Letter to a friend

This is a copy of an email (part of) that we sent to friends back in the spring, simply sharing and hoping to pick up their spirits. With a few edits of the more personal text, it's a fun read... and a little touchy-feely at the end. If you don't like that kind of stuff, just look at the photos I guess! Toward the end I mention only one photo, obviously we added more to this blog post, the photo attached to the email was the last.

"I wanted to send you a few fishing photos to lighten your mood and maybe get your mind off the world for 5 minutes. But as I scrolled through New Zealand images from this year's trip, I found myself remembering the freedom Amelia & I felt one day as we stumbled across an amazing little creek. We walked upstream through the tiniest, narrowest gorge, barely wide enough for us to get through and quite the deep pools. The walls were sheer rock. We only managed a few smaller fish but kept going because it was such a fascinating little piece of the world. The gorge got tighter. The stream lined with gorse and matagouri - both are covered in 1 to 2" spikes. At one point we came up to a long straight away of boulders and the creek was very steep. We weren't sure if there'd be any fish upstream. But we kept going. We almost turned around because there was a Berenstein Bears like tree hanging over the creek - it was full of thousands of bees. Being allergic, I was fearful of getting stung. I got as far away as I could and made it through alive. Above that, the rock walls really closed in. We waded upstream and I had to lift AJ 5 feet straight up a rock wall so we could continue.

Further still, we got boxed out - we didn't want to go back down and the route ahead was of overhanging rock walls 10 feet straight up, tying in to 200 foot cliffs. There was no way to go up the creek. So, we had no choice but to double back a little and find out way up a cliff of matagouri - again, of 2" spikes. We managed to work our way through, in pain and agony of perpetual needles. After an hour we stopped in a pillow sized opening of grass and had lunch. As far as we could see up and downstream, the valley was covered in thick spiked/thorned bush and the creek impassable. We had to continue through the bush, those  cursed needled weeds.

We persevered another hour and came to a ridge. We were either going to find a long ridge edge to walk along or find a sheer cliff. Thankfully, the ridge opened up for 40 yards straight up - but no further. We made our way up, expecting to have to turn around. As we arrived, we found a section of loose rock coming off the hillside. Higher we climbed yet - feeling weary. Wouldn't you know it. Right when we were sure we were going to be totally blocked, at the top of the loose rock, there was an old sign post from a farm track that just happened to end exactly at the top of the loose rock scree slope we had stumbled upon. We walked it for 5 minutes and the valley opened before us. A wide vista of a stunning range and the stream that we'd been walking - simply stunning. We were beat, but the views inspired us. We were going to hike out around the mountain we'd paralleled all day. But it was only mid afternoon and we both were far too intrigued to leave and had to inspect the creek - which had opened up to a meadow like spring creek.

So, we made our way down to find a stream perhaps 3 feet wide in spots, with grassy bank undercuts that went 2 to 4 feet in on either side. Fascinating. We walked for a spell. Then we started to spot trout again. We hooked a few and landed a couple nice rainbows. But it wasn't until another hour up that the creek went from 3 feet wide to 2 or less, completely obscured at times from the overhanging grass. And wouldn't you know it - the biggest rainbows - upwards of 29" - were lying in the grasses.

Amelia was generous with me. We sighted a 24" rainbow and I immediately hooked up. The fish peeled into my backing, zipping through the grass, disappearing 4 or 5 tight bends downstream. I jumped into the high banked trough of the creek and ran after it. After 5 minutes, I caught up to it and tried to net it. There was no room in the trough for my rod, I couldn't get near the fish with the net. It went under an undercut and there was no room for a rod to pull it out. I threw the rod high on the bank and rassled it by hand. Slowly, I encouraged the fish out of the undercut by hand, worrying about the 3 x as I went. Closer it came. AJ tossed me the net. The fish rolled and fought in the fast current. Closer. I raised my arm to slide the net under and the fish popped! Bugger! What do you do now? After the day we'd had, a fellow just had to have that fish. Talk about tough. Well, AJ was kind enough to not laugh too hard. And she was good enough to give up her turn so I could try again. And you know what? I did hook up again. This time it was a 22" rainbow and it did the exact same thing. And so did I. And so it too popped off. And again I said Bugger! And again, AJ let me work the next fish. And I hooked it up. And it did the exact same thing. And so did I. Except that third fish, that wonderful 23" male rainbow, I landed. And the photo that I saw when I went through our NZ 2009-10 photos, the one that inspired me to type this, is the only one that I attached. The rest of this you can envision in your own mind. You've caught enough of your own to know what a 23" rainbow in a small stream's all about. But the moment I enjoyed, the one that my wife photographed as we shared this incredible day together, was a moment I doubt I'll ever forget. We were so free to feel and experience life. We were so incredibly alive."

Cheers,

Dave & Amelia.

You can't fix stupid - well, I can't anyway

In 10 years of hosting the old Fly Fish Alberta forum, there was one constant. Someone commenting on another's perspective and viewpoint is going to get an earful, particularly as it pertains to commenting on a young man's ego. By young man, I mean perspective, not age. The perspective that one has to stand steadfast against any who refute or challenge him. So it was stupidity that I quoted such a person in my previous blog post "Correcting Bad Advice". As would have been expected on the old forum, right on cue, I received the type and quality of feedback the old forum provided. Grating, underhanded, lording, and posturous with condescending tones, the email wasn't Sunday morning worship material. As I wrote a reply, "I'm sorry that you seem to have reacted to the words "bad advice". That's subjective to other points being made, and positive dialog can occur, so long as one isn't simply reacting and instead embraces the opportunity to discuss. Your tone indicates otherwise."

But he is right about something. The point of this blog post is that you can't fix stupid. In my case, I should have known better than to use another's quote as a platform to step into a point, even though in grander perspectives my post may have actually furthered his point. I guess if I didn't learn in 10 years of 10M hits a month on our old forum, I may not learn the lesson! I guess I can't fix myself in this case! :)  Ah well. We started this blog to be positive, friendly, and a place of positive dialog and discussion... not to comment on others or even remotely appear to be lording over or condescending ourselves towards others. I realize that error is mine, and I commit to doing a better job at sticking to what this blog is about - friendly, positive, happy sharing of this wonderful sport with hints, tips, suggestions, and comments that build positive interactions. Apologies!

Correcting bad advice

A couple of perfect examples of where a well intended thought in an internet article goes awry:
"Change your bug if you don't get eaten on a legitimate chance. If it doesn't eat on a good cast, it probably won't eat it on the 100th good cast".

The above was written pertaining to night fishing, and is unfortunately misplaced. Part of hunting or sight fishing during the day requires a lot of sitting, standing, hiding, and keen observation. Fish have cycles - that is - they can move 2m left or right to feed, or cruise the inside seam on a flat for upwards of 100+ m if the hatch is light or if the fish is simply cruising and feeding on whatever it finds. Those fish cruising 100+m of river are difficult as you have to move faster than they without whooshing water and slamming rocks - it is difficult. However, the fish that are more likely easier to hook are those with a set feeding cycle (pattern). The rub is that fish are never stationary. If you follow the above advice, you could easily cast your fly perfectly to where the fish was on its last rise as that fish has since moved 4 feet to the left. Sure, you have a perfect drift, but if the fish is moving left and looking left due to greater insect density or loft in the water moving it over, your cast is not going to register. Change your fly? No. Wait to observe the pattern, the timing, the rhythm. So many times during a hatch on the Bow, Red Deer, central Ab brown trout streams, in MT, or over in New Zealand, Amelia & I have observed a fish' cycle prior to casting. "One shot wonders" are simply those that we know the cycle, the pattern, what it's feeding on, and simply wait to time the cast at the peak opportunity. Generally, these are going to get a take - one cast, fish on. Now, pertaining to the quote above, especially as it pertains to low light or night time fishing, while fish are opportunistic and feed freely in such conditions, it is more difficult to predict the cycle, and impossible to observe it, save for the rise patterns. As I discussed in "Can I touch you to see if you're real?" blog post last month, there is a systematic approach to working into a fish's cycle and feeding patch. Low, low and in, mid and out, mid and in, up, up and in. Repeat. The issue is that the fly line must protect the edge, that is, land outside the known pattern and cycle path. The second it gets too close or lands in the zone, you run the risk of lining a fish that might have dropped further down as you cast further up. This cross over is lethal to your chances - typically browns will cease feeding or leave the feeding lie, while rainbows often revert to more riffled water, often just upstream. If the fish has an observed cycle or pattern, we must be equally systematic in our approach and presentation. And, especially in low light or at night, one cast isn't going to cover that fish properly. Change your fly? No. Give it time and work the cycle first. If you give it 2 complete cycles of casting and the fish is still rising, then change your fly.

"Now, you'll meet a lot of fishermen that say this is ultimately the pinnacle of fly-fishing – just getting that rise from a selective, educated, finicky trout is why they do it. They have beaten the most difficult part of the game at that point; the rest is just a matter of going through the motions. BS! Do not let them fool you! It serves as a great excuse to being a very disappointing sportsman, but it is not at all a genuine sentiment."

There was a fish on last year's trip to NZ holding above a willow bush, in 10" of water. It was a tiny pocket of water, completely covered. I was casting right handed to a seam further upstream when I noticed the fish mid stroke. As I was afraid my movement would spook the fish (I was quite close already when I saw it) I switched hands mid cast, pulled back on my line with a bit of a parachute to shorten the cast while laying a left handed hook cast with a reach mend immediately above the willow and a 2 second drift into the pocket saw the trout rise to take the fly. I set the hook and fought the fish. It jumped and we went through the typical formalities. I turned it from an undercut on its last run and as it was coming to the net the fly simply popped. On video my body language reaction said it all "so what?" as I smiled, having had the fun I hoped for. Was I a very disappointing sportsman? A mid cast hand transfer, laying a left handed hook cast with a reach mend under an overhanging willow on the short side of the river, with the take and controlling the fish to the final netting glide is a disappointing display? I guess I must have missed the severity of necessity to catch every fish engaged. There again, to put such pressure on one's self is on the same keel as going to church and living the fundamentalist Christian lifestyle - don't color outside the lines. Why do that to yourself when fishing? Ironically, I say this as a person who fishes with the intensity I've not come across in others, that is, when it's the style of fishing I love. When engaged in sight fishing, or hunting, I'm extremely intense and expect to catch every fish I encounter. It won't ever happen, but my posture and poise is exactly that. It's not an intended over the top arrogance as much as an arrogance that reminds me to do the things I know need be done to ensure I have greater opportunity to get the trout to take than the fish will have to spook or refuse. It's subtle, the difference, but a mile apart in ramification.

Cheers
Dave Jensen

Interesting read on the fall-out from a toxic spill - 5 yrs later

As interesting as the article is, keeping in mind the article is fascinated by the fact that life exists, the follow-up discussion at the end of the article is as interesting to read. Having worked in the Squamish Forest District for 2 salmon season runs in the mid 90's I enjoyed the fishing and heard much about the history of the fishery, the steelhead, the Daisy L Dam and water bypass, and worked in the forestry industry that has caused the river so many problems. Yet, as the article touches on, even after a caustic spill that wiped literally all fish from the system, the river keeps on trying to produce.
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/british-columbia/five-years-after-disastrous-bc-spill-the-cheakamus-river-teems-with-life/article1680797/

Sockeye in the Fraser

This year's is forecast to be the highest return since 1913. It will be interesting to hear if the latest estimate comes close to actual.
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/british-columbia/huge-fraser-river-sockeye-bounty-catches-everyone-off-guard/article1685772/

Water & Hatches Update

Almost every stream and river in Central Alberta is in good shape, with good water levels for this time of the year and generally good in stream temperatures. This weekend's cool weather will essentially kick us into early fall stream conditions, so we should make it through the season without too much hot water impacting our fishing.
Lakes will cool down somewhat this weekend as well, which may foster some movement to the edges. Stratification will continue through late Sept, but there will be more time each day for fish to cruise the shoulders of local lakes in the cool waters.
So, as long as we don't get deluged in a sudden change of forecast, all systems go. :)
Hatches?
Fall caddis, tricos, hoppers, flying ants, tan and grey caddis, blue winged olives, slate winged olives, remnants of pmds, still some golden stones, mahogany duns will begin to show this weekend in the cool weather, some sulphurs, black caddis (minor importance).
We're only a week or two away from the start of boatman season... joy!

Stewie Little checks in again

It's a lot of fun to watch. But it doesn't happen until the sun goes down.

A rod is readied...

Little furry critters soon to meet their doom...

A great moment as a different kind of splat & twitch presentation happens.

If we could only keep the mice out of the cornflakes...

this one seemed to love the muffins.

Doctor Stewie Little checks in.

Oral inspection time.

Rear molar #2 needs a filling.