Story and Photography By Mark Hume It is called Peter Hopeless, because it is a lake that breaks the will of fly fishermen. The stories of its big trout are legendary, and whenever you fish there you will see them. At some time, during a day of a thousand fruitless casts, a big trout will shoulder out of the water near your boat, taking down a May fly with a surge of power that leaves you shaken. You turn, see the head and back going down, leaving a sucking hole on the surface. Just when you were about to quit, an 8 lb trout, feeding like a hog. Of course you stay out casting for another three hours. And just as you give up and start to row back to the cabin, a big trout jumps, right where you were casting. So you stand on the porch. Waiting for the evening calm to fall. Nobody wants to drink much because you know you will need your wits about you. “I saw such a big fish,” someone says. The others nod in silence. They are out there alright. Perhaps it’s not so hopeless after all. Peterhope Lake is located just outside Merritt, about a three hour drive from Vancouver, in southeastern British Columbia. It has painfully clear water, and shallow flats where you can see big trout cruising in the evening. It has weed beds, where you can see trout rattling the plant stems to dislodge damsel fly nymphs that are crawling up into the air to shed their skin. Sometimes, when you get the timing just right, you will see travelling sedges scurrying across the surface, until, WHAP, they disappear in an explosion of water. Often you won’t see any fish. And at the...

Story and photography by Bob Salisbury In my part of County Tyrone, in Northern Ireland, there are a wealth of small rivers and streams which eventually drain into the Foyle system by way of the rivers Strule and Mourne. These water courses have, in places, open stretches where the stream is easily accessible as it meanders slowly through pasture land, but in others, are lined with over arching alders and willows which make casting a fly much more challenging. They generally contain surprising numbers of wild brown trout, but even more surprising is that very few anglers seem to fish for them. True, that on either side of the stone bridges, in the places where a car can be parked and the river is accessible, the trodden grass shows evidence of some fishermen visiting the river, but go a few hundred yards down or up stream and the vegetation is unmarked and it is clear that no one has recently walked the banks. Knowing that you are the first angler to explore the river that season is pure joy and a real privilege, but the thing which really sets the heart beating is the realisation that none of the trout in that section of the river will seldom, if ever, have seen an artificial fly. The Strule and the Mourne are good salmon and sea trout rivers and most local anglers concentrate on catching these magnificent migratory fish from the main river once the season starts. Small tributary streams are largely left undisturbed until autumn when the fish are moving further upstream to their spawning grounds and the odd salmon can then be found in some of the deeper holes. Fishing for salmon is of course highly exciting. That unexpected pull, the sudden dead...

Ever wondered what happens when you leave your favourite fishing stream or remote fishing pool you love to visit? The Fishing Bears of the Pitt River tells this tale of one of my favourite places to visit just off the Pitt River in South Western British Columbia. For more on how the video was captured visit http://nickdidlick.com/bear-cameras/ The Fishing Bears of the Pitt River (Small version 66 MB) The Fishing Bears of the Pitt River (Large version 114 MB) Please note: The movies are presented in Quicktime Format and the download speed will depend on the speed of your internet connection. If you have problem with the movie it can be seen here...

Film review by Mark Hume Salmon Wars: The fight over salmon farming in the Bay of Fundy, in Nova Scotia, is a familiar one. Big industry moves in and with the support of a compliant government starts to expand, even as environmental damage – and public opposition – mounts. How and why does this happen? That is the fundamental question that writer, Silver Donald Cameron, seeks to answer in his latest documentary, ‘Salmon Wars.’ He doesn’t come up with a definitive answer. The confounding role of government, as it cozies up to an increasingly unpopular industry, remains something of a mystery, even after 75 minutes of journalistic probing. But one thing that does become clear in this penetrating look at aquaculture, is that in its current form, it doesn’t fit in any ocean where there are wild salmon. Mr. Cameron’s film thoroughly examines the industry’s operations on the coast of Nova Scotia, documenting the problems with pollution, disease, sea lice and the genetic dilution caused by escapees. In the end he comes to the damming conclusion that raising Atlantic salmon in open ocean net pens is at best “a primitive method of food production.” And it is one that clearly threatens the environment. Mr. Cameron interviews fishermen who have seen entire bays of lobsters killed when chemicals used in farms drifted out from net pens. He interviews wild salmon biologists about the impact escaped, domestic salmon have on rivers. And he has footage that shows the deep muck that settles on the ocean floor for several kilometers around net pen sites. He gives industry and government representatives their fair shot at explaining why the industry should be allowed to expand. But in the end their best arguments ring hollow. The fish farming industry is about...