As previously published in Chasing Silver Magazine

*Note- all flies are designed and tied by April Vokey.  For more information on purchasing any of these flies contact april@flygal.ca

British Columbia is world famous for its majestic rivers and legendary steelhead.  A truly unique fishery, B.C. is home to steelhead twelve months out of the year where they are pursued by determined anglers who brave all the accompanying elements; icy guides, subzero snow storms, rugged hiking and treacherous wading are all factors that the serious angler will endure.

Matt Moisley knows what I’m talking about.

The arrival of West-Coast steelhead tends to be most abundant as the weather begins to cool down, typically drawing the fish deeper into the pools and often times easing their aggression.
To stay in the game, seasoned anglers rig up their Spey rods with sink tips, and tie obnoxious flies to help coax the fish to bite.

Brrrr.  Ape with a double striper.

I remember the first steelhead I caught on one of my own fly patterns.  The breeze was cold and fresh snow laced the felts of my wading boots.  This was my favourite time of year.  Freezing temperatures kept a majority of anglers indoors, allowing us diehards to menace the rivers in true steelhead bum fashion.

Never a huge fan of nymphing or dead drifting, I always loved the concept of swinging a fly.  By casting towards the opposite bank and allowing my fly to sweep intrusively through the current, I was able to cover a maximum amount of water.  Working my way through the run, I would envision an aggressive buck tickled by the teasing feathers of my fly before lunging forward to attack.  Every step I made felt like one step closer to an epic battle.

Working the run (Michael Davidchik photo).

I had spent the entirety of my pre-season evenings behind my vice, stocking my fly box in preparation of this much-anticipated fishery.
I had always been drawn to the art of tying flies.  Such a male dominated sport, I got a kick of how incredibly feminine steelhead flies tended to look.  Popular flies with names like Showgirl and Cotton Candy, provoked me to take advantage of my creative side and display my ‘girly’ traits through my fly-tying.

Ape at the vise.

So there I stood with an overloaded fly box that looked like a foam lined candy store.  I sorted through my flies until an aesthetically pleasing pink and blue intruder variation, stood out from the rest.  I tied it on and cast it into the seam.  Half an hour later, it was “fish on” and I had landed myself a heavy wild buck.
It was at that moment that my love for the feminine pink pattern secured itself as my favourite and, to this day, remains on the top of my “preferred flies” list.

A pretty typical fly seen hanging out of most of my fish’s mouths…..

The beautiful thing about fly-tying is that the tyer can showcase their creativity and originality through their invented patterns.  As long as the fly appears to come to life in the water (which is the reason why Ed Ward‘s attractor pattern, the ‘Intruder‘, became such a big hit in B.C. several years ago) or is a reasonable imitation of a natural aquatic species, the tyer can create countless unique and efficient concoctions.

Different lighting and water conditions are all important variables when it comes to steelheading.  I make sure that at all times my fly box consists of a variety of flies suitable for all conditions.
Dark, bright, small and big flies all have their own unique purpose.
I find myself fishing dark flies when the water is murky, and bright ones when the water is clear.
The size of my fly usually depends on the level of the water, however I find that typically low and clear rivers fish best with smaller patterns.

But it’s not always that simple.  Different strains of steelhead sometimes require different tactics.  Different levels of aggression, time of year, genetic build are but a few contributing factors.
Some fish occasionally throw a wrench into my standard approach, keeping me on my toes.  Though you’ll never hear me complain, for it wouldn’t be fishing if it were any other way.

With this, I give you five of my favourite creations.

*=Note

*I  prefer to tie most of my flies with a trailing hook.  This allows me to replace any dull or broken off points by simply switching the hook, rather than disposing of the fly entirely.

1)    Snip off four or five inches of thin wire, thick monofilament, running line or     something of the sort.
2)    Folding it in half, lay each end on either side of the shank and wrap the thread     over the wire, winding it upwards.  The tie in point should be where the hook     shank begins to curve.
3)    Fold the wire back over and secure it with multiple downward winding wraps of     thread.
4)    Clip any tail ends.
5)    After completion of the fly, use wire cutters to cut the main hook near the bend     in the shaft.

Sugar Pop

Materials:

Pink thread
Silver oval tinsel
Krinkle Mirror Flash
Blue polar bear (or dubbing of choice)
Blue eared pheasant (dyed blue)
Pink rhea
Pink teal
Silver mini flat braid
Pink tinsel
Blue Flashabou
Jungle cock
Kingfisher

Tying Instructions:

1)    Tie in a strand of silver oval tinsel and wrap it up the hook five times, creating a     tag.
2)    Dub in the under fur of blue polar bear.
*Any dubbing will work, though I find that polar bear shimmers the best in the     water, and is the most efficient in preventing the rest of the materials from     collapsing.
3)    Tie in the tip of a single blue eared pheasant feather.  Fold both sides of the     feather fibres rearward and continue to wrap the feather several times until it fans     over the dubbing.
4)    Peel off a side of a rhea feather and tie in the tip (*if rhea is unavailable, marabou     or ostrich can    make a great substitute).  Make several wraps until it fans over the     blue eared hackle.
*You can stack the rhea if you prefer, though it will not result in the same     fullness.
5)    Tie in a strand of Krinkle Mirror Flash on either side of the hook.
6)    Peel a pink teal feather and hackle it over the rhea.
7)    Attach silver mini flat braid, pink tinsel, and blue flashabou.
8)    Wrap the mini braid forward, ribbing it with the tinsel and flashabou.
9)    Repeat steps 2-6.
10)    Pluck two small secondary feathers from a jungle cock cape and tie them in as     cheeks.
*Use flat-nosed pliers to pinch the stems to prevent them from rolling.
11)    Lay a kingfisher feather over the jungle cock, again flattening the stem with flat-    nosed pliers.
*The tip of a blue saddle feather makes a decent substitute.
12)    Whip finish and coat with head cement.
*Clear nail polish works just as well (your wife will understand.)

Burnt Orange Prawn

Materials:

Black thread
Gold oval tinsel
Golden pheasant tippet
Orange seal dubbing
Red seal dubbing
Gold Mylar tinsel
Orange blue-eared pheasant feather
Black rhea
Dark orange ring neck pheasant
Tragopan

Tying Instructions:

1)    Tie in a strand of gold oval tinsel and wrap it up the hook five times, creating a     tag.
2)    Tie in a single golden pheasant tippet.
3)    Pre-cut a piece of gold Mylar tinsel and select an orange blue-eared pheasant     feather.  Fold the feather fibres rearward, in preparation of step five.
4)    Dub the orange seal fur in a dubbing loop.
5)    Make two turns with the dubbing loop, securing the ends of the Mylar and blue-    eared pheasant with the wraps of the dubbing loop.  Let them dangle freely, while     continuing to wrap the dubbing loop forward ¾ up the hook.
6)    Rib the tinsel forward through the dubbing, using a pin to free any flattened fur.

7)    Wrap the pheasant hackle upwards, alongside the tinsel.

    Secure with thread and trim all ends.
9)    Peel a side of a black rhea feather and tie in the tip.
10)    Dub and wrap the red seal fur up the remainder of the shank.
11)    Hackle the black rhea through the dubbing.  You’ll only need to make two or three     wraps.
12)    Sequentially stack and layer three ring neck feathers, flattening the stems with     flat-nosed pliers.
13)    Tie in a pair of tragopan feathers as cheeks.
14)    Whip finish and coat with head cement.

The Five O-Clock Shadow

Materials:

Black thread
Small gold tinsel
Black polar bear
Red ostrich
Yellow saddle
Black mini flat braid
Silver oval tinsel
Red tinsel
Green tinsel
Red polar bear
Black rhea
Jungle cock

Tying Instructions:

1)    Wrap the gold tinsel ten times up the shank, creating a tag.
2)    Stack in a small clump of black polar bear as a tail.
3)    Conceal the bump from the clipped tail ends with  a strand of red ostrich.
4)    Attach a piece of black mini flat braid, green tinsel, red tinsel, silver oval tinsel     and tip of a yellow saddle feather (one side peeled).
5)    Wrap the black flat braid first, then the green and red tinsel, and lastly the yellow     saddle.
6)    Counter rib over all of step five’s materials with the silver oval tinsel.
*This is to slow the wear and tear of the rib during casting.
7)    Dub in the under fur of red polar bear or dubbing material of choice and make two     turns.
8)    Stack the strands of a black rhea feather all around the shank (top, bottom and     sides).
9)    Tie in a pair of jungle cock cheeks.
10)    Whip finish and coat with head cement.

Purple Whisper

Materials:

Black thread
Gold oval tinsel
Silver oval tinsel
Turquoise silk
Blue rhea
Natural Amherst
Purple marabou
Cerise marabou
Purple ring neck pheasant

Tying Instructions:

1)    Wrap the gold oval tinsel forward ten times, creating a tag.
2)    Tie in the turquoise silk, silver tinsel, gold tinsel and peeled blue rhea feather.
*To peel rhea, pinch the strands at the tip of the feather and carefully pull down.      The membrane should separate from the stem with all its fibres intact.  This gets     easier with practise but is well worth a few casualties to be able to have such a     remarkable hackle, free of the bulky stem.
When tying the peeled rhea onto a shank, wrap the membrane as though it were     the stem of a regular feather.
3)    Wrap the silk upwards and rib the tinsels atop the silk, side by side up the shank.
4)    Palmer the rhea up the hook, laying it directly beside the previously ribbed tinsel.
5)    Pick out a purple marabou feather that isn’t overly plumy.  Choose a stringy     feather over a fuzzy one to guarantee a crisp appearance.
*When buying packages of marabou, take a moment to take the feathers out of the     package and find the package with the least plumy fibres.  These affordable     feathers can often double as rhea or blue-eared pheasant in many patterns.
6)    Tie in the tip of the marabou feather, fold its fibres rearward, and wrap it forward     several times.
7)    Do the same with a cerise marabou feather.
8)    Tie in an over-wing of three overlapping purple ring neck pheasant feathers.      Flatten the stems with flat-nosed pliers to avoid them from rolling.
9)     Tie in two strands of natural Amherst on either side of the shank, and top with a     pair of jungle cock cheeks.
10)    Whip finish and coat with head cement.

Wizard of Oz

Materials:

Turquoise silk
Silver oval tinsel
Blue-eared pheasant (dyed blue)
Blue-eared pheasant (dyed purple)
Bright green ostrich
Jungle cock
Blue ostrich
Purple silk
Hammered silver tinsel
Blue tinsel
Gold tinsel
Green synthetic dubbing
Golden pheasant

Tying Instructions

1)    Tie in turquoise silk and silver oval tinsel.  Wrap the silk forward half an inch and     rib the tinsel on an angle atop the silk.
2)    Tie in the tip of the dyed blue blue-eared pheasant and fold both sides of the     feather fibres rearward, while wrapping it forward.
3)    Stack the green ostrich, spreading it evenly around the diameter of the shank.
4)    Tie in a pair of jungle cock cheeks.
5)    Conceal cut off ends with a strand of blue ostrich.
6)    Tie in the strands of purple silk, hammered silver tinsel, blue tinsel and gold     tinsel.
7)    Wrap the purple silk towards the hook’s eye, and rib all three tinsels upwards on     an angle, making sure they’re wrapped side by side.
8)    Dub in a small amount of synthetic green dubbing.
9)    Repeat step three.
10)    Repeat step two with the purple blue-eared pheasant feather.
11)    Repeat step four.
12)    Tie in an over wing of two overlapping golden pheasant feathers.  Flatten the     stems with flat-nosed pliers to avoid them from rolling.
13)    Whip finish and coat with head cement.

Fly Gal has teamed with two different lodges in both Terrace and Smithers, BC.  To book a trip on some of the world’s best steelhead  rivers, contact april@flygal.ca

As previously printed in the Canadian Fly Fisher magazine (2008).

I have a confession to make.

I’ve always been a sucker for a woman casting a fly rod.

I can’t help but watch in awe as she casts effortlessly into the cool breeze, gently throwing mends upriver, concentrating on her fly’s presentation before stripping the line back in and preparing to cast again.  I try so hard not to stare but, the truth is, I just can’t help myself.

Ade you’re sexy as hell babe!

Don’t get me wrong, I love to watch a tight loop cast from just about any angler, man or woman, but there’s just something different about a cast kissed with a feminine touch.

Ape throwing one out there.

Hello ladies, please allow me to introduce myself.
My name is April Vokey and I’m an avid angler and fishing guide in beautiful British Columbia.  Like so many of you, I’ve been bitten and deeply infected by the fishing bug, and, quite willingly, I allow it to consume my life.

Mathew Moisley photo.

My fascination with  fishing began when I was a little girl.  Never having the luxury of a father or grandfather who was really serious about fishing, the origins of my obsession with the sport has always been a mystery both to me and my family.

Nevertheless, my parents, always huge supporters of quality family time, were more than happy to take my sister and me to spend the day at the water, picnic basket and mini fishing rods in tow.  Although, as children, we had great fun casting worms and wedding bands, it wasn’t until I was old enough to drive, that I was able to take myself fishing and truly learn the ways of the river.

My first car; the Blue Beast (Buick Skylark).  This thing got me to the river and back and was the most reliable fishing buddy I had for a long time.

Getting started was intimidating.  I had a lot of questions and, with no one to answer them, I made my way to the library and took out every book I could find on different species of fish and methods of catching them.

I learned how they fished in the UK and the habits of countless ocean-dwelling creatures, but remained fairly ignorant about fishing in the Lower Mainland, B.C.  For this, I had to seek help from somebody with experience, so I headed to my local tackle shop.

The guys in the shop were more than helpful and provided me with knowledge about the river that I was interested in fishing, making sure that I was properly equipped.  They set me up with affordable gear, drew me detailed maps, and explained the basics of proper river etiquette.

Off to the river (Damn, BC is awesome!)  Aaron Goodis photo.

Little do they know it, but that was a day I will never forget.  Barriers dropped, and fears were forgotten, as I was welcomed with friendly faces, sincerely interested in showing me how to grow in the sport.  In return, that shop gained a loyal customer, never too proud to ask for advice and always eager to share her reports and experiences.

It is a relationship I strongly urge any aspiring angler to commit to.

As my days on the water accumulated and the years passed, a natural progression began. I found myself being lured by the beauty of the art of fly-fishing….. I longed to cast that fluorescent line with ease, my body flowing gracefully and my fly taunting unsuspecting fish as it swung across the current.

It has always seemed romantic to me, a classic sport as old as time, consisting  merely of a patient angler, several trusted flies, fly rod, spooled reel, and sheer appreciation of the tranquil surroundings and therapeutic songs of nature.

I never could, and never will for that matter, wrap my head around why such a poetic pastime has for so long been pursued primarily by men.

April Vokey photo.

Aaron Goodis photo.

Andrea and Jenna ready to rock ‘n roll (Trevor Welton photo).

For the longest time, my friends and family thought I was losing my mind.  Seeing me endure long drives and freezing weather, they knew there must be something extremely unique about this sport that I  continued to stubbornly pursue.

Typical scene of a BC canyon wall.  Looking back now, no wonder my parents freaked….

Even my little sis, Dana, began to understand what all the fuss was about (Steve Morrow photo).

I suppose it was inevitable that I would eventually find myself agreeing to bring some of my close girl friends out with me to share the experiences of a day of catch-and-release fishing on the river.  The outcome proved to be something I’d never experienced before.

As an angler who had always preferred to fish solo or with capable male fishing buddies, I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t slightly concerned as to how the day would unravel.

April and Nicole (Marcel Saring photo).

The truth is, I was completely taken aback by how incredibly enjoyable our time together on the water was.

With conversation not varying much from that we’d exchange over a cocktail on a girls’ night out, we easily lost track of time as we enjoyed our freedom and surroundings—hiking along the river bank, searching for that single adrenaline-packed moment.

It was much like taking a yoga class or a cleansing hike with a close friend—the adventure, movement, relaxation and concentration of fishing provided an escape from all the accumulated stresses of work, home, and life in general.  Spending time on the river with these patient, energetic and persistent women, it didn’t take me long to conclude that having a woman fishing buddy was the link that had been missing for me.

Guide Kate Taylor knows what I’m talking about.

Soon, I began to get phone calls and emails from other friends and acquaintances and, before long, I was taking women of all ages with me to experience a sport which so many of them had an interest in but were too intimidated to try.  These women included co-workers, relatives, friends of friends and guiding clients.

My girl Ashley.

Client Sheila.

It’s such a shame that intimidation prevents so many women from participating in fly fishing.  Afraid of lacking the strength and the skills necessary to be a successful angler, a vast majority of women opt to stick with sports more suitable to the physicality of a woman.  This is truly unfortunate, as there is nothing further from the truth than this major misconception.  In actuality, it is a fact that women are better casting students than men.

Giving a lesson.

Ask any reputable fishing guide or casting instructor, and most will agree that women do indeed learn more rapidly than men.

This is not meant as a put-down of the opposite sex, but rather as an observation of how each sex absorbs instruction and how easily they apply it to the task at hand.  Enthusiastic and open-minded, women sincerely listen to constructive criticism, immediately focusing on improving their faults.  Please note that this is not always the case when receiving instruction from one’s significant other, as that can often cause more harm than good.  You all know what I’m talking about!

Women tend to have a more gentle stroke, controlling the fly rod with careful movements, taking special precautions not to overpower it, the way most men do so regularly.

Maintaining the rod tip’s proper path in casting is crucial, and women are more apt in applying that unexaggerated, delicate motion, in which the tip is prevented from being forced too far back or too far forward on either side of the angler, enabling a sweetly loaded rod which delivers a beautifully timed, tight loop. With the realization that brute strength plays no part in the process of becoming a great caster, the intimidation factor is soon overcome and forgotten about completely, being replaced with the joy of perfect, effortless motion.

Right Shannon?  (Rod Vanderlinde photo)

As a firm believer in equal opportunity and a fishing buddy to both men and women, I have spent countless days on the water with a wide ranging assortment of anglers.

Over the years, some days have proven to be undeniably frustrating, and others, unbelievably picture-perfect.  However, my favourite days are just indescribably……..girly?

Yup!  With bright pink hats and manicured nails, I am self-admittedly a ‘girly-girl’.  I’m simply a woman who likes to play in the water, rather than a diva or a feminist—a serious angler in touch with my feminine side, who spends all of my free time chasing fish in the hope that they, in turn, will chase my fly.

You can be certain that there are more of us out there than you might think there are, and with time, as each woman begins to break through the subtle barrier of what has been up until now a ‘boys only club’, we are slowly finding each other and establishing our own niche.

Sarah Exton is feisty with her red nails!

Although it’s only natural that there will be days when an intense conversation with a female fishing companion is the last thing you wish to engage in while angling, I strongly encourage all women to make some effort to get to know other fellow female anglers in their area, as these fishing relationships do have a lot to offer.  If meeting a stranger isn’t for you, don’t give up, chances are that one of your close girlfriends or co-workers are probably interested in having you take them out for a day or two.  Whether it be meeting someone in your area, or introducing that lovable but completely novice friend who wants to accompany you (remind them that instructional magazine articles for beginners are not gender specific), your local tackle shop should be able to assist you.

A local angler, Radine, who has blessed me with a smile on more than one occasion.

A day of fishing with a female friend is like nothing else, as it forges a bond that only another woman can fully comprehend.  Women speak the same language, and with this advantage in communication, we are able to teach and learn from each other with great ease.  Accepting each other’s flaws and idiosyncrasies, there is an inherent comfort level between us that makes the day so special.

As in Sex and the City (only without the sex and without the city), we giggle as we hike, discussing relationships and life, never fretting about how much we are sweating or how often we have to use the bushes as a bathroom.  It’s a perfect partnership.

A day of fishing full of laughs, girl talk and serious misbehaving….

We hurt from laughing the next day.

Alright Fly Gals, unite!

Stay tuned for a chance to win a free hoody in part 2 of ‘For The Fly Gals’.

Ape.

Every so often in a woman’s life, there is a calling to do something a little crazy (ok, so maybe it’s a little more regular than every so often)…..

Women acting crazy?  Nah…… (What the hell am I doing in this picture anyway?)  (Brian Niska photo).

See, I believe in living life with no regrets, staying true to yourself (and your heart) and living every single day as though it were your last.  You never quite know when your time will come, and you can be damn sure that you don’t want the last thoughts that run through your head to be thoughts of regret.

Sometimes it takes one of these to make you realize just how important those things are…

Head-on at 200km combined speed on the freeway.  Courtesy of a drunk driver who opted to drive after a late night party.  I was heading to the lake to go fishing, trailer and boat in tow….

3/4 ton Chev takes on my little Toyota.  Poor thing didn’t stand a chance….

My accident from last year that opened my eyes.  The result?  Appreciation!
Always find a positive through the negatives, no matter how hard it may be at times….

Remember that fishing is not about the race to the river, nor about the mere bite of the trout.  Life is about enjoying these experiences as a whole.  Treat each day as though it is your last and savour every raindrop, cool breeze, laugh and moment.  Savour your friends, your family and yourself.
For in a world when each breath you take may be your last, believe me when I tell you that these are the things that you will wish you had taken the time to cherish and the time to love.

Dana Vokey (my little sis) taking it all in.  This girl’s the epitome of appreciation.

Anyhow, enough preaching.  Let me get back to my point….

So when my heart called me to spend some time away from BC and venture into the unknown terrain of the South, I opted to get a little crazy and take the leap.
So long as the steelhead weren’t running, I was quite content chasing after trout and bass in good ‘ol Arkansas.

Colby and I found a cute place to stay on a small Spring creek and arranged to teach and aid the clients of Spring Valley Anglers www.springvalleyanglers.com to help them improve their angling and fly tying skills.

Two happy clients in Arkansas (April Vokey photo).

We packed our bags (and kennels) and temporarily relocated to the land of Southern drawls and ‘sweet tea’.

Heading down South.

Naturally, as word spread through friends of mine, stories of the White River found their way to me and began to plague my mind.

The White is famous for its gigantic brown trout, and I was itching to see one.  I had never managed to land a brown, and still had yet to see one in person.

Thankfully, word had also managed to spread to the notable guide and writer, Steve Dally of Mountain River Fly Shop www.mtnriverflyshop.com

Steve is an Aussie who found himself relocating to the USA almost a decade ago.
Perhaps he understood what it feels like to be the “new kid in the neighbourhood” because he sent me a welcome invitation to try and break my brown trout curse.

Steve is one of those witty people who’s able to balance an intelligent sense of humour with just the right amount of dry sarcasm.
This is the sort of guy that I could find myself getting along with…..
We booked a day to hit the water.

Steve Dally working the motor.  (Rebecca Dally photo)

Steve maintains a fantastic blog called Splashes With Fishes www.splasheswithfishes.wordpress.com
I thought I’d let him tell you how our day was in his words….

In the words of Steve Dally…

The cast splashed down deep into a nook in the bank, right where it needed to land.
The mass of wool, marabou and steel composing itself into something fishy enough to attract the interest of the Lord of the Eddy.

Ape casting a fly the size of roadkill, and a sink tip that would make BC steelheaders blush (Steve Dally photo).

The fly sashayed its way out into the current with a BIG shadow below and astern, and closing. It was at about this time I lost my guide cool.

“Strip April, Strip, Faster!  Strip, Strip Strip,” echoed across the water in an Aussie accent….

It would only be later that we got the giggles, as we were both intent on that fish; the one we were after, tracking the fly out further and further, into the current, and right up to the stern.

Here I thought it would have turned away, but now it followed all the way to the rod tip. This brown was not boat shy.

How big? I’m a chronic under estimator when it comes to fish in the water, but it had mid-20s length and big girth; probably 10+ maybe more, it doesn’t really matter.

April’s eyes were huge, and words were coming in a rush. “I didn’t know trout could be so predatory!  Wow they aren’t like rainbows at all.”

And this wasn’t the only monster brown we would meet.

I knew of the April Vokey internet sensation, Simms calendar pin up, fly fishing ubiquitous “hot chick”, television presenter, and the subject of a popular Face Book group “I want to fish with April Vokey”.  All other opinions were based on a few photos, gorgeous though they are.
Since I’d heard she was going to be in the area, I started a little research which lit a fire to get her connected to a White River trophy brown.

April and Colby on their way to ‘the spot’ with Steve.  (Steve Dally photo)

Far from an internet creation, the real April Vokey guides in British Columbia, running rivers and offshore. Here was a person crazy enough not only to go trout fishing just after emerging from the hospital with screws and plates in her foot (courtesy of a major car wreck), but heck doing it out in the back of beyond, and lugging a film camera.

Here was a fish-rat crazy enough to cast monster streamers in the Arkansas humidity all day long for a crack at a trophy brown.

She casts better than I do single handed, and I’m trying to work a trade for her to teach me Spey.
In short as they say April’s  “bonafide” and a kindred spirit.  Even better, she and my lovely wife Becca hit it off a treat; to the point where April could harass me about my word selection when that monster brown chased that fly.

“If only we could get him to stop asking me to take my clothes off…”  April joked, referencing my continual demands of “Strip, strip, strip…”
The girls were shaking with hysterics, and I’m scrambling to defend myself. Ratbags the pair of them.

Poor Steve getting picked on by the girls….

Sometimes it’s the friends you make on the water that overshadow everything else.

April and Colby share a romantic Titanic moment.

But I badly wanted to get her her first brown trout, and a big one at that. We fished hard in all the zones that had been producing, for a handful of rainbows, a few better smacks and quite a few trees.

No animals were harmed in the making of this blog.  (Steve Dally photo)

Then as the day faded I picked up a stick to try and help focus our efforts, running a big Zoo Cougar, trying to stir up a fish.
It was then that I found an aggressive feeder; a big yellow slash shining gold as it missed my fly.  We retied the yellow Zoo Cougar onto April’s rig and ran back upstream for another pass.

Damn, I was thinking, it’s gone as we floated over the zone.
It was then that I heard April say softly, ”I’m on”…

Her 6wt bent hard. It had to be a brown, head down and doggedly pushing towards the tree line. She held that effort and we worked the fish to the middle of the river.
I took a breath at this point, thinking now we had a good shot, when mysteriously everything went slack. Those big browns have mouths of bone and a secure hook set is hard to achieve.

Last fly, last run, last light (Steve Dally photo).

That’s fishing.

Nope I didn’t come away with a pic of “The April Vokey” holding a big brown, but Bec and I had a really cool couple of days fishing, yakking and laughing with April, Colby (her St. Bernard/Coonhound cross), and her friends Adam, Phil and Dalt.

It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s a tower of midges!?

Do you have any idea how many of those got stuck in my lip gloss?

There’s always a shot at another big fish-  oh yeh she’s coming back and we are due, but kindred spirits are a greater treasure.

Steve Dally
________________________________________________________

Thanks Steve!  We love you and Becca too!

I will be teaming with Steve and the Mountain River Fly Shop to put on a ladies learn to fly cast workshop on October 10th and 11th.  I will also be at the Arkansas Conclave Oct 2, 3, 4.
Stay tuned or contact me for further details.

For regular blogs by Steve, check out splasheswithfishes.wordpress.com
And for regular reports on the White and the Mountain River Fly Shop, check out mountainriverjournal.wordpress.com

Special thanks to Gary Flippin for letting us borrow his boat rimshoals.com

I remember the first email I ever exchanged with Icelander, Rafn Valur Alfreðsson.

I couldn’t pronounce his name, and I certainly couldn’t pronounce his river, but the rest of the text was clear.

April, my name is Rafn Alfreðsson and I run a lodge on the river Midfjardará.  We would like you to come to Iceland to put on a women’s school in June next year, are you interested?

Iceland is famous for it’s incredible scenery and world renowned Atlantic salmon fishing…..Of course I was interested.

The lower and flatter half of the “Midi”.

The deal was simple……  Eight days, four of which were my own personal fishing days and four of which were to be spent instructing, guiding and laughing with twenty-four lady anglers from around the country.

The school was to take place on the third week of June, making fishing tricky, as June 19th had been opening day and the fish were scarce.

The commute from Oklahoma to Iceland was an interesting one to say the least.  I was traveling alone, at times feeling like a contestant from the Amazing Race.
Connections, insanely lengthy layovers, and underground trains to off-map terminals kept my tired eyes alert, testing my navigational skills.

Finally, I settled into the cozy seats of Iceland Air.

Nearly 24 hours later, the breathtaking view of the Atlantic Ocean kissing Iceland’s green fields filled my window and our plane descended.

It was obvious I was in a foreign country.  The toilets flushed differently, the electrical sockets were funny looking, and the language surrounding me was one of a kind; quite literally.  (Icelander’s have their own language and even their own letters.)
Try pronouncing one of their words one day….make sure there’s no one in front of you, ‘cuz they’re bound to get wet.

My guides name was Jonni (pronounced Yonni).
A quiet, reserved, handsome, early forties, local, Jonni had woken up early to be at the airport for 6am.
(Side note:  During these months, Iceland doesn’t get the slightest bit of dark even once throughout the evening!  There’s something strange about being able to get a sun tan at 3 o’clock in the morning….This said, they have set fishing rules, and it is illegal to fish past a certain hour at night).

Jonni’s face said it all; ‘it’s opening day on the Midfjardará and I’m stuck here picking up some high maintenance, over hyped blonde chick….’

Yup…..this one.  (Photo by Larus Halldorsson.)

Jonni didn’t know it yet, but we were about to become extremely dear friends.

Jonni you’re a babe!!  I miss you buddy…… (Vokey photo.)

The truck ride to the river was two hours long and I hit Jonni with 1001 questions.  This was the most beautiful country I had ever seen!

Ocean view, volcanoes, rolling hills, gin clear water and picture perfect waterfalls told me that if the fish were as beautiful as their surroundings, that I had found heaven.

Cliff top view of the “Midi”.  (April Vokey photo.)

We headed straight for the river in true Vokey all-nighter fashion.  Man, I’m starting to get too old for this whole live without sleep thing…..

The first run we hit up was a flat, steady flowing piece of water that required no more than a short roll cast.  Our flies were small and everything that I had imagined fishing for Atlantics would be.

‘Oooooh so romantic!’  I squealed to myself.

The “blue box”…

Arriving at the run.  (Vokey photo.)

Cast, strip, cast, strip, I worked the run and moved step by step through the pool.

The run widened and my casts lengthened.
I cast, adjusted my footing, and then looked back at Jonni to ask him question #1002.
His eyes almost popped out of his head; he was looking straight past me.
Idiot girl had missed a nice sized salmon splashing at her fly.

“Damn!!!”  (The censored version).  There was no need to be disgusted though, for Jonni was disgusted enough for the both of us.
He shook his head and looked down.

Great start.

I tried at that fish for another ten minutes before Jonni took the rod from my hands.

Three casts and his rod was doubled over with the perfect specimen of a fish jumping on the other end.

Bastard.

My, uh I mean, Jonni’s first salmon of the season.  (April Vokey photo.)

The day went on and we hit countless other pools.  Every so often I’d close my eyes to take it all in….I was in Iceland!
For me, this was a dream come true.

Our rig.  (Vokey photo.)

Near the end of the day we hit a long run, and I cast into the head of the pool.
I recognized pools like this one from the steelhead rivers in BC.

I cast.  Only this time instead of stripping, I let my steelhead instincts set in and prepared to let my fly swing through.

“Oh my God, this run is money”, I said to Jonni, anticipating a tug.

Sure enough, a large mouth broke the surface and my small black fly was engulfed by a magnificent fish!
I raised the rod tip and prepared to battle.
It jumped, ran, splashed and turned for close to twenty minutes.
I was getting my ass kicked!!!

Eventually I landed my first Atlantic Salmon.  My God, it was beautiful!  Chrome and spotted with sea lice, it was one of the most magnificent fish I had ever seen.

Yay!  First Atlantic ever!  (Jonni Birgisson photo.)

It was well worth waiting for.

When I first started fly-fishing, there was a perception that I held in my head.  When I would close my eyes and envision the epitome of why I was so drawn to the sport, I would imagine a romantic stream, with cascading waterfalls, classic flies, floating lines, tight loops, and flawless silver fish.

Flawless…. (photo by Helgi Gudbrandsson)

Casting at holding fish beneath the falls.  Can you believe we actually caught fish in here!?

Iceland was everything I dreamt fly-fishing would be.

Oh so cute (Jonni Birgisson photo.)

Soon, the ladies arrived from various towns around Iceland; every one of them excited to learn and have a shot at a fly-caught Atlantic salmon.

I’ll let several pictures speak for themselves……

Ape with a glowing angler (photo by Helgi Gudbrandsson.)

Ready for release (photo by Helgi Gudbrandsson).

This fish made this lady work for it! (Photo by Helgi Gudbrandsson)

Fishing with style (photo by Helgi Gudbrandsson.)

Iceland was one of the most mind blowing trips that I have ever taken and if I could preach to somebody loud enough that this is a MUST TAKE trip, I would shout it as obnoxiously as an old-school click pawl reel.

The guides (when they weren’t beating on me in a brotherly sort of way), the food, the lodging, the scenery, and the fishing (during the months of July and August, it isn’t irregular to have 50+ fish days) far exceeded any of my expectations.

The trip’s not cheap, but if you sub your next two trips with this one, I can promise you that it will be more than worth it.

For more info on booking a trip visit http://www.fhd.is/

For so many fresh water anglers, this is the reason we started fly-fishing in the first place, so why on Earth wouldn’t you try to revitalize that passion….

Think about it,

Ape.

(Stay posted for a published article with more details on this trip.)

I was a Girl Guide for nine years (for those of you from the US, a ‘Girl Guide’ is the Canadian equivalent to being a Girl Scout).

I graduated from three years of Brownies, to three years of Guides, to three years of Pathfinders; gradually stepping up the Girl Guide chain, learning cool tricks about camping, wildlife, survival and countless other subjects.

When I was done my nine years?  Hell, I went and helped to lead the little ones by being the “cool” Girl Guide leader amongst the Moms and the Grandmas (who believe it or not, were pretty darn cool themselves).
I still think that to date, I am the only “responsible role model” in girl guide history to sneak candy into the bunks and give the kids a sugar high so as to keep camp interesting….

So, when my Aunt (still an active leader) made mention of me teaming with Girl Guides of Canada to help educate the young ladies about fly-fishing and the environment, you know I couldn’t resist.
After all, I remember how good those badges felt when Mom ironed them to my scarf.
If I could help these girls with some outdoor skills, I was all over it.

A happy brownie clinging to her Mom…I worked my ass off for those badges!

So, there we were several months later, myself and good friend Adrienne Comeau, heading to Girl Guide meeting headquarters to give twenty-five eight year old girls lessons on fly casting, conservation, flies and safety.
It was a wee bit nerve-wracking.

The girls were hyper, and Ade and I fiddled nervously as they whipped our expensive fly rods through the air.
“Deep breaths…”  I smiled at her and headed upstairs to begin the classroom session with the first half of the group.

Our group of little ladies (photo blurred for privacy purposes).

There they were; a dozen of them surrounding me at a table in an old conference room, and they were as antsy as the night I played the Easter Bunny in the bunkhouse years earlier.
Hmmm.  Karma sucks.

Regardless, I quickly discarded my carefully formulated plan to educate them classroom style, as it was evident that their attention spans were about as wide as the wings of a sparrow.
They shouted over each other, each of them trying to be louder than the last.
“Hey, hey, hey!”  Me, trying to sound grown up… “Ladies, put your hands up if you’d like to be heard.”

A dozen hands shot up towards the ceiling and stretched as if trying to dislocate their arms.
One at a time, I listened to what each of them had to say.  What I heard was truly an eye opener…

“My Dad”, in short, unsure, gaspy breaths, “My Dad he goes fishing all the time with my Uncle Bob…..”

“My Grandpa, he loves fishing!  He goes every summer to…..”

“Well, my Dad, he’s a great fisherman!  He takes a trip every year to…”

One after the other, each and every girl had a male role model in their life who in some way, shape or form, had the fishing bug.

Ironically, the girls all shared yet another surprising characteristic.
Every one of them was eager to go with their Dads/Grandpas/Uncles, but simply didn’t know how to go about doing so.

That same night, twenty-five eight year old girls went home bugging that male role model to take them fishing.

Little Emma Cortes with her proud Dad (rightfully so!)  Adrian Cortes photo.

So Daddy, if you don’t already, ask her if she may be interested in joining you.  Show her pictures of other girls angling!  Show her that she can too!  If for nothing else, than to simply boost her confidence.
Let her know while she’s young that she can do whatever she puts her mind to!

Danika Rodgers casting a tight loop as proud Dad, Jamie, snaps a picture.  This kids the real deal!

Yes, you may lose a rod tip (as I so painfully experienced that same evening), and yes you may gain a migraine (as I so amusedly watched Adrienne endure), but you may just develop the best little fishing buddy a guy could have.
And really, does it get much better than that?

Get on it!
Ape.

The Steelhead season.

It never can come too early for the hardcore steelhead bum.  I wrote this little piece last year after an epic six week trip to BC’s interior and thought I would share.

Cheers to BC steelhead!

Cheers!  (April Vokey photo).

The Golden Valley

Whoever said that “running away from a problem is not the solution”, obviously never ran far enough away.  Either that, or he was the asshole that was being run from.

Running was exactly what I was doing.  Months of suffering from the common fisherman’s discomfort otherwise known as the “relationship migraine”, combined with other headaches courtesy of web designers, employers, and an over crowded house had all driven me to a near breaking point.

I packed my duffle, waders and Spey rod and met my two most reliable fishing buddies, my Water Master raft and my Toyota 4×4, outside in my driveway.
“Off we go boys….”
I didn’t know exactly where we were going, but I knew it was somewhere far up north to B.C.’s interior where wild Skeena steelhead were plentiful and equally as feisty as me.

The Skeena River is the second largest river in British Columbia and is one of the most famous Steelhead systems in the world.  The Bulkley, Morice, Kispiox, Copper…. the list of tributaries seems endless and an unusually warm October was bringing some of the best fishing the Bulkley River (a mid sized river flowing through the small town of Smithers) had seen in years.

The Bulkley River on an October evening.  (April Vokey photo)

A healthy gas station diet of energy drinks, chocolate, and beef jerky made the fourteen-hour drive to Smithers pass quickly, and the large statue of an old-school fisherman confirmed that I had reached my destination.   The autumn trees swayed gently in the breeze, shaking loose their colourful leaves and creating a highway of gold.   A snowy white mountain shone in the distance, lighting up the blue sky, easing my mind and ridding me of any negative energy; my emotional detox had begun.

Apparently the memo about the hot fishing had spread like an infectious plague throughout the tackle shops and fishing forum community.  Fortunately, word had also spread to a majority of my “not so well-behaved” fishing friends who had opted to make the trip at the same time.  It looked like my three-week vacation was about to take an unexpected, yet far more entertaining, turn.

Some of the usual suspects…….

Tattooed Dave Allen

Tommy Thompson

James Whalen

Aaron Goodis

Scott Baker McGarva

Brian Niska

…….To name but a few.

Drift boats, jet boats, and anglers from all around the world (ones that actually wake up for first light) made fishing…tricky.  There was no need to panic, however, as this dilemma was easily remedied by applying a strategy common to many of us B.C. natives.

We launched our boats at unknown take-outs, fished runs and pockets that most anglers rowed over, fished behind steelhead first timers and, my personal favourite, slept in and let the eager rush push through.

Locked and loaded in the Fly Gal rig.

The fishing had begun to slow down, but it didn’t really matter to any of us.  Between the sun, friendship, quiet drifts, and a decent supply of uplifting B.C. greenery, I had long forgotten about the stresses that were probably multiplying back at the home front.  It was perfect!

The boys sharing a pontoon.  Yup, they actually did the entire float sharing one boat.  Suicidal…

Anyone who has ever visited the small town of Smithers understands that “small” is an understatement.  So, it should have come as no surprise that when I foolishly agreed to participate in a “night out on the town”, we ended up in a tiny strip joint that even the locals opted to stay away from.

Exhausted from a day of rowing and fishing, I faded in and out of focus, catching brief clips of the standard fishermen b.s. and glimpses of a very naked blonde dancer.
I chuckled to myself.  Standing beside my fifteen-foot Spey rod with my blonde hair and long fake nails, I could quite easily pass as one those girls.  Perhaps this is how rumours get started…. Uh oh…. I promptly stopped chuckling and dyed my hair brown the following week.

The next day, I hit the river with good friend, Aaron Goodis.  Fishing with Aaron always makes for an enjoyable day even if the fishing is on lockdown.  Just watching Aaron cast puts a smile on my face every time.

We dropped his truck off at our pullout, loaded into my pickup and headed up river. At the small launch, we pumped up our boats, wadered up, secured our fly rods and set out into the current.  The sky was blue and the water was just the right color.  All the early risers had already pushed through and we had the river to ourselves.  I sat back and closed my eyes, listening to the sweet sound of chirping birds and…hissing air!!?

“Damn it!”  I cursed.  Somehow, in a state of idiocy, I had managed to put a fair-sized hole in the bottom of my raft and it was blowing bubbles like unwelcome farts in an oversized bathtub.  “Great!”  I muttered countless obscenities and rowed into shore.  My raft was leaking badly and in need of immediate repair.

Aaron and I found a roll of electrical tape and wound it around the chamber until the hissing stopped.  Miraculously, it held and we continued our search for chrome bars.
Although daylight was fading fast, neither of us had hooked a steelhead yet.  How could fish not be here!?  With no fish looking to battle, Aaron’s tight loops had provided the best entertainment of the day.

Note the electrical tape.  She was wounded, but floating, and that was all that mattered.

Every day, the fishing seemed to dwindle a little more than the last.  Though everyone was having a good time between the scenery, camaraderie, and occasional recycling of road kill, I was itching to play with some steel.  My girl Kateri had mentioned that the fishing in her neck of the woods looked promising, so several of us packed up and headed her way towards the Kispiox Valley.

No need to waste (Dave Allen photo).

Ross, a friend of ours, has an A-frame cabin that is located directly on the river in the Kispiox Valley.  The cabin comfortably houses six people and several menacing mice.  Ross is one of those guys that, although everyone knows his name, no one knows his age.  The epitome of a fishing bum (and bachelor), eight months out of the year he disappears into thin air, reappearing when (and only when) steelhead season rolls around.

Oh Ross; Why must you torture me so?  (April Vokey photo)

Although it was only eight in the evening when we arrived, Ross and fellow fishing bum, Doug Wiseman, were sound asleep.  Unsure as to whether they were so tired as a result of fishing too much or as a result of old age (this is what he gets for withholding that information), we made the unanimous decision that it was far too early for sleeping.  We threw down our bags, flicked on the lights and counted out pennies, preparing for a poker game.  All it took was the sound of shuffling cards and, wouldn’t you know it, the two of them were up and ready to play.

The next week flew by.  Fishing picked up again and I found myself increasingly thumbing through the local paper, checking out available real estate.  I was enjoying one of the best fishing trips of my life and was not ready for it to come to an end.

Dirty truck for a dirty boy (Mr.Gladstone).  I couldn’t help myself…

Challenged to a push up contest, and you know I had to take it.  You still owe me $20.00 Niska!

Unfortunately, falling snow, an empty bank account, and a full mailbox told me that it was time to head home, so I packed up the truck and hit the freeway, driving back to reality.

My stay in Smithers provided me with the three things that every fishing trip should deliver – tranquility, excitement and ever-lasting memories.  True, I had some serious emails to catch up on and, yes I had a lot of making up to do with my guy, but I’d do it all over again in the blink of an eye.  I had taken the time to ground myself, and as a result, came back an energized, relaxed, and appreciative woman.  It was a refreshing and much needed break.

So, while some may say that I was running away from my problems, I prefer to say that I was running towards a solution.  A solution that just so happened to include giant steelhead.  How can anybody argue that?

Just a quick reminder that if you haven’t booked a spot for our Women’s Weekend Retreat on September 19th and 20th, there are several spots still available.

Check out the May 12th blog for more info.

I suppose it was only a matter of time before I tried my luck at the Great Lake Steelhead.

Good friend Paul Castellano with Cast Adventures (www.castadventures.ca), a guide on the Niagara River in Ontario, had been busting my chops for the past year, trying to rid me of my wild steelhead snobbery to give his fishery a try.

Castellano with a nice Niagara River Steelhead.

I’d always wanted to see the Niagara River; it’s monster rapids and multitude of species intrigued me, so it didn’t take too much persuasion when it came time to choose a destination for an episode of Fly Nation.

Never would I have imagined that I was about to witness one of the most incredible rivers I had ever seen…..

The pictures of Niagara Falls truly do not give it justice.  It’s bright blue water, and majestic water falls leave me at a loss of words (yup, that‘s actually possible).

I had two missions on this trip.
1)  Catch Great Lake steel using West Coast swinging tactics.
2)  Get my casting certification (CCI) at the Spey Clave that was being held that weekend.

On the first day, Castellano brought us to a magnificent fishing spot.  Like a scene fresh out of Jurassic Park, the water swirled in a dangerous pool and the lush green brush cascaded down towering rock walls.  It was incredible.

Truly spectacular.

It was hard to get a swing with the ever changing water levels and deep swirling water, and it soon was clear to me why I was the only knob at the pool with a Spey rod and sink tip.
Indicators, glo-bugs and split shot seemed to be more of the theme here…..
Damn.

Stubborn as all hell……Tying streamers when I should have been tying……

……These!  (Josh Nugent photos)

The East Coasters put on a clinic!  I couldn’t believe how many fish these guys brought to the beach.
It was evident why Castellano was said to be one of the top guides on the river.

The next day, Castellano loaded us into his boat, and we hit the river again.  I was determined to get one on the swing.
An hour, two split shot, and an interesting snake roll off the bow of the boat later, I had finally hooked and landed my first Great Lake steelhead caught on a swinging fly.  It was awesome!

It’s on!  Swing vs. drift…. (Naoto Aoki photo)

The highlight of my trip though?  Freakin’ carp!!!
Never did I think seeing a carp would have me fumbling so bad that I’d forget how to cast, but a school of 40+ pounders did exactly that.
I wasn’t able to hook one, but you can be damn sure that I tried!

With mission one accomplished, it was off to the Grand River Spey Clave.
I’d spent the entire week sweating bullets, as I had registered to take my CCI exam through the Federation Of Fly Fishers.
Friend and fellow angler Neil Houlding had opened his home to me and had spent the evening helping to keep me relaxed and confident.  But with Simon Gawesworth as one of my testers, it was hard not to be nervous.  Blowing head winds, a crowded park, and rolling cameras didn’t do much to help my nerves either.

Almost four hours later I passed my exam.  (Sigh of relief….)
A swig of whiskey with Gawesworth and a celebratory dinner with the guys ended my trip with a bang and, before I knew it, I was on a flight out of town.

The steelhead got my respect and the anglers got my attention, but it was the Niagara that got my heart and the Niagara that will keep me coming back.

Yeah.  The whole fishing show thing never really much did it for me.

Standing like a dork beside another angler, asking questions I already knew the answers to, shaking my head like a bimbo, all the while making sure the light was hitting my face at the right angle……  No thanks.

In a television world starved for independent women who “brave the harsh conditions of a man’s world”, women (whether they be legitimate or trained to look as though they are), are highly sought after to be the face of television, posters, magazines, and everything in between.

This said, I would hope that no one hears any ego in my words when I write that I’ve been offered a show or two throughout the course of my angling career.

See, the truth is, I couldn’t fathom being the girl to contribute yet another painful fishing show to the networks.  Host oriented and, often times ego driven, I opted to stick to guiding and writing the occasional magazine article, focusing mostly on morals and conservation.  I had no desire to be the star of a series.

Faces and casts like these simply don’t belong in show biz….. (Yos Gladstone photo).

Then things changed.  Nick Pujic of the Canadian Fly Fisher magazine and I had a sit down on a rainy night during one of his short visits to BC.

Fishing television and its unfortunate demise somehow became the subject of our conversation.  I made reference to the agony sitting through most episodes caused me and he laughed in agreeance.  That was all it took.  As usual when the two of us are paired together, we got to thinking….

What if we had a show where there was no star?  No dialogue even!?  What if we could capture the experience on tape?  Just straight up, hard-core fishing buddies who fished their asses off to funky music, delivering authentic fish porn to the viewers.  No nonsense, no fluff, no lessons, no eye-rolling endorsements.  Simply 100% pure fly-fishing.

The result?  Fly Max Films was born and Nick (and co-partner Paul Langford) created a monster.  www.flymaxfilms.com

As the years have passed, Fly Max has added anglers (upwards of 50 now), adventures, episodes and way cooler cameras to the list.  The show is a success on WFN (The World Fishing Network), and is a breath of fresh air from the standard fishing shows.

But, I still envisioned more……

So, on yet another late night, only this time in Denver, Nick and I sat down to brainstorm.  I had an idea to do a show that captured personality, education, travel, and most importantly, a no-frills/no- gimmicks experience.

Nick pondered the idea, and took some time to think about it.  He’s quite possibly the busiest man I know, and I felt awful asking him to take on yet another project….

But true to his workaholic nature, he took the bull by the horns and has teamed with myself, Naoto Aoki, Paul Castellano, Paul Langford and cameraman Tim Myers to create a new and unique show called Fly Nation.

Ape and fellow angler, Naoto Aoki, playing with rods before hitting the river to film.

We’re filming Fly Nation this year, and will be airing in 2010.  Networks will be announced and adventures will be shared…..

Puj gearing up (Josh Nugent photo).

The first load of several (Josh Nugent photo).

April booting up (Josh Nugent photo).

It’s going to be an interesting journey and we would love to be able to share it with you!

Hope to see you on the water,

Ape.

My, keeping a blog can fall behind quite easily…..

Here’s a quick look at the past month to try and get us caught up to present date.

Our Spey clinic went fabulous!  Instructor Aaron Goodis and myself were blessed with some truly awesome students who made us each proud as they departed……

Day one’s group paying close attention to Aaron’s demo.

Taking a break and getting ready to enjoy a BBQ lunch.

Even Colby had to take a lunch break.

The crew.

After a full weekend of Spey casting on the river, a day of fishing in a nearby interior lake was starting to sound pretty darn good….

The weather had been hot and there was rumor of the lakes icing off.  So I packed my Spratley and chironomid box, excited to spend the day with my best friend; a man that has been by my side through and through, Matt Moisley.

Matt is quite possibly the most unbelievable still water angler I have ever met.  If you see this guy on the water, pay close attention.  You may just learn a thing or two…..

Yup….This one goes waaayyy back.

First lake of the season!

C’mon girl, you can do it!

Wimp.

The fishing was surprisingly good (though it was more of a quantity vs. quality sort of day).

Cute little guy…..

The chironomid buffet.

Another feisty bow.

Wow.  Such a loser.

From here, it was off to Oklahoma (don’t ask).  It wasn’t in my plans to do any fishing while I was there, but when offered the opportunity to slay some large mouth in a small pond, you know I couldn’t resist!

Poppers and hooker boots, I was supposed to be going out for dinner, so it’s fair to say that I wasn’t dressed for the occasion.  Damn near fell out of the boat trying to land this one!

Large Mouth on a popper.  What a blast!  (Randy Imel photo)

From here it was off to Terrace to try our luck at some steel and fresh chrome.

My dear friend Andrea had never caught a steelhead before and I just had to pop her cherry, so I invited her along to join me for the sixteen hour drive.

We laughed and sang the whole way up North, eager to hang out with good friend Rob Vodola who lived close by to the Kitimat river.

Rob’s one of those guys who’ll put a smile on your face even when you feel like drowning the rest the world.

The fishing ended up being incredibly slow, but the entertainment was anything but that.  Andrea ended up getting her first steelhead, and though it wasn’t on the fly rod, it made my trip!

Bringing a whole new meaning to ‘Fly Gal’.  This is what 16 hours of highway will bring ya….(April Vokey photo).

Loading up!

Mission accomplished!  (Noel Gyger photo)

Rob working the jet (April Vokey photo).

Ummmm, I think somebody stole my spot.  (Rob Vodola photo)

(April Vokey photo)

So I gave BC a quick kiss goodbye and hopped on a flight to…..Arkansas!

I’m still currently hangin’ in Deliverance country and must admit that it is quite intriguing!  Armadillos, boars, tarantulas, ticks (never did I think I would have to endure nightly checks for ticks!), and road kill decorating the highways like no state I have ever seen…..

There’s more to come on this, as I have a feeling I’ll be kicking it here for most of my summer.

An Arkansas trout.

A little critter I rescued from the roadkill central highway and placed out of harms way (April Vokey photo).

So, there you have it.  Caught up with this blogging thing!  Stay tuned for some new updates, opinions and adventures.

Squeal like a pig!

Ape.