When I go on trips I keep a fishing rod and some basic tackle in the truck. It’s because at some point, inevitably, there will be this roadside turnout, or something like that, where I need to get out and stretch the legs. And at many of these stops, there will be pond, or a stream, and quite possibly fish. This was exactly the case on my way back from Jasper. I stopped at this stream that I had been eyeballing for over a decade, but for whatever reason, I just never stopped as I was always on my way to somewhere else. Well this changed. I stopped, and my daughter Cedar and I decided we were going to take some time and fish it.
It took no time for Cedar to find the fish.
Over the years of driving past this little ribbon of water I swear I’ve seen rings in this creek, so my gut feeling was that this creek was home to trout or grayling, so I pulled out my light right and fished a small nymph under a tiny bobber. Cedar and I would take turns fishing. We didn’t get 50 feet down the creek when we saw a rise, and then another. We snuck over and cast the bobber and fly to the rings. In a second the bobber was gone and Cedar was reeling fiercely. The rod bent and the little creek erupted in splashes.
the trout were super colourful.
the trout were super colourful.
a small creek trophy.
In a minute, Cedar pulled a beautiful brook trout to the shore. A real whopper by small creek standards, and probably around a foot long. We fished for another twenty or so minutes and caught a few more colourful brookies, all deeply treasured. And then it was time to make some miles. For the cost of a little bit of time, though, we made an unscheduled, but opportunistic pit stop and made some very cool memories.