De Los Andes!!!

Getting out of bed at our sweet little hostel to a bright spring day in Bariloche that morning had me buzzing.  Spencer and I had been here now for 5 days and had yet to cast a fly.  We hit the road around 10 am for San Martin de Los Andes and had an adrenalin shot as we crossed the Rio Limay (which is a gorgeous piece of water btw) as tens of thousands of sulphur looking duns where fluttering over a bridge.   There version of a PMD I imagine.

The landscape is quite barren on the drive, similar to that of the eastslope of the Rocky Mountains or the Okanagan area of BC.  There are virtually no trees in the foothills except where there is water.  Rows of willows are a good indication as to where the river is.  Driving over the Collon Cura river I looked down and in behind an old stump there's a large rainbow sipping in the foam line.  We get the feeling we're here on time as the water is considerably low for this time of year and the weather is turning to spring.

Street Signs in Junin

You know your in trout country when there's a coarse statue of Mel Krueger playing a massive trout  as the welcome post of the  town.  This is Junin De Los Andes, trout capital of Argentina and home of the Chimehuin river.  The street signs have wood engraved trout on them and the roads are dry and dusty.  There's not much to this place but we know at some point we'll be back here to work the sorrounding waters of the town.

We arrive in San Martin and find a humble little hosteria with a beaten down Bavarian theme and we rest for  a little while before heading into the local fly shops to talk business and get some info.  The first shop I head into I meet the owner and there happens to be a couple of local guides in there at the same time.  It's the start to their season so they have some time on their hands and are grazing the shop for whatever tying materials (foam) they can get there hands on.

We introduce each other and then go to one of the guides places (Tommy) to look at flies, talk shit and have some beers.  The other guide Herbie decides  that tommorrow would be a good day for us to float the Chimehuin together so the plan is made.  Our first day of angling in Argentina will be a float on the Chimehuin.  The winds are supposed to howl to 80 km/hour (and they do). but Herbie and Tommy know the river well and take turns rowing the two boats and sticking some nice fish.  Throwing mostly foam patterns--red bellied Fat Alberts and Card's Cicada's, we hook a good mix of browns and rainbows.  The water although fast is really clear and the willow lined banks and deep boulder runs are giving up the bigger fish of the day.  It's nice to see some new water, even though it's similar in character to what we have here at home, there are some distinct differences.  Mostly the presence of willows hanging over and into the water as well as some geological distinctions.

Spencer, Herbie and Mr Brown on the Chimehuin

It occurs to me on this day that I need to spend some time angling as my cast is faultering in the extreme wind.  After a summer of guiding and not much fishing, my casting stroke has become weak and is need of repair/practice and I feel blessed to have the time afforded to me to do that.

At days end we head back to San Martin and enjoy one of the many sweet restaurants in the village and make the decision to move to Junin which is much closer to the action.  Meanwhile somewhere out in the plains of Argentina,  a shaken and recently river dunked Jim Carter is heading north with the same intention.  We wake up and head out to grab supplies from the well serviced San Martin and one of the first people we see is Jimmy.  Easy to spot  that bright white mop of hair flying in the Patagonia wind, we're happy to have found him and we eat some food before hopping in our vehicles, following him to the Rio Dorado Lodge in Junin which becomes our second home.

Day one of our self guided venture has us on the Majello River, a walk and wade gem that is full of rainbows and browns.  A small creamy, white caddis clouds the willows on the bank when we arrive but Jimmy isn't buying it.  He's fed these fish a lot and as Spencer and I stand above a break in the willows rigging up; Jimmy hops in, wades out about twenty steps and begins throwing a Card's Cicada at the opposing bank of willows.  Third cast brings up a large rainbow and he buries the hook in it's jaw and we know he's enjoying this moment.  Showing us how it's down Texas Style. 



Root Straws of the Chimehuin Willows



We have a chat and then take our seperate routes.  I take the first run and let Jimmy and Spencer head upstream.  This is a really cool river and I'm feeling myself  in the act of angling.  All the shit I've been carrying around in my cluttered head for the last few months is vacating and I'm dialed into the task at hand.  I'm not convinced that the trout won't eat the abundant Caddis so I'm throwing a 16 cream cdc caddis and it's getting the odd fish, but definitely not unlocking any great mystery.

I head up a tight braid  that is accessed by climbing a small waterfall over some rocks and as I climb over I notice there's a really nice pool right at the tailout to the falls.  There's a partially sunk willow bush that is trailing a thick band of willows that lines the upstream shore.   A slow foam line tails below the willow band and gets split by the smaller partially submerged willow.  There's a  slot  about 3 feet deep that runs on the bank side of the small willow leaving   a 12" wide lane that a 16" rainbow is making a good living out of.  The bugs are pumping through there...mainly caddis and the rainbow is working hard on the surface.  I love his lair, it's an excellent choice and I begin delicately trying to feed him caddis.

A few flail shots and a couple of nice drifts over the trout tell me that caddis is not on the menu.  I begin to notice a smaller dark mayfly (size !8) as I examine the water surface.  I have already made the switch to a size 18 curved shank pheasant tail with the hopes of him eating it as a caddis pupae, but I figure if I grease the tippett with floatant I can get enough float on that short  drift to bring him up to the fly.  So I do and the results are instantaneous.  Even though I placed the cast 6 inches left of the seam, as soon as the fly hit the water the trout locked in and hammered the flashy offering.  He wrapped himself in the smaller willow about 4 times but I was able to wrestle him from the branches and let him go.  It was truly one of my favourite fish ever; definitely not the biggest, but what an excellent choice for a place to live.  It was a fine piece of aquatic real estate.

Guerilla Angling

I went all guerilla style shortly after that, hunkering down in the willows as rainbows rose in the narrow corridor between the two lines of willow.  I had to laugh when I looked upstream and about 30 yards up, Spencer was in the same motion.  Looked like we had crossed enemy lines, found the bunker and were in the early stages of   laying waste to the batallion.  The overhang proved to be too much as I fed a keen trout the floating nymph and he gave one solid run into the branches that severed the line between myself and him.  SNAP!!!   We let go of the Guevera style angling and looked for a pool which we found shortly after.

Jimmy had headed somewhere else...said he had to "re-acquaint"  himself with the area (which we soon figured was code for--go hit something way cooler than the shit I'm showing you guys).  Pays to play and Jim's done lots of that down here.  The pool we have found is as idyllic as a pool gets.  Deep and slow with a rocky point that allows a back cast.  There is a massive scum line, looks like an island of vegetation debris and trout are picking out the bugs trapped in it as well as plucking fresh ones out of the centre lanes.  I'm perched above the pool as Spencer is trying to feed them caddis.  There's three big rainbows working and none of them are having any of the Trichoptera patterns Spencer is offering.  I continue to watch, he continues to put nice drift after nice drift overhead of the trout.  Changing after every four or five drifts. 

It was fly change 4 that was critical and changed the way the trip would go.  Downsize and darken is often the route to go when stalking large, selective fish.  So on went a size 18 small black EC caddis (which he threw as a mayfly imitation) and on it's first drift, it connected with a 19" rainbow.  This is one of those key moments in fly fishing, where you work a group of tough fish and after countless rejections you pick wisely and solve the mystery.  These to me are the great flies out there....the ones that hook the tough fish.  For the rest of the trip this fly caught almost every difficult rainbow we encountered.  Our stock was limited so we would throw small black para ants and carlson's purple haze to hook a lot of the fish we caught.  But any time a larger fish decided to be particular, it's tune would change when offered that fly.  They ate the shit out of that thing.




Rainbow and Panda Hat


Other top performers on the trip were the black/red power ant w legs, the red thread fat albert, the Card's Cicada, the FB Pheasant Tail nymph and the Kauffman's stonefly.  Overall it was an excellent trip and their fishery altough different in many ways shared some amazing resemblances.  I am happy to have found the area and owe a lot of my decision to getting down here to Jimmy Carter and Ralph Clasby.  They both have had numerous good things to say about the fishery and my expectations were definitely met.

I will see you next season my new Southern friend.  For all those interested in trips to this area and others in South America consult my website for packages that we have put together after our adventures down there.  We are confident that we can provide you with a better price with the same level of service as some of the other outfitters from the US.  Visit http://www.freestoneflyangler.com/travel/ for a look at what we are offering.
OLA!!

Way Down South

One of my favourite sounds during travel is that of the landing gear compartments opening up during the approach of the destination.   I’ve flown a lot over the last decade and although I love travelling, the long flights tend to wear me down a bit these days.  Not sure if it’s the ingestion of the shitty airplane food or the stuffy air in the cabin after 12 hours in the sky but I’m all for the next generation of passenger carriers.  The Venus Project talks about the possibility of creating tube trains that run on frictionless, magnetic energy that could take you from LA to Shanghai in a matter of hours.  This technology exists today but building the infrastructure to house such a train would be an epic undertaking….but we as humans have conquered some amazing things in a short amount of time.

Upon landing, Spencer and I collected our luggage, all but one bag…my bag full of clothing.  My fly fishing gear made it, but my bag of clothing and toiletries was somewhere out there.  We filled out a lost baggage form and hopped in a cab and headed into Hollywood Palermo district of Buenos Aires where we would spend the next three days waiting for my baggage, eating and drinking latte’s before heading into the Patagonia’s to stalk the Argentine trout.  

Upon arrival we were given a smaller room than what we had booked….the front desk staff basically bullshitted us on the rooms being of equal value.  After a period of runaround from the front desk I contacted the travel agency that booked the room and they were able to get us into our booked room and added a free night which we later used on the return to the city.  Slick rooms and an amazing location but the front desk staff was so inept and uninterested  that for $200/night I am confident I could find a better deal in the Palermo area of the city. 

The Streets of Palermo Hollywood

Palermo is a really cool neighbourhood.  Lined with trees (jacarandas, tipas and sycamores) the streets of Palermo are well shaded and cozy due to the canopy of bright green leaves and the purple flowers of the jacandas.  There are plenty of restaurants and cafes who’s tables spill out onto to the streets and Spencer and I spent a lot of time enjoying food, coffee and drink while watching people stroll by.  No shortage of gorgeous woman here that’s for sure.  It’s somewhat legendary for that and I’ve been to a lot of cities in my life, but BA certainly has it’s fair share of  babes.  WOW!!!   

After my bag’s arrival we hopped on overnight bus and travelled 20 hours to Bariloche which was perhaps a bit off the path but I was needing  a back molar pulled and was unsure as to whether or not a dentist would be available in San Martin de Los Andes.  Turns out that would have been fine but the dentist in Bariloche did an amazing job and was freakin’ hilarious.  He didn’t speak much English and our Spanish sucks so through google translate and hand gestures we defined the procedure and got the tooth yanked and hand some great laughs.  
 

I had my I phone unlocked before I arrived so we spent the rest of the’ tooth day’ trying to get a sim card and number for that phone.  After several frustrating hours the phone activated and I was now in ownership of an Argentinian phone number.   We strolled around Bariloche which is like an old beaten down ski town and looked at various restaurants before deciding on this one little hole in the wall which by appearances did not look like much.  If I hadn’t looked through the window the previous evening and seen one of the patrons getting down on a thick sirloin I never would have thought to go in there but the eyes were right and we had two amazing chorizo steaks that were done to perfection.
 

A bunch of beers later Spencer and I returned to our hostel passed out and woke up the next morning to board the bus to San Martin and onto the angling.

 

WILD WEST

When I was growing up in Toronto, I remember hearing one of my friends dad say "you want to know about the west boys, let me tell you something about the west.  It's where all the shit flows!"   Not sure what he meant exactly or what had led him to that particular feeling about the folks on the left coast but for some reason it made me think, that's where I want to be.  As far away from the bizarre and twisted perceptions of an over wound Toronto business man.

So I did and I would have to say it was the best decision I've made in my life.  Second best decision was probably the one to move to Nelson.  It may be the first place I've actually felt proud to say is my home.  I love that little town and it's surrounding communities.  I always hoped for better angling opportunities in the are and it seems my wishes have been granted, the rivers there are really starting to shine.

Peanut and the Precious on the Columbia River

The two main rivers I fish in that area one being the Columbia River and the other I won't mention, are quickly turning into my two favorite rivers to dip flies into.  The Columbia is producing some really large fish and better numbers while the other little gem I guide on over there always gave me numbers but is now starting to show me some size.  Almost all of these fish are on dries that are being twitched and skittered.  The last trip there saw our boats stick well over 30 rainbows in the 18 to 24 range with some really deep, bulging stomachs.  The fishing is on there right now and will be for a while

The Columbia is still not at it's prime flow yet but fishing really well; as it drops more it will  allow some more deflections and and riffles to form giving us more holding water to cast to.  It's going to be excellent fishing there right through October and we have a solid weather forecast that will support it.  It is my intention to focus on this area more next year as the rivers are basically void of angling pressure and are producing as well if not BETTER than the ones of the East Kootenay.  Next season will likely have us over on the Columbia from early June to mid-July before heading back to Fernie until the end of August after which I am going to book both places and I will be urging people to head west for that month, cause in September the West Kootenays is the SHIT!!  Anyone thinking of getting there last kicks in for the season should give us a call and follow the shit the west side of the Kootenays....you will be glad you did

Bull Trout, 6X and Craft Beer

Life is good in the Elk Valley; lots of ants of all sizes and some shading are rolling down the current seams and feeding our sweet trout.  Hooked some big fish with tiny flies on thin tippet and watched about 75% of the fish win on that.  I like working into a pod of rising fish that can see through my bullshit.  Not sure if it's the tippett or the fly selection but the last three times I've blood tied in 6 X and tied a new fly on, the target fish who said go %#*! yourself on the previous two dozen drifts ate.

These are the triumphant moments in angling that keep my excitement levels high as a guide.  Nothing like the reward after the chase and me (like most people) can't stand rejection, refusals and or being ignored.  It's hard on one's self esteem and I've rowed away dejected by savvy trout in the past and dragged that energy down the river with me like a bad curse.  But when it all happens, when all those little tricks, theories and adjustments you make end up winning, you and nature shake hands, bump knuckles and nod at each other with  gratitude.  6X does by the way snap on heavy cutts and I've left some jewellery in the faces of the Elk River Cutts.

Jim Steinmetz Charring in the Rockies

Bull Trout seem to be in pre spawn mode on some of the system and have been eating cutts on the line and grabbing streamers.  Noticed one nymphing today on an upper Elk trib and was able to stick him with a nymph.  The water levels remain really good here and our September and October are looking really good. 

We still have quite a few openings for those months but expect to fill them as the heated and low Montana trout waters have slowed down and the wise are looking north.  We here are at Freestone (well 2 of us) have decided to give the apres fish drinking activities a rest.  Three nights ago as I sat across from Joel on the kitchen table wringing out the last few drops of zinfandel into our glasses; it came to us that the recycler bin was showing breaching the rim with empty craft beer bottles as well as the odd empty bottle of  Mendoza  red =0 !!!  We agreed to give our buddy booze a week break and I must say it's damn nice waking up without feeling foggy and shakey....much easier tying blood knots these days. 

Coming on Strong

Well the last blog post lacked some inspiration...wrote that after my third glass of wine and it and clearly lacked enthusiasm.  Since that post the fishing on the Elk River has picked up and we've had some epic days casting to fish rising on an assortment of mayflies and ants.  Foam lines are forming as the water slows and the fish feeding on the mayflies and ants are hanging underneath waiting for food to roll through. 

There are some big cutts in the Elk this year and they are definitely well fed.  Rowing down the clearing river and watching big lips pop through the surface to swallow flies in the glare of the sun has been heart pumping.  Feeling the spray off the line as it tightens to pierce the hook feels refreshing after the slow start in July.

The tribs have dropped and are holding good numbers of large fish, walk and wades have been producing well on most days and it makes for a nice change from pounding banks from the boat.  Water levels will remain good and judging by the amount of mayfly nymphs crawling around the riffles are September will be epic.  Still have a fair bit of room on my calendar for that period, especially later in the month.  I will be switching back and forth between the Nelson area and here as late summer hopper  fishing on the Columbia River's caddis fattened rainbows should be fun.  The Slocan will also be happening and I highly recommend that people consider fishing the West Kootenay at this time of year.  The dry fly on both those rivers is amazing.

Life is good here in the Valley, I have some of my favourite people around which makes these sorroundings even more beautiful. Blessed to be here.

...And The LIvin's Easy

Ya, it's summer and things are good.  The Elk is on simmer and droppin daily and showing definition.  The bugs, random but there; can feel the transition into terrestrials  comin'.  Trip reviews have been mixed, some good days, some days with a unanimous feeling that the Elk is fishing a bit tougher than it has in the past and really it is about time.  We've had it good for a while on the dry and this year has been showing us  a moody and perhaps more savvy population of Cutts.

That being said some good days are happening and some epic days are delivered but not to the consistency we've had in the past.  Perhaps as the terrestrials slide in we will see a better response from the trout in terms of looking up.  My guides are doing the best they can to get their people into fish in some tough situations and the response has been good.  I have total faith in the group I've gathered as guides and they are doing their best and some days the Elk shines like it has in the past but this year it seems like a different animal.

So onto the walk and wades...same thing.  Moody fisheries just reclining from high water cycles and some good some bad and in all this I can only conclude one thing.  The high water has shifted the feeding focus of the trout and they are picking there times to rise and we aim to track those times which has meant later starts for now.  Seems to work okay with the late day hatch patterns on the tribs and sometimes on the Elk.  Caddis and spinners bring in the evening stalkers.

More later but for now I need rest.  Peace to all

Sitting Through the Storm

When I first moved to Fernie in 2002 to begin my part time career as an angling guide one of the first things that I noticed was how crisp and fresh the morning air tasted.  The first few pulls of air through  the nostrils in an awakened state charged me enough to bounce up  and leave the comfort of my king sized bed with  my warm bodied girlfriend wrapped inside.  Stepping out on  the front deck you could look up to see Fernie's signature backdrop; the Three Sisters peaks.  They poked into the deepest of blue skies and you just can't help but feel the appreciation from your lungs for choosing such a healthy place to live.  Fernie's earlier years were less than impressive in that regard as coal dust from the mines of Coal Creek would sometimes cover the town.  The mines are now north and the process although larger in scale seem to be more sensitve to their sorroundings....unless you are of course a coal vein set into a mountain top, that process is quite violent and to see the upper Elk watershed on google maps is a little frightening.

Still get that refreshing  feeling as the open window pours in some fresh air and I'm happy to still be spending my summers here, rowing good people down beautiful mountain streams.  Rowing down the river has been a bit sporadic lately in terms of the angling.  Some days are slow but close out strong with caddis and small stones.  The low pressure days start well but have fished slow later in the day  as bugs and fish hang back waiting for the lowest dip in the barometer to start moving.  A few days ago Dick and Karen Adler and I sat through a hale storm in a back eddy seam and waited for the precipitation hammer to stop.  Hail and huge raindrops pounded the water for about 5 minutes and if it wasn't for the large fish that Dick had just missed I'm not sure if their patience would have endured.  It had been a slow day and I could tell that Dick had lost all faith in my abilities as a guide after countless drifts floated through prime seams producing  very little action.

When the precip stopped green drakes and PMD's were pushing through the top end of the eddy  seam and the fish began picking them out of one of the heavier seams with a few showing in the softer ones.  I knew it was drakes and stuck on one of my usual suspects, a tilt wing dun that shows up well in the low light and is usually a favourite of the Elk River Cutts.  That brought in one big fish and after a few more casts it became clear to me that they had sniffed out that imposter so I switched out to another dun pattern which got no love at all.  Three more changes and then I began to notice that the duns were bouncing through that boiling seam untouched so I decided to go flat and tied on a spent dun.  I knew Dick would have almost no chance of seeing that fly and to be honest I didn't have much either as the glare was almost metallic but I knew the bodies of the fish in that seam were large enough to tell us when they accepted the offer.

6 fish and about 20 pounds later we had pinned and landed every rising fish in that seam.  Not one was under 17 and one was just under 19.  Some beautiful specimens....all of a sudden I didn't smell so bad to Dick and after a few high fives and some thank yous to the river Gods I hoisted anchor and headed downstream to the  same kind of back eddy with a foam cluster at the top.  I tucked the boat in and told Dick to work the foam seam at the top of the pool while I retied Karens fly.  I turned around and Dick was sitting in his chair laughing with his rod arched like a bow.  He raised the fish to the surface and Karen and I were stunned while Dick just kept laughing in his chair.  We got it to the net and the 20 inch beast filled the rubber mesh and caused it to sag.  There's not many that size on the Elk and it was the biggest I've seen in a few years.  I released my new pet and I turned to Dick who was still laughing to himself and said it's not going to get any better than that.  It was probably the best hour of angling I've witnessed on the Elk and it felt good rowing out knowing we endured a heavy blast of weather to be rewarded with some heavy fish.

Dick invited me back to his condo for a martini which was about 5 ounces of straight Tanqueray gin.  Apparently I was expecting something a little more subtle cause the first sip felt like a hot poker on my throat and I double over.  Dick asked me if I was okay and that perhaps he should pour me a Shirley Temple instead.  I manned up, had a few more sips of and then added a fizz of grapefruit soda to it to tone it down.  The purist Dick was clearly not impressed

The following day was high pressure and although the fishing was a little more consistent, it was a bit off perhaps due to the added silting of the river from the intense storm.  The water is still quite high here and the most consistent lies for big fish have been soft foam lines close to the bank and it's only hatches that are bringing numbers of fish up.  The fish seem to be nymphing a lot and I'm counting on this hot weather to bring some terrestrials into the system so the trout have a new, larger food source to focus on.  In the meantime it's caddis and small stones with hope of a mayfly producing low.