I woke this morning to the disappointment of seeing more rain falling, but I decided that I was not willing to wait another week to see the river. I suited up and headed out, stopping for some gas and a coffee, so I would get to the river before light. I made for the upper river to hope to get into some clearer water, but despite making good time, I was disappointed again to fine my first spot above the canyon taken. I turned the car around and I headed down below the canyon, and after a treacherous climb down the wet clay trail I made to my second spot. There was one other guy there but he was fishing the lower section of the run. I surveyed for a moment and after seeing him take a few steps down I decided to try the head of the run. I carefully waded across a small side channel and climbed over a few trees trapped on the island and stood at the end of the steep drop into the run. The river had changed a bit since I was last on this spot and there was a nice seam along the near bank that looked VERY fishy. The seam extended into a confluence seam at bottom of the island where the side channel spilled back into the main current over a small drop to create a very interesting expanse of slower water a few feet deep next to the seam. The water clarity was pretty good, a couple of feet at least. This all looked so promising.
I strung my rod with my floating line, threaded on an indicator and tied on a purple jig. I flipped the jig out into the current put a hard mend in the line to let jig drop into the seam. I watched with anticipation as the indicator bobbed down the river, carefully flipping more line out to keep the drift going, looking for the indicator to sink. How many times have you heard the story "got that one on my first cast"? I watched and waited. The indicator got to the end of the drift and swung across the confluence seam into the slower water. I left it to hang there for a minute hoping the undulating action of the jig would induce a strike, then began stripping in the fly. I would be disappointed yet again. I worked that run for about 20 minutes then, when I noticed the other guy had given up and walked off, I began working my way downstream, fishing along the confluence and towards the tail out. As I got to about the half way point I notice two guys walking down towards me. They pause near the top of the run to survey the land and I made a few deliberate steps to let them know I was working down the run so they were free to try the top. To my disappointment they decided to walk on down, past me and cut in below me. I was flabbergasted...and these were FLYFISHERMEN! One of the guys camped out right below me in the tailout and the other guy went on further down. I was clearly not going to finish my run. I reeled in my line and headed back to the top to give it another run through. After a few casts the two fly guys begin packing out, but another guy has come down and was now working the lower end of the run. I pack it in, disappointed.
After climbing back out up the slippery clay caked trail, I head further down the river. I stopped briefly at Tamahi to fish the run below the rapids, then headed down below Pointa Vista, where I again hiked a ways to find another beautiful run to myself. I often wonder as I enter these very fishy looking runs, without another sole to be seen, why no one else is fishing there? Do they know something that I do not? Alas, I fish it anyways, this time swinging a purple and orange egg sucking leech through the only slightly cloudier water and, despite being as terrific a stretch of fly water as the Chilliwack has to offer, I come away disappointed again. As I walked back to the car I pass a very fishy looking riffle, run, pool sitting across the river. I had seen it on the way up and had thought I should try it on the way back. Now, standing there, staring across the side channel that separated me from the run, I found myself unnerved. The water was not deep, well below the waist, but the slope was steep so there was some velocity to the water. I decided against wading across, and as I walked along the trail I could hear my dearly departed father chuckling. I am getting old. I don't think he would have been disappointed.
My day ended after one more stop right below the Crossing where I found 4 guys fishing a run of decent size and depth. The lead fellow made it clear that they were working down the run, so I headed up the run to start at the top. As I passed the first one I greeted him and inquired about his luck. No fish for him he says, but the guy above him had a fish earlier. I looked up and thought it was a child fishing there. As I passed the lucky guy, who looked to be a little person in his sixties, I congratulated him on his luck. He smiled and thanked me, it was a 10 pounder he says. At least he won't be going home disappointed. I wish I could have said the same for me, but a day of disappointment on the river beats any day away from it.
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Topic: Chilliwack River, February 6th 2011: A Day of Disappointments (Read 2737 times)