As you can tell, I enjoy writing about all things related to fishing. In particular I love pulling out that human interest thread in all my writing. As important as it is to reinforce conservation, proper technique and the adventure of fishing, it is equally important to write about the fallibility, humour and compassion in all of us.
Here are some random excerpts from my writing:
The temperature swung drastically over the night. The day before there were twenty of us, sleeves rolled up, working to the point of perspiration, infiltrating every part of that lake under a bright, warm sun. This morning it was frosty, requiring a windshield scrape and a set of warm gloves. I placed the canoe on top of the car, gathered all the fishing gear and threw in a few extra pieces of clothing to ensure he would not get cold. As a fish-obsessed individual it was killing me to be out on that lake for the clean-up and not be a able to dangle a line in the water.
Having fished the entire morning without a bite, our second choice for a location took on an increased importance. Wet waders and all, rods barely broken apart we jumped into the minivan and drove five miles up river. As we pulled along side the road we scanned the river as far as the eye could see for signs of fish, other anglers, moose, bears or whatever else may be lurking in the willows. This spot required an investment in time, energy and patience. It was a slow-going two kilometer hike upstream with plenty of whacking through bush to get to the right spot in the river. Fortunately, the weather was cooperative and the glacial backdrop was spectacular. As we got closer, our pace quickened and I was struck with those awkward butterflies I get in my belly just before I start casting.
This lake and this population of wild Lakers are well managed with an appropriate limit of one fish per person. If this were not the case, it would be easy to see how this lake could be fished out in no time. As we fished further, I could not help to think of how fortunate we are in the Yukon and in Canada. We can still fish these spectacular mountain lakes, with no other bodies in sight and catch wild fish. I don’t know if it was the CBC, the loons, the fish, the mountains, the midnight sun, or the canoe, but it was definitely a very Canadian moment I am sure not to forget.
A tourist passing through the border on the way to Haines can’t help but to observe the stunning scenery of the glaciers, the eagles of the preserve, the dense rainforest and the meandering delta of the Chilkat River. Once in Haines, this same tourist leaves this quaint coastal town, drives past the ferry terminal and the breathtaking ocean vista, and arrives alongside the estuary and Chilkoot River. As a passionate Yukon angler that travels to Haines every fall for the Coho salmon run, I have a completely different take on this experience and these two rivers.
After a little exploring we found a couple of pools holding an endless run of hard hitting Grayling. We took the lesson to the next level and I gave her a crash course in using a fly rod and dry flies to catch these fish. Not unlike those prospecting before her on this historically significant river, she focused her attention not on gold but on flashes of silver. Mary caught and released a handful of these beautiful fish in those few hours on the river. We had to pull ourselves away and arrived at Klondike Kates refreshed, full of photographs and fishing stories…
We boated about a half an hour north looking for structure and deep drop offs in the 60-80 foot range. Fishing in a boat with a fish finder and depth sounder makes this a little easier. We tried trolling these areas for about two hours trying all sorts of lures that can go deep, offer good action and lots of underwater flash, like a Red Gold Gibbs, Two Eye Lucky Strike, Gibbs One Eye Wiggler, Crocodile, Apex, and Silver One Eye Lucky Strike. Conversation on the boat was great, but fishing was lousy. Minutes before thinking we were going back to the campground contingent empty handed, I felt a solid strike. This was a nice laker, I was thinking at least six pounds. I eagerly played the fish as it pulled down, then up and then down again. My other buddies reeled in their lines to give me room to move.
A few minutes later, I introduced myself and met Bruce. Right away, I could in his eyes that he had been fishing the early hours and was in complete peace. Bruce also looked like a long-time iconic Yukoner. He glided off the water, leaned against his old pick-up truck and prepared his pipe. After a few pleasantries regarding how beautiful it was to hit the water after a long winter, and be out there on this glorious morning, we settled into a casual shoreline discussion.
Given the envy associated with other’s recent success in Haines, I was looking to pacify my ego by catching an insane amount of Northern Pike. The limit is four Northern Pike (under 30 inches, check the regulations this is special management water) and I intended to do exactly this. I took off with a buddy on a calm, cool morning, and hit the lake just after sunrise. After an hour of trolling for Lake Trout, we decided to get into fish and head to the shallows to fill our inevitable quota of Northern Pike. We started in my all time favorite honey hole to catch our first fish of the day. Remarkably, neither a nibble nor fish at the end of our lines.
If there ever was a black sheep in the salmon family it would have to be the male pink salmon. Do not get me wrong, I love and respect everything about salmon, but the adult male pink or humpy is by far the ugliest of all the salmon species. When males begin to spawn they develop a plate sized hump on their back and front teeth that resemble a saber tooth tiger. The salmon run on this short stretch of the Chilkoot River in the Takshanuk Watershed is the largest with up to 3000 pinks passing by each day. Pinks are the smallest of Pacific salmon with an average weight of 3.5 to 4 pounds and length between 15 and 24 inches. Although not the most popular for Yukon anglers, the pink salmon run is the best for kids for the simple reason that there is steady action and plenty to talk about.
The few remaining die-hards now had holes entirely to themselves and were jigging up a storm waiting intently on that little tug, tug, tug. Little Jake, four years old, who so desperately wanted to catch a fish, felt that little tug. He screamed for his Daddy, now socializing with the other parents. Dad jumped to his sons’ side and the two of them fought this magical creature under the ice. A crowd started to gather, as the line slipped in and out of Jake’s hand. The fish was giving Jake a good little run. With some further help from his Dad, a beautiful Rainbow Trout leapt out of the hole. Jake stared in awe at this creature flopping in front of him. Beaming with pride he turned to his Daddy and asked if he could keep him. They took that fish home, prepared it, cooked it and then ate it as a family…
As the ice melts more and more options arise for fishing Yukon lakes and rivers. Having only been out a few times this spring and still feeling a bit rusty, Jackson Lake seemed like a great place to fish one late Saturday night. Jackson is what I would call a friendly and accommodating lake and is perfect for early season fishing. It is small and productive, with three different species of fish taking a variety of different presentations.
I used an eight weight fly rod with a floating mouse pattern, and my friend used a spin caster with a lure resembling a large frog. I anchored my boat out of the current and made my first cast into a small, but productive looking weed bed. As my mouse crashed its way through about two feet of water, I noticed some stirring at the bottom. I figured I had awoken a Pike from his morning nap. I eagerly punched out my mouse about ten feet ahead of where I thought it was lying. I stripped the line in about three inches at a time trying to look like a mouse that frantically wanted to reach shore. As my mouse got within about five feet of my target, I noticed a wake generating under the water about six feet from the mouse, then four feet, then two feet, and then..WHAMMO!!!! It broke the surface and pounced on my poor little mouse.
Both the fishing and talking were slow for the first few hours, but as the day progressed, our conversation starting taking shape. Between drilling holes, jigging, cutting bait, and checking lines we were truly conversing and having a great time. It was a fitting end in that the old man taught his son a few lessons and pulled out our only three fish of the day. The fish were consumed within a few days, but we still speak of the experience. Life is too short, take someone special fishing this year, and rather than focusing on the end of your line, focus on building that relationship.
I kicked about thirty to fourty feet from shore and noticed a defined weed line. I focused on this structure and started chucking flies into the weeds hoping to catch Pike hiding along the edge, eagerly pouncing on unprotected fry. After a solid hour with no action, I decided to think even smaller. I refined my approach and focused on a secondary weed bed, just off-shore standing out slightly from the rest. This was my last chance as I was running out of light and hope. I fished this small area for a few minutes and noticed an occasional, erratic scattering of fry just below the surface.
We were going to fish the lake mouth drop-offs and ripples with 4-5 weight rods, sinking line, and sinking black flies bead-head woolly buggers to teeny nymphs. Derek found the casting rock and starting working one of the deep pools. He dropped the line as deep as it could go, making sure he was almost hitting bottom during the sweet spot of the drift. He hooked into two beauties in a row. Fighting lake trout on a fly is a bit different than other fish as they have a tendency to try to go to the bottom and roll. The rolling can be problematic with light lines and tippet…
Flies are generally categorized as imitators (to look like real bugs and trick the fish) or attractors (mainly flashy and unrealistic designed to trigger a predator or aggressive strike). They are also fished either dry (on the surface) or wet (below the surface). Basic knowledge of entomology helps in replicating the many stages of such insects as mayflies and caddisflies. I suspect that the Yukon’s Red Ass Bug does not directly mimic any stage of a Yukon aquatic insect. It is probably just another project this accomplished Yukoner enjoys in preparation for the next great adventure with his grand daughter.
When I first started fishing Yukon’s stillwater lakes, I recall standing on shore casting as far I could knowing that my lure was not getting to the most productive water. I stood with envy as other anglers on the water would pass by in silence and modestly place their lure or fly in areas I could not reach. After watching one too many of these anglers catch fish in areas I had been working for hours I decided to go out and invest in a float tube.
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