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Fishing with Cataline
This fishing excursion follows in the tracks of the well-known trailbrazer and packer, known as Cataline. He was born Jean Caux, in the Catalonia region near the Spanish/French border, and blazed trails from central to northern British Columbia, Canada. The numerous gold rushes and homesteaders kept him busy supplying their camps during the 1860's, when much of the country was untouched. He was able to experience an untouched wilderness full of fish and game. This region still has some of the best rainbow trout fishing on the continent; moose, bear, caribou, mountain goats and sheep are plentiful too in this mountain region. My recent excursion followed in his footsteps from Clinton, B.C., in the south to Babine Lake in the north. He traveled on foot with a pack train of as many as 80 mules, following old Indian and wild game trails where he could, and "bushwacked" where he couldn't.
Hopper time
I put on my waders, my felt-soled boots and a fleece vest because it felt a little bit cool when I got to the Oldman River. The sky was cloudy, threatening rain. A chilly breeze was sweeping down the valley from the west. But within 20 minutes I was sweating like I was in the tropics, the breeze had stopped and the sun had popped out from behind the clouds. I should have known. Summer might be winding down, but it ain't done yet. I'd come down to the Oldman River below the Three Rivers Dam to try a bit of late-afternoon grasshopper fishing. No, not fishing for grasshoppers. I mean using big flies imitating grasshoppers to fool some trout into playing with me for a bit. It's the time of year for grasshoppers along the river banks to start leaping and flying around looking for mates.
Men enjoy bonding by being alone together
One of the chief reasons we guys like to go fishing together is that it gives us a chance for some real companionship and bonding. Case in point: "Hey, Phil, you still up for fishing today?" "You bet. I've got all the stuff out in the truck," he says enthusiastically. "Since I'm getting off earlier than you, how about if we drive separately and just meet under the Mehama Bridge and decide where to go?" "OK, see you there," Phil responds. So I get to the spot, rig up, and just as I'm getting ready to make the first cast, he drives up and parks. "This looks pretty good," I said, looking at the glassy green pool in front of me. "But with your style of casting with the fly rod, the top part of the pool should be good. "I've seen a lot of fish come out of there." "Yell if you get something, and I'll come back and help you land him," Phil says as he heads upriver.
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