Some highlights of the summer:

A piece of perfection, safe and ready for release. Steve Morrow photo.

Colby, Dana, Stevie and I get comfortable in our staff cabins while taking a moment out of each day to thank our magnificent Grantham Falls view.

Our entertainment in the evenings... the fluttering wings of hummingbirds keep smiles lively and people in awe.

A small community Canada Day party brings out the truest in us all, eh?

I almost fell in laughing as Kenny hooks his hat, casts it across the river and then reels it back in. Where's the video camera when you need it?

It's scary how hard so many of us fall in love with this river... she keeps us wrapped tight around her little finger.

Dana & Stevie's, Kaleigh, and Colby cuddle into my cozy cabin.

Before guests arrive, I take the pups for a quick burner up to the snow caves.

Dangerous? Maybe... but so incredibly worth it.

High water but fishing is still hot! Steve Morrow photo.

One of my favorite guests of the season holding a magnificent fish!

When guests are set, rock statues keep the body moving!

Need I say more?

A grizzly encounter several years back leaves a mark for passerby's.

Colby and I set off to Bella Coola for the next three months.

My small guide cabin in the forest.

Caught while reeling in! I will never forget this one...

Fall is here.

Hang to dry... keep it green.

A gorgeous office.

Stevie and I take a week or two to fish for ourselves... Colby is useless on the oars.

A quick and wet release. Steve Morrow photo.

Cheers to another hot fish on the dry.

...And yet another.

Dana and the game warden Mike entertain us for an afternoon lunch.

Keeping it classy where we can.

Uh, ok maybe not so classy... two beer wenches secure the cooler and head down to the river.

Woah!!!! A pig!

A long season brings a tired April and Colby home.

April.

I am proud to announce that we have joined forces with the Skeena Watershed Conservation Coalition to fight a battle that I am very passionate about; The Sacred Headwaters campaign. We are shooting for the stars this time around and have faith that we can raise our goal of $20,000 for the upcoming campaign to stop fracking in the headwaters; read more on the issue here.

We have a few more members on our team this year and are anxiously awaiting the arrival of...well, honestly we are excited to receive just about any sort of donation!

Whether slightly used, new, dust collecting or serviceable, we are excited to see what will show up at the Skeena Watershed Coalition's doorstep!

Patagonia has generously donated a collection of waders/apparel once again and the flies are slowly rolling in. As always, you'll find some incredible deals on popular items and, of course, the popular online auction. We are currently waiting to launch the store until we have an ample supply of donations and are incredibly thankful for everyone's support!

Remember, that item you may have no use for or that day of guided fishing that you have a hard time booking are wonderful additions to a great cause and our appreciation for them is beyond words.

For those of you looking to purchase, the shop will be live in time for the holidays so you can save and give back all in one stop.

You can stay up-to-date with the latest information on the Sacred Headwaters Project by signing up for the Skeena Watershed Conservation Coalition's monthly newsletter here.

Donations can be mailed to the following address:
Skeena Watershed Coalition
1535 Omenica St
Hazelton, BC
V0J 1Y0
Canada
Phone: (250)842-2494

Thank you again for your time and support!

Visit the Flies for Fins Site!

Sincerely,

April

Disclaimer:

To my left, Colby snores heavily into his blanket, his whisker-clad nose and thick furred shoulders twitching furiously as he sleeps through the storm.

I gaze at the two inornate objects; both so underestimated yet both so capable. The irony doesn’t make its way past me, and I am reminded again of why at an early age I was drawn to the comfort of such tools.

“April, perhaps a light-hearted piece is in store? Maybe one on gear, or presentation, or even seasons…? Perhaps you can let the pot settle for a little bit before stirring it again?”

The plea is fair, for there is many an angler that thrives on such articles, so I succumb to the unpleasant thought of stifled opinion, instead lingering on the edges of boredom while differentiating between dead-drifted glo-bugs and current swung streamers.

The truth is, there are only so many ways that this twenty-nine year old mind can phrase what has already been so rigorously explored and defined by men nearly three times my age.

In saying this, I have been well behaved in my last two columns and I would like to redeem my “get out of jail free” card before commencing with my next dice roll in the columnist game of editorial monopoly….

Back to the drawing board. Aaron Goodis photo.

It was a night much like this nearly one year ago that was the impetus of this very article.

Steve and I had spent the last sixty consecutive days guiding other anglers and assisting them with the stalking, hooking, landing and releasing of hot steelhead that were making their migratory journey to the Dean’s tributaries.

Through wind, rain, heat and horseflies, together the two of us had tailed more fish than we could count and the mantra of the ‘grip, cradle, lift, smile, click, “give her a drink”, release’, protocol made our personal fishing days all the more at ease when it came time to land our own fish.

As an unspoken rule, if we were within talking distance we would assist the other with a speedy release but the camera played shy, exposing itself only for the occasional fish whose girth extended our splayed fingers more so than usual.

Truthfully, I had always softly lingered on the minor contradiction that posed photography entailed.

Four of my fingers would lightly cradle her slick, white belly while the other hand closed a firm grip around her sturdy, spotted tail.

The paradox here is one that may not be the most obvious at first.

You see, for some, in that chaotic instance of camera bag digging, electronic fumbling and verbal communication between photographer and subject, it is inevitable that there is a moment of sheer splendor lost between the angler and his prize.

In a moment where a mere 30 seconds is the appropriate amount of time shared between both the ‘gripped’ and the ‘grinned’, 28 seconds of that is often spent focused on a completely separate entity than the fish… an entity complete with black dials, glass lenses and extensive light manipulation commonly known as a camera.

Both result in a stored image…one in remembrance and one in pixels.

In the short 30 second time allotment that I had to spend with my surrendered beauty, even the smallest of distractions became a hindrance to me, and I longed to be left alone to indulge in the uninterrupted silence where my eyes could be left to etch a permanent picture in my mind.

Extra hefty shoulders on an early season buck, the flawless and perfectly slender doe, the dainty down-turned eye above those sharp and unsuspecting little teeth…

In such instances, whether captured by the shaky lens of my phone or by the calm fingers of a courteously hushed photographer, both respectfully grant my quiet seconds justice as they unobtrusively capture the sweet moments in a non-invasive approach, void of direction, poses or displaced attention.

Some of the resulting photographs focus on the most unique characteristics of the moment; the glint in an angler’s eye, the small upturned grin of satisfaction, the blushed cheeks of both exhausted fisher and fish, the caring lift of a surrendered steelhead over a protruding rock, the splashing water from a flailing tail… each a natural marvel caught in time.

While the science of such impacts is still relatively controversial, it is an undeniable testament that if given one of two circumstances (in or out of the water), it is the circumstance of leaving the fish in the water that bears the least amount of risk to its health.

Whether or not I can tackle the above regulation with any sort of scientific backing is a moot point at this time, but from a purely photographic perspective I find this prohibition of grip and grins quite refreshing.

The truth of the matter is that some of my favourite streamside photographs are the subtle and organic shots of half submerged lateral lines, downstream turned snouts and healthy flared gills steadied as a conscientious angler prepares for release.

Was it for a new Facebook profile? Internet marketing? The cover of the next magazine? Why on Earth was I sacrificing my time with this perfect steelhead in a state of vain?

While my guilt danced alongside the flickering candle, I made a decision that I was determined to keep.

So in the dim light of that cabin I made the choice that I was no longer going to personally contribute to the plethora of posed steelhead photos in this very sport where industry standards have secured the glorious grip and grin as the ultimate in fishing memorabilia.

Of course, my clients would be free to do as they wished. Many of them wait all year to bring home that ‘trip of a lifetime’ photo with an ear to ear smile (and rightfully so…).

My mission was not to judge others who don’t agree with my reasoning, rather it was a mission to judge myself and put forth a personal commitment to something that I believed in.

The response was unlike any that I could have predicted.

Naturally, this concept made me chuckle as the confusion simply fueled the fire of my point.

There were some who were genuinely concerned and even a few who kindly reached out to me to ensure that I was well and that I hadn’t been hurt by someone prior to my post.

For me, I now prefer to keep the majority of my steelhead images stored internally, yet I still thrive off watching my clients glow behind the raised silver gleam of a strong and healthy fish.

I will continue to grip and grin every permit, tarpon, fifty-plus pound Chinook and twenty-five inch thickly spotted brown trout that I manage to land, and I will do so proudly until I have caught enough of each that I can see them in the same light that I see my beloved steelhead.

I can assure you; it won’t be any time soon.

April.

Tacoma Washington Learn to Fly Tie Class, Friday Sept 21st - 4 spaces

See some of you very soon!

They carry the tune down the steep mountains of coastal British Columbia, a modest adagio at first, simply adding volume to the grace of nearby cascading waterfalls and winding spring creek corners.

With each hour, the ensemble’s dynamics grow stronger as they merge, eventually sweeping up all who dare interfere, forcefully adding the unwilling into their musical masterpiece.

Uprooted cedars, crumbled mud banks, decaying leaves, and even the occasional unfortunate home all find themselves together as one; their bass and tremors shake the Earth as they dive into the main stem rivers and all surrounding tributaries.

A muddy brown anthem of screaming sopranos assault the unsuspecting flows and before long the entire West Coast is reborn as an unfishable, raging torrent of heavy metal and treacherous currents.

With the dramatic entrance of a Beethoven classic, Mother Nature’s symphony orchestra is a masterpiece and humbling to all who take the time to slow down and watch.

Here in British Columbia, we call this production freshet.

Freshet typically occurs in mid-May and runs itself strong until the end of June. Melted snowpack flushes the hillsides and many anglers turn their attention to prolific hatches in nearby lakes.

For angling enthusiasts more motivated by moving water, freshet halts their season, restlessly persuading them to stock their fly boxes and patch their waders in anticipation of clearer water.

The month of June passes quickly but is often met with a hot July and August that quickly drains the excess water from the flows, instead replacing them with the all too familiar summer drought.

The dreaded summer drought is an interesting season for many anglers. Low and clear streams often bear small feeding rainbows, hunkered down bull trout and of course every anglers favourite species; the loud and squirming bikini-clad inner-tubers.

For many, the busy weekends of BC’s summer rivers are less than desirable and, again, the rods are placed away until September and the arrival of fall steelhead.

But waiting isn’t for everyone and for some, a little extra adventure and a whole lot of extra work is worth the investment to find the occasional warm-weathered steelhead.

They’re not easy to find, and they’re certainly not reliable, however, in the heart of several small valleys in the West Coast, there are a select few fisheries that break the traditional steelhead rules.

Emerald glacier water and (often times) fly-in only access protects a species of steelhead that can only be described as indescribable. They are the true summer-run steelhead and they make their own rules; rules that can defeat even the best players in the game.

I began fishing such streams, desperate to experience classic summer-run steelhead under a blanket of warm sun and refreshing silence. I had spent the previous years of my steelhead journey chasing migrating fish from the month of September into early May (before the barrage of flooding waters).

I stood in the torrential downpours and froze in the guide-icing winds, lightly cursing myself for finding humor in the tears that froze to my cheeks as the bow of the boat pierced through winter’s heart.

I was a steelheader after all…didn’t the term ‘steelhead’ come from being so hard-headed that we didn’t know when to quit?

Only one or two friends were invited on such excursions and even then, in my paranoid state of treasure hunting I knew that the only fishing “buddy” who could truly stand a chance at keeping a secret was the furry friend I kept close; the one who wagged his tail, walked on four legs and knew no words of betrayal.

I instigated a “no-camera” rule and together we crept under mossy logs, halted at steep cliff drops, and peered into the depths of boulder-laced runs hoping to catch a glimpse of life.

The sun shone bright and the yellow undertones of the slick rocks reflected gold back towards the skies. Standing on fallen trees and high embankments, the matte silver of rested steelhead swayed in tune with the current.

Silver and gold…like miners we handled our jewels carefully, releasing them back into the wild where they could shine their brightest.

Some steelhead occupied large rivers where vast, blind, swung casts were necessary. Others required time, patience, a good eye, and put quite simply, luck.

Both rivers, large and small, shared one thing in common: determination.

In past columns, I have written to the minds and hearts of winter anglers who pursue with such devotion, the winter steelhead; the lock-jawed, finicky, unpredictable, sullen and torturous winter steelhead.

While it is true that the sun-bathed snouts of the summer steelhead are more likely to rise to a dry fly, and certainly much more likely to participate in a dance with a flirting streamer, it is the discovery of these fish that test the trying angler.

For as tight-lipped as these fish are not, the anglers who know where to find them are. Hard-pressed to acknowledge their existence, we look in the opposite direction when asked about certain streams and runs.

Our stomachs drop with sickness when an eager angler loudly states they heard there were fish that once occupied such waters, forcing us to do all we can not to shake them and tell them to watch their mouths.

Worse yet, it is not the fear of insulting them that stops us from acting in such a profane manner. Rather, it is the fear of admitting to lingering observers that there are in fact fish to be found that saves the naïve and overzealous loud-mouth from a quick smack or lingering glare.

Secretly, many of us look at ourselves as minor hypocrites: on one hand encouraging new anglers to the sport, whilst on the other knowing full well that the day we run into someone on “our” rivers that we’ll likely slink back into the underbrush, irate at the intruder present in such a special place of solitude.

We’ll mutter and groan, certain that the river is destined for destruction and our over-dramatic, exaggerative minds will convince us that come this evening the internet forums will be crawling with inquisitions and Google Earth bookmarks.

Adventure, passion and drive are what make these summer streams so special. Without such ambition, we would never be able to truly experience the sheer satisfaction that embraces us when our suspicions prove true; that the elusive steelhead do indeed inhabit the water that our “fishy sense” was so sure of.

It’s this same confidence that follows us from river to river, the same confidence that we dress our flies in while seated at the vise, the same confidence that we hold our breaths to as we swing tight to our streamer or wake our dries.

This confidence is an invaluable quality that all seasoned anglers possess. It is a quality accompanied solely by experience, independence and conquering; one which most earn by paving their own path.

Certainly discouragement comes and goes, but it is the memory of the well-deserved confidence that keeps us searching. “I’ve seen it happen before”…

While it is true that at times we must disclose such locations in the name of conservation efforts, public awareness, and protection, we must equally preserve some secrets in the name of the sport, the art, and the history of secret sharing.

Rather than following the faded pencil markings of an ‘x’ marks the spot sketched mindlessly on the backside of a tackle shop receipt, the anglers who embrace the voyage and mystery as their own are rewarded with a satisfaction that can only be achieved with internal searching and geographical unearthing.

Cliché as it might be, there are some rivers that people must work towards…must deserve, or “put their time in” for (Lord knows, I’ve had to deal with that spiel more than once.)

There are summer month fisheries throughout the world that draw from the restless and silence the unknowing. These fisheries are special, unique, earned and loved.

While you may need to suffer the sting of rejection and you will likely face the frustration of a wrong turn, remember to capitalize on the sunshine and smile in knowing that you’re exploring the very root of your being; an independent and liberated “hunter” who thrives off the stalk and rejoices in the unveiling.

Grab your sunscreen, pack your extra water, leave your long John’s behind and go have fun in the heat… September will be here before you know it.

British Columbia steelhead; wild, renowned, controversial, historical… These fish have no problem finding their way into our hearts and minds.

Romances, instructional compilations, tall tales and the traditional classics, there is no shortage of steelhead verbiage on the market. So while there are a great many books on the famed BC steelhead, there are few that are as honest and jaw dropping as Bob Hooton’s Skeena Steelhead.

Bob Hooton needs little introduction. Arguably the provincial government’s most knowledgeable steelhead biologist until his recent retirement in 2008, Hooton is respected and outspoken. Known to captivate an audience and hold their attention by means of integrity laced morals and scientifically backed data, Bob Hooton, in a word, stands for the truth.

Bound by legislation and government protocol, it should come as no surprise that Mr. Hooton’s 37 years of service was often accompanied by supressed (Take out the ‘a’) opinion and restricted public outreach.

Patiently counting down retirement, he dove into the pages of Skeena Steelhead and now again, Bob Hooton demands the ears of all who will listen.

A steelhead guide myself, I was eager to unfold what I hoped would be an honest compilation of facts and foresights that Hooton was not able to share during his time as head biologist.

You will not find heartwarming poetry amidst its pages; rather Skeena Steelhead will likely force your stomach into knots and have you sarcastically out-bursting mid-read.

Frustration and shock kept me fumbling through the pages and an obligation to cure my ignorance forced me to look within myself for ways that I could help solve the problem of the diminishing Skeena steelhead.

We all expect to be disgusted and shocked by what we read about our political systems and the people who enforce them, but the discovery of this environmental atrocity is enough to upset even the most distant of readers.

Dusted off data, statistics, and quotes disclose a corrupt commercial fishing industry, an out of date (and order) First Nations treaty and too many recreational fishermen in denial that they could ever be part of a problem. Collectively and involuntarily they threaten to destroy the fish and fishing they all claim to be at the center of their existence.

A growing community of conservation advocacy groups (and individuals) are working together to confront this unjust system and it is our hopes that together with the words and biological backing of Skeena Steelhead that this uphill battle may at last be given the fighting chance it deserves.

April.

Two years ago I decided that I would only host one trip annually, ensuring that it was in a world-class destination, at a top notch lodge with high quality guides and great company.

So I found myself headed to the infamous and longstanding Turneffe Flats to see if I would be bringing guests back with me in 2013.

Permit circled the boat and my stomach churned in excitement between casts...

Don't fish or have a partner who doesn't fish? Turneffe is a world-class diving, snorkeling and sightseeing destination.

Hosted trips are a great way to be able to experience this world-class saltwater destination with confidence and I am happy to usually walk away with a new group of friends.

Here are the details:

Dates: May 18th to 25th, 2013

Rates: $3600.00 (plus tax)

Thirty miles off the coast of Belize, Turneffe Flats is located on the Turneffe Atoll, the largest of only four coral reefs in the Western Hemisphere.

The Turneffe Atoll is remote and strikingly beautiful with crystal clear waters alive with a wide diversity of marine life.

In addition, there are a number of other game fish resident to the area creating a unique diversity of saltwater fly fishing options.

These fish tend to be in large schools; however, there are ample singles and doubles if you are interested in more challenging casting. Bonefish on the inner flats and lagoons are not as numerous, but on average are larger.

You can expect plenty of shots at 10-20 pound permit with some fish in the 30-40 pound class. Turneffe permit may be more plentiful than in other areas, but they are just as challenging to catch!

Most tarpon jumped are 60-90 pounds with some huge fish of 150 pounds or more. Most of our tarpon fishing is to rolling fish from the bow of our skiffs.

We recommend that you come prepared to at least try for some of these other species during your stay.

Two anglers generally fish with each guide, although private boat/guide packages are available.

The proximity of our fishing is such that it is very feasible to fish for tarpon and permit in the morning, for example, and boat to the ocean side flats for a full afternoon of bonefish. There is also a flat right outside the doors of our cabins that is home to a large school of bonefish and an occasional permit.

During tarpon season, many anglers opt to start shortly after sunrise and take a rest during the day. If you are a real hard core angler, you can wade the flats in front of the lodge early in the morning, go out with your guide for the day and come back to the lodge flats and fish until sundown.

The ocean side flats are firm bottomed and make for easy wading for even the most novice angler. These flats have sharp corals and shells and it is imperative you come with good wading boots. Most of the inner flats are fished from the bow of our custom-built 16-foot Dolphin Super Skiffs poled by the guide.

All rooms are air-conditioned and most are furnished with one queen size bed and one single bed. All rooms have private bathrooms.

Three delicious meals per day feature a mixture of Belizean and American cuisine including seafood, beef, and pork dishes. Served family style in the main lodge, meals offer options for different palates and always include fresh fruits, freshly baked breads and pastries. A comfortable lounging area and well-stocked bar in the main lodge provide a focal point for gathering in the evening.

Sightseeing, superb snorkeling and SCUBA diving are other reasons people visit Turneffe Flats. You may want to set aside some time for snorkeling, and we do offer combination fishing and SCUBA diving packages. Our Atoll Adventure Package is very popular with non-fishing partners and offers a fully guided daily activity such as snorkeling, sightseeing, shelling, dolphin and manatee searches, or bird watching.

Commercial flights will bring you to Belize City where we take over. You will be met at the airport, and transported to the marina where you will board our boat for a beautiful 90 minute ride to Turneffe Flats.

Please also visit the web site (www.tflats.com) or call toll free (1-888-512-8812) with any remaining questions you may have.

Sometimes all you can do is laugh...

If it weren’t for the opened turned pages of my MCI study guide, this post would never be written.

You see, I’ve grown relatively immune to negative press by people who have never met me. Quite simply, comments on my looks, my past and my causes simply don’t faze me anymore…

But the truth of the matter is that comments on my casting (without just cause) still get me slightly rattled as such comments indirectly affect my business.

I am a single-hand casting instructor…a proud one and a busy one. To have my skills virally attacked is grounds for me to speak up (albeit brief.)

Earlier this year I was invited by a large-profile magazine to partake in a photo shoot for one of their featured athletes’ shots. I was already in the area speaking at a TU event and the get-together was convenient.

We arranged a meeting place on the water with several guides and I wore a light coating of mascara and combed my hair in lieu of the shoot (I was later informed that full makeup would have been sufficient for such a shoot and I kicked myself for not being important enough to have a crew help me with my sweaty braid and flaking lashes).

I found the whole ordeal rather humorous but respected their vision (and still do.)

What I was not aware of at the time of the shoot, was the wording of the side caption that would lace the photo; April Vokey, Savior of Fly-Fishing (which I most certainly am not).

While the criticisms flared, there was only so much I could interject in the dispute. I cannot be responsible for the wording of others, and furthermore would rather stray from insulting those who so kindly spent the day on the water with me.

But where the reasoning of this post lies is not in the photo, or the text in the side caption, rather in the short and unsuspecting video that captures me telling bits of ‘my story’.

As we waited for proper photographic lighting, I picked up a rod and followed instruction by one of the kind local guides who lent me his time. On the American fly-fishing team, he was a master at Czech nymphing and he tried to teach me the technique.

Czech nymphing is one of those interesting approaches… without the use of a fly-line (in fact, the fly-line doesn’t even extend out the tip of the rod), an angler is left lobbing an assortment of flies outward, all the while trying to steer clear of over-hanging trees. It was interesting, but I sure as hell was no good at it. To rate one's casting while czech nymphing is the equivalent of judging one's Tenkara cast... simply absurd.

I knew the casts looked poor; they were supposed to.

What’s more is that I knew with a non-fisher editing a fisher video, that there would be no casting or fishing justice (case in point, the playful hookup of my leader entangling grass), but it simply didn’t matter.

We were catching fish, having fun and I was learning something new. It was great!

I have spent the better part of 10 years casting daily, fishing my tail off and battling the haters in this industry through the highwater days (such as now) and the iced over winters… But the last thing that I expected while sitting here alone with a slow internet connection on the Dean, is that I would be receiving the links to Moldy Chum, the Drake and other moron-laced websites who question my fish measuring skills, facial features, worthiness of this sport and my casting.

Surely, I’ve put in enough time, shown enough casting footage with a single-hand fly-rod, caught enough tricky species and cycled through enough towns to be given the decency of a bitten tongue and the differentiation of a swimsuit clad rod-flailing bimbo (see Sports Illustrated a few years back)?

Surely if they know me well enough to hate me, then they must know that I’m competent enough to conquer a simple roll-cast, right?

To no avail, some things will never change and I will still be called what I will… all I can do is defend myself where I may, here in the comfort of my own website.

I appreciate the shown support online, I am flattered by the assumption that my lips aren’t real (if I had them done, it would have to have happened 20 years ago… thank you Mom and Dad for giving Dana and I the good fortune of shapely mouths), and I delight in knowing that I am so eagerly spoken about amidst the ignorant internet community.

It just rightfully sucks that all this time later I am still rephrasing the “same ‘ol” of what has come to be a far too familiar blog.

A.

Perhaps that was the reason for a call in September asking my availability for March this year.

Orion multimedia was filming Buccaneers and Bones at Deep Water Cay in the Bahamas and was looking to piece together the next season's "Buccaneers"; Patagonia kindly offered them up my name.

I don't have many (honestly, any) photos as I was busy "working"... but here are a few to fill the space until the series airs:

Sharing some tales with Yvon and Bill.

The Buccaneers: Bill Klyn, Owner Paul Vahldiek, Yvon Chouinard, Thomas Mcguane, Tom Brokaw, Orion's Chris Dorsey, Scott Blackwell

Getting ready to hit the big sea with young record chaser Heather Harvaky.