Issue No.11 July 2002
by
Kevin Reid
This spring our fly club had some great special events. First, Brian Chan gave a full day presentation. Brian imparted to us the latest still water techniques. He amazed and inspired me with his scientific approach to fly-fishing. Then, Tom and Betsy Murray were kind enough to host an all ladies fly fishing workshop. Presenting the workshop was one of the finest fly fishers in our sport today, Kathy Ruddick. A close friend of mine, Janet Newhouse, attended that seminar. I think that such a "women only" concept in itself is evocative. Moreover, it was this special event that has stimulated my thoughts the most.
Janet came back from the session very enlightened. When I asked her how it went -- because secretly I had wanted to attend myself -- Janet responded at length. She told how Kathy thoroughly covered the fundamentals of the sport; you know: knots; how fly lines work; rods; reels; and equipment such as waders, etc. All the stuff we drag along to the water every chance we get. Listening closely to Janet I quickly understood that beside all of the practical knowledge Kathy presented, she also had inspired the group. She had given them a glimpse at what keeps us so focused on fly fishing; To enjoy the water, to lure the fish with only feather and wool, or not, and to understand the ethic in sport and natural experience. Janet got the message. I mean, she really got it!
With a brilliant new spark of fly fishing adventure freshly kindled in Janet, I thought a quick trip to my nearby favourite lake was in order. So, on the weekend following the seminar, after all the yard work was finished, we packed up the canoe and headed out. We had traveled most of the way into Wowo Lake when several trees, which had fallen across the road, stopped us. Being still to far away to carry the canoe into the lake, we consulted the map, since it seemed that a change of venue was in order. Lower Quinsam Lake appeared as our next logical choice. After getting the van turned around, off we went to find some new water. We would have made it too, but in the last two kilometres before reaching lower Quinsam Lake, the right rear tire went flat. While lying there in the mud and exchanging the flat tire for one of those skinny, emergency spare tires, I thought it best to get the vehicle back to town while we still could. We were both a little disappointed, but I could tell the spark in Janet was still glowing despite our misfortune.
The next weekend we both arranged enough free time to try again. This time we went to an even closer lake, which was loaded with small rainbow and cutthroat trout. I drove the van to about 200 meters from the lake, and then we struggled to get our canoe and tackle to the lakeshore. Once there, we stood silently watching for a moment. We saw many fish rising, leaving small dimples on the surface of the calm grey water. Quickly we hopped into the canoe, Janet in the bow, me in the stern, and paddled forty meters out from shore and began fishing. I hooked a fish almost right away, catching and releasing four in the first twenty minutes.
Janet was having a little difficulty casting while sitting down in the wobbly canoe. So, I reeled my line in and concentrated on paddling and coaching her into catching a fish. I saw some repeated rises over by a submerged log and proceeded to put the bow of the boat into a good casting position. It was not long before Janet had a fish on. That one, however, gave her the long distance release. That experience definitely perked her up! With a smile and a laugh, she cast out again. This immediately prompted another strike. I could clearly see the fly line streaking away, though Janet -- not really knowing what to do on the strike -- was a little slow to react. Subsequently the fish had refused the artificial bug faster than Janet could draw the rod up in the air to set the hook. With darkness closing in, and rain beginning to fall it was time to paddle back to shore. As we packed up and went home the rain began to pour down.
These few short lessons and trips were having a pronounced effect on Janet. She was very keen and interested in going out again soon. It was early June by the time we were able to go fishing again. The weather was warmer, the days were longer, and what I like best -- from May to October -- the fishing just keeps getting better. This time I thought a river trip might be best. Since Rory is always talking about how good the rainbow trout fishing on the Elk River can be, that would be our destination. After work one Saturday, we set off. We stopped for a great meal in Campbell River before venturing on into the wilderness. Arriving late that evening we passed the night camping in the van parked by the Elk River. Waking early on Sunday, we anticipated a fun day of wading the nearby pools. The river was in beautiful condition that day. We enjoyed crystal clear water under crystal clear skies, with warm early summer breezes, just a perfect day to be out fishing. During the morning session, I had a few trout come to bead head nymphs. Sadly enough, none were landed. Unhappily for Janet, she had no fish strike.
I figured we were not "on" the fish, and the ones that were there had already felt the sting from other fly hooks. What we needed was a good lunch, a cold beer, and a knowledgeable ghillie. I knew where all three could be found. Therefore, off to Gold River and the Ridge pub we sped. Rory, John, and Karen met us at the pub. After lunch and a rejuvenating frosty ale, Janet, myself and Rory -- who is always keen to go fishing -- ventured to the clear shallow pools of the Elk River. Rory and Janet fished the first pool and with Rory's skilled coaching she had a few fish take a weighted nymph. What was to come next, however, was truly a classic fly-fishing experience. We switched pools and split up. I stayed upstream while Rory and Janet went a little further downstream to the tailout of a long rippling flow.
From where I was standing, I could see quite a few rainbows holding in the flow. Occasionally one would rise to the surface and take some unknown kind of insect. From my fly box I drew out one of my all time faves, a Royal Coachman tied on a long shank #12 hook. While representing nothing in particular, this fly pattern seems to look a bit like every kind of bug that hatches from water. In no time at all I was hooked-up to a beautiful male Rainbow trout. As I released my fish, I looked downstream. There was Rory, still standing close to Janet, as she played and released her first fish. Not only her first fish, but one caught in such beautiful conditions; a crystal clear freestone stream with wild rainbows coming to dry flies floating high on the surface, on a hot sunny spring day. I ask you, does it get any better than this?
With some patient coaching, Janet had come a long way in a very short time. Her casting technique was great; she could make nice long tangle free casts. She presented the fly softly, much as the natural would appear on the water. In addition, she had learned how to react to the strike, smoothly and quickly. This learning process had been wonderful to witness. I think back to my own beginnings as a boy with a fly rod my dad gave me, and figuring out how to wield it through trial and error. It was so different from Janet's accelerated development, a product of great coaching and patient instruction. What amazes me is the way in which she gets it. In the same way, you and I get it. The reason why we choose to fish flies; our specific approach to the sport. Realizing it never will be just the fish we are looking for.
Patient on-stream coaching pays big dividends in silver -Janet's first trout.