A Red Deer River Look - Alike

We finally had things line up, so we could get the raft on the water. Its first voyage of 2013 was great. Both Dave and I have been itching to use our boat since we got to the south island, but the weather has dealt us some big blows this year with rains turning many floatable rivers off color and high for extended periods. The last 2 days the stars aligned and gave us blue skies and some decent water conditions to head off and explore a west coast river. It turned out to be a really relaxing float with only a few spots to drive hard with the paddles, although we welcomed the new exercise.One of the highlights was watching our friend Serge get a smash of a take on top for the first time pounding cicadas from the front of the raft as Dave and I lined him up on banks to fish the edges. Another highlight was beaching the raft on the side of the river and exploring feeder streams and spring creeks that join the river - waters that you wouldn't otherwise be able to fish due to access. The main river we chose to raft  reminded us so much of our home water, the Red Deer river. For those of you familiar with the Red Deer, you'll see what I mean. Same banks (full of left over logs and beaten down bushes after high water), same long glides, some similar sized fish and even a few poplar stands on the side of the river to boot! Pretty neat to feel so at home in so many ways here.

 

Red Deer River Fisheries Mgt Plan Meetings

After 10 years pestering the bio for the river, we began process on the revisitation of the 20 year old Fisheries Management Plan for the Red Deer River. It's an issue close to me personally as I love process and find it to be a fascinating, yet somewhat underfined river. I've been trying for years to get the RDR FMP revisited but there was resistence due to a few factors, and after getting a few others on side we got this this advisory group going - a WELCOME process. Thanks to the gov for stepping up!
While I am personally in New Zealand as yet, I'll be back to be a part of process late Feb and am really looking forward to the discussion when we return.
To date, discussion has occurred within the committee and the public involvement process at this early stage of the review is through 2 mtgs in January.
One will be in Trochu and the other in Red Deer.
It will be great to hear feedback at this stage of things, which, at present, essentially looks at the issues affecting the watershed.
Hope you can make the mtgs.
Cheers,
Dave Jensen

The Coolest Experience

It's not as though we didn't know what was coming, what we were getting into. But, in New Zealand, sometimes you have to stare into the eyes of a tiger and then take a claw in the face. We had seen the weather forecast. 2 days of fine weather (which, again, stands for no monsoons but could be sunny, cloudy, some rain, and a variety of wind - or all these), then the bottom was to drop out. When the forecasters give the map at right, you take notice.

From the map, heavy rainfall warnings start at 100mm in a few hours duration here, with significant heavy rainfalls that we've seen in the 600mm in less than 24 hrs (that's 24" depth of rain, incomprehnsible to Albertans who freak out over 75mm of rain). Serious rain. Severe gales start at 120kmh and have gone to gusts of 140-160kmh. Spillover rain is when the west coast rains come over the divide, which when combined with severe gales can make the rain being pushed from 30km away feel like pellets from a BB gun hitting you en masse.

 

As it was, we chose to hit a small stream for a couple of days and, the day the first front was forecast was to arrive, we hit a spring creek. Again, the first 2 days were cloudy but warm. The spring creek day the first front smoked us... hard. We got 150mm in 8 hrs just as we got to our favorite glides. AJ missed a 10+lb brown that we got a big white mouth take on video from. As she set, the mouth opened to chew the nymph and she pulled it out of its mouth. A huge trout. Alas, that was it for that side of the island as we woke to a FULL, black river beside our van. When van camping, you try to avoid being wet, so our choice, given the above forecast map, was to head east, hoping that the associated forecast that called for a severe threat of spill-over precip held off before deluging. Hopefully it would give us a day or two.

We drove over the divide in pouring rain, rain that ebbed as we came down the east side and turned to hot, dry wind. We went from a saturated rain forest to a dry tussockland (bunch grasses). In about 80 km as the crow flies. That's the dramatic New Zealand ecosystem changes.

We got one amazing weather day in on the eastern divide - albeit in howling winds. The sun was present a short spell then disapeared as the leading edge of the next front came in, with only a minor spill over rain in the distance.

The interesting hilight of that day was coming across a nice rainbow from a corner pocket pool at the top end of the stream. It was the exact fish that we caught in the exact pool as last year.

The next day, as the major front was to come in (Jan 2), we woke to a freight train of a wind. A head wind to boot. Trees were pushed over, some snapping. The stands of HUGE pine were screaming, forcing Amelia & I to yell to hear each other - from about 6 feet apart. We woke that morning to an amazing morning Nor'wester rainbow. Morning Nor'wester rainbows are formed when the easterly rising sun reflect the spillover rains to the west. As the fronts roll from the Tasman Sea, they hit the alps and head NE, following the chain. When a massive front comes in, it can push over the top. That's what this one had in mind.

The morning was nice, full of broken sun and a warm wind. Amelia photographed the rainbow, we enjoyed a morning coffee, then set out for a fish. So warm, I opted to wear a thin shirt, AJ 3 layers in case the distant spill over grew. And it would. By the time we walked downstream to our start point, the rain from the tops was driven upon us in the 120+kmh winds. It was a driving headwind. The trout spotted took some 30 minutes to time good casts to the right spots.

 

Our fortunate streak of good fishing continued through this wind and pellet-like driven rain.

 

Then the yo-yo effect began. A deluge came and the black clouds from the tops spewed east, then retreated. The sun popped out before the next push of the western front fought back. The distant western skies turned white with sun lit rain, replaced by black as the front pushed up again. It was literally directly over head, fighting all day long. Over and over this repeated itself as the wind continued to roar. By 4pm the skies turned jet black. We were soaked. My decision to wear a thin shirt on this fine day? Dumb. I shook as I cast at given trout, no longer wanting or caring to hook up. I defered to AJ to fish. I was frozen in the dropping temps and the driving rain. As it came to the last run - we couldn't take it any more - I could barely hold a firm rod. I thought I could see a dark shadow under Amelia's feet along the bank. My last cast of the day revealed a heavy rainbow that I could hardly hold due to numb hands.

AJ was soaked from driven rain yet the sun shone on her as she released a beautiful brown.

By 5:30 pm the valley began to fill with lightning and thunder, a once a year event for the valley. Oddly, the ebb-flow of the front continued as the lighting came overhead then retreated west. All night though the next morning the lightning literally came overhead, then retreated west. Black and clear went the weather.

 

By morning the spring creek and small streams of the valley were swollen as the river on the other side of the mountain in the valley jumped over and filled the entirety of the whole valley, filling the streams and spring creeks. About a mile or so wide. In less than 12 hrs of rain.
We'd been warned by our local friend in that valley that the river would likely do just that, and told us to get out if we had the opportunity as the road could easily wash us out for a few days. When we awoke, we were able to leave. When we got to our other friends' place on the other side of the island 3 hrs later, we saw that valley was completely flooded and the road under water less than an hour after we left.

The west coast rain totalled 600mm in 18 hrs.



6 - 18" of snow hit the tops as the front moved through and temperatures swooned.

The rivers? SWOLLEN. A west coast river swelled 24 vertical feet.  Check out the river chart at left and consider the units of depth and time, and how quickly the rise and fall!

Flood waters hit the eastern waters. West coast rivers ripped bridges, flooding highways, and major slips closed 3 of the 4 routes through the north and western area of the island.

A short news video: http://tvnz.co.nz/national-news/deluge-cuts-off-west-coast-video-5309821

The irony? 2 days later, we're sight-fishing clear water. Alberta waters would be toast for the season, as 2005 showed. It's a country formed from this extreme weather, it can handle it. The people simply have to adjust. And life goes on. So, we were forced to have a day and a half off fishing. Tomorrow, we're back at it at a high country spring creek we stumbled upon 2 weeks ago but never had time to fully investigate it as it was at the end of the day and we'd had 3 flat tires that day already and needed to make sure we got back (another tale of back country NZ roads and hard times!). That's the life and times of the west->east coast environments. And what keeps you on your toes in New Zealand! Always an adventure...

 

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.