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Guide Paul Samycia shows off a pretty, pepper-spotted cutthroat trout from the Elk River near Fernie, BC.

On more than one occasion, on guided fishing trips, I've found myself in the boat with another angler that seems to have arrived at the water determined not to listen to our guide. It's never clear why. Maybe the angler thinks he knows better than the guide. Perhaps he simply has a problem with authority. Whatever the case, by the end of the day, it is always abundantly clear that the angler has done little more than sabotage his or her own day. Almost without exception, your guide knows best. For a myriad of reasons, when heading out on a guided trip, being an attentive and compliant angler will not only improve your day but will likely improve your angling as a whole.

Knowledge

Unless you're a local expert on the stream, river or flats you're about to embark upon, your guide spends a ridiculously greater amount of time on said water than you do. The guide knows the riffles and runs, the way minor changes in conditions from day to day affect the fishing, the best tactics for certain spots and times and so on.

Earlier this year, while fishing the Elk River in British Columbia, our guide -- and owner of Fernie's Elk River Guiding Company -- Paul Samycia parked our driftboat in a small, slow back eddy that had formed alongside a torrid run. A long, heavy but relatively shallow riffle above was channeled by the narrowing streambanks where it dropped off a small spillover into a deep pool. The result was a 20 yard stretch of heavy rapids that I'd scarcely have thought to throw a nymph or streamer into, thanks to the ripping flows. As I peered out at the deep, emerald water, Paul handed my rod back to me with a small ant -- probably size 18 -- tied to the end of the line.

A Klamath River salmon.

Efforts to restore salmon habitat and rebuild healthy, wild salmon populations in much of the Pacific Northwest have perhaps never been stronger. Dams are coming down, government agencies are reducing stocking efforts and their damaging effects on wild fish populations and researchers are learning more each day about what steps are required to bring back the once vibrant salmon populations of Pacific northwest states like California, Oregon and Washington. Unfortunately, the results of a recent study published in the journal Progress in Oceanography suggest that these efforts may be fighting a losing battle, thanks to the effects of climate change. The results of the study identify waters off the coasts of states like California and Oregon as likely hot spots for local extinctions, as populations of sensitive coldwater fish species -- including steelhead and all five Pacific salmon species -- flee northward to avoid warming ocean waters.

According to the study, anthropogenic climate change is causing changes in ocean conditions that are much more rapid than previously known natural changes. These include physical changes such as those to water temperatures and ocean currents, as well as chemical changes in acidity and oxygen content. These have led to changes in spatial distribution of many marine species and to a lesser degree biological changes such as effects on physiologies and phenologies.

Underwater photography may be in its heyday. Thanks largely to technological advancements, capturing underwater images is now easier and more accessible than ever before. We're seeing more and more images from under the surface, whether those images are ones of kids taken by parents at the pool, pictures of coral reefs taken by snorkeling vacationers or professional photographers capturing images in and far below the surf. The results have us captivated, allowing us all to explore our world from vantage points we've never -- or at least rarely -- seen before.

Why Go Under

For the photographer attempting to document the fishing world, being able to take a camera underwater is an immensely powerful asset. Images that reveal the scenes beneath the surface of the waters we fishermen ply marry our world and that of the prey we spend so much time chasing. It expands the photographer's storytelling from a one-sided yarn to one that allows the viewer to immerse him or herself in both sides of the story. This connection between two worlds formed by underwater photography makes the fishing photographer's tale more whole. In fact, I have talked with a number of photographers that, like me, have come to feel that returning from the field without underwater photography makes a collection feel incomplete.

Catskill Park, one of Trout Unlimited's Ten Special Places.

Trout Unlimited announced recently announced the final of its 'Ten Special Places' report, its initiative to call attention to angling and hunting resources at risk from hydraulic fracturing operations in the Marcellus and Utica shale regions in the northeast US. The announcement New York's Allegany State Park as the tenth region identified by the report came in close proximity to New York governor Andrew Cuomo's announcement that the state -- which has had a moratorium on hydraulic fracturing while the state explored health and safety concerns surrounding the practice -- with formalize a ban prohibiting the practice in the state.

New York's decision is being hailed as a victory by citizens, conservation and sportsman's groups which have advocated for many years to put in place measures to protect water, land and wildlife resources in the state and elsewhere throughout the Marcellus and Utica shale regions.

Trout Unlimited has applauded the decision. Katy Dunlap, the group's eastern water project director, said the decision "provides necessary protections for trout streams throughout the state and ensures that world-class fishing opportunities will be available for future generations. As we have seen in other states where shale gas is being developed, without proper regulations and protections, water quality in streams can be affected and ultimately impact trout and their habitat. ”

I've been thinking a lot, or a least a lot more than I used to, about one of the more personal elements of a fly fisherman's existence. Maybe it's all the traveling I do, from Yellowstone up to the Canadian border, then to the east side of Montana, then back to Yellowstone country, then to New York to see my family, or to Atlanta, or Denver, or San Francisco, or any of the dozens of places that my profession seems to send me to on a regular basis. I've become, in my middle age, the wandering fisherman. Still, all this movement has helped me focus in on something that most people take for granted - the idea of home water.

A few years ago it was all the rage, especially in some of the fly fishing publications, for writers to talk about the concept of fishing as religion. It sounded good, with the constant references to personal enlightenment, ecstasy, higher planes and all that sort of stuff, but to be honest I never bought into it. Fishing, no matter how good it is, is just fishing. It's not orgasmic or mystical or cosmic. And when you think about it, the idea of achieving enlightenment through fooling some poor creature into eating something it shouldn't is just plain silly. If that's all it took, the people who own McDonald's and Burger King would be Dali Lamas.

What is true, though, is that if we're lucky enough, we can fish in awe inspiring places. I believe it was John Muir who said, "If I'm going to worship God, let it be in a temple he built with his own hands." Some of the finest temples I've ever seen have been rivers or lakes or streams, and while they were occasionally so far back in the woods that nobody fished them regularly, in most cases they were somebody's home water.

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