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This spring I hit a milestone of sorts. Not the kind you would
want to advertise, although the better part of the family graciously
put an ad in the birthday section of the paper, letting everyone
know. People I had not seen in years popped up at the theater,
the newsstand, the grocery store, the gas station and the bank
congratulating me on reaching 60. I was a little reluctant
in letting the populace know I had arrived at the old fart or geezerdom
point of life, but I really had no say in it, and these things
are inevitable. Besides, it is better than the alternative of not
reaching geezerdom.
All my friends and the birthday cards reminded me of my chronological
state. The usual phrases “Do not think of 60 as over the
hill, just think of it as picking up speed,” or “You
know the first thing that goes is the mind, and I forget what the
second
thing is.” Add various other comments, some not fit to print,
and all in good sport, for they know some of them will also be
reaching the milestone soon.
Arriving at this point caused me to reflect on whether I had really
hit the stage of “You know, when I was a boy,” or “The
fishing just ain’t what it used to be.” How had my
outlook on life, the outdoors, the fishing experience changed?
Much of these 60 years have been spent on the water, throughout
BC and Alberta, with many friends. Some still here and others departed,
and hopefully reserving a spot for me on a river where all the
trout are hogs and take nothing but dry flies. Maybe spending nine
months, floating around in water before seeing daylight, has preordained
some of us to seek solace in water, or maybe we would just rather
fish than work. Whatever, there are a lot of memories, which proves
that at least part of the mind is still working.
I started off fishing like so many youngsters with a bobber and
a worm. The fish bit or they didn’t. Mostly they didn’t.
As I practiced more I surprisingly caught more. Funny how that
goes. I was pretty deadly as a twelve year old ego goes when the
next door neighbor’s father came to visit from Oklahoma.
He wanted to fish a genuine Canadian mountain stream, with wild
beautiful rainbows and cutthroat, and I was just the boy to show
him a secret little spot, that every trout angler in South Alberta
knew, but of course I felt as if it was mine. He brought with him
a fly rod, the first fly rod I had ever seen in action. I caught
more fish that day because I was familiar with the water, but the
fly rod had entranced me. I had to have one. The next year he came
up to visit and presented me with my very own fly rod.
When I flashback, I remember that he really did not cast but just
peeled line into the flow, and the trout took some of his offerings.
I knew there was more to this, and sought out the answers at the
local fishing/hardware store. There was not much advice forthcoming.
Just sly looks from the older anglers, a few fly suggestions. “All
you need is a Royal Coachman, a McGinty Bee and a Black Gnat.”
(All previous issues are stored in the ARCHIVE for
your convenience)
Bob's
Weekly Fishing Report is back
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There
were few books, no casting instructions, videos weren’t around
and the fly anglers were like a secret old boy’s network.
If you were lucky an older angler would feel it was his duty to
pass along what he had learned.
Things today have turned around completely. Fishing shops offer
a wealth of knowledge, books and videos are endless, casting, and
fly tying, rod-building courses can be found in most towns. Internet
sites can answer just about any thing you ever wanted to know,
and lots you don’t. Of course, that also means more anglers
are out on the water, and they are a lot better, quicker than we
were.
Fortunately, many of these anglers have voluntarily adopted catch
and release ethics. That’s a good thing, as budget cuts everywhere
have cut back on the stocking of our waters. Can you imagine all
these good anglers taking their limit? There are also very few
secret spots known by only a few locals. The angler you meet on
the lake or stream is as likely to be from another province, state
or country.
Have some waters been so diminished to invoke the memories of “I
remember when So and So… Lake was unbelievable.” Yes,
of course. I certainly recall halcyon days on fabled waters no
longer fished. But I also know waters that are better than they
ever were. Thanks to God that memories are a fleeting thing and
we seem to remember the good and relegate the bad to the dustbin.
Many waters now fish better because anglers are not taking from
and are trying to preserve the good ones. I also think that some
waters are better because I’m better. After all that is why
practicing is so important. Equipment is now so good, with so many
advances, that I’m not sure there is any room for any radical
innovation.
I embrace the new and have great fondness for the old. I’ve
enjoyed the journey and hope it is a long one. I hope I never arrive.
Like the word poetry in a Don Henley song “Learn to be still.” Listen,
watch, appreciate, teach and I hope you never ever let it grow
old.
Reader Wayne asks what is the best sockeye fry pattern available?
Wayne, there are quite a few proven patterns. Rolled Muddlers,
Chinook and Coho fry, Egg and I, all work. The best is probably
the Epoxy Minnow pattern. If your shop doesn’t carry them,
Oscar’s in Smithers has a good selection. Check for latest
fishing reports on this site.
Let us know your thoughts. Email
me and
give us some input.
Check for new photos on the Photo
page .
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