After a good nights rest my first stop was at Timms, yes they have one in Duncan, they donot call it the "Warm Land" for nothing.
Then I head to the Cowichan River for a look around and talk to a native, who is fishing, he is using a trout rod and has been into around 9 this season, maybe some hope for me then. Like the Chemainus I had never caught a steelhead in its hey day but then I never fished for them, just trout. I see the warm weather has caused the Cowichan to rise some, looks perfect. I ask the fisher about another friend Ernie, a First Nation chap. He says "Ernie is a Cowichan band manager and his office is right over there". Just at I stop at the parking lot this fellow drives in and he looks a bit familiar,and I introduce myself and it is indeed him, how time changes us all. An enjoyable short visit with Ernie and we catch up on the past 40 odd years in 15 minutes. As he has an appointment we agree to get together for lunch on my next trip to "The Home of the Totems' which Duncan is also called.
I then stop at the hotel and get my steelhead gear and walk to the river, only 5 minutes away. On my walk to the river a chap stops and warns me a fisherman was robbed there only two days ago. I had read this also I tell him and I add I have my bear spray along to deal with a 4 legged critter or otherwise.
I spend some time checking out some runs but my fishless streak from the Vedder continues. I however keep my streak of finding drennan's as one ids hung up at the last run I fish. No it does not have anyones name on it.
I then head to Cowichan bay and film some ducks. They are feeding on something that looks like bullheads, maybe in the video closeup I will see what it is they are eating. I want to get some ghost shrimp so head to the flats but get there too late and only get 3 and I have never seen so large of ones, Maybe they will get me a steelhead if one can swallow them.
Then I head to my old creek that I used to get lovely Coastall cutthroat at this time a year as the fry is hatching and in the system.
It is strictly catch and release but that does not matter, I just want a photo of one of these beauties. I am armed with my 40 plus year old Knobbly Wobblers
. Do not laugh they were deadly on these fish, they are not made anymore. Luhr Jensen was the manufacturer. With anticipation I reach the first run "Pete's Pool", too overgrown with grass and weeds. As I reach the sight of where the bridge was all that is left is a single log that I manage to maneuver across without falling in with my video and still camera balanced on my shoulders. Wow have thing changed as I bushwhack to the next pool, "Nimmo's" but it is not its oldself, too clogged with weeds. It most be all the manure of the growing farms the last while that has caused this.
The nest two runs, "The Log",and "The Grouse" are in the same state of affairs. The pungent odor of the skunk cabbage brings back better memoirs of times past when as a teenage it was nothing to get trout to 18 inches at this time a year. The mud that I slogged through in those years is still as messy as it was long ago but now equipped with chest waders instead of gum boots no mud would be working up the pant legs.
I take in and photograft the diving ducks who are in search of fish like this angler once again reliving days from a half a century ago. The trilliums and Easter Lillie's are still in abundance not like the fish it seems. They seem undisturbed by the so called these days of progress. I finally, after 20 minutes of sweaty walking through the willows and wild berry bushes reach "The Indian Pool" the scene of much past success. I then see a road just above on a bench of land, it would have been nice to know it was there but no, it was once again good to walk the "old trail" and once again leave only my footprints in its marshy ground.The "Indian Pool" too is not its past glory but looks fishable. I cast and cast but nothing even follows the "old hot lure" as it tries to work its past magic. I finally take a rest on a log pull out the cameras for a few shots of the pool. I also phone 2:40 for a chat, it seemed a bit funny talking on a Cell phone when years ag would never have thought a device like this would be even invented. After a brief talk I hang up and have only the whistling of the wind in my ear to break the eerie silence. I once again try another few casts before giving up.
I was tempted to take the easy road back to the Leaf Mobile but decide, with a hour of light left to plunge through the thicket ahead, a place of the creek I never went before, always scared what could lurch in the dense bush ahead. But age sometimes throws fear out the window and I continue my journey in search of a prized fish.
As my total bill is now at $13 on this machine I will continue the journal later and besides with 3 hours of light left time to go back fishing.
Stay tunned for more on the journal.
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Topic: Back At Ones Roots, The Journal For March 29 (Read 2548 times)