Al's Amazing Catch

It was a perfect day, mid-August, 1999. We were fishing private water on the Old Fort River in Quebec, guests at Morgain's Salmon Camps. There were four of us on this trip: Dad, Alan, Dave and me. Dad had flown Al home from Alberta for his first taste of Atlantic Salmon fishing. Our daily routine was to travel in groups of three men - one guide with two sports. Dave and I went with Harvey Fequet, 8 miles by boat to fish Third Pool. A mile hike further on were Tag Pool and Fourth Pool. Dad and Al stayed closer to camp with Curry Fequet on First Pool and Second Pool.

At the foot of First Pool there is a wide sandbar where salmon congregate. Al had raised several fish there with a white Phentex bug, and even had hooked a couple briefly, but couldn't master the fine art of playing and landing a grilse. The air was thick with advice, "Keep your rod tip up!" "Keep the line tight - don't give him any slack!" "When he's taking line, let him go! When he tries to rest, reel like hell!"

It wasn't long before Al had another hookup on that Phentex bug. He followed Dad's and Curry's advice on playing a salmon and did his best to keep the rod tip up. The grilse cartwheeled through the air several times yet, in short order, the fish lay docile in the guide's net, whereupon the hook instantly fell out of its mouth!
When Curry examined the fly, he noticed there was no point on the hook - it had broken off! Alan, being a novice flyfisher, had experienced a close encounter of the rocky kind on a backcast. It had blunted his hook completely. He had been fishing the same fly for a couple of hours, had connected with several takers, but had been unable to achieve a solid hookup on any of the salmon. It was a minor miracle that he even hooked, let alone, landed that fish!

To illustrate today's post, I found a similar fly, put it in a vise, then snapped the business end off with a pair of pliers. The sketch in my journal, however, suggests that the remaining hook on Al's fly was, in fact, much shorter than my attempt to replicate it. (Click on the middle photo for a close-up view.) Landing that fish was quite an achievement for any angler, even more so for a newbie! So, here's to Al, the unsung angler, and his amazing catch!
Good Luck and Good Fishin'!
-Random Phrump

Photos by Random Phrump.

Hurricane Noel Hits Nova Scotia: Trout Hit the Beach!

On the first weekend of November, we were visited by Hurricane Noel. Although it had been downgraded to a post-tropical storm by the time it reached the Atlantic coast of Canada - it still packed a good punch, with wind gusts up to 140 km per hour.

The photos give you some idea of what washed up on Beach Meadows beach. The rocks and the sand were littered with Rainbow Trout, some of the estimated 500,000 that escaped when wind and waves destroyed a fish farm located near Coffin Island in Liverpool Bay. According to local reports, the sea cages broke loose from their moorings and were dashed to pieces on the rocky shore. In the days following the storm, people combed the beaches harvesting the dead and dying trout - some filled their freezers with them.

Although many were killed, the vast majority of the half million escapees are still at large. Rainbow Trout are not a native species in this province, but they have been successfully stocked as a recreational fishery in a few land-locked lakes. Rainbow Trout have also established spawning populations in several Cape Breton rivers as a result of escapement from aquaculture operations in the Bras d'Or Lakes. What are the odds of Rainbows showing up in river systems along Nova Scotia's South Shore next spring?

According to David Dagley, secretary of the local Fish and Game Association - not so good. He says,

"Rainbow Trout prefer water with a pH of 6.0. Here in Queens County, our rivers have been so adversely affected by acid rain that the pH is in the 4.5 to 5.0 range."

Personally, I believe the escaped trout will wander into our rivers: they may even spawn in them. Whether the eggs will hatch and the fry will develop normally in our acidic waters, only time will tell. Fishing season re-opens on April 1st, 2008.
Good Luck and Good Fishin'!
-Random Phrump

Photos by Robyn Bertling.

Global Warming? Shifting Seasons?

The talk among Nova Scotia Atlantic Salmon anglers this fall has been all about the weather. September and October have been unusually warm. While the balmy days make comfortable conditions for anglers, some are saying they would rather brave the cold.

On Nova Scotia's Margaree River, Thanksgiving weekend anglers were saying that the fall run had not arrived this season. No one I talked to had seen a bright fish. Salmon that were sighted in the pools were all "black fish" - some had been there all summer, according to local anglers.

On the Wallace this weekend, there was no sign of the fall run. I talked with a woman who had tagged a grilse, and I actually saw the fish - scrawny and black. I also heard an eyewitness report of a large salmon being released, another dark fish.

I spoke with my friend, Norm Fortune, yesterday. Norm is a fixture on the River Philip, a local angler with years of experience. In his words,

"I thought the last two years were bad, but this year is terrible. I haven't seen a bright fish yet. Every year they come later and later. The season will be over before the fish come."

Norm is one of a growing number of anglers who believe that climate change is influencing Atlantic Salmon migratory behavior. He would like to see the salmon fishing season changed from its current (September 1 - October 31) dates, to a new schedule (September 15 - November 15), one that reflects what anglers are recognizing as a new pattern of migratory behavior - late returns of fall run Atlantic Salmon.

The water temperature yesterday on the Wallace was 55 degrees F. I checked my fishing log: Ten years ago, on October 25, 1997, the water temperature was 35 degrees F and the pools were full of fish. On that day, in a two hour period, I watched 69 salmon and grilse leap into the crisp autumn air - each one bright as a silver dollar!

Twenty degrees Fahrenheit is a significant temperature differential. I don't know what signal tells a fall run salmon when to enter a river, but if water temperature has anything to do with it, the local anglers may be on to something.

Photo by Dave Dobson: Town Pool, River Philip.

Medway Gold...Green... and Red

What fabulous colors we enjoyed this fall! My wife and I took daily excursions on the Medway River in Charleston. I poled the boat while the Missus took pictures. They speak for themselves.
































Photos by: Karen Dobson

Atlantic Salmon - Nova Scotia's Fall Run

Next weekend I am going to do some salmon fishing in Cape Breton. Nova Scotia's fall run of Atlantic Salmon tends to favor big fish on many of the North Shore and Cape Breton rivers. You are more likely to catch a 10 - 12 lb Multi-Sea-Winter (MSW) salmon than a 5 lb grilse.

Whether or not it sparks an aggressive reaction from the fish, the Cardinelle definitely gets their attention. Salmon seem to be more inclined to take a marabou fly when it is "pumped" with the rod tip, causing the fly to pulsate as if it were alive. Sometimes the take can be very subtle, so set the hook if you feel any hitch in the fly's swim. At other times, they hammer the fly. You will have no doubt that you are into a good fish, but set the hook anyway. Tight Lines!

Banting Lake Lodge

One of the dumbest things I've ever done was to videotape over a great piece of angling footage. It happened at Banting Lake Lodge in Newfoundland. I had borrowed a video camera and tripod for the week-long trip and this was my first experience using one. The beginning of the week was rough - hot as hell, water low and tepid. We fished like demons, nonetheless, from dawn till dusk, and one morning, towards the end of the week, I woke to hear Rocky, the guide say, "Harold's got one!" It was about 6 AM and, sure enough, there was my dad at the Top Pool well into a feisty grilse with the whole camp still snoozing. Seeing him land the first fish of the trip really got my Mojo going, and I couldn't wait to start fishing.

I tried the Middle Pool and soon raised a salmon. In fact, I raised him five times before I put down the rod, trudged back to the lodge and got the video equipment. With the camera all set up, I continued fishing. Ten times I raised the fish before he took the fly, and I got the whole thing on tape. It was a five lb grilse - pretty much as big as they get, for a 63 cm fish. Later at the lodge, we watched the footage and everyone said it was the first time they had ever seen a salmon take a fly on tape. I was pretty proud of myself, as I rewound the tape, cueing it up to watch once more.

About that time we heard a plane approaching. I put the camera down and we all hurried outside to see who was flying in. Then, I it occurred to me that I should get a few shots of the plane landing, so I went back for the camera and, without giving it a thought, recorded over most of my precious footage. Afterwards my brother, Steve, who works in the television industry, pointed out that there is a small switch on the cassette that locks it to prevent accidental erasure. Damn! I was wishing my leg was long enough to kick my own ass! Anyway, here is some of the footage just before the salmon grabbed the fly.

"Habits are at first cobwebs; at last chains." Old English saying.

A habit is like a harness - it is a thing unto itself and has no particular relation to any behavior. It can be a willing servant or a terrible master. It takes about 3 weeks of mindful repetition to form a habit that will function automatically, that is, without any conscious effort. You cannot destroy a habit, but you can replace it with a new one. To quit smoking, for example, you must spend three weeks cultivating the habit of not smoking. How does this relate to fishing? Well, if you can develop a set of good habits, you are likely to become more successful and will probably enjoy your fishing more. Here's a story that illustrates what I mean.

One day, I invited my brother, Dave, to join me for some Atlantic Salmon fishing on the Medway River. It was early July and with the water low, I could hopscotch from rock to rock and get out to a place where I could clearly see salmon lying in the pool. Dave took up his position and began casting, while I observed the reactions of the fish. His fly landed gracefully, upstream and to the left of their lie, then swam with the current to pass just in front of their noses. The salmon ignored the fly for the most part, but on one particular cast, a fish surged up and, at the last moment, turned away. There followed many more casts with no reaction, when finally, I remembered that the salmon had risen to an errant cast that had fallen almost on top of the fish. I mentioned this to Dave and he promptly dropped a cast right on the money.

"You mean like this?" he asked.

Before I could reply, the salmon answered with a resounding smack at the fly, tasted the hook, and streaked across the pool. He leapt clear of the water, came down with a huge splash and, suddenly, the line went slack. Dave reeled in to find that all of his leader and a piece of the fly line itself was gone. When we examined the line, it was brittle, probably from exposure to insect repellent and sunlight. We could easily break pieces off with a sharp tug.

"When was the last time you checked your line?" I inquired.

"I haven't used this rod and reel since Grandy's River in Newfoundland," he replied, "two summers ago."

Right then and there, I vowed to make two habits that have increased my effectiveness as a guide: one - to always check the terminal tackle and test the knot and leader strength before a guest begins to cast, and two - to always pay close attention to exactly where each cast falls.

Postscript:

We replaced the leader and moved on to the next pool. Dave hooked a grilse at Little Salmon that gave his tackle a real workout as it cartwheeled high in the air, landed on a flat rock, flopped back into the water, swam under a sunken log, then back out again. After landing the fish, we both agreed that if we had only gotten video footage of that fish, we'd probably never have to work again. It was the most amazing piece of angling skill and shit luck either of us had ever seen.

Photo by W. R. MacAskill, "Medway River 1928" Nova Scotia Archives and Records Management.