 |
| Photos by Curtis Smith |
CAMPBELL RIVER - Wearing a pair of bulky chest waders over
five layers of clothing, I stumble out of the forest and into the mighty
Campbell River where the chum salmon are calling my name.
It’s around 8:30 a.m. and a magical setting
surrounds me. The sky is dazzling blue. Mist is rising off the fast-moving
water sparkling in the sun. The leaves have turned brilliant shades of orange, yellow
and red. And there’s fish everywhere — jumping, splashing and swimming along
the side of the river to spawn. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.
“There are hundreds of them right now in
front of you,” says my fly fishing guide Curtis Smith with Coastal Wilderness
Adventures, noting the chum typically average between 12 to 20 pounds.
“They are the last species to come into our
area and enter the river so this is their prime time. They readily take the fly
and they are the hardest fighting.”
I’m filled with a variety of emotions as Smith
and I hold onto each other, cautiously making our way further into the river of
giant fish. I’ve fly fished for trout a few times in little streams in central Alberta
and have had some success. But catching salmon on a fly was a different story
and one that I was both nervous and excited to try.
After a quick demonstration and a lesson on
casting for this particular section of the river, I immediately get my first
bite. It feels like an explosion at the end of my line, the rod tip looking
like it’s going to snap as it’s pulled down to the water. Smith yells with
excitement, instructing me to keep the line tight and let go of the spinning reel
as the salmon takes off like a deer on the run.
I stand my ground, calmly trying to reel in
the salmon, but he isn’t going down without a fight. The battle is on. It’s a
game of tug-of-war, my hands gripped so firmly around the rod that they begin
to hurt.
At times I’m not certain if it’s a battle
I’m going to win, but after 10 minutes I’m able to pull the fish closer and get
to shallower water where Smith can grab the line and see what’s on the end.
He’s pleased to find a beautiful fresh chum that weighs about 15 pounds. My
heart is still pounding from the thrill of the catch.
“That was so fun!” I say to Smith.
“Well let’s catch another one,” he replies
with equal enthusiasm.
I signed up for a day of fly fishing
lessons on the famous Campbell River to boost my confidence in the sport and improve
the few basic skills I already have. Like Smith, fishing has always been in my
blood. Some of my fondest childhood memories involve wandering along rivers and
bobbing around on lakes with my father, and always pulling plenty of fish out
of the water.
Three years ago, I received a fly fishing
rod for my 33rd birthday from my boyfriend at the time. Living in
Edmonton, he was eager to spend our weekends driving to some little stream in
the middle of nowhere and fish for trout until the sun went down.
We taught ourselves how to cast from
watching YouTube videos and had some success in the months that followed, but
not nearly as much as we would have liked. A year later I moved to Victoria
without the boyfriend, but I did take the rod.
I’ve only been fly fishing a couple times since
moving to Vancouver Island and noticed the few skills I do have are now
embarrassingly rusty. I spend more time trying to get my fly untangled from the
trees than in the water, making me shy away from the sport even more.
But I’ve also noticed whenever I do feel
brave enough to venture out to a nearby lake or stream I’m usually the only
female with a fishing rod in hand. I can’t help but feel intimidated and often wonder
why this is. It’s because of this that Smith’s guiding business caught my eye.
I wanted to try fly fishing in Campbell
River since it’s known as the salmon capital of the world. From the last week
of July to the middle of November, the rivers of the Campbell are teaming with
one or more of the five pacific salmon species, drawing anglers from all over
the globe. Smith is one of only two people guiding rivers in Campbell River and
he offers fishing and fly fishing packages for women only. It’s something he
says that’s become quite popular as more women get interested in the sport, but
aren’t quite sure where to begin.
“There is huge interest there, but they are
totally nervous to do something so out of their comfort zone,” said Smith,
noting fly fishing is the hardest of all the types of fishing he does.
“I think women think it’s way more hardcore
than what it actually is. I don’t change the experience if I’m taking a woman
or a man. Most of the time they do better than the guys.”
Growing up in Campbell River, fishing was an
obsession for Smith. Whenever he had the chance, he’d throw a hook into a lake
or a river with a few friends by his side. By the age of 20, he was running his
own fishing guide business, taking a mix of beginners and long-time fisherman
to the best saltwater and freshwater fishing spots he could find.
But after 17 years in the business, Smith now
enjoys taking people out on the water more than doing the actual sport and
seeing his clients achieve something they’ve wanted to do their entire lives.
Laura Barr-Kyrzyk was scared to hike
through the forest when she first met Smith, but now she regularly goes fly
fishing on her own. Interest was sparked whenever she’d go kayaking on various
lakes in Alberta and often saw people pulling fish out of the water.
 |
| Curtis Smith fishing on the Campbell River. |
Barr-Kyrzyk dabbled in fishing with a
spinning reel for a few years, but found it was rather dull. So she joined a
trout-fishing club in Edmonton to improve her techniques and often heard about
the joy of fly fishing.
“The folks in the fishing club said once
you try fly fishing you’ll never look back,” said Barr-Kyrzyk, who found Smith
during a short holiday to Vancouver Island in June 2016.
After one day of fly fishing on the
Campbell River, Barr-Kyrzyk never looked back. She returned to Edmonton, purchased
some fly fishing equipment and went out to rivers, lakes and streams at least three
times a month. But she admits it wasn’t easy.
“I made a lot of mistakes and even broke my
fist rod. I suggest looking for second hand supplies at first since you will
lose flies and break things and decide you hate the sport, then you will go
again and make a beautiful cast and reel in a trout and you are back in the
game,” she said, noting she rarely sees other women fishing.
“It is intimidating, even in the fishing
stores, to do this on your own. But this will grow your confidence like nothing
else I have ever experienced. I wish there were more ladies who were interested
and available.”
Back in Campbell River, Smith and I eventually
head to another section of the river where the current is stronger and plenty
of fish are splashing around in the cool water. Smith demonstrates another type
of casting before handing me the rod. Within seconds I hook a salmon, sparking
another battle that I win with confidence this time.
By the end of the day, I’m proud to say I caught
four salmon and lost a handful of others. My arms are aching yet I’m determined
to catch one more. The thrill of the catch has me hooked.
The experience didn’t inspire me to
purchase a new fly rod to go catch salmon, but it has sparked a renewed
interest in the fly rod I already have. It reminded me how special it is to
stand waist-deep in a river with fish swimming all around and determine how to
catch at least one of them. Fly fishing is a game of who can outsmart whom and
one more women should try — with or without a partner.
- Published in BC Outdoors July 2018: https://www.bcoutdoorsmagazine.com/the-joy-of-fly-fishing/