Exploring and Adapting In The BC Outback Photos & Story By: Nick Pujic Reprinted with permission from The Canadian Fly Fisher Magazine August / October 2007 - Vol.9 Iss.3

Canadian winters can be hard on the fly fishing addict. It was the middle of February. That meant that where I live in eastern Ontario, the rivers were frozen and ice huts had replaced boats on the lakes. I was getting desperate. Then came the phone call.

“We leave on the 3rd of March. Are you in?”
It was Paul Marier, operator of Powell River Outback Adventures, whom I’d met at a show in Calgary earlier that month. e’d tantalized me then with his stories of monster cutthroat, rainbows, and bull trout in barely accessible rivers of the coastal range. Now, here he was inviting me to experience it for myself—and not only a couple of days by 4x4 in the back country, but the promise of a couple of days exploring remote wilderness rivers by helicopter to boot.
You bet I was in!

It wasn’t too hard finding two more people to fill up the group: good friend Paul Langford from my home town and April Vokey, West Coast Field Editor for The Canadian Fly Fisher. Neither Paul nor I had fished mainland BC before. On the other hand, April is an experienced fly fisher and BC guide as well as a Spey caster—just what Paul and I needed to help us adapt to what promised to be challenging and unfamiliar waters.

Four Wheeling for elusive steel packed with more fishing and camera gear than clothes, we watched as our over-sized luggage was loaded on a small commuter plane which would take us from Vancouver’s south terminal to our base for the expedition, the Oceanside Resort in Powell River, some four hours north along the scenic Sunshine Coast. On the flight, as we passed over the mountains of the Coastal Range, the ocean, and countless rivers and lakes, our anticipation peaked—after two weeks of running on adrenaline we were finally only hours away from wetting a line!

First on our list of venues was a “small” (small, that is, by Eastern Ontario standards) steelhead creek running just North of Powell River, reachable only by a teeth-chattering and at times gut wrenching hour long 4x4 truck ride. As we got closer, the road got even worse. Entire sections of it had eroded, as logging companies, which no longer used the roads, had removed culverts and drainage pipes. However, Paul knew exactly what had to be done and, judging by the brush bar on his Land Cruiser, he had done it many times before. Finally, with the truck pulled over at what seemed to be a random spot along the logging road, we headed on foot through the rain forest towards the sound of rushing water, fly rods in hand.

As we pushed through the last of the trees we emerged on the edge of a stunning 30-foot cataract. There was a calm pool immediately above it.

“Try drifting up there, there are fish that make it up that,” Paul yelled over the roar of the water.
Unbelievable!
Although we spent an entire afternoon exploring this intimate gem of a creek, we had only a few takes from resident cutthroat, and there were no signs at all of the elusive West Coast steelhead. But, whatever. C’est la vie! It was good just to be in above-zero temperatures and in a river without icebergs floating by. And while the truck gradually wove its way back onto paved roads, I immersed myself in the anticipation of our helicopter trip into the real wilderness the following morning.

River Hopping

We didn’t need an alarm to wake us up. Paul, April and I were set to go long before the sun rose—waders and all, waiting for Paul and one of his guides, Patches, to lead us to the heli-pad. After years of dreaming about heli-fishing, today was the day it was finally going to happen. A shot of Gravol and some Pepto for the road, and we were on our way. At 7am, we arrived at the Powell River helicopter base and met our pilot, Ben. The 70 km per hour winds and Weather Network storm warnings didn’t seem to bother him. Another shot of Gravol went down, just in case.

Engines rumbling, our entire bodies vibrating, the six passenger Jet Ranger took off. Unreal. Never before had I flown sideways without having to fly forward. Quite a feeling. As the helicopter climbed over towering mountains, we caught our first glimpse of glacial rivers in the distance. We plunged into the
steep valleys and canyons they had carved through the mountains, their water a surreal aqua blue, reminiscent of Scope mouthwash. There were no roads or cars, dams, boats—only pure, untouched wilderness.

One of the many advantages of a helicopter is its capacity for hovering above a churning corner pool on a glacial river in order to spot fish. Without a doubt, if it weren’t for the astronomical cost of helicopter ownership, one would be on every fly fisher’s Christmas wish list, right after polarized glasses. Having
a helicopter on call must be the most effective and flexible way to fish a remote river system.

Ben, who by now had become one of the group and had even agreed to fish with us, made our first landing on a snowcovered spit of gravel which divided the river into two channels. Crouching down to avoid the still turning blades, we carefully set up our rods and prepared to fish. Within mere minutes of wetting a line I was onto my first fish of the trip...a healthy 20” rainbow with shoulders! The next cast produced a 21” cutthroat, which seemed to fight even harder. I thought to myself, “Seems like a bit of ol’ Ontario has a place in BC after all.” Then I heard Paul upstream yelling—sounded like he was into a fish as well. As I looked to check, there was April, halfway between us. Her 14’ Spey rod was doubled over—I knew instinctively that it was going to be a red letter day.

Instead of heading back to Powell River for the night, Paul Merrier had arranged for us to stay at a unique, completely self-sustained logging camp at the base of an icefield. Not only was the camp clean and comfortable, but the tastes and sounds of a hearty, homecooked meal were just the remedy after a full day out in the rain. Even Ben, our pilot (and one heck of a fly caster), camped out with us, leaving the helicopter only yards away from our cabins for the night so no time would be wasted in the morning.

Over the course of two full days spent exploring remote stretches of British Columbia’s glacial rivers, our success varied from moderate to good, despite no prior experience fishing under these circumstances. Our biggest challenge was of course BC’s typical weather patterns which kept us dealing with rain for all but an hour or so of our mountain experience (see rule #1).

Those Who Travel, Must Adapt!

Our group was very diverse, and through the trip we found ourselves comparing notes on how we all had to adapt our techniques. Living in Ontario, Paul and myself were mostly familiar with drifting techniques, primarily honed on the banks of tiny Eastern Ontario steelhead rivers, where a perfect dead drift was sometimes the only way to entice wary steelhead. On the other end of our spectrum, April Vokey, who is most accustomed to two-handed Spey swinging and stripping strategies, brought a whole new perspective to us single-hand fly fishers. But regardless of the differences in our weapons of choice, all of us had to adapt, as we found that the bulls, dollies, rainbows and cutties would only reveal their presence when a fly was swung deep through the gut of the pool, then retrieved back through the fast water in short, 2 to 3-inch strips.

Back in Powell River

Soaked, tired and still smiling, we said goodbye to the special places we had encountered on our two-day helicopter saga and headed back to the Oceanside Resort, eager to stoke the fire, tip back a few celebratory brews, and reminisce as we looked through our digital pictures. But with the heli-fishing behind us, we were able to shift our focus to an expedition the following day to fish for the legendary trophy cutthroat trout in nearby mountain lakes, rumored to be bigger than anywhere else.

Biggest Cutthroat in the World?

Maybe! Biggest cutthroat in Canada? Absolutely! When most fly fishers think of cutthroat trout, they imagine a clear stream with 12” to 20” fish rising to #16 dry flies in gin-clear water. Even the largest cuttie I remember seeing in any fly fishing publication was barely over 3 pounds. But, that isn’t the case when you go fishing with Paul Merrier and Patches, his right-hand guide. After yet another exciting 4x4 ride up a mountainside, this time with a 12’ aluminum boat strapped to the roof of the Land Cruiser,
we arrived at one of Paul’s favourite lakes. Pretty spot…nice scenery. What was even more interesting was that this lake was connected to a slow moving outlet which connected an entire series of lakes together like a daisy chain. Better still, monster (and I do mean “monster”) cutthroat trout, which had migrated to the sloughs a few months previously for their annual spawning festivities, had not yet moved back to the deeper water of the lakes as water temperatures were still fairly cold. From 20 feet away, they were highly visible—and, Paul had not exaggerated, they were big. In fact, they were huge, almost steelhead size!

But nature wasn’t going to make it easy for us. As we spread out and focused on presenting a school of trophy cutties with a selection of flies, the sun disappeared behind yet another cluster of rain clouds. Visibility deteriorated. The water was gin clear, but between the wind and torrential rain it was hard to
know where the fish were, whether they were following or if they’d been spooked.

What to do? Keep casting! Strip, strip, strip…nothing. Wait, was that a nudge? Can’t tell. Cast again, drift, swing…strip…strip… Then—a triumphant cheer sounded above the clamour of the wind and rain. April was into a big one! Immediately our attention shifted to landing whatever she’d connected with, peeling out line with a vengeance. The fish broke water—a mind-boggling male cutthroat showing his flank in his struggle to get off. We did a quick measurement before releasing him—25 inches, pushing seven pounds, but we saw much bigger fish, maybe double figures. What a way to cap off an already fantastic trip!

Pack Up!

Rule #1—always pack your rain gear and some warm clothes! If you only pack shorts, it’ll snow. If you forget the rain gear, you can bet on it pouring—especially in BC. During our trip we experienced both! The last thing you want is to be sitting watching your buddies catch all the fish because you’re soaked,
cold and shaking like a leaf.

The Helicopter Advantage

During our two day heli-fishing excursion, Mother Nature shared her love through rain more often than sunshine. This meant that on the lower elevations of rivers water clarity would decrease due to rushing runoff. However, what would often be a trip-ender for many fly fishers in blow-out conditions, is easily remedied when you have a helicopter at your disposal, enabling you to fly upstream a few kilometers until you’ve passed enough feeder streams and the water clarity is better. Moreover, many glacial rivers, including the two watersheds we fished north of Powell River, do not have any road access—or, for
that matter, any roads within 100 km. Short of a week-long driftboat excursion down the entire river, it’s simply impossible to access the same waters which a helicopter can make available in less than a day.

Equipment

Relatively speaking, British Columbia’s waters are generally clear, making a selection of fluorocarbon leaders and tippets ranging from 8 lb through 4 lb test a good bet. Leaders can most often times be kept
to 9’ or shorter, unless stillwater chironomiding is on your agenda, in which case you’ll need to bring longer leaders and a clear tip. A sink tip wallet, with 4’ through 10’ intermediate to fast sinking tips is also very useful for larger rivers; although small shot can suffice in a pinch. If angling rivers when the only fish there are trout (mostly in late winter through midsummer), a 6 or 7wt, 9’ single-handed rod is all that is needed. However, a 6/7 or 7/8 Spey can be just as deadly, if not more.

Contact Information

Perhaps the only aspect of this trip which could rival the fishing and adventure was the surprisingly low price tag! For four full days of fishing (one spent off-roading, two in a helicopter, and the fourth on the cutthroat lakes), meals, and very comfortable accommodations, the damage came in at just over $2,500 per person (based on 4 people). That’s not bad when you consider the typical price tag of anything involving a helicopter. If you don’t have a full four days to get away, Powell River Outback Adventures can customize an adventure just for you, from a single day to a full week of off-roading, helifishing, or a combination. Powell River Outback Adventures http://www.bcoutback.ca/ 1-866-449-HELI