for one large male brown. I knew I had to risk none. Alas, it turned out to be all for one, and none for me.
I take some comfort in the fact that AJ couldn't be with me and there would have been no video of the moment. So, by not catching it today, coupled with the forecast later this week when she gets home to fish with me again, maybe... just maybe we can recreate that scene and get it on the HD.
It won't take me 2 - 1/2 yrs to get back there.

Sighted

We spend quite a bit of time on the water and this weekend was no different. The one thing AJ & I always wonder this time of the year - where is everybody? Stauffer's fishing well - there might have been some anglers there over the weekend but none Thurs or Fri. But we drive past Range Roads, bridges, etc and see no vehicles. No sightings, no footprints, nothing. Well, we do see a few things out there...

Can I touch you to see if you're real?

One of my favorite songs opens with the line "Can I touch you to see if you're real?" Eyes of a Stranger by the Payolas remains a classic. Last night's theme song... in spades.
As I worked my way up around a bend a beaver spooked in the low light, wooshing into the water and sending small wavelets into the current, startling me. I hadn't seen it and it simply took me off guard. I was on my way up and focusing on the water ahead. It's a good thing I stopped, as a nice brown fed a rod length above me, three... four times. It was a simple flip of the fly to above the last rise and a slight twitch - the 19" trout landed a few minutes later. Curiously, the beaver wooshed again. And again.
Every fly fisher knows where this is going.
I sat and watched as the subtle current seam carried the mayfly hatch past a thick weed bed, a dead zone along a deep trough. I watched as a huge head popped up again, the yellow lips unmistakable. Beaver, no. The male brown was so large it couldn't help but make a popping sound, leave a white wake, and send wavelets into the stream. Every few takes it would charge into the current and slash at a bug before returning to the subtle rising inside the weed bed.
I lowered myself and cast below the fish, hoping to get it on a downstream cycle, also not wanting to over commit. "Protect the edge" I always tell myself and others. Work your way in from the outside edges of what is perceived to be the trout's feeding zone first, tempt the fish to come to you so you don't make the error of lining a fish by not knowing its cycle. Especially if it's slow water during a moderate or light hatch that allows for random takes. I listened to my own advice. The first cast at the lower, outer edge. Next, a little deeper into the perceived zone, but still on the downstream edge. Next, the outer edge of the seam above and let it drift into the edge. Again, a little further in but still drifting down. The fish rose again 2 feet in. Like so many trophy browns in New Zealand, it wouldn't commit to anything outside its zone. Cast again, 2 feet above its last rise, right on its line.
The lips came up with a deep yellow ochre. Then came the unmistakable sucking sound. Knowing its size, I used the old New Zealand adage - "God Save the Queen" prior to hook set, to allow the large fish to take the fly, turn, and drop back into the water prior to hook set. It really works on large fish, allowing the hook to be taken in so the hook set is firm, and not simply a light peripheral, or complete miss, on the lips. And I was on.
The fight went as most do with big fish. A measure of posture from each - followed by the other responding in kind. Moments of uncertainty as the rod throbbed with heavy head shakes. Once seeing the hook solidly wedged, however, I knew time was all that was needed. It jumped 3 times and made 2 unsuccessful runs at the heavy timber below us. Not today, my friend. Finally, it was in the net. Well, 1/2 of it anyway.
"Can I touch you to see if you're real?" and the percussion ran through my head in the dim light. More lines from the song "Have you been sleeping for all of these years? Is it magic that makes you appear?" Mood music, certainly. I'd been past this same run so many times previously, never seeing so much as a fish rise. But tonight... tonight the magic set in, magic that made him appear. Reality set in. It was a massive trout. I've fly fished Alberta a long time, since I was 5. 33 years now. I'd seen 30+" trout on the walls of a friend's house, caught on Rappallas and jigs. I always told a friend of mine, Steve, that I somehow would be disappointed if I caught a 30" brown on a streamer or nymph. He always asked me why - why be disappointed by something so magical? The answer I always came back to was that it would be so happen chance - so unknown - so random. To catch it on a dry fly, either by sighting it in the water or seeing a rise first allows you to engage with the knowledge that you are about to engage something special, something that you willingly participate in.
And there it was, in my net.
I've recently read the threads of the Alberta record brown trout caught - somewhere in the 21 pound class caught on spinning gear. Awesome. I've also read some interesting brow-beating discussion that the person killed the fish. Discussion ran between the purist that wants everything honored and released, and the opposite view where that kind of fish takes dedication and many years of hunting special waters to catch... and being legal, why wouldn't you want to mount the fish as a trophy of the accomplishment? I appreciate both sides. For me, a 21lb brown will never happen. I've always sought a 10lb brown on the dry fly in Alberta - that's all I've wanted to do. Back 15 years I always wondered if I would keep such a fish to commemorate the event. It wasn't even a thought until just now. There was no question, no thought of it. Last night, I simply held the fish, put a piece of tape around the rod where its tail (unpinched) came to on the rod. 30-3/4" when I got home. Let's call it 30", and most certainly 10 pounds. Was it 12? I don't know, I don't care. We've caught several 30+" New Zealand 10+ lb browns on dries and sighted. But to do it on the dry on my home waters... spectacular. All I know is that fish created a moment for me that I'll always appreciate. The view of the yellow lips coming up, the white wake, the pop, and being able to stroke a paused hook set was magical. I managed a photo before letting it swim away, its tail waving through the silver water as it disappeared.

Lesson Learned & a few nice fish

It's amazing when you don't know what you don't know.
But you can't fix stupid.
The new battery system works quite well, thank you, and last night we were able to escape the lightning that came in. In fact, we stayed ahead of it.
We managed to fish and do quite well, the hatch coming off just at dusk. We sat and waited on one run. The bugs began and the fish responded. A few tanks cruised up the inside seam, sucking big bugs. One in particular was of interest as his wake sent a silver seam up the shoreline as he fed and cruised. We hooked him up and where once there had been 4 other fish rising within 20 yards, after he ran and jumped 6 times there were no risers. A nice 27" brown.
The other came at the far end of the run, in the tailout, bankside. The trout simply waited for the duns that emerged in the muddy shorelines above to drift to the tailout seam where it sat. There were two other smaller fish feeding as well, but when a white wake is left behind and only a small pop is heard, you cast to that fish. 25". Again, once landed, there were no others rising for all the commotion.
It was a great night out, with a few good fish landed. Some were simply landed too late to photograph!

One popular bug

It takes some time to set up shots for a tv show. Especially one that is educational and not simply a soundtrack and fishing footage. Each show has its own place, charm, and market segment. This week we're doing a shoot with the New FF, focusing on small streams and hunting brown trout. In amongst the moving of gear, tripod, and camera, there's been the biggest mayfly in Alberta hatching. At one camera stop, we came across a hex on a stick at the water's edge. It became and instant hit with 5 still cameras and the $100K vid camera all focusing on the hex. When you have 5 people on the bank of a trout stream more interested in the insects the trout are feeding on than the fish rising in the run just upstream, you know you have a few different folks in the crew.

We've managed to get a few nice takes and nice fish on video thus far. Unfortunately the light was too dim during the peak of the hatch the other night as waves of hexes the size of your pinky lined the stream's edge. To say every fish in the water was feeding top side would be an understatement.

Today we're headed to a tiny spring creek to attempt sight fishing. Hopefully the wind stays down, the clouds stay away, and the fish look up. If that all comes together, it should make for some wonderful footage.

Fronted again

It was +19.5C when AJ & I closed the car door to walk down to the stream. The 11am forecast was for steady temps for RMH, with wind downgraded t0 N20kmh, with showers. PERFECT. We arrived at the water and immediately a 19" brown was rising along a weed bed, far bank. It didn't take much to hook him up. We moved upstream and AJ had a taker on a dropper system she'd rigged. Just a few yards upstream we sighted a 17" brown at the head of a trough, holding beside a rock on the bottom. AJ's first cast was to its right, which would have needed the brown to move into shallower water to feed. No dice. Her second cast led upstream left, and drift into the slot. The trout met the nymph bang on. We moved up to find a brown holding in another slot. I used her dropper system as it wasn't moving. A nice drift, the fish met it mid column. A good day. 10 yards further, to a favorite corner pool and 3 trout rising. All three hooked up with us rotating. Another bankside under a spruce overhang tight to the bank. I hooked up. We moved up to another bankside trout in a trough. AJ missed the take to the dry on my rod. We thought no chance of it coming back to the dry, which it didn't, but I climbed atop the bank to see if I could spot it. It had moved 3 feet upstream of the tree root it had originally taken downstream of. She switched to the dropper. As I sighted for her, a 25" male with a flagging tail moved in to the slot immediately to the right and shallower in the water column. It was a leading candidate for a cast, but AJ's fish was the deeper, outside fish.

Now, this would be a good time to mention that Red Deer's forecast was substantially different than that of RMH. It called for a weather anomaly - drastically falling temps due to a cold low trough, and high winds and heavy rain. As AJ began to work this fish, the lightning strikes were less than a mile away and drizzle began. By the time she had the dropper set up rod in her hand, the wind was beginning to swirl, the rain intense.

Her cast went in perfect line to the smaller brown. Out of consideration of me, when it took the nymph she ripped it out of the hold and forced it downstream. The lightning grew fierce, above us. The wind chopped at the water. The rain heavy. Her fish a scant 21" female. :)  Joy!  But, as the rain fell and wind swept the water, I watched the flagging tail of the large male, certain at 25" perhaps 26". It simply swam upstream to a deep undercut trough. It was the last fish we saw as the rain hammered at us for an hour before we left the relative comfort of the spruce tree we stood under and headed home.

On the drive home, two and a half hours after leaving the car (recall it was 19.5C), we drove home at +8C. A few weeks ago I wrote a blog post wondering why I bothered to fish through a massive pressure and temperature swing post thunderstorm. It happened again today. Oddly, I was fishing the same water today as I did 3 weeks ago when it last happened! This time, though, I didn't keep fishing. Fool me once... that's all I gave this time!

Life, eh? And, now, upon arriving home, the forecast is for up to 4" of rain by Wed. Ah, life, eh? A good day to work on the video production tomorrow... or fish a lake. :)

Short Float

After catching up on planning for the coming month or two, we were able to sneak out for a short float. It went well with 6 or 7 risers worked in the 3 hrs on the river. A few good hook ups too. It was  nice evening, perfect sunset, perhaps a touch cold when darkness set in. But, the fish were up and feeding steadily, which is what you always love to see. I could have used a much larger net for this brown though... and below AJ patiently outlasts a feeding brown in a seam at sunset.

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A day together

It's been a while since we fished dries to browns together. We were able to sneak away for the day on Sunday together. It was supposed to be perfect weather - cloudy with moderate wind and a few showers. 1/2 hr in the rain hit and it simply dumped on us for an hour and a bit. The wind whipped up and whitecaps came down the stream at us. We just wanted to be out together and the gradient of pressure and temperature change wasn't too great, so we stayed and continued fishing. Good thing. It wasn't a stellar day but we found fish rising to pmds mixed in with the cells that rolled through the day. By the time we walked back to the car, we were simply drenched. Wearing a light rain coat vs a heavier rain jacket makes a difference. Dually noted.