Gaspe Salmon - Bonaventure

If there is one river I'd like to fish, it's the jewel of the Gaspe - the Bonaventure!

The crystal clear water of the Bonaventure River flows through the counties of Hamilton and Cox in the municipality of Bonaventure. Beginning in Gaspé provincial park, it empties into the Baie des Chaleurs, 125 winding km to the south. The Bonaventure River is one of the best known rivers in the Gaspé Peninsula for sight-fishing Atlantic Salmon with the dry fly.

The Global FlyFisher has a good story on the Bonaventure - here's Part 1.

Good Luck and Good Fishin'

RP

Canoe Safety on the River

The Medway is a big river with plenty of deep holes and lots of fast water (Class III and IV rapids, for you whitewater junkies). It's not a river you can wade safely in many places. It's also relatively undeveloped - as in forest growth right up to the shoreline. For gaining access to the best fishing pools, a canoe can be the answer.

Before you go out and buy one, think about your needs for a minute. You want a stable craft - that means one that is wide in the beam (from side to side) without too much rocker (curve from bow to stern). A wide canoe is less likely to tip - especially if the seats are mounted low. Seats mounted well below the gunwhales will lower your canoe's center of gravity and keep you upright. As for rocker - if whitewater is your thing, then by all means have some. A canoe with a pronounced upward sweep towards each end will turn on a dime. I like a 16 foot (5m) canoe - at least 36" (90cm) abeam, with enough rocker to be agile, but not so much that I can't paddle a steady course in a breeze.

A beginner will enjoy a canoe like that. A 16 foot fibreglass model will weigh in at 60-65 lbs, although even lighter crafts, made from Kevlar or plastic, are available. With a bit of practice, one person can hoist a canoe onto his shoulders and carry it without assistance. It's also easy to load onto a cartop carrier or into the bed of a pick-up truck. As a bonus, it will take you and your buddy, and all your gear, just about anywhere you want to fish, and bring you home safely - with a bit of preparation.

Safety is a state of mind, but a few modifications can stack the odds in your favor. You need an anchor, and you want to be able to raise and lower it quickly, with one hand, if possible. Here's how to make an "anchor drop". Click the pictures above for closer views.

• Get a piece of hardwood (birch, oak, ash, or maple) about 18" (45 cm) long and at least an inch (2.5 cm) thick by 2" (5 cm) wide.
• Buy a small pulley about 1" to 2" (2.5 - 5 cm) in diameter.
• Use a plunge router to carve out a slot for it at one end of the board. If you don't have a router, simply drill a number of holes, then trim up the slot with a chisel. Make the slot big enough to provide clearance for the pulley, plus the rope you will use.
• Drill a hole perpendicular to the slot and mount the pulley using an appropriately-sized galvanized nail as an axle.
• Next, mount a stainless steel screw-eye, or eyebolt toward the opposite end of the board and fasten the anchor drop to the bow with stainless steel bolts. The eyebolt is necessary to ensure that your anchor line enters the pulley smoothly. The line should pass freely through the eyebolt, as well as the pulley, and the anchor should raise and lower without smacking into the bow.
• Attach another eyebolt or two along the inside of the gunwhale (either side, depending on whether you are right or left-handed) as guides for the rope. Their purpose is twofold - they keep the anchor line running smoothly and they keep the wet rope out of your buddy's lap.
• Finally, to secure the anchor line, install a marine cleat within reach of your seat.

This will make your fishing on the river a whole lot safer. Remember to use at least a 15 lb (7 kg) anchor, and at least 50 feet (15 m) of 3/8" (1 cm) rope. One other thing - you may never need to use it, but you should carry a knife to cut the anchor rope with, in an emergency. I got into a bit of a tight spot once by using an anchor that was too light in weight. I was fishing at the head of MacLeod Falls during high, fast water conditions. First the anchor slipped, allowing me to drift too close to the fast water, then it jammed in the rocks, and I couldn't free it.

A boat anchored in fast water will veer violently from side to side. Couple that with an upstream gale and you will soon be taking in water over the gunwhales, when the wind pushes you almost perpendicular to the current. To make matters worse, as you pull on the rope, if the anchor doesn't budge, you will drive the bow of the canoe dangerously deep into the water. Take my advice, untie or cut the rope, and paddle safely to calmer water, rather than risk an upset - especially in cold water.

As always, follow routine safety precautions - wear a life vest , carry a container to use for a bailer, a whistle for signaling help, a flashlight, and a 50 foot (15 m) throw rope with a float on one end. An extra paddle can be handy if you are alone, and don't forget to tell someone where you are heading.

Good Luck and Good Fishin'

RP

Photo by Tony Haffner: Stillwater on Salter's Brook
Photos of canoe by RP

August Trout

My son-in-law loves to fish. The other day, we headed up Salter's Brook - one of the tributaries of the Medway. How we ended up there, I'm not quite sure - it wasn't on my list of possible destinations. But it looked inviting when we drove by, and he suggested we give it a try.

We put the canoe in and paddled up to the first run - fished for a half hour or so without success, then portaged around the rapids and on upstream. The water was deep and black and flecked with foam. It looked so perfect for trout fishing, I almost forgot it was August. When I checked the water temperature, it was 68F - a little too warm for Brookies.

It was a brief outing, 2 hours at most. Not surprisingly, we saw no sign of trout. In September, the water will cool down and trout will start to "color up", taking on an orange or red hue on their bellies as they prepare to spawn. Remember, it's catch and release only from September 1 to September 30 and the use of natural bait is prohibited.

Good Luck and Good Fishin'!

RP

Photo by Tony Haffner: Salter's Brook

Rainbows and Earwigs?

We're having company... our captivating new grand-daughter is coming to visit us in August - all the way from California! She's a bit too young for fishing, but I know her dad (and maybe mom, too) would enjoy some fly fishing.

August means low water, which translated into practical fishing terms, means warm water. Traditionally, August has been the time to abandon the brooks and streams, and head for the Atlantic Ocean to fish for mackerel, jig for cod, or go shark-fishing.

In spite of this, I'm trying to come up with a fly fishing day trip (or two) during their one-week stay. Let's see what the local options are...

• Smallmouth Bass fishing in Ten Mile Lake
• Chain Pickerel in Louis Lake
  
• Stocked Rainbow Trout in Hidden Hills Lake
  
• Brook Trout - if you can find them this time of year
  
• Brown Trout on the Mersey River
  
• Trophy Brook Trout (hatchery stock) in the Christopher Lakes
• White Perch in most lakes

All are available less than an hour's drive from here. I'm thinking the Rainbow trout and Mackerel fishing might be the most fun, but either the Smallmouth Bass or the Chain Pickerel could be a close second. I think we'll start with the Rainbows in Hidden Lake, which brings me to the earwigs...

Earwigs are gross. When I was a kid, growing up on Nova Scotia's South Shore in the 50's and 60's, there was no such thing as an earwig. I never saw them until we moved back here in 1989. Then and now, we have an abundance of them. They live in the grass, the topsoil, in the woodpile - anywhere there is moisture and some dark place to crawl into. They eat vegetation, mostly, and can do damage to flower and vegetable crops during summer months.

Why should anglers know about them?

I have an optimistic view of most things, including things that are universally viewed as bad. I think about the Chinese pictogram for Crisis which is comprised of two symbols - one of which means Danger and the other, Opportunity. Take earwigs, for instance... I have never heard anyone say a good word about an earwig - have you? I found a good use for them, however - read on...

About 10 years ago, they introduced Rainbow trout to one lake in Queens County and have stocked it twice annually ever since. Hidden Hills Lake is landlocked, 20 - 30 feet deep on average, and about 4 or 5 acres in area. The water is stained brown, like most of our lakes, and has a low pH, due to our geographic location in the acid rain belt of North America. Still, the Rainbows have managed to survive, if not thrive, in Hidden Hills Lake. The fish are typically 12 - 14 inches in length.

It is fun to catch them. In contrast to the PowerBait squad on the shore, I like to do it from a canoe with a fly rod, and I like to release them. We might be lucky enough to arrive at the lake when a feeding frenzy is on - fish smacking the water's surface constantly. More often, we get there and see only the occasional rise. This is where the earwigs come in.

Two things led me to it. One was my experience with shark-fishing, which involves a chum bucket of frozen oatmeal and baitfish gurry, slowly releasing a trail of fish oil and blood into the water. The other was something I saw one day, while fishing...

I noticed an earwig in the canoe. I picked it up and flicked it into the water, where it wiggled ferociously to escape the surface tension. It didn't take more than a few minutes before a trout came up and inhaled it. That stuck in my mind, and when I found a nest of earwigs in my woodpile one day, I thought, "Wouldn't it be nice to have a few of these in my canoe on Hidden Hills Lake?"

The next time I went, I took a plastic container full of earwigs with me. It was no trouble to collect fifty or so. I just put the container on the ground, below the nest, and beat on the woodpile with a stick of firewood. They dropped out of the woodpile and scurried for cover in the grass, but most of them fell in my bucket.

Out on the lake, I checked the wind direction and started pitching them into the water, a few at a time. Then I anchored the canoe downwind and waited.

You know what happened next...

The Rainbows got very excited about the struggling earwigs. We were able to get lots of action, on just about any similar size dry fly, if we were patient and could wait for the fish to find the fly. Often a fish would rise to an earwig within casting range. If we could cast to the rise in a timely fashion, we'd generally get a quick response. It was also productive to strip a Woolly Bugger or Leech type fly through the area.

This is a deadly method, similar to my balloon trick for White Perch. It' s also a lot of fun - dry fly fishing is visually stimulating and increases the enjoyment for any angler. If you use barbless hooks and release the fish, you will do little or no harm to the resource. The true joy of angling is in the catching - not the killing. Fish belong in the water so that our grandchildren, and their grandchildren will share the opportunities that we have enjoyed.

Good Luck and Good Fishin'!

RP

Priorities

It seems I've spent my whole life establishing priorities, consciously or unconsciously, and making decisions based on them. Much of it has involved putting off what I really want to do for some real, or imagined, future benefit.

I've been sitting here reminiscing the last ten days or so. What sparked it was a phone call from my friend, Parker Suley. Parker called from Labrador to give a fishing report, and inquire when I would be coming to visit. I had to tell him that I wouldn't be coming this year - priorities.

He mentioned that he started fishing the 4th of June and as of July 13th, he had released over 60 Atlantic Salmon. He said the water has been perfect this season, lots of fish in every pool. Two friends from St. John's were there when he called, and they had caught five that day, and eight the day before.

I was overcome with a form of nostalgia - regret, perhaps - maybe grief, I don't know. I felt so conflicted over my decision not to go this summer that I had to do something about it. That something ended up being the 10-part series of posts on Rocky Bay. Now that's done, and I still feel much the same...

I'm beginning to think what I should have done was pull out all the stops, and high-tail it for Labrador - priorities be damned!

Good Luck and Good Fishin'!

RP

Photo by Random Phrump: Drew and Parker at The Falls.

Rocky Bay Part X: The Final Tally

Well, I've written more Rocky Bay posts than Sylvester Stallone made Rocky movies. I guess I've milked it for all it's worth. Just a few final thoughts on the experience...

When I look back on the salmon fishing trips I've had over the last 20 years, Rocky Bay has to be one of the most memorable - not so much in terms of numbers of fish caught, but more for the intangible qualities that stay with you for a lifetime.

I'm talking about the obstacles we faced and overcame. We pushed ourselves to the limit every day, and got great satisfaction from knowing that it was our efforts and our attitudes that influenced the outcome more than the circumstances we faced.

All told, we tagged seven grilse, released eight, and lost another four, in our week on the Old Fort. That's a pretty good success rate on any river. I enjoyed not having a guide, and I enjoyed sharing the experience with my brother, Steve.

The Bilodeau Brothers have made some improvements to the camp at Rocky Bay in the years since we were there. They offer a number of packages for salmon and trout anglers. Check them out at Napetipi River Outfitters.

Good Luck and Good Fishin'!

RP

Photo by Random Phrump: Steve at Third Pool, Old Fort River, Quebec.

Rocky Bay Part IX: The Truth Comes Out

After a coffee, a sandwich, and a nap, Steve and I returned to First Pool for a couple of hours in the afternoon. His losing streak behind him, Steve made up for lost time by catching and releasing two more grilse in a matter of minutes!

The #6 White Phentex Bug was deadly on the Old Fort River. It was the same fly pattern that our brother, Al, had success with last summer, actually landing a fish on a broken fly! Fished wet or dry, the salmon took it readily. I released one more grilse before the rain settled in.

Having forgotten my rain jacket, I was more than glad to get back to camp, fire up the stove, and warm my bones. After supper, I broke out the Glenfiddich Special Reserve and the half-liter of bottled water I had stashed in my duffel bag.

"So that's what happened to that bottle of water, " Steve exclaimed. " I saw it on the kitchen table when we first arrived, then it vanished!"

"Guilty, as charged, Steve. I just couldn't stomach the thought of mixing 12 year old scotch with that brown water dripping out of the hillside, so I put it aside," I admitted, as I poured our drinks.

"I knew you took it," he said. "Every time I brushed my teeth with that foul swill, I cursed you for keeping it all to yourself. I guess I owe you an apology."

"Cheers, mate!" we clinked glasses. "It was a sneaky trick," I admitted, "But I hope you'll agree it was worth it."

Good Luck and Good Fishin'!

RP

Photo by Steve Dobson: Fish On!