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Flymage Fly Fishing Magazine #23 Summer Issue. Fly fishing and photography magazine. www.flymage.net
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RIO GALLEGOSBy César de la Hoz
DRY FLY FISHING IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF THE FATHER By Simon Cooper
alaskaBy Guillermo Fesser
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CONTENTS
COVER PHOTO - © Bo Hermansen
JUST FLIES?
CONTRIBUTORS
JOSÉ H. WEIGANDEDITOR
CÉSAR DE LA HOZ, SIMON COOPER, GUILLERMO FESSER, BO HERMANSEN, KEN TAKATA, SANTIAGO LLANO, JOHN LANGRIDGE, JOSÉ L. GARCÍA, MIKEL ELEXPURU.
A. MUÑOZDESIGN
www.flymage.net
The first time I saw a picture of the Rio Gallegos was over 20 years ago, when I was in high school, and from that moment something magical took over that vision and turned it into a dream. A dream that has now become a reality.
Text and photos: César de la Hoz
RIO GALLEGOSMAGIC IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE
Rio Gallegos is amazing, it has everything someone that is looking for the fish of a lifetime could ask for. It runs through a wonderful landscape where the eye can range over broad meadows surrounded by volcanic areas, with giant cliffs that transport you to another era, all bathed in almost perfect crisp light.. and there are migratory trout of spectacular size.
It’s a magical river in the middle of nowhere that draws you -like a blue snake crossing an infinite
plateau painted in ochre, yellow and brown- with its currents and pools. It is a fishing paradise and is also one for the senses. And so it occurred to me that at the close of the first day’s fishing, at 7 pm, Juan Manuel said, “César, you did’t even stop to for a bite to eat...”. After almost ten hours fishing which for me had not seemed even 5 minutes. It was a long time since I had felt that feeling of escape, of “flow”, of being so focused that nothing else mattered. Unbelievable!
RIO GALLEGOS
Over the five days I spent there, we fished some spectacular pools. Landmarks that I had seen in photographs so often, and had finally become a reality, such as the white bridge, the train bridge, the mouth near the sea with those giant monolithic rock formations ... Places that contain stories older than mankind. Stories that, if you pay attention, you can almost hear howling in the wind behind you.
It was not easy to organize the trip to Rio Gallegos as I headed down there alone, and had just a few contacts in the area. Luckily, speaking with Ricardo Diaz Ordonez, general manager at www.lavaguada.cl a name came up, Juan Manuel Biott. Juan Manuel has its own fly fishing company (www.patagoniaaustralff.com) operating in Rio Gallegos, Pelke river, Strobel lake and also offers fishing trips for king salmon. An ever-present and really important issue when you choose a DIY trip, with no travel agency, no first-hand information about who to hire etc., is the lack of confidence you feel, the doubts and not knowing what you’ll find.
But on this occasion, the confidence that Juan Manuel inspired early on was paramount, not only due to his CV: he is fishing guide in the region of Santa Cruz, President of the Association of Santa Cruz fishing guides, casting instructor at Mel Krieger´s Casting School and underhand instructor and Bachelor of Tourism, it was also his professionalism that
convinced me. A professional who then made it even clearer on the river: knowing every corner, reading the water like a well-marked highway and also casting really well. Quite honestly, he is a guarantee of success.
Juan Manuel Biott www.patagoniaaustralff.com [email protected]
JUAN MANUEL BIOTT
Rio Gallegos is a river that can give you all or nothing. A river that, if you do not know it, can really hurt you too, so the help of a good guide who knows the river is fundamental. It is very important to know the water, how deep the fish are and how to present your fly.
Fishing is usually with floating lines with sink tips using different rates of sinkage. One or two
hand # 7-8 rods and reels with good brakes. For me the perfect rod was a 12 ft two-hander and # 8 line. Large nymphs, sizes 6-8 with golden heads, type Copper John, Bitch Creek, also streamers such as Yellow Egg, Sucking Leech or Yummies are a good choice. All of them, of course, with plenty of rubber legs. Ah! and it is essential to always take along some black Woolly Buggers, size 6-8.
THE FISHING
But besides knowing how to choose the proper equipment and flies, you have to be able to fish, and fish well, concentrate and pay attention to the advice you get ... not about casting nymphs
to 7 meters with a “spark” at the end of the leader and a kind of plastic line, no. This is a river that demands the maximum, that will put you in your place. A river that is not going to give away any fish.
Sometimes it seems that the river just plays with your imagination, intoxicating you by the stages, making you think that with every cast, Moby Dick will rise up and devour your fly. But it is not so easy. The Gallegos River is strongly allied with the elements, the wind is going to try to make you bend your knees into every cast, such that you give up and
feel boredom taking its toll on you, with one blast after another. It is a river that is going to require good loops, good presentations and perfect drifts.
It is hard, but it can also be a generous river that will reward your efforts, your patience, and the confidence you have placed in it, with the fish of a lifetime.
When you fish Rio Gallegos, time stands still around you and every snagged fly makes your heart pound against your chest and again, while the line cuts the surface of the water like a knife. You stand, with maximum care, still, with an unblinking stare, waiting for a response. The fish instinctively turns and follows the fly. Then the line stops and
after an eternal second, sets, you firmly lift the rod and the fish you were waiting for takes off, and you cannot stop it. The rod bends more and more and you pull on the reel brake but no matter what he continues powering away, unstoppable. It’s something you have to experience for yourself and you can never explain in words.
The Rio Gallegos is a river that, while you travelling back home, makes you want to get off the plane, go back and make that cast you know you will be final. It is a river that floods and washes into in your dreams. It is one of the most special rivers in the
world. A river that like no other is encapsulated in those famous words of Norman McLean’s, ‘One day when I was in high school my life was changed forever: “I was haunted by these waters.”
I´ll be back!
César de la Hoz
César is one of fly fishing’s big players in Spain and is a certified master fly caster too (FFF-MCI).
In him the passion for fishing is combined with a passion for photography giving us excellent photos.
You can visit his website here:www.cesardelahoz.com
Pupa de tricóptero latex Ninfa de verano
Dánica
Tricóptero CDC Pupa de Tricóptero II
Buzzer
Flymage Fly Tying Videos
by Mikel Elexpuru
ALASKAExcerpt from the book
“One hundred miles from Manhattan”
By Guillermo Fesser
Finally we head downriver. Eighty-five miles on the Kisaralik, a river whose difficult access has preserved its surroundings intact. Three rafts, a guide and two fishermen in each raft. Before boarding, Marty, the leading guide, reminds us that we shouldn’t put food or anything that has a scent in the tents. “No toothpaste or deodorant. Got it? All belongings have to spend the night in a hermetically-sealed bag 60 feet from the camp. We don’t want to attract any bears.” “And if one shows up without an appointment?” “We’ll get to that. First: stay together. They rarely attack a group of three. Forget about going for a solitary walk. If a bear appears, the three of us should stick together like a giant creature with six eyes.” “Yeah”, I nod confidently, and stare at him fiercely. “Actually”, Marty corrects me, “staring at a bear is a sign of aggression. Best not to engage eyes with one. You should raise your knapsacks over your heads to gain height and unfold your sweaters to make you look bigger. It’s important to look larger to scare them off. If despite these measures, the animal begins to growl and paw at the ground, the situation has
turned potentially dangerous. Back away! And if the bear makes contact … the only solution is to drop to the ground, cover your head with your hands and play dead.” And then, as CBS reporter Edward R. Murrow used to say, good night and good luck.We’re heading downriver. We descend an average of 15 feet every half-mile and the current moves fast. Here we catch Dolly Varden fish, which everyone calls Dolly Parton. My friends Jeff and John are catching nonstop. Every time they get a fish, they start singing: “Well, hello, Dolly, I said hello, Dolly, It’s so nice to have you back where you belong ...” I haven’t caught even one. “What weight are you using, Guermino?” I show my guide what I’m using. “You’ll never catch a Dolly with that. You need more weight. The Dolly is at the bottom. You know what a weight is good for? So that your fly will descend to the level where the fish that you want to catch swim. Look over the side, calculate how deep the water is here and put this tin weight on your line at that distance. Here.” “Thanks, Pat.” “To catch a dolly, you need to hear the sound of the weight hitting the river bottom.” “Hey,
Pat, I got a bite!” “See? It’s a beautiful fish.” It begins to rain. It doesn’t matter, though: “Hello, Dolly, I said hello, Dolly...”At Mile 15, the river enters the Kuskokwim Mountain range through a deep canyon. Alder, birch and spruce trees appear in the landscape. We have to be prepared to get a bit wet: we’re going into the rapids that plunge into waterfalls. We handle the first five-foot jump with dignity. Cool. Category 3 rapids overcome. What lies ahead looks a bit more challenging. A 15-foot drop. “Go ahead”, we tell our guides. “We’re not up to it.” The guides stay on board and the rest of us portage our fishing tackle along the shore to avoid danger. On the other side of the rocky drop-off, we spot a pool with more salmon than water. They jump like dolphins, insistently, trying to cross the eight feet that separates them from the high stretch of the river. Marty says it’s the first time he’s seen red Sockeye so far upriver. It must be an effect of climate change. There’s also silver Coho. The smallest ones measure 20 inches and are 10 lbs. of pure muscle.I take out the pollywog my cousin Bob gave me. It’s a fly that looks like a little mouse. He
made it himself with the orange rubber earplugs they gave him on the Alaska Airlines flight. He slit them open with a knife and slid a Number 4 salmon hook into the cut. After gluing the pieces back together, he sewed a bit of red Marabou feather on the shank of the hook, imitating the tail of the rodent and presto! The real ones are made of deer hide dyed pink. They are cast a bit in front of the salmon and dragged slowly, like mice trying to cross the river. The salmon take off like torpedoes after it. I catch one, and reel it in. Yes! I just caught the first salmon of my life! It pulls strongly, jumping and swimming at full speed in the opposite direction. The fly line burns my fingers. The fish takes off again. We struggle for a while. I finally reel it to shore. “You know, John, I need a picture of this moment”. I hand him my camera. I grab the salmon with my hands. I know I’m not supposed to but it’s just for a second and….”Hurry up, it’s getting away from me.” Click. “Got it?” “Yeah.” I look. The photo is blurry. There wasn’t enough light and the flash didn’t go off. I look like I’m holding a piece of bologna. Great.At 7:00 a.m., the sky clears and a gorgeous sun appears.
I leave the tent. We spot a large caribou near the riverbank, a parka squirrel and a bald eagle. We catch seven or eight grayling and, finally, a rainbow trout. It flips and squirms in the air, shaking its head. It fights like a champion, but I reel it in. It measures 15 inches. I want to cry for joy. This time I have to get a good photo. Just as I’m about to bring the trout up to the
boat to take its picture, I hear Marty say from the next boat over: “Gulermo?” I smile and release the trout from the hook and let it take off upriver. “Well, it wasn’t big enough to merit a photo anyway,” says Pat in an attempt to console me. “Last year, we caught one that was 29 inches on the Kenai River. It weighed so much we couldn’t even lift it.”
Guillermo Fesser is a Spanish television and radio journalist known in his country for his humorous but compassionate news reporting, and especially for his innovative Madrid-based national morning radio talk show, Gomaespuma, which ran for 25 years and had over 1 million listeners. Fesser studied journalism at the Universidad Complutense of Madrid and filmmaking at the University of Southern California, Los Angeles, via a Fulbright scholarship. He has written for many Spanish newspapers including El Pais and El Mundo, edited and hosted several news programs for Spain’s TVE.
Fesser lives with his family in Rhinebeck, New York, where he broadcasts weekly stories on life in small-town America to Onda Cero Radio in Spain and blogs for The Huffington Post.
www.gomaespuma.com
Dry fly fishing in the footsteps of the father
By Simon Cooper
Photography: Bo Hermansen, Simon Cooper and Ken Takata - www.kentakataphotography.com
If you are out anytime this season peering into your fly box to pick a pattern for a fish you have just spotted rising, pause for a moment. Then cast your eyes up to the heavens to offer a small prayer of thanks to Frederic Halford for this year is the 100th anniversary of his death and if any man can claim the mantle ‘the father of dry fly fishing’, it is Halford.
F M Halford, a successful businessman of the Victorian era, dedicated his life from middle age to his death at 69 to the pursuit of brown trout on the chalkstreams of southern England with the dry fly. To say he invented this style of fishing would be wrong (the Macedonians were doing it long before the birth of Christ) but what he did do was draw together a disparate variety of practices and beliefs to codify the art of fishing to rising fish with imitative patterns in his book Floating Flies and How to Dress Them published in 1886.Much has been written about Halford’s life and fishing practices; high on the list is his apparent dislike of his contemporary, GEM Skues who invented nymph fishing. Actually this is probably more legend than fact as the two met occasionally and there is no record of any rancour. One of those places they communed was the Oakley Hut on the River Test at Mottisfont Abbey, where Halford fished for many years and made his last ever cast to a trout. As a place for fishing it is a remarkable spot; as a reminder of a fly fishing great it is awe inspiring.
The Oakley Stream, as we call Halford’s section of the famous River Test, is the perfect vision of an English chalkstream, where the reed-thatched hut he built still stands on the river bank today. The water is clear, fast flowing without being a torrent. In most sections the depth is no more than three feet, the river bed lined with bright golden gravel from which grows rafts of green ranunculus river weed that gently wafts with the flow. If you have a chance to get into the water run your fingers through the tendrils of the weed like you might your hair, then open the palm of your hand. Wriggling in your cupped hand will be a mass of river life. Pale shrimps, light green olives and tiny snails to name but three. Bend down to turn over any large stone on the river bed and you will see sedge cases, mayfly nymphs and bloodworms. It is this super-abundance of entomological life that attracts the trout and in turn us fly fishermen.Halford had a particular way of fly fishing; not for him was speculative casting with a fly that may or may not work. For him it was all about observation, imitation and execution.
Observe a rising fish, indentify the fly it was feeding on, tie on an accurate imitation and then, as my old casting instructor once told me, make your first cast your best cast. For Halford the perfect day was to spot four rising fish rising to four different naturals and catch them on four different patterns. Why four you might ask? Well back then gentlemen fly fishers were encouraged to catch and kill just four fish each day; catch and release was frowned upon.
The chalkstreams were then, and are now, particularly suited to Halford’s style of dry fly fishing because there are so many types of hatches and the fish are prone to being highly selective – that is what makes the challenge man vs. fish so fascinating. Somehow amongst that array of insects you have to pick the one the trout wants at any given moment. Some days, like at the height of the Mayfly ephemera danica hatch that lasts for three weeks from late May to early June when the huge duns are gulped down left, right and centre, it is plainly obvious. But in the fading light of dusk on a sultry summer
evening when a myriad of tiny dark specks litter the surface to match the hatch whilst the fish feed in a frenzy all about you can be altogether harder. Those are, of course, the two extremes of the chalkstream dry fly fishing but the magic of these special rivers is that hatches happen every day of the year, regardless of the season. I have been out on Christmas Day in the snow to see wild trout pecking away at a hatch of tiny olives and at the other end of the scale hidden myself under the shade of a tree away from the blazing heat of August to watch a big, fat lazy trout suck caddis off the reeds as they emerge from the water.
It is a remarkable thing that nearly a hundred and fifty years on since Halford first trod the banks of the River Test his principles still guide us today. Yes, the tackle has changed but we all still crave that moment when a fish rises to the fly we have so delicately cast. In that fraction of a millisecond, hours or days of frustration melt away into joy. It will always be a magical moment and for that we must thank Frederic Halford.
Simon CooperSimon Cooper is a professional fly fisher, author and is the leading provider of fishing on the chalkstreams for visitors to southern England, which includes Halford’s Oakley Stream and Hut at Mottisfont Abbey.
His book Life of a Chalkstream was recently published by HarperCollins.
More details of this and his fishing visit: www.fishingbreaks.co.uk
visitfaroeislands.com
stories
untoldbig fish, big landscape, big tales
visitfaroeislands.com
stories
untoldbig fish, big landscape, big tales
50 reasons to subscribe to Flymage magazine
3 Because you love Fly Fishing, Travel and Photography
3 Because there are English and Spanish editions
3 Because it’s a Free Magazine
3 Because on July 15th a Fly Box will be in a draw among Subscribers
3 Because the box contains 46 Trout Flies tied by Mikel Elexpuru
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JUST
FLIES?
They are our contact with the fish.
We put all our faith in them.
We spent hours admiring them.
We keep them as real gems because they are actually more than... just flies.
“Deconstruction of a streamer” - Piranhas in Venezuela.
Permita crabs.Punta Allen, Mexico.
Foam poppers.
Bomber and natural fly. In search of Atlantic Salmon. Gaspé, Canada.
Yellow Hope. Orkla river, Norway.
Veterans Center. Kola Peninsula, Russia.
Guess who has worked tonight... Gaula river, Norway.
Of bombers and salmon, Russia.
Leon Cockrel caddisflies over Ribera del Duero wine.
Patagonic ammunition. Chile
Gurglers and its creator.
A perfect imitation.
Blue Charm
Candies for bass.
Sting
Escape to the river, others have already done.
in processStalking big trout
with Santiago Llano
Coming soon on Flymage magazine
Issue #24 Fall 2014
![Pursuit Of Fly Tying [Fly Fishing, Flytying]](https://img.pdfslide.us/doc/110x75/555529aab4c905b9318b59d7/pursuit-of-fly-tying-fly-fishing-flytying.jpg)
