Articles - Staff Inflections
Look for new articles every month from staff, guides, and other noted authors
on fly fishing related topics. Articles on where anglers have fished (near and far),
interesting stories about fishing our waters, and general musings about fly fishing related
topics.
A Second Timer’s Steelheading Trip
My first time fishing for steelhead was hardly premeditated. It was during my second year at University, where I realised I had nothing planned for spring break in February of 2008. Some chose Cancun, I chose the Cowichan River. Two weeks before my break, I came to the conclusion that the Island would be my best bet; temperatures there are far friendlier than on the mainland, and the Cowichan seemed a good choice due to its access and recommendations from friends. I packed up my Spey rod and headed for 5 days of fishing. The supposed warmer weather was true, except for the nights I spent sleeping in my car beside the river. I woke up each morning to frosted windows and frozen waders and boots. Those who know me realise the lack of comfort and amenities a two door Honda Civic offers. The days were spent casting with little success, while the evenings used back in Duncan, drinking litres of coffee at the local coffee shop, watching movies on my laptop, and tying intruders till the coffee shop closed. Then it was time to head back to the car for another terrible sleep. The weather stayed warm, bright and sunny, without a drop of rain for the week. The river stayed low, clear and very cold. It was great weather for sight-seeing, but no fish entered the system. I only hooked one steelhead that trip, the last I saw of it was his red belly 3 feet out of the water with a pink intruder in his mouth, heading downstream with four feet of my leader trailing behind it. What some would call a waste, I would call a start of an obsession.
That fish haunted me for months.
After realising that the winter months were probably not my best bet for steelheading, I turned my attention to the late summer run on the Skeena system, especially the Bulkey River. While chatting in early summer about my failed attempt on the Cowichan and my plans for the 2008 season, I was fortunate enough to be invited by Mike Gifford to the legendary Babine River. I had read about the Babine, and seen pictures of its impressive steelhead. Suddenly my summer had changed from chasing browns with streamers and dry flies, to practicing spey casting out of the drift boat while my fishing partner for the day would go fish a gravel bar on foot. I was once chastised for throwing a Snap-T to cast a hopper to the bank as Mike rowed, and quickly realised that fish feeding on Tricos are especially spooked by double speys. Fly tying went from #20 BWO's to six inch intruders in black and blue, and my tying bench slowly became a collage of blue, pink and purple rhea feathers. I could only assume that my fellow employees were ready to kill me, after having Lani Waller's Steelhead DVD on repeat for the month leading up to my departure. After a short break through the summer, my obsession was back in full swing.
The Babine is very aptly called mysterious. There is very little information about fishing it on the internet, and the people who have fished it are few and far between. A quick Google search will mention how beautiful and pristine the river is, and include the obligatory massive steelhead photos. Most mentions of the Babine are met with a glazed look of remembrance, someone mentioning how they'd love to get out there someday, or someone asking where it is.
The night before going to camp was spent sorting flies into boxes, changing fly lines to different reels, and pre-tying leaders. After having dinner with the group of guys that came out of camp the day before (who told tales of fish blowing up $5000 reels and donating numerous fly lines to the river), I slept very little. After the 2 days of traveling and waiting in Smithers, the morning finally came when we were picked up and brought to the camp. After a drive in the dark to the Babine river weir, we all hopped in jet boats, for the ride down to camp. This quick trip provides an angler with the first notion of how incredible this river truly is. The air is crisp and cool first thing in the morning and the water is tea-stained, and as clear as can be. Runs are pointed out, and talk of the river and steelhead fill the 20 minute trip to camp. This initial trip also shows how much the guides care for the river, and how well they treat it. The boats are not jetted down river, but idled downstream; to not disturb the banks or the steelhead they may be passing over. The trip could be done much quicker, but the focus is on sustainability of their resource, and not how fast they can get clients in and out.
We got into camp around 9:00 and put all the gear in the cabins, made lunch for the day, and had breakfast before setting up rods and getting into the boat. What I couldn't manage to do in a week of fishing on the Island, I managed to do on the Babine in my first afternoon. I had a few plucks in the morning, and had to remind myself not to set the hook till I felt weight, having pulled the fly away from a few fish early on. The spey rod started to work better for me as the day went on, with the fly going where I wanted it to and the drifts being slowed down nicely. Just after lunch I put a cast right behind a set of boulders, mended twice, and let the fly swing. I felt my line stop with some weight behind it, I set the hook, and the fly line was ripped off my reel. A few minutes later I managed to net my first steelhead, a beautiful buck. He was released with a splash to my face (which, as it turns out, seems to be a tradition for Babine steel). I walked down to the boat, not caring one bit about the few more fish I missed that day. The jet back to the lodge was chilly, but the cold wasn't on my mind. Just like the first one I had ever hooked, the pull on the line to the release of my first landed steelhead is engraved in my mind. There is nothing quite like the dinners at steelhead camp: prime rib the size of your head and steak & lobster to put you fast asleep, with dreams of chrome.
Steelhead fishing is all about routine. You're woken up every morning at seven on the dot, with coffee and hot chocolate. Half-asleep you wander over for breakfast. Breakfast is of your choice, and I found myself falling into the routine of "toast and bacon please," followed by a lunch containing 90% chocolate bars and smarties and 10% chicken sandwich. You then head back to your cabin, throw your waders on, get all your gear together and head to the beach. There is no dawdling in the mornings, and you're quickly transported to your first run. You fish all day and hope to remember to eat your lunch, and get back at camp just prior to dark for dinner and the campfire. As it turns out, I'm still asleep until the first fish of the day. It soon became routine that the first fish of the day would wake me out of my slumber by giving me just long enough of a fight to get me awake, and then spit the hook. I tried my hardest to remove this curse, from having extra coffee at breakfast, casting a little in the pool in front of camp to warm up before the boat ride, and slugging back more coffee on the boat ride downstream, but I was cursed. This did not happen once or twice, it happened every day of the week. Sadly, it seemed that I hooked more fish in the mornings than any other time of the day, usually within the first half hour of reaching the first run. The biggest fish I hooked all week was first thing in the morning on the fourth day, and it got away due to poor "ice management," which had allowed my reel to freeze just enough between casts to prevent the spool from spinning on the first hard pull. Quickly, I realised the first 15 seconds of the fight are everything. You always hook the fish downstream of you, which gives a steelhead the advantage of using the water and angles against you; the fly can usually be pulled away just by a big fish moving his head. After the first 15 seconds, you realise just how powerful these fish really are. They are blistering fast when they want to be during the fight, and use their body weight extremely well against you. Their leaps are epic and heart breaking as they dislodge the fly from their jaws and leave you wondering what happened. I even had a big buck crush a forged steel hook, with me only feeling the slightest tick - that kind of power.
Steelhead fishing can be aggravating, especially if you are coming from a trout fishing background. You'll go days without landing a fish, or only getting one or two hits, and you start blaming yourself. However, there is nothing you could do that would be worse than taking it so seriously. You start mending too often, and having no faith in what you're fishing, you react by changing flies too quickly and then repeat this over and over. The most important thing I learned all week, but failed to realise until after the week was over, was to not take it so seriously; the steelhead will bite when they want to, and you just have to hope you're in the right spot at the right time. I was having a rough mid-week after a great start, hooking fish but not being able to bring any to hand for a couple days. I was fishing one of the runs that I had done well in earlier in the week, going one for three. My fly was tapping and snagging on bottom with regularity, when I snagged bottom one more time. I set the hook and then dropped the tip, then pulled back up (a great method for removing flies from snags), to find bottom moving upstream. This happened for a few seconds before the fish realised she was hooked. A few screaming runs and leaps later brought a beautiful hen to my guide's net; she was still very chrome, and an extremely clean fish. A few pictures were taken, and I released the biggest fish I had ever landed.
The rest of the week was very much the same routine, with fish being caught and lost, and a very fun Halloween night. That night I decided to fish a little later, fishing the camp pool after everyone went back to their cabins. I went 1 for 3 in half an hour, before having dinner and joining in the Halloween festivities. Halloween night at steelhead camp is celebrated like no other place. You have a massive turkey dinner, followed by filling up the jack-o-lanterns with diesel and setting them on fire in the fire pit. Beers are downed and stories are told, but all before the massive fireworks show. You can tell that this is a highlight for all the guides and staff at the camp, due to the sheer number of fireworks they bring in.
My final day in camp started just like all the others, hot chocolate mixed with coffee, toast and bacon, and hopping in the boat to head downstream. We were on the river a bit earlier than normal, with hardly enough light to see. Barely awake, as always, I hooked a fish on my fifth or sixth cast, and he spat the hook right away. It seemed that the curse would haunt me right off the river. Two casts later, I hooked up again, and lost this fish with the leader almost to my rod tip. I had a smile on my face when I was picked up and moved upstream. This stop went a little bit better. I let a buck shake itself off at the beach, and then proceeded to hook another 2 fish. In my final morning I managed to hook 5 fish and land one, but I was beyond pleased. Every fish I landed that week leaves me a memory to escape to, and a feeling of adrenalin that will be hard to surpass. I hope to get back there, I will change some of the ways I fish and the flies I tie, but I figure the memories that the Babine generates will never fade.
Brent Piché
