Great Grandpa's Flies (Story)
It was one of those summers that you remeber above any others and don't realize how valuble it really is when its happening, but thats what childhood memories are all about right? I had just graduated from the eighth grade, and got my first flyrod. I bought it from a flyshop on main street. I told the old fellow who ran it that I wanted to catch steelhead on it. This must have seemed like a preety tall order coming from a kid. But, if he had any aprehensions he never let on to it. After explaining to him how much money I had, and how I got it at the Linn County fair by selling my 4-H sheep "Becky", I ended up with an 8 wieght cortland rod ,martin reel, and a 12 ft. sinking tip line, and a casting lesson in the alley behind the shop. I was ready to go fishing after some more lawn casting under my belt, I didn't want to look like an rookie at the fishin hole ya' know. First I had to find some worthy flies. I had remebered some flies that were in the garage in a wicker creel that was my great grandfathers, and those would do great. MyGreat Grandfather Robert Paquotte was a war immigrant from France and never cared to learn English, and I think it was becuase he never needed to while flyfishing his last days away here in the valley. He died young of a heart attack at 55. Forty years later I ended up with his flies and creel for that summer and fished as much as I could until school was getting started and the big move to Canada was to get underway. I thought a great deal of my greatgrand father even though I had never met him, and looking at all the flies in his contianer gave me a glimplse into his fishing persuits. They were mostly trout flies and some large dry flies. He fished the S.Santiam in the 50's when native cutthroats were abundant. Anyways back to the move. My mom maried this Candian guy she had met in Newport, Or. that summer and we were all movin. So, me and my flyrod and flies are going to Port Alice ,B.C. on the Northern Tip of Vancouver Island. I didn't want to go there at first until Eric told me that the fishing would be great there. After sixteen hours of driving we had made it to Port Alice, and I was going fishing as soon as I could. Mom and Eric were busy unpacking so I grabed the flyrod and flies and headed to the only road that ran to our town to try and thumb a ride to the Marble River which was only 5 miles away from town. I finally got a ride from one of the locals and the most memorable trip of my fishing life was about to begin. I arrived at the river about two hours before dark and didn't really want to do any major exploring so I decided to fish off the log bridge at the outlet of Alice Lake which flows into the Marble. I had to choose a fly to fish this huge pool so I looked through great grandfathers container and found a large size 10 grey hackle with dun wings, I could see the fly in the dwindling light and it would set nice on the water. First cast went directly upstream into the current and I watched my fly drift down into the pool. I had a great view of the water below and as the fly began its drift I watched as a large grey shape came from the bottom of the pool and gulped my fly at the surface. It all happened so fast that I wasn't ready and misssed his first take, but the second cast I was ready and he came up again this time I hooked him and after a clumsy run down the bank and a similiar tussle on the river bank I landed my first summer steelhead on a fly. One of my great grandfathers flies had been destined to catch a steelhead in Canada. That evening I caught three more out of the same hole until the fly was completely chewed up and darkness had come. I think about it today and know that my great grandfather was looking down on me that evening and was there with me for that glorious night of fishing. I had many more adventures while living in Port Alice that I was considering sharing but this was perhaps the best. Thanks for reading my story.
[ 12-30-2002, 11:00 AM: Message edited by: stick flicker ]
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"Civilized life has altogether grown too tame, and, if it is to be stable, it must provide a harmless outlets for the impulses which our remote ancestors satisfied in hunting"
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