British Columbia Fishing Blog

Just when you think that you’ve had it all figured it out, mother nature throws a curve ball and makes you go “Huh?”

I was just getting used to fishing without my Goretex jacket in last few days’ gorgeous weather, it all went downhill this morning as I woke up to howling wind and grey sky. Nevertheless, it wasn’t going to stop me from heading out this evening because when the Tidal Fraser is hot, you have to take advantage of it before it dies off. It’s a big piece of water, fish can come fast but can also disappear fast.

The wind was blowing from the south today, which is not so favourable for fishing along the north shore of South Arm. I decided to pick a spot on the north side of Richmond instead, where I could be somewhat sheltered from the gusts.

I headed out just after flood tide at around 6:30pm. I find that I am more likely to catch something when the outgoing tide coincides with dusk. Water was slightly dirtier than yesterday, but still very reasonably clean. The wind caused chops on the main channel, but I was looking for sheltered spots such as small bays that are formed by rock piles. All the fish have been hooked just several feet from shore, so best to break down the shallow portion into sections and tackle them individually.

I started with the fry pattern once again. I could see salmon fry swimming by my feet in large schools once again. Just minutes after I started casting, I spotted one shiny fish clearing the water just outside my casting distance. Cutthroat trout? I said to myself. Obviously, what else could it be? Another swirls appeared soon after, this time even closer to me.

Just I was getting excited, the rod was tugged hard. I hooked up and felt one head shake after another one at the end of the line. A silver body soon appeared on the surface, followed by a leap before it dashed straight toward me. I stripped the line in as fast as possible without burning my other hand with it. Once I caught up, it went straight toward the shallow mud flat where I wanted to land it. Perfect! I walked over and turned the fish to its side. It was huge! It had to be the biggest cutthroat trout that I’ve seen or caught down here! After a closer inspection, I was shocked. It was no cutthroat trout at all, it was a coho salmon!

How was this possible? The weather felt like October, but it is April, right? Even though it was a hatchery clipped fish, I watched it swim away since I had not expected to keep any fish in the first place. Beyond excited, I hopped back on the rocks and casted the fly out once again. A big swirl soon appeared in front of me. There were more around! I soon hooked another fish, but the line slacked immediately. The line came back fly-less, the leader must have been damaged during the previous fight.

With another fly tied on, I was back at it again. Although the next thirty minutes produced no action, I was blown away by what I was seeing in front of me. I counted at least seven more rises. Beside a couple of swirls, all were leapers and appeared to be coho salmon. They were just beyond my casting distance, which probably explained why there weren’t more hook-ups. I attmpted until it became too dark to even see my own fly.

Once again, the Tidal Fraser has proven that it will always be unpredictable, doesn’t matter how much fishing time you have invested on it. What will tomorrow bring?

After I noticed fry movement in the Tidal Fraser River over a week ago, I have been dropping by my favorites spots during flood tides to see if I could find some feeding activities.

The effort has not really been paid off. Beside a brief hook-up last Saturday, I have not landed a fish since my birthday in February. That doesn’t mean the fishing has been poor, it is just the way it often goes when hunting for predatory species in such a large body of water. In fact, there hasn’t really been a shortage of fish. Swirls and splashes have been sighted regularly, but sometimes high abundance of salmon fry is not such a good thing because it simply means there is too much feed in the water.

Arming with the 6wt fly rod, I stopped by one of my regular spots at 6:00pm yesterday after spending several hours at another spot with absolutely no sightings of fish. To my surprise, the surface was restless. Salmon fry could be seen frantically dodging around on the surface. Some big fish were obviously causing this commotion. It took several casts before one noticed my fry pattern being skipped away just under the surface. A strike, a brief hook-up, a few head shakes and a pop made up five seconds of blood boiling excitement, which lead to a couple of jibblish phone calls with fishing mates. More swirls and splashes were displayed in front of me before dusk, but there were no other takers.

After taking care of some business today, I tied up some new fry patterns, retired the 6wt and dusted off the 4wt rod. Since I am now casting much lighter flies, a lighter rod is adequate enough, not to mention that it would be more enjoyable when casting and playing a fish.

Four o’clock approached and I rushed out the door as if I was going to miss the action. What was the hurry? They don’t seem to be active on the surface anyway until dusk, but being there earlier never hurts I guess.

I arrived to find the water still reasonably clear, considering freshet will start anytime now. The 4wt felt much easier on the arm, even when I decided to try my big bunny strip leech to work the deeper water column. After hearing how excited I was last night, Mark arrived soon after he finished work. Only minutes after his arrival, I felt three soft tugs and a bent rod followed. The fight was short lived, as it was a rather tiny bull trout that engulfed the fly just several feet from shore.

A fish this early? Perhaps it was a good sign. We worked the same section for another hour with no result. Plenty of salmon fry were emerging as the tide turned, but no signs of surface feeding. It was beginning to seem like an uneventful ending, but that shouldn’t be too surprising because we were targeting highly migratory species after all.

Just when Mark was ready to give up, he felt a good tug in the shallow water. The strike brought a rather large fish up to the surface immediately. The splashing broke the evening silence. I quickly ran over with the landing net, but it turned out the urgency was not needed. This fish took three solid runs, peeling line off Mark’s reel while the rod was bent to the cork handle. This is so typical for spring bull trout, which are so solid and strong after feeding on salmon fry.

Several minutes went by and we still hadn’t seen the fish after the initial splash. It finally surfaced in the shallow water and Mark yelled, “It’s a big pikeminnow!”

“No way, too early for pikeminnow, and too big to be a pikeminnow. A bull trout for sure!”

After a closer inspection, I was right. It was a bull trout and a rather large specimen!

 

I scooped it up with the net and took out the measuring tape. Its fork length was 47cm, or just under 19 inches. I collected a small piece of pelvic fin for DNA sampling as requested by the Freshwater Fisheries Society of BC. Data such as this will be valuable for future studies of trout and char population in the Fraser River. After marvelling its size and shape for a moment, it calmly swam away from Mark’s hand. It was a first for him, the first bull trout on the fly in the Tidal Fraser River.

We spent some more time flogging the same spot as we were very motivated by the catch. Beside another fish that Mark almost hooked, the evening ended without much more activities. This is truly a very enjoyable time of the year for Vancouver anglers. There aren’t too many other places where you can escape to after work with a rod and have the expectation of catching some quality fish. Take advantage of it now before freshet degrades the Fraser River water clarity.

It has finally begun! We often associate spring with the cherry blossom, disappearance of frost and emergence of ducklings. While life goes on as usual on land, little do people realize that an extraordinary event is happening in the Fraser River. It has been happening since the last glacial period. It’s an adaptation that some salmonid species have developed in order to grow bigger. Millions of salmon fry are currently outmigrating from their natal streams into the ocean.

Taking advantage of a rare sunny spring day, I made my way down to the edge of the Tidal Fraser and checked out what was happening. Fry movement was the first thing I noticed. I sat motionlessly by the edge, watched hundreds of fry passing by every minute and mesmorized by this natural occurance. During the three hours while I spent down there, tens of thousands of fry must have passed by in front of me.

It is not a safe passage for them. Travelling too far from the shoreline increases their chance of being eaten by trout, char and pikeminnow. Travelling to close to the shoreline increases their chance of being pecked away by birds. The balance of safety is hard to find, therefore most of them will not make it past Georgia Strait.

The fishing? It was good while it lasted. After spending some time casting in an area, I noticed a rise several hundred feet further upstream. I decided to ignore it and continued fishing. Ten minutes later, another rise appeared at the same spot. Another ten minutes went by and the third rise appeared. Finally I was tempted and walked over there. The first cast immediately produced a strike, but a soft one. Being unprepared, I gently set the hook and the line began peeling off the reel while a rather big cutthroat trout leaped highly. What a catch! I played it carefully while it made a few more jumps, eventually it made its way into the shallows. Just when I was ready to celebrate because I was going to collect a DNA sample for the hatchery, the unthinkable happened. The fish spit the hook without much pressure being put on the line, probably because of the poor hookset as usual.

This is an absolutely fantastic time to be fishing the Tidal Fraser River. Instead of casting blindly, one can spot fish on the surface and aim for them. It would only take a couple of casts to trigger a bite if fish are present, because they are in a feeding frenzy mode. The water clarity remains very good, but that may not last long if forecasted warm days mark the beginning of this year’s freshet.

 
A pair of hunters sitting on the pylons, which are ideal habitat for fish in the Fraser River.

With only a couple of days left in March, one has to start wondering if winter is actually going to leave this year. The daytime temperature remains below seasonal average and the sun just doesn’t peek out consistently enough to keep the fishing bug hopping.

Even though spring is making a late start, fish seem to be carrying out their cycle of life on schedule. I noticed signs of salmon fry in the Tidal Fraser River last weekend. Schools could be seen travelling in the shallow water, avoiding potential predation by trout and char. They were safe, as I did not spot any surface thrashing that I’d normally see when feeding takes place.

Bald eagles flying high, possibly enjoying this rare sunny day.

After a short dim sum session this afternoon, I decided to take advantage of this gorgeous weather by heading back to see if any trout or char were feeding on fry. As soon as I stepped onto the dyke, I could see large splashes by the rocks. The sightings surprised me, even though they were somewhat expected. Fry were hopping out of the water frantically, almost landing on rocks at times. Can you really blame them? Big bag wolves were after them.

I quickly made my way down to the water with the fly rod. Surface feeding can make any fisherman panick and end up with tangles and a fishless day. I stripped plenty of line out, aimed toward the rises and shot out the fry pattern. I kept the retrieve fast, since these the feeding was taking place on the surface. First cast, second cast, third… but today’s adventure did not end so productively like many other past trips. The feeding soon stopped as we approached dusk. Perhaps the low lighting and poor water clarity had an effect on their hunt?

Will they be there tomorrow when I return? The unknowns, which always keep predator chasing so appealing in the Tidal Fraser River.

2009’s wintery weather has been pretty harsh, which does not motivate me to do a proper fishing trip. Beside a couple of steelhead outings in early February and regular brief visits to the Tidal Fraser, I have been home-bound. Dampness, ongoing coughs, work, constant achings are factors… I meant, excuses that kept replaying themselves.

Kawkawa Lake has been opened since March 1st. Although the usual reports of good catches flooded the inbox right after opening day, we held off our visit until the weather was more reasonable for us whiners. The plan was to head out last Friday, but I couldn’t myself organized enough to join Mark and Marco. The first boat trip of the year always takes a bit more effort to get organized, because there are a gazillion extra items you have to remember. On that day, I phoned at lunch as I was of course curious to find out how they were doing. The first words were, “We do not want to talk to you right now, we got fish jumping all around us!”

Those words were enough to trigger a bug. I began organizing my stillwater gear in the last few days. Today, Marco and I took advantage of this brilliant weather that we have all been longing for. I was so excited about catching ten inchers that I actually lost quite a bit of sleep last night. Insomia, a sympton that is clearly induced by the ol’ fishing bug!

We arrived at Kawkawa Lake at 10:00am. The sky was blue, the lake was flat, but fish were not rising. Reports of poor catches in the last several days did not keep me optimistic, but it is always worth a try.

The view that we see from the middle of the lake once we motor out never gets old. Many people pay top dimes to catch fish in this setting, so we are pretty lucky to be able to do this whenever we want.

The fish may not be rising, but the late morning hatch was strong. Shells could be seen all over the surface. It is hard to believe that they would not be feeding.

Time to match the hatch, I reached into the cooler for a match.

Just kidding of course, a red dyed krill is a pretty effective bait on kokanee, as we have found out over the years. I decided to focus on baiting near the lake bottom while Marco worked the surface with his fly. By covering both sections of the lake that may possibly produce, it cuts down the search time.

An hour went by and it was not looking too promising. At least the weather was good, so we could actually relax. Occasionally a big school of risers would swing by, but none seemed to be too interested in whatever we were offering.

This photo makes me laugh whenever I look at it. It somehow reminds me of the seinfeld episode where Kramer smoked a cigar and set his hair on fire.

Here is another look at Marco’s new Outcast Power Drifter.

From 10:30am until 4:30pm, we did not have a single bite! We ate, wandered around to different spots, waited, ate some more, wandered around some more. I eventually fell asleep for a brief moment and I don’t even have a seat with a back rest.

Six or seven other boats were also not having much luck and everyone except us left once the wind picked up. Deflated, we drifted around to figure out what to do. I suggested that we should try one more spot where it has produced in previous summers. By this point my battery for the electric motor had died. It’s always good to figure out what are needed before the Interior stillwater season starts by doing a couple of local trips. We slowly rowed ourselves over there and were delighted to find the little bay was shelted from the wind.

We anchored, sent our bait down. In less than a minute, I watched my rod tip quivering away. A fish for sure! I gave it a good yank and finally there was a bent rod. That did not last long, the fish popped itself off after a few seconds. I was quite happy regardless, because once there is a fish, there are many more when it comes to kokanee fishing. I waved at Marco, signalling him to come over. Anchoring side by side, we detected many more bites. Some were hard while others were simply light quivers. The hooksets were difficult, perhaps we were slowed down by the cold weather or the fish were too fast. We missed or lost just about every fish in the first 30 minutes. It was a good thing that everyone had left, because the loud screams coming out of our mouths everytime a fish was lost would not have been too enjoyable for other anglers.

Finally, I managed to keep a fish on the line long enough for it to surface. A kokanee it was, but surprisingly not a very big one. Marco followed by bringing up a coho salmon.

Then it was back to more misses. By 6:30pm, we each managed to land one more kokanee and a few more coho salmon.

These landlocked coho salmon seem to be much bigger than previous years’ fish. We ended up the trip when this little one came up.

No Fishing with Rod journeys end without drama of course. While rowing my way back to the boat launch, the piece of wood that holds between the electric motor and boat fell off. I was too tired to return and pick it up, but was hoping Marco would spot and pick it up behind me. He looked at it, paused and passed right by it! Just when that was happening, a bolt on one of my oar collars popped off. Now I only had one workable oar and no motor. After some scrambling on the boat, I managed to find the bolt and rowed slowly back with the aid of a tail wind. Stranding in darkness would not have been the ideal ending for this rather uneventful fishing day.

This was quite a sharp contrast to last year’s trip. I think we may give Kawkawa Lake a rest for awhile.