Articles

Understanding the leech

And why doing so can help you catch more fish
Releasing a trout from the Elk River in British Columbia that took a leech pattern dead drifted near the banks (photo: Chad Shmukler).

There is a reason why the woolly bugger is chosen by a vast number of anglers in "one fly" competitions around the world: they work. And they don't just work, they work almost everywhere. Perhaps chief amongst the reasons why woolly buggers are so effective is the leech, which woolly buggers imitate so well. Leeches are found in virtually all manner of freshwater, whether it be a stagnant farm pond, a big, windswept lake, a slow moving spring creek or a tumbling freestone stream.

Downright Jurassic

Exploring a fly fishing paradise in the Alaskan rainforest
Photo: Chris Hunt

The Alaskan rainforest is a primal place. In vast stretches of the Tongass, where the old growth hasn’t met the saw, it’s downright Jurassic.

Big ferns mingle with evil devil’s club and high-bush blueberries, cranberries and huckleberries to create a sweet, yet perilous paradise for everything from bald eagles to brown bears.

And fish. Lots and lots of fish.

Tenkara as a guide's magic wand

The trick every guide should have up his or her sleeve
Wave 'em if you've got 'em (photo: Tenkara USA).

We all have them, those days when the fish are rising but the client just can’t seem to get the fly to the target. Usually, it is someone new to fly-fishing but sometimes it is an old hand who just seems to be one step behind in the process. You would really love to have them dead drift a dry to those risers but they just can’t get the mend right or they keep lining the fish. You want them to hook up but they just can’t put it together.

Guides are known for their fish catching wizardry and most of us have a trick or two up our sleeves that helps get our clients into fish.

Not too many fences

Coastal cutthroat and salmon in Alaska's southeast
Photo: Chris Hunt

Jamie Eddy is the maintenance guy at the retirement home in Petersburg, Alaska. He’s one of about 3,000 souls who live on Mitkof Island, and only one of the few who chase trout and salmon with a fly rod.

“There aren’t too many fences here,” he says as he navigates two visiting anglers up into the Southeast Alaskan rainforest in search of coastal cutthroat trout. “For people who come here, it’s hard for them to grasp that this belongs to them just as much as it does to me. It’s your forest, too.”

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