Sight Fishing for Snook

"Mistakes are the portals of discovery".
-James Joyce

dec 2013, crowsnest pass, -20c, the trout are sleeping



I spent the summer sight fishing for trout in very shallow water. It reminded me of a wonderful angling experience I had a long time ago, in the early 1990's. I lived in Montreal then and arranged two job interviews in Florida. One was in the Sarasota area, west coast Florida. The other was in Jacksonville, on the east coast. I was there for about three weeks in early June as I decided to take a holiday at the same time. I remember the time of year as the NBA final was occurring and Michael Jordan was King of the Court. I fished for two weeks prior to my interviews. I brought a fly rod and spinning gear. Few people were fly fishing the beaches then. I'm sure things have changed.

I didn't know what to expect. I had prepared for the interviews, not the angling. I was on a budget and brought camping gear. I flew to Sarasota, a beautiful town, got a car rental and drove south to a campground called Oscar Scherer Park. I soon found out camping in Florida in early summer is quite different than Quebec. The park was a ghost town, as all the Snowbirds had returned north. When I tried to erect my pup tent I couldn't drive the pegs into the ground as it was like concrete, probably after six months of heavy RV use. I had to set up without pegs and tied one of the tent graphite poles to a tree so it wouldn't blow away in a tropical afternoon storm. When I returned to my tent in the evening it was usually either upside down or somewhere else. Sleeping in the tent was also hotter than a Montreal bagel oven. The next day I bought a cheap Dollar store hammer, pounded on the tent pegs but they simply ended up looking like Curly fries. After a couple of days I decided to search for softer ground at another campground further south on Pine Island near Ft Myers. Pine Island also sounded idyllic and cooler than the scorching mainland.

Pine Island felt like going back in time; old Florida. Much of it was still agricultural. The colourful little artsy town of Matlacha on the drive there and Bokeelia at the north end the island were especially beautiful. The campground was perfect. The soil was soft. The place had a big outdoor pool. I planned to jump in before bedtime to cool down. My first afternoon there a gang of bikers on Harley's pulled in and set up camp. They kind of looked like Mel Gibson's adversaries in the Road Warrior. I thought the place was going to be real rowdy but to my surprise it wasn't. I guess the lesson learnt is: don't make assumptions. The bikers were alright. I took a swim after supper surrounded by tattoos and then headed for my tent when the sun was setting. I soon was engulfed by no-see-ums. I am pretty bug tolerant having grow up in Canada: mosquitoes, black flies, deer flies...I can handle it. The no-see-ums, however, got the better of me. I had no insect repellent. In a short time, my skin was on fire. My tent screen was no defence. They passed right through it. I had no choice but to drive to the mainland for repellent, which helped. I sprayed myself from head to toe, closed the tent flaps and slow broiled myself, basting with Off every hour or so until the oven bell rang (alarm clock) at 6am.

I woke up puffy faced. The decision was real easy. I slam dunked my tent into the trunk, drove north and got an inexpensive motel on the Tamiami Trial, an old commercial strip which runs through Sarasota. That night I finally got a decent sleep. Next morning I grabbed a Grand Slam breakfast at a nearby Denny's and then drove to a beautiful white beach on Longboat Key, a barrier island in the Gulf of Mexico. Life was good again.

I fished the same area for several days and got into a routine. I was just south of a cut between Anna Maria Island and Longboat. Just the thought of the place still makes me feel warm on a cold Winter day. I would wade out in the gentle morning surf until waist deep. Then I just stood there watching the water for life. I soon started seeing schools of lady fish. They were trout size, cooperative and a lot of fun to catch. Once hooked they went airborne. It seemed if you got a fly in front of them they charged it competing with one another in their pursuit. Keeping them on the hook was a challenge. One day I saw a much larger fish. It was a torpedo shaped speedster: a Spanish Mackerel. A great prize on light tackle.

In the morning if the small beach access lot was full I found parking on the east side of the island in a little residential community consisting of maybe twenty or thirty homes. The first time I parked there I spotted a large creature in my peripheral vision walking behind a house. Then I saw another one in my rear view mirror pass behind my car. They were large wild Peacocks, some six feet in height. They hung out on the secondary roads, in vacant lots, on manicured lawns, and even stood on porches and decks. They were everywhere, seemed fearless and use to people....kind of like the Geese that reside in the urban waterfronts and neighbourhood parks in Canada.

One windy day while wading back to land after an afternoon of fishing, I spotted a large long dark object swimming parallel and real tight to the beach. In the next hour or so, I saw a couple others on the same path. They were Snook, two to three feet long. They probably had been travelling behind me, right along the beach all afternoon. I had spent the whole day throwing a fly out to the deep blue when I should have turned around and casted to the shallows. The Snook travelled in the first trough just feet beyond the sand. I tossed a fly at one, no response.

The next day I purchased an eight foot cast net with a bucket and spent the morning teaching myself how to throw it. In case you don't know, a cast net is a circular net with small weights distributed around the circumference. If you haven't thrown one they are great fun, almost as much fun as fishing. I collected the net in my hands even using my teeth. I developed a throwing motion that was kind of similar to a Olympic Discus competitor. Anyway, I quickly got the hang of it and put it to use catching and studying the bait fish in the beach trough where the Snook were travelling. Most of the bait were minnow like. Some were roundish, silver dollar in size or slightly bigger. The other predominant type were about two to three inches long and slender. All were a silvery-grayish-white. There were also some small crabs and sand fleas in the trough. A white Clouser would have been a good fly choice. However, I was a novice in terms of saltwater fly fishing and simply tied some crude white concoctions with a bit of flash. The next series I tied I added just a bit of weight. The next day I spotted a few Snook circulating in the shallows in the early morning. Then in the afternoon when the Gulf had a chop to it, a repeat of the previous day occurred where Snook travelled very tight to the beach in ultra skinny water. I was on to something.

On one section of the beach a little south of where I had been fishing I spotted a series of square concrete posts sticking up out of the sand some three, four or six feet high. They were possibly remnants of a destroyed pier. I'd hoist myself up on them in the afternoons in order to fight glare and locate beach cruising Snook from a great distance. When I'd see a Snook heading my way I'd jump off the post and get set up to present my offering. I casted from the beach and as days passed hooked several fish this way. I discovered you have to be stealthy (sneaky) with Snook in the clear, shallow water. I'd cast well in front of a travelling fish, let my fly sink, wait for the Snook to get close and then tug the fly away from it. When hooked they usually jumped. Most broke off. I soon found out that that Snook have razor sharp gill plates that can easily sever light mono filament line (leader), which is what I was fishing. I needed a very heavy mono shock tippet to deal with this. As time went on I got into a fishing rhythm. I could predict when they'd show up and I got sneakier and a little bit better at fooling them. No pictures... I didn't carry a camera on my fishing adventures in 1991.

The next week I drove south and fished another barrier Island called Manasota Key. I also discovered Snook travelling there...same behavior. After several hours of fishing I realised I really missed my concrete post where I'd perch and watch for afternoon fish. I drove to a hardware store and considered buying a step ladder for the beach, however after measuring one realised it wouldn't fit into my car rental unless I also bought a roof rack, which I wasn't prepared to do.

With the Internet today you can do an exhaustive research on just about anything. I wasn't on the Net in 1991 and therefore everything I learnt standing day after day in the Gulf of Mexico was all just discovery...it was all new. I really had no expectations as I knew nothing. I knew there were Snook in Florida but I didn't know where they were or anything about their behaviour. And I often think that is a good thing for if I knew what flies to bring I wouldn't have gotten frustrated with refusals and bought and learnt how to throw a cast net. I wouldn't have discover the hard way that Snook have sharp gill plates and I wouldn't have lost so many fish which is also a good thing because it made landing the occasional one that much more of an achievement. If I had hired a guide, it would probably have gotten me into fish faster, maybe, but then what. If you get into fish too fast, and catch too many, then where do you go from there. I generally pack-up and drive home. If I struggle to catch, make mistakes, have to problem solve and think about it a lot, then I keep returning. When I think of these things, I'm always reminded of the saying, "No place worth going is easy to get to". It's so true.

One morning I discovered a nice Deli/Diner in Sarasota that served up a great blue plate special. Goodbye to breakfast at Denny's. I'd get there early and became a morning regular. The place smelled amazing and the food was even better. Usually I'd sit in a booth next to four retired guys who got together for breakfast every day. In Florida there is always four retired guys sitting around somewhere. These fellows were always kibitzing and laughing. They talked about the good old days when they were in business somewhere in the north east...New York, New Jersey...New Somewhere. Eavesdropping was great entertainment. One morning one of them looked at me and said, "You're getting too much sun". I told him I'd been fishing for two solid weeks out on Longboat Key. He asked me what I was fishing for? I replied, "Snook". He looked back at me and said, "What the Hell is a Snook!". His buddies howled.

I found Snook to be very powerful (like all saltwater species), acrobatic and challenging to catch. They reminded me of Smallmouth Bass in respect to how they fight. Like Bass they also gravitate to structure. What was so wonderful about this angling experience is that I was chasing them on a beautiful white beach and it was all sight fishing in clear shallow water. There was no expensive boat, no guide, no this, no that...It was pure simplicity: on foot, an 8wt and one fly.

Well I eventually got to my job interviews. I was offered a job in Jacksonville, thought about it for a week, but didn't take it. I often wonder what might have been if I moved to the Sunshine State. I might have become a grizzled old seaside Snook veteran: sweat stained ball cap, a gold front tooth clutching the mesh on my eight foot cast net, thread bare beach shorts, calloused feet, a weather beaten step ladder in tow and a back pack full of killer Snook flies. One life time is not enough.

If you want to beach fly fish for Snook I'd go in the late Spring or Summertime. That's when they seem to travel the barrier islands. Since my trip in 1991 I've discovered two good books on Snook: One by Frank Sargeant and another by Norm Zeigler, Snook on a Fly.

I never got back to fish for Snook again. I did return to Florida for a couple of vacations but that was family time and to escape Winter, and Snook don't seem to cruise the beaches then. They are elsewhere. The last several years I've been chasing Roosterfish on foot, in Baja, which has many similarities to what I experienced beach fishing in Florida. One day when it all comes together and the stars align, I'll find a cheap flight when the NBA playoffs are occurring, land in Sarasota, park where the Peacocks are and once again walk the beautiful beaches of the Gulf coast in search of Snook.

This Is What I'm Into

It was brutally windy on Saturday; ditto on Sunday. It made finding surface feeding trout challenging. Then overnight into Monday morning it snowed. When I woke up the picnic table at the campground I was staying at was fully covered. I used my car snow brush to clean it off, fired up a propane burner and made a giant cup of hot tea. I had a half day of fishing left and then the five hour drive home, hopefully arriving before dusk to avoid deer on pavement. It was finally calm and the day looked so promising. I wish I had more time. I always wish I had more time.

leopard looking trout

There were some big RV's in the campground. Some were occupied by anglers with drift boats, most however, were hunters. At the campground entrance was a tent. When its occupant got up he walked over in my direction and said something from a distance which I couldn't hear. As he got closer I heard him ask me if I had been finding any rising trout. He said the last couple of days had been slow for him and he had to resort to throwing streamers. He had caught a lot of fish this way but said it was not why he drove all the way from the West Coast.

I shared that I had caught trout on dries but I had to hunt for them, that the conditions had been tough the past two days (wind) and that I wasn't finding a lot of risers. I told him that on this river if you keep moving around and checking different spots, often you could find surface feeders even when it seemed unlikely. I soon realised he knew this. As he talked it became clear he knew the river quite well. I told him that when it is blowing hard I walk island areas and hunt for fish on the lee side. I explained where I had spent the previous day and started to describe the location. He finished my description in great detail and clarity. I said, "Oh, you know the spot".  I described another place I had picked up fish on Saturday and also got to watch several large spawning Brown trout on redds. He knew it too.

shallow side channel with spawning browns

We talked about the river which we are both big fans of. He had been on it for a couple of weeks and clearly had fished it a lot in past seasons. I told him that in spite of it being the first weekend of November and cold, I had picked up some of my best trout by spotting them slowly circulating in shallow areas, and then casting a beetle near them...some takes, more rejections...but some nice ones. I also had some success with olives when a weak afternoon hatch developed. He shared information on how the river had been fishing down near the town of Cascade and explained how to access the water from the east side, something I had never done.

I found out he was from the Spokane, Washington area. I said, "Shouldn't you be chasing steelhead at this time of year"? He said, "I'm not into that" then looked out behind him toward the Missouri river and said, " This is what I'm into." I understood.

Missouri river near cascade



Sight Fishing, Bent Bamboo and Bows

" I believe cats to be spirits come to earth. A cat, I am sure, could walk on a cloud without coming through".
- Jules Verne

I was hiking downstream returning to where I parked. It had been a good day on the water. Two anglers were across the river. The younger one had a good bend in his rod. The older fellow wasn't packing. Maybe he was a guide or he put his rod down to help his friend land the fish. I watched him fight the sizable trout and commented from a distance that it looked like he was fishing with Bamboo. A big smile grew. The other fellow said proudly they had spotted the fish rising two feet from the bank and hooked it on a size 18 dry fly. Stuff like that happens on this river. I stood there and took it all in while he landed it. We talked and agreed it was an accomplishment: a big fish on a small dry...and on Bamboo!



As I continued my walk clouds rolled in. I had my success earlier in almost full sun when trout spotting was best. Now things were very challenging. I used the dark reflection of the high cliffs to my advantage to see through the grey surface. These were the same cliffs that blinded me earlier when the sun was out. Now they were my friend. I stopped at a section of the river that held a good fish as I had spooked one there several weeks earlier. My angling memory is good. I stood still for ten minutes watching the water. The trout's movement gave it away otherwise with the poor visibility, I would have never seen it. Movement always catches our eye. I casted. A large trout ate my dry fly.

I won't have a chance to get back to fish the Prairie rivers before the season ends. I'm going to miss the promise of the day on the drive from the mountains out onto the Plains in the early morning light. I'm going to miss hiking the undulating coulees and their late day shadows. I'm going to miss the big broad winged birds riding the afternoon thermals and their shadows on the river. I'm going to miss the Pyrenees sheep herder. I'm going to miss staring into the water for hours on end in search of trout as it is so mesmerising and crystal ball like. And of course I'll miss tricking the occasional big beautiful trout in shallow water. The Buffalo, the ancient High Plains Grizzlies, and the powerful Nomadic Hunters are out there somewhere roaming the Coulees. Next year while walking along a river, I'll find them.



mayfly: mahogany





The Mighty Mo

"All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was".
- Toni Morrison


Coffee in a take out cup simply tastes better on cold Autumn mornings. With the recent frost, leaves are dropping. Pumpkins are on porches as Halloween is just around the corner. My dog's outdoor water bowl has a layer of ice on it. My wading boots are semi frozen. After tugging them on I walk like Herman Munster. Hay bales are stacked high in the nearby fields. Waterfowl are passing overhead. The big Winter sleep is coming but not quite yet. Don't put away that fly rod. From all over people are converging on the Missouri river affectionately called the "Mighty Mo". It is Baetis time and they are throwing the small greenish-grey coloured flies at rising trout, or slinging streamers in search of big browns. As it is cooling down, things are really just heating up.

-Craig, Montana   October 11, 2013



the rise



morning frost on fly covered boat cooler



I just spent a week on the Missouri river....and it was heating up. I can't think of a better place for a dry fly angler to plant himself in mid Autumn, whether it be for a day, a week or a month. The larger Baetis (Olives) didn't really pop when I was there, so I fished Pseudos (tiny olives), size 22 and 24's. I've been back home for a couple of days now and my eyes are still aching. There were plenty of the small guys hatching from 2 to 4 pm. And the fish were up. Most were subsurface feeding but some poked their heads through the meniscus and munched on top. I sight fished and focused on the slow flat water sections of the river. It was challenging angling...picky trout in knee deep water. I did best with cripple and emerger patterns: flies lying flush or dangling through the surface. The impressions you tie and choose can make or break your day. Many fish (probably most) let my offerings pass overhead untouched...but I did connect. Trout in a quick feeding rhythm (gorging) meant a much better chance. A couple of afternoons I fished on my knees to feeding trout only a rod length or two away. Here I was on the broad "Mighty Mo" fishing it like I was casting to trout in a bathtub. Micro-flies in a microcosm. I grew up fishing small streams. Maybe, like water, I'm simply trying to get back to where I once was.

 

walk to river

 



clear water and weeds



flat water side channel

weed mats: fish often prowl the edges

the occasional brown trout, nice surprise

Throwing Strikes in the Wind

 

" I ain't ever had a job, I just always played baseball".
- Satchel Paige

One of my favourite trout rivers is a five hour drive south of my home. The time spent crossing over the flat barren land is well worth it as the river offers incredible dry fly fishing. It has great hatches and I can usually find large fish feeding on the surface. There are individual fish along the banks or in other likely haunts, and sometimes pods right out in open water. It is quite a sight watching large numbers of trout feeding frenetically on the surface. I often go there in the Fall hoping for a strong hatch of Olives to pull the fish to the surface.

The river runs through open arid terrain and the region experiences more than its fair share of wind which accelerates down off of the great continental divide just to the west and races across the plains. One year on the drive there a motorcyclist travelling in the opposite direction was listing severely in order to compensate for the stiff cross winds. This brought a smile to my face. Although my four wheels were more stable than his two, I had to keep a firm grip on the steering wheel in order to counter unexpected blasts. Sometimes tractor trailers get blown over here. Travelling this route can be a rough ride...think movie scenes depicting re-entry into earth's atmosphere.

When driving there in the Fall, usually in October, the morning sports report always reminds me it is World Series time. I have always enjoyed baseball, especially playoff games with the classic pitcher versus batter duals.

I remember one year arriving at the river and in a hurried attempt to erect my tent in the wind it went airborne like a kite. It was quite comical and embarrassing, especially amongst the conclave of condo sized RVs that surrounded me. I decided to wait for the calm of nightfall to complete the task. Instead, while sitting at a picnic table I built a tapered leader with several spools of leader material that I had recently purchased. Following, I geared up ritualistically, tugged my hat down tight and started walking the river bank in search of what I came for.

As is often the case on this wonderful stretch of water, it didn't take long to locate rising trout. My fly presentation, however, left a lot to be desired. I missed several great opportunities to catch large fish due to my inability to control where my fly landed. It was frustrating to spot noses poking through the surface and not be able to get my fly consistently in the strike zone. I caught some wonderful trout but missed many more. If I was a big league pitcher the sportscasters would be announcing I was "wild" or had absolutely  "no control". My manager would be cursing and alerting the bull pen. What it all came down to was I just wasn't able to consistently throw strikes!

That night I listened to the magical call of coyotes filtered through the drone of RV generators. My RV neighbours had their satellite dishes pointing skyward and TVs on loud. Baseball had also captured their imaginations. While lying in my tent I reviewed the day and came to the conclusion I have fished in worse conditions in the past and performed quite well. Usually I have some semblance of control over the fly no matter how adverse the situation. I am used to wind. The terrain that surrounds my favourite river at home has giant wind generators sprouting from it.

I had tried using the wind to my advantage but with little success. Even driving my line forward with more zest and speed by single and then double hauling didn't help much. Side casting low to the water also didn't help. It seemed that no matter what tactic I tried I was inconsistent in reaching my target. Something was different. My leader was clearly the weak link in the chain. It often collapsed or folded, and seemed softer or limper than the material I usually use. The wind was simply pushing it around. It was wimpy and so was I. Although I had bought the same brand of leader material I usually use and fish with success, I realised that it was a new product line. It wasn't like the old material. My struggles continued all weekend.

I returned home an unconfident angler. During the week I bought several spools of the old familiar stiffer material and built myself a new knotted leader. The following weekend I returned to the same river. As usual the wind was blowing and the trout were rising. I took the mound and dug in my spikes. This time, however, I had great control and the trout responded to my more accurate fly presentation. Arm, rod, line, and leader were performing, if I may say, artfully. Finally the energy I was exerting was being transferred consistently through to the fly. I imagined the same sportscasters announcing that this week I was in the "zone" and had "great control". My confidence was back. I was throwing strikes again!

Locating and casting to surface feeding trout is a wonderful activity. It is so visual and my favorite type of fly fishing. I often search for and travel to creeks and rivers that provide this type of angling opportunity. The world becomes very small and focused when you spot a mature trout rising consistently. You forget about upstream, downstream, yesterday, or tomorrow. When a trout is surface feeding on a dense hatch its attention, like yours, is intensely focused and narrow, and you can usually wade or walk fairly close to it if careful. A river surface disturbed by wind aids you in moving in tight. The fish will remain relatively stationary as long as food continues to glide consistently overhead and if it isn't disturbed by something. Casting accuracy and sometimes timing are important in these situations.

You don't need long drifts for this type of angling and therefore you don't need a lot of slack in your leader. The fly needs to be cast just a couple of feet upstream of a feeding fish. A stiff monofilament leader gives you the control and therefore accuracy you need to do this in adverse conditions (wind). Just add on two or three feet of regular soft tippet and that should give you just enough slack to go at  the fish and get just enough natural drift. If the fly is convincing and it appears at the right moment, then you have a chance of a hook-up. If your accuracy and drift are good but timing is off, then slide the fly away once it passes safely downstream of the trout and try again. With repeated pitches you eventually should get it right. The key is to throw strikes and in big wind a stiff leader helps you do that.

This past weekend it was blowing hard on a nearby river. Here are a couple of fish picked up while throwing dries and some strikes.

In the Canyon

"We have to stop and be humble enough to understand that there is something called mystery."
- Paulo Coelho

thick rainbow

canyon bend

exiting the canyon



I knew there had to be rainbows down in the canyon. Probably some rattlesnakes too. The reptiles are rare but they're there. And I thought that if I looked real hard I might see a dinosaur head sticking out from a canyon wall, staring right at me. I felt that if I was scared down there, the trout would sense it and I'd never catch a big rainbow. I packed some water, some apples and granola bars along with some extra courage and hiked the 400 to 500 feet down into the canyon, and went downstream into the heart of it. I never saw a soul all day; just my own reflection. The high thin cirrus clouds and pale vertical cliffs created blinding glare. Spotting trout was difficult. I kept hunting for them while keeping an eye out for falling rocks, a T-Rex face and listened for rattlers and even canyon spirits. I only spotted three trout in the five hours I was there. One saw me before I saw it...gone in an instant. The second fish ignored my fly. Then it ignored my second fly...then third...then feeling harassed disappeared into deeper canyon water. I started to think the rainbows smelled my fear and that the spirits were talking and conspiring, and that it wasn't my day. The third sighted trout ate my offering but no hook up. The fly slipped out when I lifted the rod. Then I saw no fish for a very long time. It seemed the canyon was getting the better of me so I decided to hike upstream out of it. Once out, the high wispy clouds disappeared and in the broad valley looking into the river for fins became much easier. My canine sheep herder friend from the Pyrenees appeared from out of no where. Then some friendly Alberta cattle. Then a timid six foot South American Llama. Then like the flip of a switch, I started tricking big rainbows.



sheep herder after belly rub

locals

Fish it to the End

" A trout is a moment of beauty know only to those who seek it."
- Arnold Gingrich

There are not many weekends left in the angling season and therefore I always try to get out as often as I can. A rooster fishing friend in Baja is usually Steelheading on the Deschutes at this time of year. I always contact him in the Fall to see how he is doing on that Oregon river and he reciprocates with a question on how the trout fishing has been. His final note is always, "Fish it to the end!"

I returned to a Plains river this weekend and spent the afternoon on it. When I arrived it was tough going due to the clouds. Sight fishing is so, so weather dependent. By late afternoon the sun poked through and there was opportunity.

The first fish I caught died. I honestly can't remember when that last happened to me. Maybe 25 years ago. I guess there have been fish that I caught and released that could have died after they swam away but I never witnessed it. I did witness the death of this fish. I was fishing a dry fly and missed the take as I was distracted by a noise upstream. When my eyes returned to the slack water I had casted to, where my fly had been floating, it was gone. I knew something was up so I raised the rod tip, felt tension and the rainbow took off across the river. It fought harder than most but I was able to land it fairly quickly. The fly was lodged deeper than usual probably because I missed the take and reacted late. I debated whether I should simply clip my line and leave the fly. Instead I managed to extract it with relative ease with forceps. The fish, however, seemed spent. I held it in a flow for about 20 minutes waiting for it to revive but it never did. Rigor Mortis occurred and the pulse of its gills became faint. There was no kick of the tail or body wiggle as usually happens. With this fish, nothing.

I guess it is a reminder that fly fishing does occasionally kill fish and certainly damages some even when good angling practises and precautions are taken. One of the best parts of fly fishing is getting to admire a trout up close, its beauty, and then the release, and watching it return to the wild below. Unfortunately, this was not the case today with this particular fish.

I left the fish upright lodged between two mid-sized river stones with a gentle flow running over it, dorsal fin protruding skyward. As I walked downstream I kept looking back to see if it was still there; to see if by some miracle life might have surged back into it, and it would swim off.

Everything has a spiritual essence; a soul. I'll try and be even more careful in the future.

Sight Fishing, Hula Hoops and Sheep Herding

"You don't leave fish to find fish."
 -Joe F.

"The Lord can give, and the Lord can take away. I might be sheep herding next year."
 -Elvis Presley


The mantra that you "don't leave fish to find fish" keeps me going back to two rivers out on the Plains. Some big fins are out there and they have been cruising and feeding, and so I keep showing up to try and trick them. A blue sky above on a day off means get the car keys and go.

Once stream side I forget about most of the river and search the first five to ten yards out for any sign of life: a dark back creeping up a run, a shallow water bank feeder, a cycling feeder. The sight fishing all takes place in a foot or two of water, or less. My ankles get wet and that's about it.

It was blue above on Saturday morning and so I made the drive. I hiked downstream and spotted some trout. I also spotted a large family or group of friends camping in the Coulees. They were dreadlocked and playing with hula hoops. It was kind of carnival like with the trailer, tent and outstretched tarps. I kept looking for a juggler, or a stilt walker. They looked like they had been there all summer. I thought, "not a bad place to hang out".

It was sunny on Sunday and so I went again. Surprisingly I had the place to myself. I never saw another angler. This time I went upstream; way upstream. I was on my knees moving in on a bank fish when I heard a loud panting behind me. It was a big white Pyrenees like pooch with a dangling pink tongue. She was a sheep dog. She nudged me and flipped over waiting for a belly rub. How could I resist. After that she had a brief swim and then slipped back under a barbed wire fence to watch over a sizable herd up on a hill. A dutiful employee.

 

On both days the sight fishing was mesmerising. I had to cover a lot of territory but with the high sun and blue sky I got to watch a dozen fish react to my offerings. I was watching them think. One fish came up to my fly which landed between it and the bank...it looked at it and then lazily turned away, only to circle and return a couple of seconds later for another look, suspending itself right in front of the fly for a few more seconds, and then it gently broke the surface with its nose and ate it.

On the drive home on late Sunday afternoon a pack of reservation dogs stood on the highway and stared down my approaching car which was going 120km. When I slowed down and swerved they went for my tires.

It was a good weekend. Some of the best visual angling I have ever experienced. I saw my reel backing two times, got lucky and landed several great trout. I also got to see hula hooping Bedouins, a friendly sheep herder, and some reservation dogs with attitude... just about anything can happen, and often does, out on the Plains!

Post Script-
When I got home I rummaged through the garage to see if I could find and old hula hoop...

Spotting Rainbows in the Sun

thick rainbow

 

"You can observe a lot just by watching."

    -Yogi Berra

 

I went back to a river on the prairies to sight fish again. It is always easy to get up early and make the long drive there...it's a special river. In the morning I had two large fish on and lost both on their initial run. Then in a ten minute time span three fish ate my fly but no hook up. I checked my fly. It looked alright. Before I knew it the sun was high, it was noon and no fish landed. It was kind of a repeat of the bad luck I had last weekend on this river when I missed two biggies. Then I got a refusal on a fish that was cycling in a pool. I thought I was going to get skunked. But I hung in there. Sometimes enthusiasm and persistence can "turn the tide"...in fishing and elsewhere.

wide open terrain

I started heading downstream. I eventually walked along a eight foot elevated bank on the outside turn of the river. The sun was at my back and I could see through the water's surface for quite a distance. In short time, I spotted a fish just downstream in inches of water. I had to make a direct downstream presentation and feed line. You only get one shot at a fish this way. He ate it, no hesitation. I paused before striking so as not to pull the fly out of his mouth. Hook-up! The rainbow stayed on. My luck had changed.

I continued walking and in about thirty yards or so I spotted another rainbow in very shallow water...same scenario...same presentation...the fish committed...hook-up! Once again it stayed on.



A little further downstream the river broadened into a flat. A rainbow was creeping upstream thirty feet out in the skinny water. Like the others it was blind (sun) to my presence. I casted from the shore almost perpendicular to the fish. It tipped up and ate...hook-up!

Where I was fishing is wide open territory with little cover like bushes or trees. With the sun out you are fully exposed. The place receives a lot of angling pressure so the fish are skittish. They are always on the look-out for anglers, Osprey and Pelicans. If they see movement above, they are gone, gone, gone. Sometimes the early or late day shadow of a cliff can hide you but otherwise you have to use positioning and the location of the sun to full advantage to see fish before they see you. Then you have a shot at them. That's if you are sight fishing. You also got to go slow, stay low and you don't want anything shiny on you. If they see a flash...game over!

The place demands the best of me. That's why I keep going back.



burnt reservation church