peetso

A classified water levy couldn't hurt.

Yep as long as the money goes to enforcement then I am all for it.

I fish a 4 weight fiberglass Scott. I really like it. It hates wind.

https://soundcloud.com/corblund/blood-sweat-water new corb "Blood, Sweat and Water", flood relief song.

Alley Kat in Edmonton makes some damn fine beers. Especially the Big Bottle Series brews. Don you'd particularly like the Alley Kat Amber.

this makes me happy on my face.

You go to BC and Montana and they always have the local option at any and all establishments. Unfortunately, most Albertans do not seem as enamored with supporting local anything . . . but I think that's changing, ever so slowly.

That particular sow ended up putting the run on me , not 10 minutes after I took that pic. (my fault for having the dog out there with me, got cocky and just about paid for it) Made for a long walk back to the truck, went from an hour walk upstream to a 3 hour walk, through brush and cutlines with the sun setting fast. We spooked up another bear on this little sojourn but it *$ed off in a hurry. Luckily I made it out to a lease road and was able to thumb a ride with a group of Natives who were out rabbit hunting, after two oilfield trucks blew past me. So to recap: Caught Grayling. Chased by Bear. Stumbled around in the bush. Chased bear. Ate alive by mosquitos. Swore at oilfield trucks. Rode in back of truck with dead rabbits. Kissed truck. Drank beer. Slept well. all in all, was an exciting day.

this is truth

the water is only liquid for a short time

there's places i've been fishing for 6 or 7 years on which i've never even seen a boot track, let alone another angler.

It's an overlooked piece of this province. It has none of the big trout located in the south, only average sized grayling swim here. The bugs are often unbearable and the holding water is often some distance between each other. There is no easy access. It's dusty pot-hole ridden lease roads, train tracks, cutlines and deer trails. It lacks the stunning mountain vistas of the Rockies and the cold, clear waters that run from them. And to be honest, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jealous of those who live near there. Up here on these waters the charms are more subtle, often hidden from plain view. But they are here. And you'll most likely have it all to yourself. The forest, the river, and astonishingly beautiful fish who love to eat dries.

There's no denying that the SW portion of this province is amazing, stunning even . . . . . . but the rest of the province has its subtle charms, if you're willing to go out and look for it.

The ram, shunda, nordegg, sylvan lake? It's adorable what you southies consider North.

Yes yes. Please keep it that way ;-)

I found them quite willing to eat . . . . . . somewhere between Hinton and High Level . . . . . . and then put them back.

without the parking lot, (or even a more difficult wading situation . . . doubtful though) maybe the mouth of cataract will see a little less traffic than in years past.

unbelievable. it'll be like fishing a new river, (instead of visiting an old friend) next time i get down there.

proper thing. you must try . . . even better with butter ripple schnapps as a sweetener.

http://www.thestar.com/news/canada/2013/06/27/train_derails_on_calgary_bridge_over_swollen_bow_river.html "jeopardizing commerce" seriously, did he just say that. Its absolutley ridiculous.

All mornings should start like this. Standing in a canoe as it glides along the surface, casting flies into the lily pads. The sun peaking over the treetops just before 5 am. The water so calm it appears frozen. A silence so loud that it displaces a weeks worth of noise. A blue tin cup of coffee with a nip of rye. Watching the water drip off the paddle. The gentle wake behind the canoe. A glacial pace, unhurried strokes. The line gathering around my feet, then leaving. A couple small pike to clear the fog, a few walleye to bring back for breakfast. And one good fish to feel good about all day . . . while the rest of the world catches up.

I don't understand . . . How could one "not be into pike"? . . . but thank you for the kind words.

this scares me.

I run a scott boat pgs 16 with a 15 hp short leg . That might tick off a few of the boxes you're looking for. http://www.scottboat.com (it's sort of like a canadian made towee. http://toweemarine.com/rivermaster.html) Pros: - it's light, light enough to man handle (under 200 hundred pounds) - extremely stable - draws very little water (4 inches loaded) - can carry a load (705kg) - can be outfitted in many ways - can be rowed or motored or poled - fairly inexpensive -ships from ontario, so shipping cost isn't massive (I had mine shipped to the nearest dealer which is in Jasper) Cons: - a little bit of chop and it's rougher than hell - a lot of chop and you're on shore - i haven't devised a rowing system that i am completely happy with yet. (the towee boats have an accessory rowing frame that is the cats ass and I am looking at getting something similar fabbed up. http://toweemarine.com/accessories.html) might be something to look at.

The wait. For spring. For the ice to leave. For spare time. For decent weather. Eventually the wait has to end. Make some time. F$%# the weatherman, he's usually wrong. Leave the boat at home, don't be slowed down. Take the canoe. Be portable. Go solo. Go light. Go now. A long drive to find out the weatherman was right. Launch anyways. The clouds roll in. The wind picks up. The rain comes down. The coves on the north side might offer some protection. Paddle hard. There's no time to revel in the greenery. No break to admire the eagles. No chance to snap a few photos. Paddle hard. Stay straight. Get to the otherside. Two hours of paddling, ten minutes of fishing, one small juvenile pike. Then lightning flashes. The thunder rolls. Go to shore. Crack a beer. Huddle under a spruce. Fend of the mosquito hordes. And wait some more. Seven beers worth. Enough time for exsistential worry and personal crisis. The whys. The whats. The how comes. The rain stops. The wind dies. A little. Launch. Leave the bugs on shore. Cast. Retrieve. Cast. Retrieve. Cast. Strip. Strip. Stip. Hesitate. The fly stalls and hangs. And then it happens. A flash from out of nowhere. A vicious take. A strong run. Line peels off. The see-saw battle. Three, four, maybe five, more good strong runs. Fighting dirty at the boat. The rolls and twists, mad dashes under the canoe. Finally to the net. The wait is over. It was a beautiful pike and it deserved a better photo. One that truly captured it, in all it's glory. Not like this. A fish lying in a net, at the bottom of the canoe. Clutter strewn about. A paddle on the floor. The offending fly cast off to the side, next to the hemostats. A rubber boot in the bottom right corner. A homemade fly box in the top left. The composition poor. Water spots on the lens. The angle all wrong. No way to see the decent length or impressive girth of the fish. No way to see those wonderful markings. Nothing to show the power and speed, the fury and the beauty. But its hard to get all artsy with the camera while solo. In a tippy canoe. With a sizable fish thrashing madly in the boat, its razor sharp teeth threatening to grab hold of anything within reach. In rough water. Nerves frayed from the weather. Tired from a twenty minute fight and the all day battle to stay upright. This one poorly taken photo is all the evidence there is. To you it may just look like a fish, in a net, in the bottom of a canoe. But I'll remember as it truly was. One good fish. And a reminder that often times that's all it takes.