DATELINE: JULY 15, 2024 – SURREY, BRITISH COLUMBIA, CANADA
You would think I’d have fished Canada more, but the sad truth is I have made one dedicated angling journey there, a 1990s jaunt to Ontario’s famous Lake of the Woods, with old if misguided buddy Bob Reine. (He’s a Twins fan, and as we all know, the Twins cheated in the 1987 ALCS.) It was a great trip, a week of nonstop “cabin by the lake” summer fun, although Benjamin threw his diaper at us. But despite catching plenty of northern pike and walleye, I did not collect a new species on that adventure.
Normal children do not throw diapers, Benjamin.
I’ve been to Canada on a number of business trips since, but a fishing excursion never seemed to be in the cards – either the trip was too short, the weather was bad, or I had to deal with a sociopathic sales VP.
So, when a midsummer business trip to Vancouver showed up on my schedule, I left myself an extra day, carefully checked the weather, and made sure that I wouldn’t have to deal with any sociopaths. As a matter of fact, the sales VP who invited me up there, Troy, is actually an old friend from my last employer. He’s a great guy, a fisherman, and most importantly, not a sociopath.
Troy with a typical Vancouver salmon. He is also, sadly, a Canucks fan, so I bring up the 2002 playoffs against my beloved Red Wings whenever I can. (Dan Cloutier is still looking for the puck.)
I couldn’t find a great shot of it, but here is Cloutier the moment after he turned what should have been icing into a critical goal for Detroit.
And here he is later in the series.
Troy generously offered to take me salmon fishing, but I, of course, wanted to try to find a new species. This was no easy task. Basically, if it lives in Vancouver, it also lives in Seattle and probably Northern California. I spent some weeks on this, and got a lucky break when local species genius Vince (@prickly_sculpin) introduced me to Jordan, a fellow species hunter in British Columbia. Jordan and I spoke a few times, and we finally stumbled onto the idea of the coastal cutthroat trout – the last of the cutthroat splits I hadn’t captured.
That’s Jordan (@b.c._angler) with a solid spiny dogfish. It took me years to get one this big.
These were apparently quite common near where Troy keeps his boat, and so that became the plan. I packed two spinning rods and a wide assortment of spoons with single, barbless hooks. (Always check local regulations.)
United Airlines is aways the big variable on trips where I try to fish the day I land, but they were well-behaved and got me there on time. A quick Uber ride later, I was at the harbor and shaking hands with Troy.
The scenery on the way from the airport got phenomenal quickly. The train reminded me of “Canadian Railroad Trilogy” by Gordon Lightfoot, the second-greatest Canadian of all time. (Right behind Gordie Howe.)
Troy’s boat, the HMS No Stanley Cups.
We have worked together for the better part of two decades, although he has never aged. I fished the harbor area for a few minutes while we waited for Lauren, another co-worker, to join us for what she would hopefully view as a pleasant boat ride.
I kept a steady text string up with Jordan, and he had me locked down to a specific stretch of shoreline where he had gotten the trout before. We also discussed a couple of off-brand bottom fish that might bite, so I thought I would try those first with some small shrimp baits.
We motored out into the afternoon, and in between tying up rigs, I managed to look up and see what a beautiful place it was.
It hit me I had never been through the area in nice weather. That’s Mount Baker there, which is in Washington, so … the most majestic sight of the day was actually in the USA.
We tried a few spots that Jordan mentioned, and as he warned, the Pacific staghorn sculpins were out in force. They hit bait, and, unexpectedly, they also hit all kinds of lures.
The savage Pacific staghorn sculpin.
We moved off that area and into his hot spot. We anchored a few hundred yards off shore, and proceeded to catch more sculpins. I did notice a few fish jumping very close to shore, and as Troy proceeded to grill some brilliant steaks, I pleaded with him to move his expensive boat into a shallow, rocky area full of obstacles that could tear off his propeller. But those splashes had to be trout, because sculpin don’t jump.
He was a good sport, and got me within casting distance of the shoreline. I use some very long Shimano telescopic travel rods, so I could throw a half-ounce spoon quite some distance. I got hit on my first toss, and landed a fish on the second. It looked very pale compared to the illustrations I had seen, and I was briefly worried that I was catching juvenile salmon. But Jordan put me straight almost immediately, and the fish (I caught five trout in all) were verified as coastal cutthroat.
Species 2322.
The coastal cutthroat gets its closeup.
My collection was complete, bringing a 25-year journey to a close. I had caught a Lahontan cutthroat at Pyramid Lake back in the 1990s, then the Westslope on a brutal Idaho hike in 2004, and the Rocky Mountain, with The Mucus, in 2020.
The Lahontans are the largest of the group. This one was caught in Pyramid Lake in 2008, on a trip with expert angler and all-around good guy Jim Tolonen. (World record holder on the sand sole.)
A rocky mountain cutthroat, courtesy of old fishing buddy Mike Rapoport, October 2004.
And my westslope cutthroat, during my 2020 Unabomber phase. Photo taken by The Mucus.
Troy got us back to port than evening, and we headed into Vancouver for a few days of meetings.
Troy, Lauren, and Steve.
The sun sets on a perfect evening.
I was glad to have Canada on the “Countries with new species” list – of the 94 countries where I have caught a fish, I had gotten a new species in 74 of them. I also knew that if I could get more time up here in good weather, that there were some exotic rockfish to be captured, ideally while wearing my Steve Yzerman jersey. The road version, so it wouldn’t show blood.
Steve
SPECIAL BONUS FEATURE – ARMCHAIR CARP
Cyprinidae is the family thank keeps on giving, but this was an unexpected gift. In a journey that was prompted in 2020 by Danish species whiz Thorke Ostergaard, then re-prompted by several of my local fishing buddies, I finally figured out that the koi carp I had captured (in assorted hotel fountains and decorative ponds worldwide) were actually Amur carp (Cyprinus rubrofuscus) – a different species than the common carp (Cyprinus carpio) I had assumed they were.
The first one I could find in my photo records, January 10, 2004, in Saigon, Vietnam.
The Vietnam fishing trip was a last-minute adventure between a frantic business meeting and some important tourism involving the United States’ rather unfortunate presence in this country for over two decades. Nguyen Dam, a friend of the always-connected Jean-Francois Helias, generously took me fishing for a day and drove me by some assorted war relics. Flying in from the west, you can still see miles of land dotted with bomb craters.
Steve and Nguyen. I actually won the fishing contest for the day, but they wouldn’t give me the trophy because they feared I would not return it.
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