Recap

I’ve fallen off the pace a little when it comes to keeping this site updated with my latest outings. Part of the reason is because much of what I’d have to say is very routine, and part is a natural phenomenon of writing a blog, where you tend to put it off indefinitely, despite your best intentions. However, I’m here now and have a lot to say about this season.

First of all, the year was fantastic. I was less methodical in planning my trips, instead I would often decide to go out on the spur of the moment. This approach also allowed for more frequent outings, since I could spend an afternoon on the river instead of planning for an entire day. Before, I would plan the outing and then would have to schedule the time to go around other events, but this season I would just decide to go whenever I wanted to get away for a few hours. Of course, this meant I was staying closer to home most times and didn’t visit some of the other Southern Ontario rivers that I like, but I didn’t suffer for it, and there were a few planned outings undertaken as well throughout the year.

On one outing I was able to get out with my daughter and her boyfriend. It was the first time I had seen them in over a year, due to the restrictions enforced by the Covid pandemic, and it was the first time either of them had ever tried fly fishing.

We had a quick, 30 minute lesson in my backyard on how to cast a fly line, and the next day I took them out to the Grand River. We spent several hours on the river, and it was great to see them both experiencing the joy of wading the river, casting, and of course catching a trout. They’re no strangers to fishing, and have caught bigger fish than they did this day, but they usually fish from a boat on a lake, so to be right in the middle of a river, with the current flowing all around them was a completely new experience, and they loved it. So did I, watching them enjoy themselves.

I went back to the same location a few weeks later and ran into an older chap that I’d seen before on the Credit, and we had a quick catch up. He shares the same philosophy as I, that it is wonderful just to be out on the river early on a beautiful day, regardless of how many or few fish you catch. For the record, I caught 5 brown trout that day, which made it even better.

But I’ve often said that it’s not about the fish, and have attempted to put into words what I mean, but it is a personal thing, different for everyone, so it isn’t easy to describe.

From an heuristic view, the experience encompasses the anticipation of the trip, the preparation of your equipment, the dedication needed to get up at 5 AM, and drive two hours regardless of weather to a distant destination with no guarantee of any kind, knowing you’ll have to make the journey back after standing for upwards of 8 hours in a raging current, when all you want is a nice hot shower and a blanket. However, heuristic views don’t give you the whole story, there so much more. Let’s take a closer look.

The anticipation is easy to describe. It’s like Christmas, from an adult’s perspective. It is going to be enjoyable, but it’s also going to take some work. You’ll have to be up early to get started, you’ll be tired by the end of day, but overall it will be a lot of fun. You look forward to the day with anticipation.

The preparation for any trip starts with the research. What are the peak times for insect activity, and type of fly is hatching on the river? What stage will be most effective if it is sunny, overcast or raining? Dry, emerger or pupae? How many should I tie; are there a lot of hazards? Where are the best areas on the river; pools, riffles, overhanging trees and banks? What access is there to the water, is there room to cast freely?

You tie your flies, clean and treat your tackle, pore over maps and if available, articles about the location. You plan your route to the area, plan the order of the locations you intend to fish, and whether to work upstream or downstream. You do all of this knowing that when you get there you’ll probably just wing it, but as you’ve been going through this step, the anticipation has been growing. Sort of like the week(s) before Christmas.

Then the night before the trip arrives. You double check your reel, rod etc., then do the same for your backup. Pack your waders, creel, net and vest into the car. Go over your planned route and approach to the river with military precision. Then you’ll probably take 30 minutes to tie a number of special flies, a little off the path, but something just in case the usuals don’t get action. Run everything over in your head again, to make sure it’s all covered. Finally, you sit back thinking that you’ve made all the necessary preparations for the next day. It’s very much akin to Christmas Eve, making sure you’ve baked your pies and cobbler and any other desserts, prepared the dry ingredients for the stuffing and have set the table(s) to be ready for all the family arriving the next day.

On the day of the trip, you get up and get ready, grab your coffee and a bite for the road and set off. The first little while you’re in darkness, but before long the pre dawn light reveals the countryside, and gives a hint of what kind of day it will be. I’ll drive through the backroads as opposed to major routes whenever possible, as there is always so much to see and enjoy. Mist might be rising from the low fields and valleys, live stock will be out in the pastures. You’ll see a wide variety of birds including herons, geese, hawks and ospreys, even eagles on occasion. There’s always a good chance of seeing deer, coyotes and foxes.

You drive with the top open, or the windows down, or both, depending on the weather, letting the day and wind inside, picking up the wonderful scents of the early morning, each season with its unique calling card.

You’re listening to music at the perfect volume; loud enough to hear over the rushing wind, but not so loud that it becomes annoying or obnoxious. Unless one of your absolute favourite songs comes on the radio.

The sun gets slighly higher in the sky and you see signs of life, perhaps a farmer on his tractor, slowly working his fields or the odd car on the road, but those are few and far between at this time of day.

As the sun rises a little higher you see more stirrings, but if you’ve planned it right then you’ll have both the road and your thoughts all to yourself, and will arrive at your river just after dawn. Ten minutes later, you step into the river to begin the day’s activity.

After a quick survey, you decide how to start, choosing one of the carefully constructed flies to match any hatch or water condition, or even throwing out the playbook on a hunch. It doesn’t matter; you have all day to figure it out. Moving up (or down) the river, you play the more likely spots, hitting a series of riffles with a wet fly just in case there’s a sly little trout feeding off the swift current. It’s happened before, have to try it again. Working the deeper pools with a sub surface nymph and indicator, trying to entice some large, lazy trout by drifting its breakfast right up to its nose.

Later on you cast some dry flies, perhaps into that little peaceful spot in front of a large boulder, or at the tail end of a pool as it funnels into a little series of rapids. You can’t ignore the river bank either, and you drop a little mayfly ever so gently by an overhanging tuft of grass, letting it drift with the current into position. Your senses are acute now, poised for the moment that something rises to take your bait, and if not, then try it again, because fish can be fickle.

You play with these techniques, and if they don’t work you move to another promising spot on the river, and repeat the process again and again, until it is time to go home. But all the time you’ve been fishing, you’ve also been lost in the wilderness with nothing but your thoughts, and at the end of the day, you realize it was absolutely wonderful.

Packing up, and driving home you may be tired, but you are content, and at peace. That’s what it’s all about. And when you look back at the day, you smile, because even though it was a lot of work, it was worth it. Just like Christmas.

Maybe that’s why fly fishermen love life so much; we have Christmas so many times every year.