It got better :)

Little did I know, when I was writing yesterday's blog entry, that one of my wishes would come true today. I finally got to take one of my sons fishing!

Samuel was very good, only losing one of his boots in the river once, needing a ride on my back only twice, and generally following the river's activity with curiosity and his rambunctious 2 year-old attention span throughout.

His reaction to catching a 7 inch shaker was priceless & will certainly be one for my permanent memory bank. He also had quite a reaction when a large male, engaged in some territorial battle with a rival, darted from the cover of a logjam to swim right below us where we sat. Samuel wanted me to catch it, of course.

The camera died again, or I would have had better pics. But, regardless, I think he's on the right path :)

p.-

Ontario Trout Opener 2008!

I like the trout opener. I don't always get oodles of fish, but I also almost never have to fish with the crowd. The weather is almost always good, mornings resonate with fresh birdsong, and rivers have a clean look to them that they only get this time of year.

The fish also have a special way about them. As beat-up as they often are by the ordeal of the spawn, they always give a good account of themselves once they start recovering in earnest. They leap more in April and May, and staggering downriver runs as well as electrifying changes in direction are commonplace.

As it turns out, this year's opener has proven rather ordinary. A long winter that seemed to promise a late spring warm-up was all but obliterated by nearly three weeks of bright sunshine in the 18 to 27 degree Celsius range. All the snow quickly melted under the pressure, and the rivers on the north shore of Lake Ontario dropped to levels close to what they had been last fall.

This meant that opening day was, for me, more of a social event than anything else. I spent it with my good friend Khalid (caption above) and my brother Dan. We didn't hook into very many fish, but we enjoyed eachother's company as well as making new acquaintances on the river. We ended the day by raiding our brother in-law's house, while he was away, and drinking some of his home brew. Thanks for the Weize, Richard - delicious as always :).

On Monday, while the boys were at daycare, I managed to get out for a few hours to inspect a local tributary. I managed a couple of decent fish - but still not that many. It's too bad I didn't have my camera with me, because a picture of the trucks lining the riverside is definitely warranted. I was astounded to see license plates from New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Have they any idea what they're missing back home???

As for me, I was still waiting for my opener shangri-la.



And that came yesterday. The rain on Monday had a greater effect on one of my favourite rivers, than I'd expected. When I got there in the morning, the water clarity was perfect 16" to 18", high and moving at a good pace. Nor did I wait long before the action started. It would, as usual, subside a little during the late morning and early afternoon. But the blazing afternoon sun and clearing water conditions made the fish seek deeper, more shaded pools and runs, and I was able to put quite a few on the bank as a result. It's one of those things that happen this time of year.



The highlights of this year's opener were too many to count, but I can name a few. Fishing with Khalid and Dan after such a long hiatus, sharing cigars as we fished, beers at Richards, meeting up with my old friend Derrick (whom I hadn't seen in well over 10 years!), finding an old, salvageable shimano reel on the river bottom, seeing spring-time wild turkey for the first time, finding an 8 point deer rack close to the riverside, having large stretches of beautiful emerald water to myself, two fish in excess of 10lbs (and one over 12 easily), a 6lb or so fish that jumped no less than 7 times (one caught on film) and finally picking up two ecstatic twins at daycare at the end of the day.



It gets better: some day, I'll be fishing with one or both of them. Can't wait!



p.-

Spring, News and Updates

One of the most avid of my faithful readers recently complained that I hadn't updated my blog in a while, so I guess I should. So far, this wonderfully late spring has been nothing but an anti-climax for your respectful Average Steelheader. Work, Chocolate-coloured water, East Winds, meddling (but well meaning) female relatives, rabid but cute 2 year-olds, ad infinitum ad nauseum, have all contributed to keeping my fish count low.

Sigh.

Speaking of the East Wind, it didn't stop my friend the Wallacio from padding his fish count with a lovely extreme-late-season brown trout, just before March turned into April. It was one of those inexplicable occasions where everything else seemed perfect. There were no crowds, the water was high and green, and we even had a few hook-ups in the morning. We knew that we would hook many more as soon as the slush cleared later in the morning. However, not only did we not land the few that we hooked into early, but by about mid morning a front passed through, the East wind picked up, and the fish turned off. The slush was gone, but so were the fish! This is the only "trip" I've had so far this spring, where more than half a day was dedicated to steelheading.



Oh it was a brutal one for me, especially since the highly touted "Siglon" line I was using, proved short-lived and unreliable. Toward the end of the day, I got fed up and simply peeled it all off my reel. I've never seen or used a wimpier line! I spooled it on last November and might have had it for a half dozen trips. That is far beneath the standard I had expected. So now I've spooled on some Raven. Let's see how it goes.... I wish I could find some Drennan Super Mono in Ontario!


I did have one short, freezing instant of glory on the Friday preceding the above re-telling. I stopped at the local watering hole for about 15 minutes. At least, I had intended it to take only 15 minutes, but some crazy fish decided to take my pink & purple "jiggy bugger" for its death ride. 10 minutes later an unphotographed 10lb hen lay glistening on the bank. I almost got frostbite unhooking her, but she swam away quickly for all that.

Wait, there is also the fact that I finally got to meet with Moosie, and I got to see my friend the Wallacio before his grand transformation. Transformed into what, you ask? Why, one of those most unpallatable beings, known for their soft-heartedness, worry, care-worn-ness and bleary eyes: a new dad.

Congratulations Wallacio! You're making a fine daddy already, I'm sure :).

p.-

Before the Storm

Before it started to rain I thought to myself I should go fishing. I saw the river yesterday and it was green with delight, and I believed that she was hiding secrets from me. I came home and bathed my children and put them to bed. I told my wife that she should get some sleep, go take your bath love and leave all this mess to me. I will clean it up gladly. All the chores and the preparations for steelhead were done quickly - as are all jobs where there is no interference from others, even those you love. A sparkling kitchen, a clean living room and ready gear, tackle and fresh offerings.

I know my duty and how far I can seek my own time, and I know also which days are best. I knew that today wasn't and I also knew that I would go fishing. I woke up with my family and fed them, and I laughed with my sons a while. Two years old and full of curiosity, laughter, applause, light. I finally slipped out the door, with a wink to Laura, dressed for work, going to work, but making a pit stop on the way.

So I went fishing.

When I got there I donned my uniform; trusty old breathables, wading jacket and old woolen gloves. I set my rod up and trudged through the snow. And trudged back to the car. The river mouth was still covered with ice! But this is not where I was yesterday. Back into the car, back higher up the river. Here there is water. Cars are parked everywhere but there are no fishermen in sight. I try a little known stretch where the shy fish slink away and hug a granite wall. I cast and the float slowly cocks.

Sometimes a whole day happens in five minutes. In five minutes you have reached the apex of your day, and you may have accomplished what you had set out to do, though you did not know it at the time.

I mean two things. That the float went down, that this was the only time it would do so from a steelhead. And yet it wasn't a lost day or even a lost few hours. Now, as I write this, and it is night and the rain falls outside, melting walls of snow and flooding the rivers for a time; I am rather content. This is what I could not put a finger on, two weeks ago, one day ago, that was missing. Not the fish alone, but fishing. Fishing by a river pregnant with the threat and promise of Spring. Pulling from her her secrets, and keeping only the memory of having known them if only for a little while.

Anti Climax

As much as I love fishing for Great Lakes steelhead, there are times when I really do interrogate myself: am I insane?!? This morning was a perfect example. With ice veritably inside my fingers and more than two hours' deep freeze on my toes, having as yet caught nothing, chipping ice off my (inactive) guides and watching a lake that was still far too choppy to be fished comfortably - not to mention the dozen or so other asylum escapees, only one of whom was regularly being restored to sanity by having his float pulled down by yet another steelhead ; do you see what I'm getting at? If anyone ever forced me to endure such hardships, as my father once said, it would be called "torture." I must be freaking crazy.

Ducks and geese? Did I get up at 5:30am to look at ducks and geese? We could all have waited til later in the day, when the temperature got better, to meet like this! Surely, there must be some fish around?

The water everywhere, except closest to home, was either low and clear or low and clearing. In all, I visited five tributaries today, and it was only the last one that offered me a chance at redemption. As usual, it was rather an after-thought. Oh well, I guess I'll take a gander at the back yard creek before I head home. (Get it? "gander" I kill myself!)

The fish were small, but lovely, specimens and they both ensure that I won't go fishless in 2008. Truly, the phrase "eastern Ontario tributaries" should serve as the equivalent to "feast or famine." And there are times on these rivers that the intervals between fish are so long as to make one wonder if there are any fish left at all, or will I ever get another, or more à propos "can I turn my brain back on, now?"


p.-

The Cure for what Ails

Misery. Misery and abject disappointment. Everything was going wrong. For one, I was taking a vacation day when I really should've been taking a sick day. My voice, or what little croaking squeakiness remained of it, was comical at best, and now it was snowing. Not just a little dusting to tickle a dryad's toes, but a real dump with flakes that kept getting bigger and bigger, and more and more numerous.




Mike's knuckles where as white as the snow outside, as he gripped the steering wheel. Every now and again a moan of despair would issue from him, or an epithet: "if I knew it was gonna be like this..." Right. Apparently no one knew, because most of the regional weather forecasts, for the small geographical area in which we were now facing the probability of having to unwillingly prolong our stay, were in disagreement. Some called for snow, others for rain, others for ice pellets. Some called for lots of snow, others for just a little. As I looked out the window, it looked like those who predicted "a lot" were the ones to bet on.



But any storm meets its match in madness. And the madness that was (and as far as I know always will be) upon Mike and I was acute desire for winter chrome steelhead. We drove on, narrowly avoiding a ride home in a tow truck, and we reached our destination.



Our destination didn't look too great. The water conditions were not as advantageous as we'd hoped them to be. There was at most, as we looked down on the river's swollen flow, 10 inches of visibility. This is just barely enough, at the best of times; but this was not the best of times. This is mid December, and we are only a week away from the shortest day of the year. The water was surely freezing, and the fish were sluggish. We intoned the winter steelheader's mantra "oh well, we're here, so...." On came the waders and the coats, out came the tackle. One good thing: the snow had turned to rain.



Yes the pictures do give it away, but they are the ending and not the beginning or really even the middle. We searched for fish most of the morning with little luck. We went down, and then up, and then a little bit down from up. Down from up is at about 11am, a cold, wet - nay bone drenched - and despondent 11am. It was so wet that you'll observe several blotches on the shots I've provided. Also, Mike's camera gave out by 11:30am. Too wet. Too cold. Turn me off.



At least by then, we were on. And how on! Only restraint, brought about by mutual interest in eachother's catch, kept us from aspiring to a constant state of "double header." Our restraint, I might add, was also inspired by the fact that Mike and I don't get to fish together much these days. We work very different hours, and I tend to be busy with Laura and the twins on weekends. So, each fish we caught was truly shared. We both enjoyed the other's catch as much as our own.



Did I mention that the fishing got good? This is the elixir; which is anything you love to do, when you do it, it cures you. Bear with my grammar for a while. It cures you of despondency and of physical ailments. This steady stream of fish, some bright, some not so bright, cured us both respectively. So Mike's knuckles wouldn't be as tight on the wheel on the uneventful drive home, and the cold I've been sporting for the last week feels like it's finally going to fade away.



My voice isn't back yet, but I know some people who won't find that terribly disappointing!






p.-

laugh wise heart

laugh wise heart

laugh wise
heart and always
seek again
the thing you seek
gentle little man
playful and kind
thoughtful sprite and
gift to us
gift to the needy too
freezies and baba
bunn-bunn and bath-time
hop and run skip
and jump
roll over us again
your light and your
kindness
heedless blessing
to the broken hearted
and even
the very happy
love is too weak
a word gratitude
too shallow
come now
time for walk
kick the ball and
the park swing is
waiting