Wish You Were H ere
PICTURES FROM STEELHEAD PARADISE a photo essay by Jeff Bright Since 2003 I’ve been fortunate to have fished nearly 40 weeks on many of British Columbia’s finest steelhead rivers. As an agent and trip host for Nicholas Dean Lodge on the Skeena and Blackwell’s Dean River Lodge on the Dean, it’s my job. Well, that’s what I tell my wife when she asks, “Why are you going up there another eight weeks this year?” Yeah, I know, it’s a dream gig. Even though the money’s lousy and working conditions are often cold, wet and miserable, I wouldn’t trade it for any other job the world. The perks are incredible. Early on I knew this would be the case — and I knew I’d be presented with fantastic photographic opportunities on every day of every trip. My first major camera investment was a Hasselblad XPan. Its panoramic format turned out to be great choice for capturing the sweep and scale of BC’s majestic northern rivers. For what I think are obvious reasons I call this first photo in the series Wish You Were Here. It was taken with the XPan and for me sums up the angler’s attraction to Steelhead Paradise.
The (Accidental) Dream Fish Each year in August I host two consecutive weeks at a stationery tent camp operated by Nicholas Dean Lodge on the mainstem Skeena. This trip offers a very affordable chance to pursue the largest steelhead on the planet at their physical best — what I call “dream fish.” Just a day or so from saltwater, these steelhead are impressive specimens and very difficult to land on fly tackle. One camp day in 2008, NDL’s head guide was demonstrating presentation and testing a guest’s line set up. Sure enough, on the one cast made, he hooked this 20-pounder. The guide was embarrassed and tried to hand off the rod to the guest. But the guest would have no part of it, saying, “No way! You hooked it, you bring it in.” I was there with my DSLR and snapped a series of shots, this one with the kit lens at 55mm.
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§ No Drag at Ebenezer Taking a busman’s holiday, I joined friend and UK angler Julian Smith on the Bulkley River near Smithers. For reasons I don’t remember, on this day Julian was without rod and reel. I loaned him a rig from my quiver, a Sage 7136 Z-Axis with a Hardy Bougle Mk V Centenary Edition. The Bougle is a beautiful classic salmon reel, but of course, has no drag to speak of. In the Ebenezer School Run a good steelhead took and Julian, used to his disc-drag reels, was at a loss for how to keep the steelhead from emptying the spool. You can see the thrilled panic on his face as he tries to brake the spool manually. All part of the fun, if you ask me. (Easy for me to say; I had already caught two! You can see my rod propped on the tree roots in the background.)
Steelhead Madness When forced by weight restrictions to shrink my camera gear, I may leave the XPan or the DSLR behind. But one camera I always bring is my Canon G9. This amazing little point-and-shoot stays strapped on my shoulder, even when I’m wading the river, ready for a quick candid. I love its wide angle for close portraits of both fish and crazed anglers like Calgary’s Scott Runciman — who appears fully committed to his hot-pink, barredmarabou and rabbit-strip tube fly. By the way, yes, I’ve had to have the camera repaired after a dunking; it’s not what you would call a rugged camera. But I’ll accept the risk of loss to get “in the moment” shots like this.
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§ A Reel Problem Legendary steelhead guide and bamboo rodmaker Bob Clay once confessed to me he had a “reel problem.” I know the affliction too well. Put a 4-inch S-handle salmon/steelhead reel in front of me and the urge to own it can be overwhelming. (Hey, maybe this is how a steelhead feels when a well-dressed fly comes swimming by!) Last summer on the Dean, riding in the van from the river back to the lodge at the end of the week, I found myself face to face with a serious assortment of dandy reels. To ease my nerves, I pulled out the camera and grabbed the scene. Luckily three of them were already mine. So you know, I did get an in-focus shot. This jittery one however, taken with the aperture wide open and the shutter at 1/5 second, seems more accurate in describing my “condition.”
Thornhill Rose Once upon a time I was a spinner-chucking, steelhead-obsessed fisherman. Now things are different, but not much. Now I’m a fly-flinging, steelhead-obsessed angler. Why the change? I certainly don’t catch as many fish as I did 15 years ago with the shiny hardware and spinning reel. I suppose I switched because I was attracted to the aesthetic aspects of steelhead fly fishing. I love the rods and reels. But maybe more so, I love the flies. I love tying them and fishing them. I love it when they work. And if you fish them with enough confidence and give them a fair trial they most often do catch fish. Named after the “wrong side of town” in Terrace, BC, this one is called the Thornhill Rose. It has taken a few winter-spring steelhead since it’s inception in March of 2009. I had to capture a portrait before sending this one into duty.
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§ Ismo’s Unforgettable Day This is one of my favorite shots from one of my most memorable days of fishing. Not because I happened to catch a steelhead pushing 20 pounds on a dry fly, but because of a guest’s good fortune. In 2007 I had the pleasure of hosting a group of Finnish anglers at Nicholas Dean Lodge. On his first-ever day of steelhead fishing, after hiking into the remote upper reaches of a renowned Skeena tributary, Ismo Uosukainen hit the rare and highly desirable jackpot. Conditions were perfect for fishing surface flies and he proceeded to connect with fish after fish on top. It was quite a show. Among a volume of standard format shots and panoramic shots from the day, this one seems to say it all, capturing Ismo’s laughing smile, a bright fish on the line, and the wonderful wilderness river setting.
What Makes a Steelhead At first it seemed kind of touristy and frivolous, taking photos from the airplane window. But, I’ve come to treasure these aerial images and think of them as having significant meaning in terms of expressing the way I feel about what I do. It’s cliché and a cheap sort of 30,000-foot romanticism, but they fill me with awe and wonder for steelhead and the places that make them what they are. After all, all wild creatures are shaped by their environment. And what an environment it is that shapes a wild British Columbia steelhead! Now, I always keep a camera handy when flying to my fishing destinations…and request window seating, of course.
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§ A Beauty Beyond Words One way to gauge the freshness of a steelhead is to examine the small scales on its tail wrist, or caudal peduncle. If the fish is not long from the sea, the scales appear iridescent and the center rays of the tail shimmer like the aurora borealis — a beauty hard to put into words. Luckily, the camera can bring a small amount of justice to the task. I grabbed this shot using the DSLR and natural light on a small stream off Douglas Channel. Nicholas Dean’s late spring “adventure steelhead” program offers fit anglers — strenuous hiking and wading can be required — the opportunity to find this kind of treasure on BC’s rugged coast. These sensitive, hard to reach waters may represent the last frontier for steelhead fly fishing.
Double Vision Another good reason to always carry a quality point-and-shoot camera is you can hand it off to a friend when you catch a fish worthy of a “grip and grin” shot and expect a photo of reasonable quality to result. Here, Nicholas Dean guide Jeff Langley used yours truly’s G9 to capture yours truly with a flawless spring henfish on the lower Zymoetz River. Who gets photo credit? My favorite element of the photo? The twin reflections of the bright steelhead in my sunglasses. What you can’t see is the river banks were piled four feet high with snow and ice. The water was just above freezing. Hurry up with the shot, Jeff!
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§ Summer’s Sweet Gloaming Hosting Skeena Camp affords me the opportunity to fish and photo from sunup to sundown. Not tied to breakfast and dinner at the lodge, I can capture first and last light on the water. Using Fuji Velvia ISO 100 in the XPan — kicking it old school — I set up my tripod and took this 2-second exposure at f22 to capture San Francisco angler Anne Vitale, fixed in the never-ending stream of river time, prospecting for the day’s last fish in the sweet summer twilight. Dig the sun’s magenta farewell on the west horizon. It’s likely in this shooting at least one steelhead or salmon fresh from the Pacific swam by within 20–30 feet of shore on its upstream journey. I find that a pleasant thought.
