A bright winter Steehead recovers before being released

Photography by Nick Didlick

A chrome bright winter Steelhead lies still for a photograph shortly before being released back into the Pitt River in British Columbia.

This picture is available for you to download to use as a desktop picture for your computer by right clicking on the photo and saving to your desktop.

A River Never Sleeps - Fly Fishing Journal

Review by Mark Hume

Almost everyone who is into quality fly fishing gear has a Hardy somewhere in their collection. I have a cane C.C. de France rod which is about 100 years old and is still beautiful, and recently gave to my grown daughter a fiberglass rod that is 50 years old.

Photo from the film The Lost World of Mr. Hardy

I doubt that the carbon graphite rods I mostly use will be passed on in half a century.

The Hardy reels are all chipped, worn down by getting banged around in boats, on beaches and by countless fish. But those reels and still have a rich, rackety drag the likes of which has never been matched by any other tackle maker.

Now I know why this equipment has lasted me so long, thanks to ‘The Lost World of Mr. Hardy’, a lovely film by Andy Heathcote and Heike Bachelier.

The documentary explores the history of the fabled House of Hardy, which over 130 years ago began to give the world a treasure of beautiful tackle, and which is still turning out some of the best gear there is.

The fascinating film, which is beautifully shot and proceeds with a calm pace that matches the measured pace of the storytellers, explains, mostly through the words of Jim Hardy some of his former employees, how and why the House of Hardy rose to such greatness.

It also tells the sad story of how the Hardy family had to sell the company, not long after moving to a modern factory building.

The business dealings aren’t delved into in any detail, nor are they of that great an interest, although the tale of how the Hardy’s lost a chance to patent the carbon fibre technique is telling.

What is really interesting about this story is hearing from the former “factory” workers. I say factory because the company was organized to mass produce rods, reels and flies. But listening to these retired workers speak, you realize that it was more of a craftsmen’s studio to them, and that without the great pride they had in their work, Hardy would never have climbed to the heights it did.

“They were passionate workers,” said former salmon dresser Ken Middlemist. “It had to be done right.”

He was the last fly tier the Hardy’s had on staff, and he worked without a vice. While he’s talking about the history of the House, he ties a stunningly beautiful fly, holding it in one hand, tying with the other.

“I always said dressing salmon flies, not tying salmon flies,” he explains, his finished fly resting on the desk, a small, exquisite work of art.

The rods and reels were made that way too. With an intense dedication to quality. And it is clear that the film makers felt they had to honour their subjects with the same quality of work. And they have.

In the 60′s the Hardy operation struggled financially as other tackle manufacturers upped their game, and as the competition began to increasingly have their manufacturing work done  much more cheaply off shore.

The House of Hardy resisted, but in the end global financial pressures took their toll. Now only a small amount of the tackle is made in the Hardy plant. The high standards of quality may still apply, but the film makes it clear that something very precious has been lost.

“There’s nothing there now I’d like to make,” says one old worker, reflecting on how the Hardy production plant has changed.

Chris Lythe, a British reel maker, talks about how well produced the Hardy gear was, including the Perfect, which is still regarded as one of the best fly reels ever made. He and other craftsmen marvel at how Hardy has managed to make so much tackle at such a high standard.

If you love the old (or new) Hardy gear you have in your collection, this is a fascinating film, which will add to your appreciation of the tackle.

I now know, for example, that the old cane rod I had was made for a club in France, which had floating targets tucked under over hanging bushes on their casting pond. They needed a perfect little rod that could throw deadly tight loops. So the Hardy’s built a model just for them. I will fish with one of them this summer. It will cast like a dream and I will be thinking of the old factory where it was built, by craftsmen who gave it a soul, because they poured their own into it.

The trailer from The Lost World of Mr. Hardy 

The documentary is made by Trufflepig Films, and anglers can buy the North American version at www.trufflepigfilms.com or from Filmbaby, at www.filmbaby.com/films/4096

A River Never Sleeps - Fly Fishing Journal

 Story by Mark Hume

Photographs from the book The Sacred Headwaters: The Fight to Save the Stikine, Skeena, and Nass, © 2011 by Wade Davis. The book is published by Greystone Books, an imprint of D&M Publishers in partnership with the David Suzuki Foundations. Reprinted with permission from the publisher. Photographs by Clifton Carr.

Wade Davis, author, film maker, and a professional speaker in constant demand, grew up in British Columbia, where he worked as a logger and park ranger before going to Harvard to get a Ph.D in ethno botany.

His first book, The Serpent and the Rainbow, became and international best seller and was later released as a not-so-great motion picture by Universal.

Iskut River - Photography by Carr Clifton

He has the best job title in the world – Explorer-in-Residence at the National Geographic Society – and among his work skills he counts the ability to steer a raft through whitewater.

One of his two recently published books, The Sacred Headwaters – The Fight to Save the Stikine, Skeena and Nass, is a stunning tribute to some of the greatest salmon rivers on the planet.

All three rivers have headwaters in a relatively small region in northwest B.C., where Mr. Davis worked in wilderness parks before going off to become a widely praised author, based in Washington, D.C.

He still has a cabin in the area, near the little village of Iskut, and is there for six to eight weeks a year. Talking to him you get the sense he’d like to be there a lot more.

Kinaskan Lake & Oxbows of the Iskut River - Photography by Carr Clifton

Mr. Davis has been spending an increasing amount of his time in a fight to save the three rivers, convinced that if he doesn’t stop the mining and shale gas developments that are proposed for the area, Canada, and the world, will lose a region that is comparable to Yosemite, the Grand Canyon and the Serengeti.

What surprises him the most is that the resource projects are moving ahead with little resistance, because Canadians are largely unaware of just how magnificent the area is.

“I find it outrageous that these major decisions are being made without Canadians even knowing what’s at stake,” he said during a conversation on a recent visit to Vancouver.

“Take Imperial Metals on Todagin Mountain,” he said, referring to the Red Chris copper-gold mine, which proposes to blast  30,000 tons of rock out each day of operation. “ I mean here’s a mountain that is home to a major, charismatic ungulate species, Stone sheep, the largest population in the world – it’s like a wildlife sanctuary in the sky – and yet Canada’s 75th biggest mining company sailed through the environmental assessment process even though their very project design called for the dismantling of a mountain and the burying of an alpine lake with tailings.

“I mean what would it take to fail an environmental assessment process?” he asks.

“I’m in no way anti-development, it’s just that this particular mine sits at the epicentre of the whole Stikine River drainage. It literally soars over the nine lakes at the headwaters of the Iskut. And it’s exactly in that place that this world class area could conceivably, within a generation, be developed into another Jasper, Banff or Yosemite,” said Mr. Davis.

“I mean we have 4,000 copper mines in the world and there are some places to put them, and some places not to put them. To put one on top of Todagin is like drilling for oil in the Sistine Chapel.”

Speaking at a recent TED lecture in California, Mr. Davis was talking about Shell’s plans to drill for shale gas in the Sacred Headwaters, when he noticed the president of the giant oil company in the audience. He said he made a point of seeking him out and talking to him about the company’s plans for shale gas development and hopes to follow up with a visit to corporate headquarters.

“Maybe I’m naive,” he says, “but I think he really cares.”

Let’s hope so. Shell is currently honouring a moratorium on coal bed methane mining in the region, but that is due to expire in December 2012.

Mr. Davis said he hopes to convince Shell to make the moratorium permanent, knowing that if he fails the area will soon be cut up by an ever expanding network of roads and one of the world’s last great wilderness areas will be indelibly marked by resource development.

“And I think it’s going to be like the domino effect,” said Mr. Davis. “Once you industrialize an area [with one mine], what’s the argument for not putting in another development?” he says.

Scree Slope, The Spectrum Range, Mount Edziza Provincial Park - Photography by Carr Clifton

“My thought is not mines or no mines, but how many mines and in what place? At what concentration and to whose benefit?”

His answer to that series of questions is implied. No mines in the Sacred Headwaters, because the relatively short term benefits will not outweigh what is lost, to the people who have lived there for thousands of years, and to the people who have not yet had a chance to even visit this remarkable region.

Mr. Davis is an eloquent speaker and one of Canada’s best writers. But the real power of his latest book, The Sacred Headwaters, comes from the stunning photographs.

Take a look at it and you won’t for a moment question whether he is right in arguing the area should be saved for all time.

These three wild salmon rivers run through a stunning, wilderness landscape that should be managed with all the care society can muster. If we can’t get this right, there’s no hope.

A River Never Sleeps - Fly Fishing Journal

Story by Peter McMullan

An historically important link with the early days of steelhead fishing in British Columbia is changing ownership. The Babine Norlakes Steelhead Camp, one of just three such operations on the famous 61-mile long river, is passing from the hands of Pierce and Anita Clegg to Billy and Carrie Labonte.

Pierce Clegg on the Babine River

Both families, the new and old owners, live in Smithers, and both have a strong connection to the wild land and wild rivers in northern B.C., so no major shift in attitude is expected.

Joy Madsen (L) with Pierce and Anita Clegg

“Anita and I believe the Labontes are a perfect fit for the furtherance of  the steelhead camp, and for the continuation of stewardship efforts on behalf of wild watershed values,” says Pierce, who has long fought to protect the wilderness values of the Babine River. “Billy and Carrie have much experience in wild places and their combined angler/hunter-guiding skills well suit them for serving our guests.  They will create their own goodwill and legacy given time to learn the ropes and make their own strategies for stewardship.  Billy already has the benefit of many years of steelhead guiding at the Silver Hilton Lodge; Carrie, in association with her father, well-known guide-outfitter Ray Collingwood, has contributed to her family’s business for years.  Together they have the skills and connections to keep Norlakes a top rated steelhead destination for years to come. “

Pierce and Anita have run the fabled camp since 1986. Before then it was in the hands of Ejnar and Joy Madsen, a pioneering family that built the original rustic riverside steelhead camp around 1965,  12 years after they took over the Babine Norlakes Trout Lodge. The trout camp is on Babine Lake which, at 110 miles, is the longest natural lake in the province.

In the early days guests and guides intent on catching a steelhead had to make a daily 28-mile round trip, in an open boat and early winter, from the trout lodge through Rainbow Alley and then Nilkitkwa Lake to reach the Department of Fisheries and Oceans (DFO) weir, the starting point of the river. Ejnar Madsen’s construction of the steelhead camp, largely in its original form to this day, and the mid-1960s introduction of jet drive outboard motors, opened up a whole new world of the best possible sports fishing oportunities.

One happy client with his catch

Steelhead camp, with its four original guest cabins, owner’s and guides’ cabins and main kitchen and dining building, hosts up to 11 fishermen on a weekly basis for a nine-week season that begins in early September. It is often fully booked by spring.

Trout lodge operations, which Pierce and Anita intend to keep, will be on hold this year to give the Clegg family some time off before helping the Labontes settle into their new venture.

Pre-season  preparations will be under way in the third week of August with provisions to be ordered, cabins prepared, boats and motors checked, and wood – up to 15 cords are consumed in the roaring and very popular nightly camp fire – cut and brought some six miles downstream by boat along with the hundreds of gallons of fuel for the essential cabin stoves, the camp generator, the outdoor hot tub and the 22-foot aluminum jet-drive boats. Guides use the boats to take fishermen to the more than 70 named pools along 17 miles of absolutely prime steelhead water.

The Babine, part of the famous Skeena system, is world renowned because of the numbers and the size of the fish it produces every year. Steelhead to well over 30 pounds can be taken -  that is if they don’t break free, which is a frequent occurrence with the very big fish.

I speak from bitter experience having left my fly in a real brute after a memorable encounter on a pool called Sandy’s. My guide, Darren Wright, had a good look at it and estimated it weighed “in the high 20’s or low 30’s.”  I am left with only a vivid memory of a massive, double red striped shape showing its flank well down in the clear water, one that then turned and left the pool with all the irresistible power of a runaway truck – an unforgettable moment and the reason why so many anglers are drawn back to the Babine year after year.

The famous square tail of the Steelhead

Incidentally, for readers unfamiliar with steelhead fishing in British Columbia, wild fish are protected by catch and release regulations and by the use of single barbless hooks. The quality of the Babine fishery is  further enhanced by a fly only rule adopted by all three lodges. The others are Babine Steelhead Lodge, located some three miles further downstream from Steelhead Camp, and Silver Hilton Steelhead Lodge, which operates on the lower river and where Billy Labonte, 37, started his guiding career 20 years ago.

Billy was born in Kelowna and spent his childhood with a rod in his hands while camping and hiking the Thompson-Okanogan region of B.C. A skilled caster with single and double handed rods, he has fished in 17 different countries for fresh and salt water species, but his true love is the cold northern rivers of the Skeena system, the Babine being the crown jewel. In 1992, still in his teens, he started guiding at the Silver Hilton under the tutelage of owner ‘Babine Bob’ Wickwire, master jet boater, Jud Wickwire, and steelhead guru Lani Waller. He guided each full season on the Babine until 2004 and part time until 2008.

In 1998 he started summer trout guiding for Spatsizi Wilderness Vacations where he met his future wife, Carrie Collingwood. Today he is a father of two, Adison, 4, and Logan, 2  and an accomplished bush pilot, in addition to being a fly fishing and wilderness adventure guide. He and Carrie manage and operate Spatsizi Wilderness Lodge (www.spatsizi.com). Steelhead have always been in Billy’s blood and it goes without saying he and Carrie are excited about the opportunity to continue local ownership of Norlakes and to be able to offer “exceptional service and many memorable angling adventures.”

Carrie was born and raised in the Bulkley Valley spending her youth fly fishing in the Spatsizi Wilderness.  Her family has owned and operated a world renowned guide outfitting and fly fishing lodge in Spatsizi Wilderness Park for the last 42 years. She has handled the marketing, reservations and office management for the last 12 years.

“I have led horseback hunting and wilderness trips, slept under spruce trees, watched the Northern Lights, and been stalked by wolves,” she says. “I love the outdoors and look forward to bringing up my children to love and appreciate the wilderness.”   She has a Bachelor of Arts degree in Leisure Service Administration from the University of Victoria and has worked as a planner in public sector recreation and as a downhill ski instructor.

After 27 full seasons of guiding on the Babine, I asked Pierce Clegg to reflect on some of the issues he has faced over the years and to consider how he felt his legacy would be viewed in the years ahead. Always a passionate advocate for the watershed, he loves it for its beauty, its abundant wildlife and its magnificent fish.

Pearce Clegg guiding on the Babine River

“Besides taking on, at the age of 25, a hunting and fishing tourism operation in the Babine watershed, I think the single biggest achievement or legacy would be the Babine River Corridor Park and the many land-use plans surrounding the park,” he said, referring to a green belt established to protect wilderness values along the river. “While I cannot claim to have single handedly achieved this, I believe it would not have happened unless I had immigrated from Oregon to Canada, purchased Norlakes and fought hard to keep the river from being clear-cut to within 50 metres of almost of the entire river.

“I think the second most important achievement was to pioneer a much more aggressive guiding strategy for the upper Babine which led to a fly only clientele including a catch and release ethic before it was required by regulation.  The naming of un-named pools and learning fly-fishing techniques for the runs and pools took years to perfect.  The knowledge gained and the experiences acquired have become a storehouse of appreciation for the wild values of the Babine watershed, and how best to protect them.  One particular legacy aspect of fly fishing the Babine has been the introduction of the floating fly line and waking fly as a priority in terms of guiding.  I believe the Babine River is perhaps the best surface action steelhead river left in the world.

“Third, the establishment of the Babine River Foundation (BRF), which also led to the creation of the Babine Watershed Monitoring Trust (BWMT) are  legacies of stewardship as well as models to apply on other watersheds in the future.  The funding formula for the BRF, through a guest surcharge collected by the three lodges on the river, provides consistent budget and financial support for the BWMT plus other efforts.

“The trust monitors land management strategies in the Babine River watershed and reports to governmenht and the public as to whether those strategies are putting land-use objectives at risk.

“Even though compromises and losses to the wild ecosystems are also in  our legacy in fighting for wild values, what would the Babine watershed look like today if those efforts were never made?  I can tell you that the difference would be shocking.  So even though advocates for wild values don’t get what they would like or even need, precious time is purchased for the future, time in which the watershed can recover much quicker had no advocates been there to make a difference.”

Pierce noted that there are plenty of threats yet facing the Babine system, including a new open-pit copper mine proposed from the Morrison watershed. If approved, it could add to the pollution already seeping into Babine Lake from two old mines.

“There is also the ongoing pine beetle epidemic, mostly within the  Babine River corridor and including the park,” said Pierce. “ The logging interests want those trees and the B.C. government dropped stumpage fees making uneconomic timber harvest in the pine beetle area all of sudden profitable.  At the same low stumpage, many other green non-pine beetle infected trees also get harvested. In other words, there may be a free-for-all on timber rights in the name of the pine beetle,  definitely not a win-win by any definition.”

Fall on the Babine River

He’s also concerned that government budget cuts have delayed production of a master plan for the Babine River Corridor Park. Meanwhile development outside the park continues.

“The forest adjacent to the Babine is not considered a park concern so it can get clear-cut right up to the park boundary, even in spite of detailed land-use planning.  It seem ludicrous to make a park and then surround it by logging or mining and watch the park values degrade to the point where the park is only a title and not a reality,” he says.

“These and other issues are not going to go away so the work of the BRF and BWMT will never be finished.”

[Editor’s Note: Peter McMullan and Pierce Clegg co-authored ‘Babine A 50-Year Celebration of a World-Renowned Steelhead and Trout River’. Their book was published in 2010 by Frank Amato Publications Inc., Portland, Oregon, with all authors’ royalties and a special publisher’s contribution going to the benefit of the Babine Watershed Monitoring Trust.]

A River Never Sleeps - Fly Fishing Journal

Story by Mark Hume

A watershed in the northwest that is facing mine and gas developments and another on the Pacific coast that is the site of a proposed hydropower project, have topped the “most endangered rivers” list in British Columbia for 2012.

The list, compiled annually for the past 20 years by the Outdoor Recreation Council, puts three salmon rivers, which all rise in an area known as the Sacred Headwaters, in a tie for first place with the Kokish River, a steelhead stream near Port McNeill, on Vancouver Island.

Sacred Headwaters - Photo by Brian Huntington, Skeena Watershed Conservation Coalition.

Mark Angelo, Rivers Chair of the ORC, said the unusual log jam occurred at the top of the list because resource developments proposed for the southern edge of the Spatsizi Plateau, in B.C.’s wild northwest corner, will impact three important salmon rivers simultaneously.
The Stikine, Skeena and Nass Rivers all have their birth near the small northern village of Iskut, where Shell Canada wants to extract shale gas, and Imperial Metals wants to basically lop the top off Todagin Mountain, blasting 30,000 tons of rock a day to mine copper and gold.

Mr. Angelo said either of those two developments could pollute all three rivers, because their headwaters are so close together.
“When you fly over, you can see all three at once. That is so special, so we created it as a collective . . . I really don’t think there is anywhere else like this in North America,” said Mr. Angelo.
Anyone who has ever fished, or dreamed of fishing, in B.C. will know the names of the Nass, Stikine and Skeena. They are some of the best salmon and steelhead waters on the planet.

Mr. Angelo said Shell currently is honouring a moratorium on coal bed methane development in the region, but that is scheduled to expire in December 2012. “Because CBM development requires a higher density of wells than conventional gas development, it causes serious impacts on wilderness landscapes. The maze of linear roads and pipelines required will fragment wildlife habitat and inhibit animal movement patterns,” states a background report by the ORC. “Although the BC government has said it will require companies to re-inject. . . waste-water underground, this procedure is largely unproven and carries significant risks, including the potential contamination of aquifers,” states the report. “Given the link between groundwater and surface flows, this could have a dramatic impact on the biological richness of the three great salmon rivers that flow nearby. Wild salmon currently spawn within a stone’s throw of Shell’s proposed drilling sites.”

Mr. Angelo said the Kokish made the list because of the advanced nature of a proposal to dam the river, which supports several salmon runs but is most famous for its summer steelhead fishing.

The Kokish is the subject of a separate feature report on this site. See The Fight To Save The Kokish under the Currents header.

The Kokish River - Photo by Nicole Goodman

In order, the other rivers on the top endangered rivers list are:
2) The Kitimat River, which has been hard hit by industrial development, and which lies along the route of a controversial, proposed pipeline that would link Alberta’s oil sands with a deep sea tanker port on the B.C. coast.
3) The Peace River, which is threatened by a proposed third massive hydroelectric dam, known as Site C. The dam would drown an area where there are large populations of rainbow trout, Dolly Varden, whitefish and grayling. In the Williston Lake impoundment upstream of the existing WAC Bennett dam, bull trout have high levels of mercury.
4) The Kettle River runs through an arid, forested region adjacent to the Okanagan Valley, in southern B.C. It has a healthy, but diminished population of rainbow trout, but is threatened by low water in the summer. A proposal by the Big White ski resort would see 400 million gallons of water drained off from the headwaters to help housing expansion on the mountain. This raises the question: should the water be for hot tubs or trout?
5) The Fraser River is B.C.’s greatest watershed, and arguably the most important salmon river in North America. Pollution from urban and agricultural development in the lower reaches threaten what is known as “the heart of the Fraser.” Housing development continues to encroach on the river’s many tributaries and Vancouver International Airport has proposed building a huge, new jet fuel facility on the river bank.
6) The Taku River, in B.C.’s extreme northwest corner, is the third largest producer of wild salmon in Canada. This river runs through a dramatic, wild landscape, but there is a proposal to re-open the Tulsequah Chief mine, which was abandoned in the 1950’s. Re-starting the mine could lead to increased acid mine drainage and would see new roads built through the wilderness.
7) The Elk River, in the Rocky Mountains near the B.C., Alberta border is one of the finest dry fly cutthroat streams in the world. But existing mines in the region are a constant threat, and their are proposals to open up even more coal deposits because the energy market is booming. There are already concerns about the level of selenium in some tributaries. If that pollution increases, trout could be wiped out.
8) Big Silver Creek is not a top fishing destination, but this beautiful, fast flowing stream in southwest B.C., has tremendous potential. It already enjoys good coho and sockeye runs and has a healthy population of resident rainbows. Several years ago provincial fisheries biologists identified it as a watershed that could be developed to rival the Skagit River, which is one of the most popular fly fishing trout streams in B.C. But now a Cloudworks Energy Inc., wants to dam it to produce hydropower.
9) The Coquitlam River runs through an urban landscape and as a result has long suffered from excessive sediment loads. There is active gravel mining in the watershed, and it seems provincial and federal authorities don’t have much appetite for patrolling this industrial activity. During the winter months “silt levels continue to exceed those deemed damaging to fish” reports the ORC.

The Kokish River - Photo by Nicole Goodman

[Editor’s Note: There is no number 10 on the list because of the tie for first place. In total there are 12 rivers named.]

A River Never Sleeps - Fly Fishing Journal

The Sacred Watershed- Skeena Watershed Conservation Coalition - Photo by Brian Huntington

Every year the Outdoor Recreation Council of British Columbia lists B.C.’s 10 most endangered rivers. The Sacred Watershed photographed by Brian Huntington of the Skeena Watershed Conservation Coalition is this months a Celebration of Rivers is our Opening Shot. This picture is available for you to download to use as a desktop picture for your computer by right clicking on the photo.

A River Never Sleeps - Fly Fishing Journal

Story by Mark Hume

The Kokish River drops quickly down out of the mountains along the backbone of Vancouver Island, near the small town of Port McNeil.

It supports endangered summer and winter runs of steelhead, as well as five species of wild salmon, cutthroat trout and Dolly Varden.

It’s steeps sides make “the jungle” difficult to fish but those who have learned its secrets, including Willy Mitchell, a defenceman for the L.A. Kings and a former Vancouver Canuck, say it is a magical river.

Willie Mitchell with a Kokish River Steelhead. Photo by Felix Geiser

But now it is threatened by a proposed hydropower project that would not only dam it, but which would divert 11 kilometres of the river into a pipe.

When the British Columbia government began to promote small hydro projects several years ago, it did so by proposing that they would all be built above natural barriers, in waters that did not have fish.

Slowly, and steadily, however, these projects have been pushing into valuable fish-bearing waters, and now the Kokish proposal makes it clear that any river is fair game.

NHL players don’t often get involved in controversial public issues, but Mr. Mitchell has dropped his gloves on this one, because he says he just can’t stand by and watch a river he loves get destroyed.

His involvement in the movement to stop the project has spurred others to step forward – and now he finds himself part of a movement that has more than 50 B.C. wilderness tourism businesses, fishing and outdoor groups, river advocates and others urging government to reject the project.

“The Kokish River is an excellent example of where not to put a run of the river project,” says Perry Wilson, President of the BC Federation of Fly Fishers.

Brian Braidwood, President of the Steelhead Society of BC, has written to B.C. Premier Christy Clark, telling her that “In terms of potential anadromous fisheries impacts, the Kokish proposal may be the worst example of an existing or proposed small hydro project in British Columbia.”

Mark Angelo, a nationally known rivers advocate, calls the project “just far too risky” to be approved.

And Gwen Barlee, Policy Director with the Wilderness Committee, said that the broad coalition that has formed against the proposed dam shows just how valuable the river is.

Vancouver Island from Google Earth showing the location of the Kokish River

“The Kokish River is one of the last places you should put a hydropower project and that is why hockey players, lodge owners, fishing groups and wilderness tourism operators are standing up for this river,” she said.

“The Kokish is close to my heart,”  said Mr. Mitchell , who grew up in Port McNeill, just a few kilometres from the river on northern Vancouver Island.

“I learned to steelhead fish on that river as a boy . . .I call it my little therapy place. I missed time with a concussion when I was with the Canucks. Where did I go to heal? I walked up and down that river every day,”  he said.

The provincial government has embraced the project, with ministers saying the $200-million project will create jobs and produce green power. But at this writing DFO still had not yet taken a formal position.

Mr. Mitchell is hoping he and the other opponents can convince DFO to do the right thing, and stand up for the fish.

“I have travelled the world because of hockey and I can tell you I don’t see many places like that,” he said of the Kokish.

“That river is a gem  . . .I am not against IPP’s [independent power projects], but this is not the right place,” he said.

Mr. Mitchell felt compelled to speak out when he learned recently that the B.C. environmental assessment office had granted an environmental assessment certificate to the project proposed by Brookfield Renewable Power Inc. and the Namgis First Nation.

“I was shocked it got approved,” he said, noting it is the first IPP in B.C. that is being built in a location that will have direct impact on salmon. Until now, IPP’s have been targeting streams that don’t have salmon runs, or they have been built in headwater areas, above waterfalls or rapids that block the upstream migration of salmon.

“Do I think we need clean power? Yes. Do I think this is  the right place for it? No,” said Mr. Mitchell, who loves fishing in B.C.’s wild rivers.

Mr. Mitchell said there are lots of watersheds on Vancouver Island where hydro projects can be developed without damaging fish habitat.

The development proposal map from Brookfield Renewable Power

“Let’s use up all those resources before we tap greats ones like the Kokish,” he said. “I am just talking common sense here.

“I’m not out to kill jobs on the north Island. We can still have economic development in that area. But let’s put these projects where they won’t damage salmon and steelhead runs.”

The Kokish project would significantly dewater the lower 9 kilometres of the river, where it plunges down rapids to the ocean.

Mr. Mitchell said that fast falling water is what make the steelhead in the Kokish so spectacular.

“We call it ‘the jungle’ because it’s so steep in there and it is choked with old growth forest,” he said. “The river is perfect for power generation, so I can see why Brookfield wants to be in there. But it’s perfect for steelhead too.”

In granting an environmental certificate the B.C. government declared that the project would not have significant impact on fish.

But conservationists disagree, and opposition to the project is mounting.

“This project is so bad that many people didn’t think it would go ahead,” Gwen Barlee of the Wilderness Committee says in an email. “What it shows is that no salmon bearing stream is safe from IPPs.”

Aaron Hill, an ecologist with the Watershed Watch Salmon Society, says the project will clearly destroy fish habitat.

“Fish need water, and this project is authorized to divert between 52-85% of the Kokish River,” he said in an email. “It’s a big experiment.”

Dennis Abbott, director of communications for Brookfield, said his company is encouraged by the environmental certificate from the province and is working with DFO to come up with a water management plan that will ensure the project doesn’t harm fish.

“We continue to work on these items and we are optimistic we can resolve these to the great satisfaction of everyone,” he said.

But a letter to Brookfield from Greg Savard, of DFO’s ecosystem management branch, suggests the fears expressed by Mr. Mitchell and others are well grounded.

The letter says the project poses “significant risks to fish and fish habitat,” during low water periods from June to October.

“There is a high level of risk associated with migration stalling at tailrace. . .mortality or reduced spawning success,” states Mr. Savard.

DFO must approve the project before it can go ahead.

Mr. Mitchell says he hopes DFO is going to fight for the fish as hard as he and the other supporters of a free-flowing Kokish are.

Kokish River. Photo by Willie Mitchell

Editors Note Just in

SENT: FRIDAY, MARCH 02, 2012 9:42 PM
SUBJECT: MY LOCAL RIVER

HEY EVERYONE,

IF YOU WANT TO HELP TRY AND SAVE A GREAT FRESH WATER ECOSYSTEM WITH ME GO CHECK OUT SAVETHEKOKISH.CA AND PLEASE WRITE A QUICK LITTLE BLURB TO WHY YOU THINK THIS IS NOT THE RIVER FOR AN INDEPENDENT POWER PROJECT.

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WILLIE MITCHELL

A River Never Sleeps - Fly Fishing Journal

Story by Mark Hume

In the big scheme of things on the Pacific Coast it may be that Spanish Bank Creek is meaningless. Then again, this little stream that trickles down out of housing developments, crosses under busy roads and plunges through a wild ravine before flowing into the harbour of a big city, might mean everything.

For if a creek that is so small you can step across it and so shallow you can safely negotiate its rapids in rubber boots can grow salmon – and stir human hearts – then surely there is still hope in this world for fish.

By about 1920 the salmon run in Spanish Bank Creek was done. Loggers had moved through, trashing the ravine. And the stream became impassable when its mouth became blocked by sand, silt and rubble.

Fast forward to the 1990’s, when the federal Department of Fisheries and Oceans in Canada was encouraging volunteers to work on salmon restoration projects. That’s when Ron Gruber, and some of his neighbors in Vancouver’s West Point Grey area, got involved.

“About 13 years ago a guy knocked on my door and said ‘We’re working to restore Spanish Bank Creek. . .I was told you might be interested in helping with something like that,” said Mr. Gruber, a wood carver who is famous for his lifelike duck decoys and salmon made from cedar.

“I said, ‘Ok, yeah, I might like to do that.”

Spanish Bank Creek was only a few blocks from his home, and so Mr. Gruber went to a few meetings that involved DFO, the province of British Columbia, the City of Vancouver and Nick Page, of Raincoast Applied Ecology, an environmental consultant who had come up with a restoration plan.

Mr. Page figured with a little bit of money and some hard work, the stream mouth could be opened up and some holding water built upstream.

DFO had access to salmon eggs. So the idea was simple enough. Fix the habitat. Add eggs – and hope.

Ever since then Mr. Gruber and other members of the Spanish Bank Creek Streamkeepers, have been working on improving the stream habitat.

As he worked his way up the small creek one winter day, looking for spawning redds, Mr. Gruber pointed out the rocks that had been moved to create riffles, the debris that had been dragged out to keep the stream passable, and the small diversion introduced to direct the water away from a clay bank that was pouring silt into the water.

As it snakes through the willow thickets, chattering through runs and splashing over boulders and deadfalls, Spanish Bank Creek seems a magical place. Here and there tiny coho dart for cover.

“Most people don’t believe me when I tell them salmon spawn here,” said Mr. Gruber, meaning here, in the heart of one of Canada’s largest cities.

“But there’s the proof,” he said, pointing to a clean patch of gravel just a few metres upstream from a culvert under Northwest Marine Drive. “A pair of chum salmon dug a redd [or spawning nest] right there just a few weeks ago. Their eggs are buried there and they will be hatching in the spring.

In his scrap book he has pictures of every salmon that has spawned in the stream in recent years. One year about 60 chum came back.

Some years there have only been a handful of coho or chum. But the salmon are certainly back. They first returned in November 2000, when a few coho showed up. It was the first spawning run in 80 years.

They have come back every year since.

In the spring, school kids come to the stream to release chum fry they have raised from the egg stage in class room aquariums. But wild salmon are self-sustaining in Spanish Bank Creek now, and Mr. Gruber says they are cutting back on the number of hatchery fish released.

“We don’t want to crowd out the wild fish, and they seem to be doing pretty good right now,”  said Mr. Gruber.

At one point the creek tumbles down a steep cataract.

“We never used to see fish go above that barrier,” said Mr. Gruber.  But a few years ago he saw a fish splashing at the base of the waterfall, then plunging upstream. He scrambled up there the next spring to look around, and found some coho fry. This winter he found eggs rolling along the bottom above the impassable waterfall.

“Coho are the athletes of the salmon world,” he said. “What they can do is amazing. I’ve seen them driving up the shallows, water spraying everywhere…I’ve seen them turn on their sides to slide under logs are totally blocking the way. If there’s a way, they will get there.”

And if they can get there in Spanish Bank Creek, they can get there in a lot of places. It’s worth keeping in mind, for if a damaged little stream like this can be restored, then others can too.

Imagine 1,000 creeks like this, each putting out 100 salmon. Maybe that’s how the fight to save wild salmon can be won. One stream at a time.

A River Never Sleeps - Fly Fishing Journal

Story by Mark Hume with Photography by Mike Sturk

Mike Sturk is not a fly fishing guide. He’s just a professional photographer who fly fishes whenever he can.

“One of the local fly shops did try to recruit me,” he says, as he steers his truck through the busy downtown streets in Calgary, looking for an on ramp to a highway that skirts the world-famous Bow River.

“But I thought, hey, to do that right I would really have to put in a lot of work to figure out how everything works . . . you wouldn’t want to be guessing about stuff,” he says, one eye on the traffic and the other on the Bow, glinting in the low angled sunlight of a fall morning.

So here he is, picking up a total stranger at his hotel, at the request of a mutual friend, offering to spend the day basically guiding me all over the Bow. For nothing.

But no stress, he says, because he gets to guess about where to go and how to fish. And, of course, he gets to fish himself, which is the big thing.

He has packed a lunch, cold beers and knows where to get hot coffee for his guest. And he has been thinking for days about where and how to fish.  In short, Mike is better prepared than most professional guides – though, unfortunately for you, he’s not available unless you happen to know a photographer who can make an introduction.

“No, no,” he says waiving aside my thanks. “I love to get out whenever I can. And this is a great excuse to fish the Bow again.”

Mike used to be a staff photographer for The Calgary Herald, but now freelances and lives south of the city. He fishes more these days in Rocky Mountain streams, but when he lived in town he put a lot of work in on the Bow and knows it well.

He offers to drive South and East, following the Bow out of the urban core, but says that, really, you can often have great fishing within city limits, if you don’t mind the urban landscape as a backdrop.

“The shit hole,” he offers, as we pass an outfall from Calgary’s sewage treatment plant. “Just to see if it could be done I fished right there once, and caught a nice Brown!”

The shit hole isn’t on our list today….but it doesn’t look all that unappealing as we pass by. Actually, there’s a pretty good seam there where the main river and the outfall confluence meet.

Brown trout were introduced accidentally to the Bow in 1925, when a hatchery truck carrying 45,000 fingerlings broke down on the Trans Canada Highway, in Banff National Park. Rather than let his valuable cargo suffocate, the driver dropped them into a nearby stream – and a legendary fishery was born.

Over the years the Browns steadily shifted downstream, until they settled on the ideal habitat around Calgary, where, as it turned out, urban growth was putting a steady discharge of nutrients into the river. The waste water stimulated aquatic plants, which in turn supported profuse insect populations and the Browns and introduced Rainbows flourished.

Today the 40 mile section of the Bow downstream of Calgary is rated as one of the greatest trout fisheries in the world, with an estimated 2,500 trout per mile. It is a “blue ribbon” stream in Alberta, a province which sets the bar pretty high when it comes to rating trout waters.

There are whitefish, some remnant cutthroat and Brook trout in the Bow, but the big attraction to fly fishermen remain the Browns and Rainbows, which average 16 inches. Fish over 20 inches are common in these waters. And they are fighters.

When Mike hears I have no objection to fishing within the city, he wheels off the highway, cuts through a subdivision, and finds an empty parking lot in a riverside park.

“Perfect!” he says. “Nobody here.”

It does not occur to him for a moment that the reason no one is here is because the fishing is lousy in this stretch.

“Let’s give it a shot,” he says. “I have had some great days on this run.”

He points me to the prime water, suggests a few fly patterns, then wades in below me….and moments later says: “Fish on.”

It is a lovely Brown. Which he follows with several rainbows.

He may not be a guide, but Mike doesn’t like to fish with people who aren’t catching anything. So he wades up beside me, takes off my streamer, ties on a double-fly system with a copper head nymph as the trailer, offers some split shot, a strike indicator, and explains how to get the best drift with the set up.

Then he goes back to the secondary water and catches a couple more fish.

“Hit everything, every hesitation,” he says, watching my strike indicator dancing along the surface.

I do. And the rod wows way over as a big fish takes in deep, fast water. Mike wades up, cheering and unslinging his camera. He nets the fish in due time. Gets the shot. And is obviously delighted that he has been able to show off his river as I slip a 21 inch rainbow back into the current.

A few more fish are lost by me and Mike takes a bunch more, after taking the spot I had vacated.

He says he’s not good enough to be a guide. But from where I am standing in the current, watching how he is filtering one trout after another with a perfectly drifted nymph, I am thinking he could probably teach a few guides a thing or two. He certainly taught me a lesson on how to nymph in cold weather for big Bow River trout.

Later we share a beer at curb side, talking about fish and watching Calgary residents strolling through their neighbourhood. A lot of them nod, smile, say hello. They seem pleased that we are out there, enjoying this great urban fishery.

There are lots of great guides available on the Bow – unfortunately Mike Sturk is not one of them. This river is so accessible you can easily fish it yourself by wading, and getting out for a day or an afternoon when in Calgary on business is easy because there is productive water right there, almost in the shadows of downtown sky scrapers.

You can rent river boats, or just walk and wade. An incredibly beautiful park stretches along both banks of the river in the city, making it easy to forget you are actually fishing downtown.

And if you want to see Mike’s fishing photography, go to:  http://www.mikesturk.com/

A River Never Sleeps - Fly Fishing Journal

Story and Photography by  Bob Salisbury

One section of my favourite small river in Tyrone winds along the boundary of the local golf course and golfers regularly stop to pass the time of day or to enquire about the quality of the fishing. Earlier in the year I was in the middle of the river, casting a tiny ginger quill up the narrow flows between the floating weeds trying to temp a few of the good wild browns which inhabit this stretch. It was delicate work, with light leader and size eighteen fly, but on the occasions when the ‘quill’ landed squarely in the centre of a clear stream it almost always brought a reaction and the sport was truly exciting. Of course many of the casts were inaccurate as the breeze sometimes shifted the line at the last minute and the fly finished up sitting on the weed beds and avoiding a snag as the line was gently retrieved, proved a tricky business at times.

However, the risk of losing flies or getting caught up was justified by the almost continuous action when things went well and already I had taken several excellent fish on my journey up river. When these trout are on the feed they rise the second a morsel comes into view and sometimes their takes were just too quick for me and were missed or the trout was well hooked but subsequently lost in the streaming vegetation. Four golfers, waiting near the tee for their next fairway to clear watched me fish and came over to the bank as the rod arched into another good trout. It was a spirited fight and eventually the fish was brought to the net, the hook removed and the ‘brown’ returned to the water.
“Don’t see the point of fishing at all,” said the nearest golfer. “Spend half the day up to your chest in water and when you finally get one, let it go again!

No sense in it!”

I didn’t respond. One look at his appearance, head to foot in the latest ‘must have’ golfing gear, told me that a man who spends time thoroughly convinced that knocking a small ball into a hole has a much greater purpose than catching a trout, would probably not appreciate my explanation of the subtleties of angling as a pursuit. In any case, fates kindly intervened on my behalf when his fluent practice swing turned into an arthritic hack once a ball was involved and his shot bounced away down the fairway before finishing up with a satisfying plop into the river.
“He needs a licence if he wants to start fishing?” I shouted.

His mates guffawed. He scowled. The ginger quill was cast out again.

In fact, trying to analyse what it is about fishing, in all its forms,that keeps us enthralled for a lifetime is no easy task to explain to the uninitiated or the cynical. What is the urge which makes us return season after season to our favourite waters? Why are we so motivated to put up with the frustrations, disappointments, frozen fingers, regular soakings, sea sickness and all of the other trials and tribulations which can at times, confront us as passionate anglers?

It is not, as many non-fishermen think, simply about catching fish for as we all know the actual fascination with the sport is far more multi-layered and complex. Of course taking a fresh run salmon is a joy and once or twice a year slicing the fillets and cooking them in the simplest way possible does provide some of the best eating ever, but for most anglers, supplying the table is not the primary reason for venturing out with rod and line. Indeed those who seek roach, tench or any of the other species of coarse fish would never dream of killing anything brought to the net and increasingly the growing ‘catch and release’ movement amongst game and sea anglers aspires to encourage a similar philosophy.

Some years ago it used to be commonplace and acceptable for some game anglers to boast about how many salmon they had taken in a season, but in recent times as we have become more conservation minded, ’fishmongers’ are now frowned upon and attitudes have clearly changed. The sustainability of our sport is now our main concern and happily it is far more usual these days to hear stories of fish being successfully returned than automatically knocked on the head.

In my view, fishing is a privilege, an obligation for lovers of the countryside to get out and renew an affinity with wild places, find solitude in quiet corners and enjoy the numerous loughs, rivers and coastlines  which Ireland possesses and which thankfully, have remained largely unchanged for centuries. Fishing expeditions provide a golden opportunity to observe, close up, wildlife which for much of the time we ignore or overlook. It is a chance to watch dragonflies dance, dippers scuttle about on the rapids or oyster catchers scouring the sandbars but above all, an opportunity in this busy world to simply ’stand and stare’.

It matters little if a newly –built motorway is now roaring past or airliners are leaving feathery trails across the sky, what is important is that the water itself is timeless and the river flowing by our feet, for a few hours at least, becomes our very own ‘theatre of dreams’ where the next cast will tease our imaginations and perhaps provide the fish of a lifetime. For me, simply being near water is a journey into magic and one of the real thrills of angling is about wondering what roams below the surface and whether or not I have the skill and knowledge to temp it out of hiding.

To make the day worthwhile the contest to outwit the fish has to be difficult. The greater the challenge the more satisfying the outcome so finally fooling a trout which has occupied an almost impossible lie for years increases the pleasure of the capture and stays firmly in the mind. One large brown on our local river took up station in a deep channel under an overhanging alder tree. He has lived there for years and still remains to this day. Most evenings he can be spotted taking flies with a slap which can be heard yards down the river and as every angler knows, usually signifies the presence of a substantial fish. Sometimes when the setting sun is low in the sky his long dark shape can be seen patrolling his favourite channel but the river on his side is deep and inaccessible and any long cast drags the minute it hits the water and instantly puts him down.

When he is feeding we all try a few throws his way but the result is always futile and he sinks down to the depths until the danger has passed. Last season after a prolonged dry spell the river dropped to an all-time low and with care and probing gingerly forward with the wading stick, I discovered that it was possible to wade, chest deep, upstream towards him by negotiating a recently accessible submerged rock ledge. A pheasant tail nymph was attached and I managed at the first attempt to get the cast under the alders and into his stream. It rolled in the current down to where he usually waited and he took it immediately with a swirl like an explosion.

The rod was lifted, the line went taut and he leapt clear out of the water before tearing off down river. He was considerably bigger and heavier than I had thought and the ratchet on the reel sang as he headed off in the current. My exhilaration at hooking him was short lived because his muscular jerks soon took him to the shelter of the ledge, where he threw out the offending nymph and the battle for that day was over. A day or so later the water levels rose and he was back, unassailable in his usual haunt. He may never be caught, but the challenge that fish poses to all the anglers who spot him is one of the true pleasures of angling. For experienced sportsmen, there has to be an element of unpredictability in angling as a sport and as in ‘feathering ‘for mackerel, fishing which is so easy that it is reduced to a certainty, quickly loses its charm.

People who have never fished find it difficult to comprehend the pure excitement and anticipation anglers get when seeing a good fish rise or watching a float, which has sat motionless for hours on the mirror like surface suddenly twitches into life, bobs a few times and then shoots down to the depths. To non-anglers it is nigh on impossible to describe the thrill experienced when after days of standing up to the chest in freezing water, fruitlessly flogging away with the salmon rod, the tug of a fish finally comes.

Or the enjoyment we get when choosing the right fly and casting to a difficult lie brings a fine fish to the net. Angling is a fascinating sport which provides endless variation and pleasure for thousands and I am sure we could debate for hours why we all take part but what is certain is that few who take it up can give it up. The pursuit of fish may be seen by some as a strange obsession, but for those in the know, an outing with rod and line is never wasted. So called ‘blank days’ when no fish are caught are seldom ‘blank’ because an outing with good companions, in unspoiled places and delightful scenery is always pure pleasure. These excursions may not always result in catching the fish we seek but does that really matter?

A River Never Sleeps - Fly Fishing Journal