Home Sweet Home

 

 

 

I love fly fishing. Whatever, whenever, wherever... I just love it. But there is one species that absolutely consumes me, the first I ever went fly fishing for, that has frustrated and rewarded me more than any other fish I've ever targeted: steelhead. I've fished for steelhead in a t-shirt and hot sunshine, in layers of fleece in -15C temps. I've been drenched to the bone for hours on end in the pouring rain, slept in the back of a truck for days at a time, and have driven hours to fish for a day. I've gone through slumps and hot streaks, missed takes and landed fish I shouldn't have. I've spent more time pursuing steelhead than any other species by far, with arguably much less success, and am happy for it.

 

 

 

There are no steelhead in Calgary. Epic trout fishing, yes. Chrome, sea-run fish, no. This is the first winter I haven't spent focused on winter runs, and it's been driving me nuts. I didn't realize just how much until I took that first step back into the cool winter flows a couple weeks ago. Brian Niska contacted me last fall to ask me to do some fly tying at the Whistler Flyfishing/Pieroway Fly Rods Cast & Blast event in Squamish, and I arrived a day early with enough time to fish for a few hours. It was warm and raining, and the river was in beautiful shape. That first glimpse of the river made my heart clench, and honestly, I nearly teared up. "This is where you belong" said a little voice in my head, and my entire soul agreed. I didn't touch a fish that night, but I didn't care. It felt like my whole body was soaking in my surroundings, reveling in being back on the west coast.

 

 

 

Cast & Blast is a three day event at Sunwolf in Brackendale, just outside of Squamish. Free to the public, the days were full of presentations from the likes of Stuart Foxall, Aaron Goodis, Bob Hooten, Scott Baker-McGarva, Brian Morrison, Mikey Orlowski, Scoot Mason, Geoff Pieroway, Francois Blanchet, Tim Arsenault, Pat Beahan, Harrison Perrin, Tom McHugh, JM Reid, myself, and, of course, Brian Niska. The Iron Fly fly tying competition was held on Friday evening, with Kirk Gilchrist stealing my title away with a rather unconventional fly. Saturday night was the Homegrown Fly Fishing Film Festival, with five incredible films premiered for an extremely enthusiastic crowd. It was an exceptional event, with a few beverages consumed, fantastic friends, and non stop entertainment. If you didn't make it this year, I highly recommend that you don't miss next year's event.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I stuck around for the week, as I was hosting a screening of IF4 in Abbotsford the following Friday, and planned on attending the M&Y Spey Day the next day. I fished a few days, losing a fish on an incredible river I'd never had any success on before, mostly because I was entirely unprepared to hook it and kinda stood there like an idiot while it cartwheeled on the end of my line. This river is not easy to fish, nor is it very generous to those who don't know it intimately, and I was beyond thrilled to have the opportunity to spend some time getting to know it better. Hooking a fish was a huge bonus. Towards the end of the week I was able to get out on the Vedder with Ben, who I love fishing with, and watched him hook hook and land an absolutely incredible chromer.

 

 

 

Friday we had a great screening in Abbotsford of IF4, and Saturday saw a couple hundred people gather at Gill Road on the Fraser River for the annual Michael & Young Spey Day. This was the first year I wasn't actually working the event, and was able to run around and catch up with old friends and customers, and spend way more time casting than previous years. Brian and Frankie had the Pieroway competition rod on hand, and a bunch of us took turns casting the big set up - a lot of work, but crazy fun. After a brief rain storm mid day, the sun peeked through the clouds and rewarded us with the most incredible golden light in the evening. I'd left my memory card in my computer, and had to watch enviously as Paula, Josh and Aaron captured some amazing casting photos. As the sun went down the remaining group gathered around a bonfire and enjoyed some drinks and conversation.

 

 

 

 

 

Originally I'd planned to head home the following day, but some very good friends twisted my very twistable arm, and I stuck around for the next week. Of the following seven days, I spent 5 very full days on the water, and two half days. It's been a few years at least since I fished that hard for winter fish, and the steelhead gods were not being kind. Cast after cast, some of the hardest wading I've every done, rain, sunshine and wind. By Friday I still hadn't hooked a fish, and I know well enough at this point that it's not that I was doing anything wrong, so it's tough to get angry or frustrated. Sometimes it just doesn't happen. I was pushing myself as much as ever, casting as far, wading as aggressively, covering water, fishing the right flies... I was so incredibly happy to be fishing for steel again, but just at a complete loss as to why I couldn't hook up. Luckily, I had one more day to fish, and Shane and I headed out super early to beat the weekend crowd. What followed was one of my personal best days of winter run fishing with a buddy, as far as hook ups go. Within the first hour I threw a long cast, and before my fly had gone 5 feet my line tightened up and blinding chrome was erupting on the surface. After a good run, some more violent surface thrashing the hook popped and I stood there, body shaking and heart racing. It doesn't matter how many steelhead I hook, or how often, each and every one leaves me in awe. By the afternoon I had hooked and lost one more, and Shane had lost three, two of them right at the beach. Chrome, wild, aggressive... my sleep deprivation, aching muscles and leaky waders mean nothing when compared with that feeling of standing in a coastal river, spey casting with the chance of hooking one of these irreplaceable creatures.

 

 

Sunday I headed back to Calgary, but I left my heart on the coast, amongst the evergreens and rocky banks of the rivers that are home.

 

 

 

Thank you to all the amazing friends who I was able to spend time with - April, Greg, Nick, Paula, Josh, Lisa, Brian, Mikey, Pat, Scoot, Stu, Scott, Sarah, Dave, Kirk, Bobbi, Frankie, Craig, Yos, Harrison, Ryan, Dave, Smalley, Paul, Landon, Jordan, Rick, Ross, Ben, Mat, Stevie, Andrea, Roger, Matt, Catherine, Vanessa, Justin, Tim, Aaron, Lawrence, Geoff, Mike, Chris and Shane - I love you all and miss you more than I can say.

 

 

Ms. V

 

 

 

It's been almost four years since my last post dedicated to the lovely April Vokey. Since that time, she and I have come a long way, in both our friendship and our personal lives. I've known Ape for almost nine years (ahhh! that makes me feel old), and never did it occur to me when I saw her first come through the door of Michael & Young how important she would become in my life. Assertive, with her long blond hair and hot pink high heels, she baffled me on our first introduction.

 

Ape fishing the Vedder at last light. Spring of 2005 (I think)

Nothing like having someone run from the bar above you to help finally land a beautiful wild steelhead. April Vokey photo

At that time I knew hardly any women that fly fished, and none that were younger than I was, and definitely none that looked like April. Talented, passionate, and beautiful, Ape is one of the most important people in my life today. We have had our issues, but with time and effort on both our parts, we were able to get past the unnecessary drama and create a friendship that is incredibly special and unbreakable. Ape has been a rock during my worst moments, and I know that if I'm in need I can call her and she will be there for me, no matter what.

 

Fighting my first sturgeon...I had no idea what I was in for. I think I'm giggling and grimacing in pain at the same time. April Vokey photo

Speaking of running, Ape flew over these car sized boulders to take this shot. April Vokey photo

I'll never forget the day I received a call at work. My call display showed that it was Ape, and I answered with a bright "Hey, how's it going?" The response was a quiet, shocked "Not great. I almost died last night." My panicky questions were answered with the news that she had been involved in a head on collision that quite easily could have taken her life. We were at a very rough point in our friendship at the time, and yet, drugged and broken, she had called me. Watching her through her recovery and knowing how much she still deals with because of the accident, I have to say I have never seen so much positivity and perseverance, not only to  recover her health but to become a better person to herself and her loved ones.

 

Within a few weeks of her car accident Ape was crushing fish on the lakes. This one was around 12lbs, and the only fish caught that day.

Enjoying the sunshine and a beer after catching an invisible fish "this big!" on the Sauk with K8.

Spey casting practice with Bruce Kruk and Greg Wolf on the Columbia.

Many of my best fishing memories include April, including when I finally landed my first winter steelhead on the Vedder, and my first Thompson steelhead without Aaron. We were the female element with a group of friends on a rained out weekend on the Skagit, the pair of crazy Canucks fans in the bar in Key West, the idiots who drove 22 hours to Idaho to fish for 2 days in the Casting 4 A Cure event. She was there for one of my best days of steelheading ever on the Bulkley, and took me out to hook my first sturgeon.

 

Loading up the boats on the Hoh.

 "Endless rain and the Skagit at 65,000 CFS = a bunch of friends stuck in the cabins for five days = a lot of beer = Mike Mills skinny dipping in the Skagit River while the rest of us watch and laugh from the warmth of the rigs at the boat launch.....awesome!" quote from Chris Andersen

No one can pose in waders like Ape.

You might find it strange to hear that we rarely talk on the phone. Neither of us are "phone" people, we do much, much better one on one. Ape's got an incredibly busy schedule, with hosted trips, schools and seminars all over the world, and personal trips and summers guiding on the Dean. We're lucky to see each other a couple times a year.

 

Ape and Colby, somewhere in Montana, en route to Idaho.

Her first brown, and on the dry, at the Casting 4 A Cure event on the South Fork of the Snake.

Bulkley River, 2010

She and I have very, very different personalities: Ape is fiery, self motivated and outspoken, an extrovert who says what she means and has an insane work ethic. She doesn't take shit from anyone, and will defend her beliefs and her loved ones with fierce passion. I'm sweet and quiet, the introvert, admittedly a little lazy, with a desire to please and an aversion to conflict.

 

Apparently our laughs and chatter could be heard across the river. Only Ape can get me to out of my quiet zone while fishing. Annette Lauder photo

Oh look, still laughing... Annette Lauder photo

Fish on! Fantastic day on the Bulkley.

I think we balance each other out, as we can talk about absolutely anything, and have for days in a row. We spent 24 hours a day together on our seven day trip to the Florida Keys, and it was one of the best trips of my life. Relationships, business, family, men, sex, fishing, you name it, we've discussed it. It's a privilege to have someone in my life who I can be utterly honest with. Ape compliments me, hugs me when I need comforting and kicks my ass when I need a push. One of the best parts about a great friendship is having someone who believes in you; its an incredible gift to have someone who makes you believe in yourself, and I never feel better about myself than when I'm with April.

 

Best trip ever (despite hardly catching anything) in the Florida Keys.

My first tarpon, so happy to have Ape there with me. April Vokey photo

Business owner, guide, professional fly angler, conservationist, tv host, columnist, instructor, fly tier...a list of dynamic descriptions for an amazing woman I choose to simply call my friend.