Vive Le Saumon

Long live the Salmon!!

If you're like me, you have a highlight memory reel of certain really special moments on the river. Moments that make you reflect on hard work, good times and bad, times with friends and family, lost loved ones who may have 'helped' a little and are smiling with you, the traditions of those who came before you on these rivers, and how awesome some places can be and how fortunate you are to be experiencing them. Moments that leave you grinning for days. This may well top them.

After days of no salmon and a little frustration building, I felt a distinct tug on the end of the line while swinging a tiny wet fly across the current. As the rod loaded, I proceeded to watch this guy live up to the Atlantic's reputation, and do a complete backflip out of the water.

The fight was on. Up and down the pool, more big jumps, maneuvering myself and the rod to steer him away from the wood and rocks that they seem to just know will cut your line. Eventually working him into the shallow water, I had flashbacks of last year in Alaska, loosing the biggest trout I've ever seen at my knees while trying to tail him, and the dreadful feeling of potentially repeating it. I learned a bit from that experience though, and came equipped with a catch and release net this time, and much to my relief, that's where he ended up.

I couldn't believe it. A large kype jawed male, showing some spawning colors -- exactly what I was fishing for. I was in awe. A few moments later, I just kneeled in the water, thanking the fish as I let his tail go and watch him swim away, continuing his quest upstream.

Later that afternoon a smaller brethren decided to take as well, and I landed my first Grilse (young salmon). Quite the day.

Atlantic Salmon are an incredible resource, worth conserving. The Atlantic Salmon Federation is at the forefront of those efforts, working to protect and restore Atlantic Salmon throughout their native habitats. Check out their website to find out how you can do your part.

Ode de Gaspe

I miss Alaska. The wilderness, the water, the solitude, the wildlife, the fish, the bugs, all of it. But, I live in VT. The next best thing relatively close by for me is the various wilderness areas in Northern Quebec. One being the Gaspe Peninsula and its famous Atlantic Salmon rivers.

Three years ago I made my maiden voyage to the Gaspe, and fortunately brought back memories of huge Atlantic Salmon after getting lucky on so many levels. So, I figured why not go back and see if the rivers would welcome me once again.

Due to the delicate nature of the Atlantic Salmon, AKA Salmo salar, or Silver Leaper, the rivers of the Gaspe are carefully managed to conserve this incredible resource. Rivers are governed by ZEC (Zone Exploitation Control) offices, which, depending on the river section, limit angler access, catch limits, etc via access lotteries conducted in the Fall and 48 hours prior. Some river zones have very limited access, while some zone are 'unlimited' and essentially open to the public for access. The zone I was returning to is the Gaspe ZEC, where the world famous York, Dartmouth and St. Jean rivers converge into the Atlantic and provide excellent spawning grounds for large Atlantic Salmon. For information on this ZEC, check out ZEC Gaspe.

The peninsula coastline is beautiful, and after 12 hours of driving I found myself in the ZEC office gathering info, buying permits, and entering the 48 hour lotteries for the week. My focus on the trip would be to the York River. I spent a few days doing a lot of hiking and scouting to search for holding salmon and just enjoy the cystal clear water.

I did uncover a few Brookies which also share the river, and even had an Otter chase one while I was landing it.

Green Mountain MIrrors

I have a trip to Quebec planned next month and wanted to do a little gear testing, so Ash and I loaded up and headed into our local Green Mountains for an overnight backpack to cool off at an alpine pond, and hopefully make a few casts too.

After setting up camp overlooking the pond, we headed down to the water's edge to see what was going on. There were a few bugs coming off, and as the evening progressed and we worked our way around the perimeter, I eventually heard the tell-tale sound of a jumping fish back in a cove. A few casts later, had my first of a number of hungry little alpine gems on the end of the line. All was quiet, the water turned to glass, with the occasional trout breaking through the mirror.

It was the proper way to spend an evening.