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[chris gadsden]

As always a warm welcome to The Journal on a Friday night on FWR your top fishing web site on the net.

This could be a lenghly journal, covering 3 days so I may not complete it this evening. Pictures will be posted along with each segment.

With the Liberal meeting complete, a good nights rest it was time to head to the Island for a few days of rest and try to squeeze in some fishing as the lure of some more cut- throat action kept looming in my head. As well a time to get cousin Dave to check over the Leaf Mobile to give it a passing grade after the ill fated run in with one of Canada's finest on our last visit to the Rock. The 30 day deadline was fast approaching but I was sure nothing would be wrong as The LM's mechanic had repaired the shocks after the encounter. The trouble was her doctor in the Wack did not have the government inspection permit while Dave in Chemainus did. As I move quickly along to get on the 7:45 sailing I slow down to admire the Brant along the causeway, no time for video, I bookmark that for the return trip.

I just made the ferry in time I believe but a crabby ticket attendant said, "lucky the ferry is late or you will not make it onto this sailing" I thought I had 7 minutes to spare but apparently the schedule had changed by 5 minutes for a few days, missed it in the paper when I checked. I guess the employee had not had her double double so I guess I could forgive her as I made it aboard.

The trip takes 2 hours 20 minutes and I pass the time with an All Aboard Breakfast, nothing like what one gets at Cookies but it takes the hunger pains away and passes the time as well.

I am in Chemainus in plenty of time for the Leaf Mobile's appointment and while she goes under the microscope I have lunch and visit a few antique stores. It is there I pick up the Daiwa 175 S for $3 and also an excellent fishing book The Book of Canadian Fishes bu Frederick Wooding.

I like one of the passages in the book, apparently a Cree saying. "Only when the last tree has died and the last river been poisoned and we realize that we cannot eat money. People must act, we must modify our life style or we must save some ketchup for those dollar bills that we are going to have to eat when the last fish has disappeared'. How true in my mind why some fish stocks are in trouble.

After my shopping spree I return to find the Leaf Mobile pleased with her clean bill of health. I spend the rest of the day visiting with relatives and remembering the past when, over 40 years ago this was home to me as when I left to the great unknown that lay ahead with one suitcase and a pair of my dad's work boots.

The next day is touring the Valley taking pictures as I look at the Chemainus River estuary thinking if I have time later maybe I should hike down there and see if there is any cut - throat there. I stop at the Chemainus River as well to admire her crystal clear waters, ice cold from the now melting snow pack starting at her headwaters at Mt. Whimper. I once saw her meager beginning many years ago while grouse hunting. I also remember now is when the steelhead enter the system but it is closed for fishing except for the tidal section. Anyway I left the steelhead gear at home. As I climb over the bank to peer at the river I come across two girls clad in bathing suits preparing for a early morning swim, at 9:30 am. I am surprised at the sight and mumble something like "You will get hypothermia from this frigid water" they take no heed and jump in for all of 5 seconds as I try to admire the water and not the mermaids.

 I leave the Chemainus River and have a stroll along the Crofton beach and remember way back when my dad came back with a sack full of bluebacks from her waters over 50 years ago, I can still smell the smell of them in a burlap sack. After a leisurely lunch in Crofton it was off to meet Dave for a trip out on the Ocean for prawns and crabs.

We ease the boat into the ocean at the local boat ramp and set first, our crab traps and then the prawn traps. While setting the traps we hear over the radio from a tug boat that a boat has broken down. While we decide maybe we should go to look for them a sailboat comes on the air and says they are going to the rescue. As we continue to set the traps I steer the boat into the depth Dave wants to dump the traps two to a rope in 250 to 300 feet of water. Out off the corner of my eye I see the fin of a killer whale. I give up the steering wheel in hope I can capture a picture of the black creatures but they did not appear until later when I had put the camera away. The sailboat now looms into sight and comes over to us and asks are we the ones in distress, "no just setting prawn traps" Dave replies. Shortly after the Search and Rescue boat pays us a visit as well but we say that most likely thew boat they were looking for got their motor going and have left the area.

With the traps down we head to one of the Island to a restaurant there, we use the small motor, not the 115 horse to take us there. I soak up the sights and sound of the now flat calm ocean surface. No one in sight, paradise compared to what I left behind in Richmond a few hours ago. We arrive at dock side to find the restaurant closed, so dinner will have to wait. I continue to enjoy the peace of the place, so quiet as only the odd crow or squawking gull breaks the silence of this wonderful place in the middle of no where.

At the wharf Dave points out a floating barge too hard to describe so I snap a picture of this pleasure craft if you can call it that, it is decorated with many objects as I also wonder how it even floats.

We leave to pick up the traps in the dimming and setting sun, we are rewarded with about 175 large prawns but the crab traps for some reason are empty. We make it back to the launch as darkness has closed in around us as another day on the Island draws to a close as does part one of The Journal, back tomorrow for the rest of the story.

Will now send some pictures to Rodney to go with this part of The Journal

[Rodney]

Chris' photos (log in to view)

(1) An old water tour seen on the tour of the Chemainus Valley.
 
(2) Over looking the Chemainus Estuary.
 
(3) Dave checking the location to set the traps.
 
(4) A nice restaurant but closed.
 
(5)  An old pleasure craft with lots of character.

[Rodney]

(6) Some nice eating.
 
(7) Pulling in the last trap at sunset.
 
( A bucket of prawns

[chris gadsden]

Continue the journal now.......

With Dave's boat loaded we try to find something to eat in sleepy Chemainus but it appears most places close at dark. Dave suggests the Horseshoe Bay Inn so we meet up there as I have to first pick up the Leaf Mobile at the garage. When I join Dave he is enjoying a pint of brew but when we are ready to order supper we are informed the chef has gone home. So Dave finishes his drink and I end up paying for him as he conveniently has left his wallet in the boat. It costs me 48 beer tins ($4.80) to pay the fare, no wonder at prices like that I never took up indulging in this type of refreshment, give me a double double instead at 15 tins.

At Dave's place we prepare some prawns by twisting off the front end and slip them into a pot of salted boiling water. When the contents boil again, they are ready. We polish off a couple of dozen each of the tasty seafood sitting in lawn chairs around a pot belly stove that cracklies a pleasant tune to our ears as the heat radiates over us, a perfect setting to enjoy a feast, fit for a king.

We then move to the house where Dave serves up his special recipe of clam chowder from clams he dug himself. Nothing better and I am now glad the chef had gone home as the meal was far more enjoyable than what would have been served at the pub. With my stomach now filled I quickly succumb to the call of a comfortable bed and before I can plan the line of attack for tomorrow I am in a deep sleep.

Morning seems to come quickly and I am off to try and locate some more Coastal cut- throat even though I know the best time has past as March is the best month where I am fishing. The first pool I fish I overcast and end up in some bushes. I pull the knobby free but it comes back towards me and hooks up in a maple tree 15 feet above me. I pull to try and free it but bang, as one of my special 40 year old knobby hangs pathetically above me, way out of reach. This is far worse than losing my Maple Leaf Drennan Bobber a few months ago.

I tie up another of my precious and now rarer lurers and move to the next run where I connected on my trip 4 weeks ago. On about the 4th or 5th cast I feel the tug of a fish and almost right away it is airborne, it is around 11 inches. I grab my video camera and film some of the action, no easy task with rod in hand and a fish on. I then bring it to shore, it is a buck in its spawning colours not far from spawning I reason. I snap a quick still and release it to join its mate that I am sure is waiting its return to her side.

I find no more takers in this run so I bushwhack for 90 minutes and only have a few small cuts chase the knobby but the only hookups are what look like coho smolts that fall off before I can determine the species for sure.

With no more fish to take pictures of I snap one of a old tree stump mostly likely fell 100 years or more ago. I take note where the notches for the springboards were chopped in, a few feet up from the ground. Of course this was done to cut down on the diameter the loggers with their cross cut saws had to saw through, to fall these towering giants.

I see signs of deer, bear, mink but the only wildlife is a few ducks and mergansers. The latter I am sure are looking for fry and migrating smolts to dine on. I also am pleased to see numerous fry scatter from my presents as I search for more fish, to no avail so I take a short cut back towards the Leaf Mobile.

My short cut along the old railway line takes me face to face some cattle including a large bull that looks very mean with all his equipment still in place. I hold him off with the tip of my rod, using it as a poor substitute for a sword but I guess I do not look like a matador without a red cape and he just stares me down.Thankfully he does not charge. I take a photo of this menacing beast, from a distance of course as I beat a hasty retreat.

I arrive back at the pool I caught the only fish so far and once again on a early cast I find success, this time a little larger fish. As I prepare the video camera the cut finds one of the many snags and I have to wade to the top of my Helly Hanson waders to free the fish from the obstacle to continue the battle. Finally I am able to land the 13 inches of fury for another picture. As I remove the siwash hook of the knobby I notice about 12 inches of leader protruding from its mouth. I cannot see the hook as it is deep down in the fishes throat but it seemed no worse for wear but if someone was using bait they should not have in this bait ban stream.

I now have to rush to meet Dave for a lunch engagement but I hope maybe to come back later if time permits. I had planned to return home that afternoon but as Dave invites me to a Rotart auction that night I decide to stay one more day. This enables me to return to my creek and I land a couple of more small cut's before racing off to the Rotary fundraiser. I buy a small fridge to keep bait in and a 10 power pair of binoculars that cost me $140 and 85 dollars respectively.

Another day comes to a end and once again the events of the day mean sleep comes easy once again.

I arise early for my last day of the trip and go to Crofton for breakfast and then decide to walk down to the Chemainus River Estuary. The walk is about 30 minutes and I soak up the scereny and I shoot a few pictures and video footage. It has been 40 years or so since I last was down to this spot and that was by boat when I duck hunted there. I fish some lovely water but find nothing interested in the knobby. The tide is on the way out, maybe if it was coming in I might have found one. I decide I need to do more research on this system, when would the best time of the year to search out the cuts in this area.

I am joined by Gary who I met at the Rotary auction also fishing the area and we walk back to the road together. I pump him for info as most locals know the secrets of the area they frequent.

I have a little time left before heading to the ferry, so back to the creek. First I have an idea to rescue the knobby in the tree. I find a fallen small alder about 17 feet long and I am able to whip it around the stranded lure and am pleased to see it fall to my feet and is quickly tucked in the lure box.

I fish a couple of pools and land one cut,only about 8 inches long. I see several cuts, some approaching 14 inches chase the lure, bump it to but do not hook up. A couple of times 3 or 4 were chasing it at once. I have found many years ago, if after a few casts they will not even attempt to chase your offering for some unknown reason. Maybe they become scared of the intruder as if I can see them they can see me.

I then leave the stream with some regret but I have landed 5 , one more than my other trip so i am more than satisfied.

I make the ferry once again, by a hair as I am the second to last car to squeeze in at the stern of the boat.

I decide to have a nap aboard but I am just nodding off when I hear a familiar sounding voice, it is Steelhead King returning fro  a trip to the Island as well. We visit for awhile and then I say I must have a nap so come back in 45 and we can go for suppper. I enjoy is company as usual and he is excited about the upcoming guiding season on the ocean.

The time now passes quickly and in no time we are getting off the ferry. I decide to film the brant I saw on the way over. I also get some pictures of some oystercatchers that I do not believe I have seen before.

Just before I leave I see a bunch of fry jumping along the causeway that I believe to be pink or chum. I persume they are working their way out from the Fraser River, accustoming their bodies to the salt water after leaving freshwater a few days ago.  I haul out the spinning reel in case a cut - throat is lurking but nothing takes up the challenge.

I then head to White Rock and pump 30 odd ghost shrimp to use to try to tempt a late season steelhead this weekend.

That ends another journal, one with lots of variety to it as we now prepare for the upcoming spring salmon opening on Monday and the stillwater fishery also on the horizon at the same time. How lucky we fishers are.

Pictures to follow.

[stinkytroutboy]

awsome report

[Rodney]

Chris' photos (log in to view)

(1) A buck cut - throat in its spawning colors.
 
(2) A tree fallen over 100 years ago.
 
(3) A mean beast.
 
(4) A very nice fish.
 
(5) An oak tree. A Gary Oak?

[Rodney]

(6) A pair of oystercatchers.