CastingAbout Newsletter

Issue #13    Spring, 2003

Club President Bob Hammersley tries a new tying technique under direction of

Master fly tier Rick Whorwood's hands-on approach. -- Kevin Reid Photo

Once upon an ugly day in January, when the streams were blown out and there was nothing better doing, a handful of intrepid fly tiers met at Tyee Marine in Campbell River, to study under the watchful eye of Master Atlantic Salmon fly tier Rick Whorwood. The session went by too quickly, but many tying tips and tricks were passed along and filed away for future reference -- marrying feathers, splitting silk floss, folding hackles, etc.

With a new found enthusiasm the customary bull session at lunch time saw us plotting the downfall of many a fish, if only the weather and water would co-operate.

Consensus was, let's bring back Rick's tying workshop as a club sponsored event.

Early Season Chironomid Fishing by: Steve Paterson

   Vancouver Island is blessed with the mildest weather in Canada. By March many trees are producing buds, bulbs are making a break from subsurface hibernation, and most stillwater fly-fishermen are tuning equipment in anticipation of the season ahead. Fishermen in the know; however, have already taken advantage of the warmer afternoons of late winter to enjoy some chironomid fishing. Even the smallest daytime temperature increase, combined with some delightful solar radiation, is enough to trigger significant chironomid pupal activity, and some aggressive trout feeding. Early on, unaware of this underwater biological cycle taking place, I started tying orange and brown halfback nymphs to imitate the small "bugs" I saw in the surface film, and had many days of successful winter fishing. I encountered hatches consistently, some even on a large scale, throughout the winter on a few of the lakes near Victoria.

   As a kid in high school I chose fly-fishing over girls, and spent most of my after school daylight hours on the lakes around Victoria. I discovered later on, that girl chasing was much better after the sun went down anyhow. The late winter season was no exception. For avoiding hypothermia, I use my rowing punt for these cold water angling excursions. On more than one occasion I had an unmanned rod ripped right out of the boat by an aggressive take, and my younger brother unfortunately bore the brunt of my frustration as we pursued the errant rod across the lake.

   Many of the lower elevation urban lakes on Vancouver Island are regularly stocked with strains of rainbow trout, and these are the lakes where I now concentrate my efforts. These lakes warm up the quickest, and often have additional nutrients from the septic systems of shore side homes or cabins, which in turn supports larger plant and insect populations. Rainbow trout love to eat insects and will key on this early food source with fervor. The B.C. government "Fish Wizard" website lists stocking information of most lakes on the Island. This resource enables anglers to easily research prospective locations

   Insect hatches are often localized within a lake, most often in areas with a muddy bottom and layers of detritus, which nurtures the chironomid larvae. If you can locate these areas, the fish will be there too. Late wintertime is a bit early for avian insect eaters like swallows, but look for any signs of bird activity, or discarded insect casings on the surface. If you are lucky, you need look no further than the boils of marauding surface feeders. I have had many days of casting emerger patterns or surface film nymphs, on a floating line and dressed leader, into the path of surface feeding trout. Talk about adrenaline fishing! By far the most exciting fishing is casting to these cruising sippers. However, when they are not surface feeding, wind drifting a sunk nymph on a floating line, or a nymph trolled very slowly on an intermediate sinking line works well. I have caught trout with bulging abdomens, which look like they could have swallowed a golf ball. Upon examining the stomach contents of the few fish I have kept, they had obviously been gorging to capacity on chironomid pupa.

   At times, the fish can be extremely selective, for both size and color. If you are working an area with some visible bug activity and not seeing any interest in your fly, try scooping up a couple of live samples. The chironomids in our area are usually small -- hook sizes 14 to 20 -- and they all appear to be olive green to muddy brown in color, each with a distinguishable red butt. If your imitation is accurate and you still receive no interest from a fish, try changing tactics. If none of the above start producing, pour yourself a coffee -- to revive your frozen hands and lips -- and get ready to chase that runaway rod.

Fly tying recipe on next page >>>

Recipe for: The Stripped Herl Chironomid

Hook -- Mustad, Shrimp hook, #12 - #16

Thread - Red

Tag - Red

Body- Stripped peacock herl

Wingcase (optional) - turkey or red-shafted flicker wing feather

Thorax - Peacock herl

   Wind on a short red butt with thread. Strip peacock with pencil eraser. Tie in strand of herl. Make nice tight wraps of herl forward for abdomen. Tie in wing casing close to front of hook. Tie in peacock herl for thorax. Tie down wing case. Finish off head. This fly may also be tied with peacock herl as shoulder without wingcase. I have had good success fishing this fly right in the surface film.

"Fish Wizard" website address: www.fishwizard.com

The Stripped Herl Chironomid

The North Island Charm  by: Kevin Reid

   As with most of my flies, the North Island Charm is the product of evolution and field trials of other fly patterns. This story starts in March 2002 when myself and a well known ghillie were fishing the Perfect pool on the Muchalat river. We both noticed huge stone flies flying in the air and riding the surface of the stream. These flies were at least three centimetres long, and at first glance appeared to be plain black in colour.

   I scooped up one of these critters from off the water's surface for a closer look. As the massive bug crawled and wriggled in my hand, I could see a light inner colour radiating out from under what seemed to be the black outer skin. After observing the bug for a few moments, I could clearly make out yellow and light green hues showing from under the legs and from between the external body joints. As well, its powerful legs and antennae were in constant movement.

   Later, as I sat up to my tying bench at home, the image of that giant stone fly was still fresh in my mind. Using the Blue Charm -- a venerable Atlantic salmon fly pattern -- as a starting point, I tied a similar fly, then incorporated long soft hackles to simulate the legs and antennae. For some added colour I used blue and purple hackles. This came through the influence of Bill MacMillan's theory on colour for winter steelhead flies. It is the yellow rear section and the golden wing, all veiled under the second dark wing, which gives this fly its imitative qualities.

   On the next trip back to the river, armed with my new fly, I placed repeated casts into the same spot where earlier in the season Rory had hooked and subsequently lost a steelhead. In short order my line went tight, and I knew the Charm had the right effect. Unfortunately after three solid runs, the fish came unhooked. Despite the long distance release, the North Island Charm has earned an honoured place in my winter steelhead fly box.

Tying the North Island Charm

The North Island Charm

Quick-draw Cell-phones: by Rory E. Glennie

   On a slow day, when I am not in a boat guiding fly fishers out on the water, people-watching at the dock becomes an entertaining pastime. Sometimes flights of fancy take over one's thoughts if you watch long enough. Example: the gun toting cowboy mythos of the old American wild west lives on even out here on the coast. If not in reality, then, at least in the proclivity of some folks. In today's society the six-gun has evolved into a more modern device. Take for instance the blossoming number of people who have taken to carrying cellular telephones around with them. Boaters seem to have a particular penchant for keeping one on their person. I get to scrutinize many of these occasional sailors in the course of an afternoon spent at the dock, and at times it can be quite amusing.

   The ones who keep the instrument tucked out of the way go by largely unnoticed. That is, until they get a call and the audible signal sends them scurrying about in a frenzied search of purse or briefcase to answer it before the caller hangs up. Others, and it appears this is a male dominated group, outwardly display their communications hardware in a fashion that assures they do not have to rummage about for the phone when the ringer goes off. Theirs are not the effete, slim-line lightweight units used by many sensible women and the upper echelon of the corporate class. No, their cel-phones are the bulky mega-units with some satisfying heft to them. These guys invariably wear their phones holstered upon their hip; much like the stereotypical range-riding cowboy would his big iron. Similarly, this gives the distinct impression of the wearer being prepared to fire a quick volley, should a shoot out of troublesome telephone calls burst forth.

   I suppose that keeping your cellular telephone close at hand is what having one is all about. Especially for those folks who rely on that wireless technology to keep abreast of business matters. In the course of my guiding work, I too use a cel-phone, as a backup communications system, and to supplement the VHF radio in the boat. Using a cel-phone offers a modicum of privacy not afforded by the VHF. This is especially useful when you want to share a hot fishing spot with a friend or colleague, and do not really want the whole radio listening audience horning in. So, I know a bit about why the number of seafaring people carrying these units has burgeoned.

   I keep my telephone securely tucked away in an inside pocket of my vest where it is readily available but safe from damaging natural elements. This system works well for me. What I cannot fathom though, is why the hip mounted telephone has become so popular. I have seen numerous units come to a tragic demise from what would appear as a direct cause from being carried in this fashion. Take for instance on the dock. The ringer goes off and the recipient makes an instinctive quick-draw grab for the phone. Needless to say he has oil on his fingers, from being in the middle of topping up his outboard, or has a hand covered in grease from the big, juicy burger he is wolfing down. Then guess what happens? Scenario number one; the unit slips out of his grasp, fumble, drop, bounce, bounce, splash! One more cel-phone committed to the briny deep. Scenario number two; substitute a hard surface for water -- say the deck of a boat, slip, fumble, smash into a half dozen component parts. Scenario number three; catch the hip mounted unit on the gunwale while getting into the boat and... your choice, smash or splash. Some of these folks tell me that they are on their third or fourth cellular phone due to terminal mishaps with their previous units. However, they still insist on carrying their unit in this precarious position. I guess some folks never learn. Or, possibly the cost of replacement units are borne by a benefactor such as the company they work for, and they don't feel the economic pinch personally.

   Beyond these obvious physical difficulties of keeping their unit securely in hand, there is an apparent physiological quirk many guys develop through being so armed. I am speaking here of the swagger. It seems that while wearing the hip mounted unit a person's arm will not swing as it is designed to do, close by one's side while walking upright. The hand or wrist, or elbow on the long-armed folks, continually bumps into the holster as it swings by during the course of a normal stride. Eventually, either the dull pain caused by the chafing of skin against plastic, or the irritation of the above noted scenario number one or two being repeated when the phone is knocked out of its holster, causes the wearer to assume a rather unnatural walking posture. Hence, the swagger. As seen in motion, the swaggerer executes a rather subtle tilting of the hips upon each forward stride, all the while holding his quick-draw hand ever so slightly away from the body to give added clearance as it brushes by. The effect in its entirety gives him the humourous appearance of a stage play gunfighter practicing for some low budget spaghetti western.

   I suppose a really wicked person could have some devilish fun at the expense of these phone-toting cowboys. Like say, by keeping an eye on them until they are in some awkward position, such as tipping an oil jug with one hand and holding a funnel with the other, then give them a ring on their cel-phone. I have never been so cruel as to stoop to such maneuvers, but I have witnessed the startling, messy outcome when the cel-phone goes off in mid refill. I have, though, had my fun ringing up one colleague or another at an inopportune time. Many times all I get is a curt, "Can't talk right now. Gotta go. I have a big fish on the line." Now, if I could figure out how to place multiple calls at the same time, it would be great fun watching the quick-draw antics of a group of phone toting fishermen standing around the dock B.S.'ing about their catch -- as a humourous sort of replay of the shoot-out scene at the O.K. corral.

   Like many things in life, you learn quickest after such a prank has been played on you first. Then comes the time for sweet retribution. Being in a playful mood, I will call up one of my swaggering, quick-draw compatriots. Surreptitiously pressing my encoded speed dial button for their number starts the wheels of the gag in motion. When my pigeon answers I raise my phone to speak, saying, "It's your turn to buy the beer." Invariably, two things will happen; the recipient glances down toward the phone then back up to me in seeming disbelief; and then -- even though he is usually only the breadth of a bar table away from me -- looks down at the phone again, and blurts out the only fitting comment, "Arsehole!" What mischief a guy won't get into during a slow day on the ranch, 'er docks, huh.

With apologies to a fine Pike

The Josephine Baker Leech, or. . .  everything old is new again. By: Stuart McIntosh

     Josephine Baker, as with many innovators, was not well appreciated in her own land. Born in St. Louis, Missouri, she achieved her fame in the clubs of Paris, France, in the early 1900's as an exotic dancer. She was supple, sensuous, athletic, and black. She was way ahead of her time for North American respectability. To say the least, we've come a long way baby since then!

     I tying and experimenting with several designs for a deeply fished leech pattern, I came up with one more to try last year. It found favour among the fishes. After one good day of fishing with this leech, I pulled it up alongside the boat for a look at how it moved and worked in the water. I tried to discern what was special about it. The fly moved in a manner which seemed supple and athletic, maybe even sensuous. Hmm. . . And it was black. Hence, I tagged it with the Josephine Baker moniker.

     To build this fly pattern start by making a dubbing brush using the Root's wire core dubbing machine -- the brush is a 50/50 combination of black Llama hair, and brown or black holographic dubbing enhancer. Trim the fibres to about one-centimetre long before spinning them into the dubbing brush. Next, select a flexible marabou blood-plume and pinch-out the tip section. Slide a four-millimetre diameter tungsten bead onto a Mustad 9672, size 8, hook. Secure tying thread. Tie in marabou plume for the tail -- about two shank lengths long extending past the hook bend. Tie in and wind on dubbing brush. Tie-off and trim excess behind bead-head. Trim the body dubbing all around the hook shank to present a slim profile, in keeping with the thinness of the natural leech. Total length of the finished fly should be from about four to five-centimetres.

     When fishing this fly use a "Rapala" loop to attach it to your tippet, and present it using an intermediate-sinking fly line. The fly should be fished in the bottom third of the water column. The combination of hand-retrieving the line, the open-loop connection, the undulating marabou tail, and the weighted bead-head add up to a very lively, realistic impersonation -- Vive!  Josephine Baker.

     Should some imaginative soul tie this pattern in a pastel pink version then I suppose it would beg the name Isadora Duncan. Like Ms. Baker, Isadora was a supple, sensuous, athletic, exotic dancer of great artistry in the 1900's, and not well appreciated in her own land, even though she was white.

Dolly Varden Creel Log Book

						Ministry of Water, Land, and Air Protection
						Fisheries Section
						2080 Labieux Road
						Nanaimo,  B.C.  V9T 6J9
         

A Book Review by: Stuart McIntosh.

The Fly Fisherman's Guide to the Meaning of Life. by: Peter Kaminsky, © 2003.

Rodale, ISBN 1-57954-584. Hardcover, 141pps, $21.95