Game On!

We’re two weeks into the season, and I’ve been out three times. Opening day, I went out to a stretch of river that I had scouted a few weeks ago. It is a beautiful, scenic part of Bronte Creek that requires a two kilometre hike through a ravine, which is all part of the allure. I expected that I’d have the river to myself due to the hike, but surprisingly there were several other anglers there when I arrived.

As usual, many of them were bait fishermen (I say without derision) and they were sloshing through the stream in various places. Although I found a section to myself, it wasn’t long before we crossed paths. I fished moving upstream until I arrived back at the trail that led back to the road, at which time I received a call with decidedly bad news. Maybe I’ll share it at a later date, but not now.

I decided to go back home, even though I had been out less than two hours. Chatting with another fly fisherman I found out that nobody had caught anything that day. Later in the summer I’ll give it another try.

The second outing was the next weekend, just on a whim to pass another couple of hours in the afternoon. This time it was the Credit River, and again it required a fair trek to get to the water. A couple of uneventful hours later it was time to go home and cook dinner. No fish for supper this day, for me or any of the other anglers I encountered.

Which brings me to today. Again this was just me grabbing an opportunity to get out on the water, as I hadn’t planned to go out, but the weather changed and I couldn’t resist. As I drove to the river I felt so beautifully calm. The music had a lot to do with it

I arrived at my chosen site on the Credit and was gearing up when a young man drove up and we had ten minutes of conversation about various locations. We decided that we would fish together (with proper Covid distancing of course) and if nothing was happening then we would move to another area a few miles away, which ended up being the course of action after an hour.

When we arrived at the new location we saw two other anglers, and as we approached and spoke to them one of them mentioned that he had just caught his first brook trout. He was in rapture, and I understood exactly how he felt. The experience of catching any trout on a fly is great, but brook trout are the most beautiful fish and to catch one that has risen to your fly is special. Then, to hold it and let it swim away is exhilarating. It’s an addiction; once you’ve experienced it you want it again, and you can’t have it enough.

My new fishing friend, Dave, and I set up and began fishing, and by the second cast I had a strike. It caught me completely off guard and I missed it, but a few casts later I landed a nice fat little brook trout about 9 inches long. A few more missed strikes and then I landed another, again about 9 inches long, and again, fat. Game on for season three.

I had caught my fourth before any of the others landed anything, but then Dave pulled it a nice little fish as well. The other two had not caught another since we arrived, but they had their success beforehand so they called it a day.

We had been fishing for a couple of hours, I had caught six (the first two being the largest), and Dave had caught three, when the day came to a close because the weather that had been forecast for the day finally arrived and the hail/snow started falling at a driving pace. In all it was a great day, but not just because of the results. The reason, and real story is about the river.

I’ve described before how delicate brook trout are, and how they require the cleanest, freshest water. All trout require a clean environment, but brook trout are the barometer when it comes to the health of a stream. This section of the West Credit River is the most pristine I have seen.

The water was crystal clear. I’d see a trout 30 feet away, cast to it and watch as it rose to hit my fly. We watched them as they moved, seeing a flash of their distinctive pectoral fins as they maintained their position in the water. I’d seen shows where anglers would sight fish in Montana mountain streams, but now I was doing the same less than an hour from home, and it was awesome.

Many times I’ve said that fly fishing isn’t all about the fish, and today was a great example of that. After spending a couple of hours in that setting, I felt cleansed as well.

I needed this today, and as I drove home, I heard the following tune which made me reminisce about days long ago, and thinking of days yet to come. Bring ‘em on.