It’s 6AM at our campsite. The sun is starting to peek over the rolling backdrop of the Margaree Valley as I carry a pot of coffee over the hill to fuel my group of anglers, now more-so friends after a night of chatting by the fire and overthinking fly choices. Our view is pristine, waking up at Live Life In Tents in the heart of the Margaree, I like to think we have the best view of the valley. We’ve come from different provinces, skill levels, ages, and backgrounds all to bond over a common interest: fly fishing.
I depart after a quick breakfast with my group of three anglers, all hoping they will get to lay their eyes on a precious Atlantic Salmon today. I remind them how difficult they are to catch and that every encounter with one of these species is a treasure.
We arrive at the river, and one of the women, Lexie, steps out into the river. She looks like she’s done this before and I think to myself “She’s fishing”. With every cast, she carefully places her fly and with a slight belly in the line, she lets the fly swing all the way to the inner seam. Her fly is bright yellow and pink – a “canary” a fly she tied with one of her late mentors in fly tying. I stare into the slow, dark water hoping for a sign of life from a much-anticipated visitor.
Fishing on the upper Margaree River
I constantly remind myself how lucky I am, to be a fly fishing guide in such a beautiful and unique place. I think of how Margaree Valley and its local businesses (much like Live Life In Tents) are unique … that they help take the “stuffiness” out of fly fishing. With public river access and affordable accommodations, the Margaree River allows anglers who can’t afford the “lodge-life” to get a piece of the action. It allows all walks of life to fish together. It creates a network of various age groups and abilities who learn from each other.
My day dreaming is interrupted by a fast smash at the end of Lexie’s line. She recasts her fly, nothing, the fish is gone. I instruct her to wait, and she does – a reason I believe women to be some of the best salmon anglers out there: patience and finesse. After a few moments, she recasts, leaving her fly sit for a few painstakingly long second. Then… another smash. The salmon is on and Lexie is fighting her first Atlantic Salmon (on a fly she tied herself no doubt!).
Amongst the chaos of the fighting fish, I reflect back to how unique of a situation I am in. I am a female guide standing beside another women who is hooked up to her first Atlantic salmon. My friend Kate, a fellow guide, is there too. She’s cheering Lexie on and thoughtfully walking her through the process. The other participants on the river bank are seeing an Atlantic Salmon for their first time too. The energy is electric.
Then, as fast as it happened, the fish spit the hook. Lexie had just learned the main lesson of salmon fishing – that nothing is certain.
When we wrap up for the day, we head back to camp running through scenarios of what went wrong. As much as I wanted Lexie to land that fish, I am happy with the way things happened. Each participant walked away with feelings of admiration for the salmon. Seeing the sheer strength of the fish and the work that goes into hooking one instilled what I like to call “the itch”. It’s what keeps us coming back and keeps us advocating for the species.
With every client I guide, I hope to instill a feeling of passion as I am of the thought that the more anglers who are passionate, the more people these delicate species have in their corner.
This year, my summer fishing retreat sold out in a few hours, with repeat attendees. I like to think that something good is happening with the fly fishing scene in Nova Scotia and I remind myself how lucky I am for the opportunity to explore these waters.