Fly Fishing

Tofino Fishing Report – April 2018

Tofino Fishing Report – April 2018

Ol’ Sherry Anderson wasn’t known for her prowess with a fly rod. Despite the fact that she’d first tried her hand at fly fishing when she was still a freshman in high school, she often felt that she lacked the hand-eye coordination that seemed a fundamental necessity for mastery of the sport. After fifty years of practice her abilities were to be considered only passable, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.

Sherry liked to fish, in fact she downright loved it. She fly fished her way through summer camping trips with her dad who, God rest his soul, needed plenty of patience in those early years of teaching. The very first time her father gave her a lesson she succeeded in burying a size #6 Doc Spratley fly so deep into her forehead that her family had to immediately pack up their camp and drive three hours over dilapidated logging roads to the nearest hospital...

Tofino Fishing Report – January 2018

Tofino Fishing Report – January 2018

Thankfully the steelhead fishing seems to be firing on all cylinders this season, so there’s a lot of motivation to get out there. Solid numbers of steelhead hit the rivers this fall and the action has been borderline fantastic this year. There’s been some very big fish around this season too, which is a tidbit of information that should not be taken lightly.

It’s a rare year indeed when both quantity and quality are in the same sentence, but this year seems to be the exception. If you don’t mind the cold slog into the January elements I’d strongly suggest making a few trips to one of our local rivers. It’s an excellent way to get away from the in-laws and defeat cabin fever. And if you’re not a local who’s well-versed in the infinite nuances of chasing steelhead in Clayoquot Sound then hire a guide, trust me you’ll thank me later.

Tofino Fishing Report - December 2016

Tofino Fishing Report - December 2016

I carefully lift my left foot from it’s secure position and allow the nagging current of the river to carry it further downstream. The felt sole of my wading boot bounces along the tops of the boulders at the bottom of the unseen depths, blindly searching for the next foothold. Once firmly in place, the right leg follows same and I reestablish my balance within the rivers rhythm.

With my left hand I strip the running line in, coiling it in my fingers, and sweep the rod through a practiced, calculated motion. On the forward cast the rod arcs and the wonderful physics of inertia send a long and accurate line across the river. I enjoy the simple beauty of this effort, admiring how the bright, colourful line forms a loop and carries the fly to land in a likely spot within the braided currents where fish are known to hold. The fly settles, sinks, and begins it’s swing across the river, probing unchecked depths for the promise of another fish.

While I wait patiently for a bite to come the rhythms of this wild place envelope me. The river is an instrument of boundless composition. When coupled with the sounds of the forest, it’s creatures, and the weather that moves above a great symphony of wilderness provides an invigorating soundtrack for much needed meditation.