|
MEMORIES . . . FAMILY, NATURE AND FLY FISHING
As I grow older and look back more frequently at
my life, the one thing that never fails to bring
a smile to my face is the memories I have of
sharing the
outdoors with the people that are the closest to
me. I was so fortunate that
my dad loved the mountains and streams and
included me since I was old
enough to walk. He passed on a legacy that has
given me a lifetime of joy
with the connection with nature that I would
never had had if it wasn't for
him.
I realized soon after having my own son that I
not only had the opportunity, but the
responsibility to instill the same love of
hunting and fishing that has given me those
memories that I cherish most. As I found out
quickly, the
ultimate joy was in the sharing and mentoring,
and watching as my young
protégé developed his skills and love for the
life that has brought me such
pleasure. I understood why my Dad seemed to be
so much more excited than I when I would bring
in an 8" trout.
How fortunate I am again to be able to now
relive those experiences with my
grandsons. In August of this year a close
friend, Pat Patterson, put out a general
invitation to all of his fishing buddies to join
him on fly fishing trip
to Fernie, BC, in the heart of the Canadian
Rockies. I can't begin to describe
the beauty and majesty of this country. It's
comparable to the Jackson Hole area in Wyoming
but without the crowds of people. Pat has fly
fished all over the world and had visited Fernie
the previous year. He described his
experience as possibly the best day of fishing
in his life.
We have been taking our grandchildren camping in
California for a week in
June since the oldest, Evan, was 3. This past
year Evan, now 14, was unable
to go due to a summer school class he had to
take before entering high
school in the fall. As a way to make up for his
disappointment and as his
birthday present, I decided to take him to
Fernie with the rest of the group.
My son, Greg, found the time and joined us with
my youngest grandson,
Rhys. There are several world class fisheries
within an hour of Fernie. The
most popular and accessible is the Elk River
which flows through the middle
of town. It is known for its football sized Cuts
and the number of Dolly Varden, also known as
"Bull Trout" that hit double digit figures.
Probably the most productive and ultimately the
least expensive way to fish
a new area is to go with a guide the first day.
When you only have a few
days, having a guide greatly enhances your
opportunity for
success.
The first morning we met the rest of the group,
sixteen in all. Pat suggested a
$2 wager for the largest fish of the day and we all
scattered in different directions. Evan and I paired
off and floated the Elk with Johnny, a very
competent local guide that was especially helpful to
Evan. Even after 60
years of fishing I still learn something new when I
go with a guide. Greg and Rhys went with John, a
great guy, somewhere around my age, to walk and
wade the upper Elk, 10 miles above town. This is
Rhys' first year of fly fishing on his own. Up until
then I would hook fish and hand the pole off to him.
He caught his first trout on a fly on his own
earlier this year on our
camping trip.
A cold front had come through on the day we arrived
and dropped about an
inch of rain putting the fish down. The normal
hatches of green drakes and caddis were nowhere to
be found on the Elk. Evan and I fished hard for a
total of 15 fish for the day. John took Greg and
Rhys to a stretch of beautiful
water that a client of his had hooked and released
40 fish three days before.
All Cuts going between 14 and 22 inches. Fat, heavy
fish that readily rose to
a Hopper or Elk Hair Caddis.
Greg was also having a slow day. He was fishing a
promising looking riffle with no action when Rhys,
fishing downstream 50 feet, yelled that there was
a big fish following his Wooly Bugger. Greg and John
passed it off as a 16 inch Cut seen through 9 year
old eyes. That was until his next cast of about
15 feet brought a strike that almost ripped the rod
out of his hand. He was standing in about two feet
of water and the fish immediately screamed out 50
yards of line. Between John's coaching and his Dad
holding on to him so
he wouldn't topple over, Rhys brought the 10 Ib.
Bull Trout to the net. It was
truly one of those once-in-a-lifetime experiences
for all three of them.
That evening Pat hosted a wonderful dinner for the
group. It was all hoots,
hollers when the $30 prize was handed to the top
fisherman of the day. I
know that the pride and, somewhat embarrassment, he
was feeling was no where close to the pride that was
busting my buttons. It was questionable as to
whether the fish meant more to him at that moment or
the $30 that he held tight in his fist. When he is
my age I know what the answer will be.
The Memories.
Gary Daniels
TRIP REPORT
Fly Fishing Adventures
888-347-4896
flyfish@napanet.net
|
