4 Camps - Fly Fishing

1. In early May I packed the truck on a last minute whim to visit a lake I had heard about, yet had not fished. My wife was excited to camp, while I was stoked to fling some fly line, even if it meant giving up several days of the spring black bear hunt. The weather had been chilly and wet for much of the spring, going to the interior of British Columbia alleviates most worries of precipitation, the place is a desert, the cool temperatures did follow, along with a lot wind.

Catching post spawn rainbow trout right in front of the tent.

The fish were post spawn, still cruising the shallows, a touch finicky in what they wanted, eventually through persistence I started getting into them on a dry. There’s nothing like catching them on top. The splashy takes, the gentle sips, the demanding need to obsessively watch your fly and the slight pause in setting the hook.

It was a great couple days of eating venison from the fall before, sleeping in the tent and catching rainbows, still sporting their gaudy colours. Time well spent with Rachael outside is good for the soul.

2. Last fall in a desperate bid to fill a moose tag my group drew I had picked up a pair of hip waders. It had been years since I had owned a pair, in this case I had needed something lightweight to haul on my pack to ford a shallow river to fight the wind. Funny enough I never ended up using them, the on-coming winter and post rut bulls moving out of the flats shut down the area.

Backpacking in fly gear and hip waders paid off.

When my wife booked a campsite we had to hike into it provided the perfect opportunity to strap the hip boots and fly rod onto the backpack and get some fishing done. The tent was perched on the edge of a subalpine lake, glaciers flowing down into the far end, feeding it with ice cold water. The outflowing river tumbles down the mountain, leaving Whistler on its journey to the Pacific Ocean.

The lower reaches are known for bull trout, along with runs of steelhead, sea-run cutthroats and several species of salmon. Up high it was all rainbows, eight to twelve inches long and feisty as hell in the fast flowing water. The fly of choice was a hacked together nymph I’d tied and on the four weight rod, they were a blast.

As a bonus there were fresh salmon berries along the bank to snack on while enjoying the sun and the fishing.

3. Carrying your gear on your back makes camp spartan, along with limiting the amount of fishing tackle at your disposal. A car camp is exactly the opposite, I have a tendency to over do it when I am setting up behind the truck. There is the ten person tent for the two of us that I refer to as the Hotel, cots, two burner stove, coolers, canoe, multiple rods, damn near every comfort we have at home.

Rachael with a wild rainbow. As a side note, all that shoreline was under water two years ago.

In this case it was a July trip to a Provincial site with clean pit toilets, quiet users and a chain of lakes brimming with small ‘bows. As a bonus it gave me an opportunity to scout some mule deer terrain for a future fall trip as well. What we found when we got there was a lake that was a good dozen feet lower than our last visit two years before.

Keeping one for the cooler.

Despite the low water the fishing did not disappoint, the trout may be small, but they make up for it with their wild ferocity and jumping. The camping was spot on, the scouting productive and as a bonus we stopped at a nearby ranch for some delicious ice cream during a summer downpour.

4. The choices are either a long ass hike, or a helicopter, luckily when my wife booked us in for four days of camping at Mt Assiniboine Provincial Park she chose the whirlybird. I’ve used helicopters to go to work and for a few mountain bike descents, but this was the first time I’ve loaded my fly rod into one.

Helicopter shuttles to the campsite....yes please!

In Rachael’s mind we were there to camp and hike, my first reaction was to look into the fishing opportunities. Considering the difficulty in accessing the area, I’m not afraid to mention that Lake Magog and Sunburst Lake were the two I cast a line into. While I struck out on Magog, I did see some people from the lodge getting into ‘em. I had a couple takes, but came away skunked. I had been hoping for cutthroats but it wasn’t to be.

Sunset rainbow trout on Sunburst Lake.

A sunset session on Sunburst changed things around. A kilometre from the campsite, it was a picturesque scene, steep, gnarly mountains crumbling down into the water, bear shit on the trail and pretty little rainbow trout sipping dry flies on the surface. You could not have wiped the smile off my face with one of the local grizzly bear’s paws.

See you on the water or the mountain.

-Matthew Mallory