Miramichi Featured in Toronto Star Article

The Following article by Liz Flemming appeared in the Toronto Star.  Just thought it was pretty cool!  Enjoy!

DOAKTOWN, NEW BRUNSWICK—In the small towns that dot the shores of the mighty Miramichi, they call it “the river” — as if there was only one.

It’s easy to see why. The 217-km-long Miramichi is more than just water; it’s the lifeblood of those tiny communities.

George Routledge, the local authority on fly-tying, has fished the Miramichi for most of his 80-plus years.

“I’m here to spread the word on the salmon,” he says. “What’s important around here are the things that live in the water.”

If you try your luck with a hook and worm, you’ll get nothing but pitying glances. What you need is a fly rod, a good guide and the right attitude. “It’s called fishing, not catching,” locals tell those of us who come from away.

Those Miramichi salmon swimming to the ocean play hard-to-get. Unlike most fish, they’re not even peckish and can go a stunning 22 days without eating.

“Who knows why salmon bite at all?” asks local guide and tour operator Bev Gaston. “Could be they’re curious, or maybe the fly scares them, or maybe they’re just playing.”

No one knows the mind of a salmon, but people spend a great deal of time trying to read them. When out-of-province anglers pay for a license, food, accommodation and a guide, they want to go home with at least a few good fish stories.

Serge Collin, a long-time Miramichi fishing enthusiast, offers this advice: use flies that look like the ones buzzing around you. “Match the hatch.”

Routledge adds his two cents: “What we say around here is that it doesn’t make any difference what color the fly is; so long as it’s green and black.”

He is talking about his favorite “green ghost” flies, displayed on his store counter right beside the green butterflies, green butt bear hairs, copper killers, glitter bears, grizzly kings, rusty rats, undertakers and more.

Although he now employs local help, Routledge used to tie all the flies himself, much to the delight of his biggest fan: baseball legend Ted Williams, a passionate fisherman and lover of all things Miramichi.

Routledge laughs, “Ted once told a reporter that George Routledge tied all his flies. It wasn’t true, Ted was a great fly-tier himself, but he thought it was funny. He said, ‘Who’s ever gonna know?’ ”

Fly-tying is no easy trick, as I discovered when I took lessons at the Atlantic Salmon Museum. Using a clamp to hold the sharp hook steady, our instructor taught us to attach impossibly small bits of shiny tinsel, beads, rooster feathers and bear hair by wrapping them with fine black thread from a brass bobbin. It took me two hours, punctuated by much winding, rewinding, finger-pricking, bobbin-dropping and cursing, to complete a single fly.

“Good work,” said my teacher, with a completely straight face. “Fly-tiers around here do about 10 an hour.”

Next step, a casting lesson.

“It’s a one, two, three motion,” Gaston explains, smoothly lifting the long rod behind his head (one), snapping it forward (two), and sending the line across the surface of the water with a downward thrust (three).

Used to a spinning reel? Forget it: this is a whole different kettle of salmon. The fly is tiny, the winds can be strong and your shoulder will get stiff in the weirdest ways, but after a bit of the old one-two-three, you’ll be rolling.

Wade in or fish from a boat — the salmon won’t care. I clambered into a boat with the ultra-patient fishing guide Brian Peterson. He managed (mostly) to smother his smile of wonderment at the sight of a city girl thinking she could fish.

“You can catch and release 10 a day, or keep one, so long as it’s under 63 cm — they’re salmon but called grilse. Once you’ve got your limit, we’re done,” he says, no doubt thinking that would happen just as hell froze over.

But sometimes lightning strikes, and so do salmon. Suddenly, I had a fish on the line, in the net, then in the boat. A quick photo-op, then he was back in the river, continuing his journey to the sea. Brian accepted me into the fishing fraternity of the Miramichi. With a smile, he started to tell jokes and even laughed at mine. Soon, we were old friends.

Later that night, back at O’Donnell’s Cottages, we tucked into a feed of lobster, told fish stories, and listened to an old-time fiddler play tunes I remembered from watching Don Messer’s Jubilee with my grandmother.

I thought more about George Routledge’s words of wisdom. Noting the success of anti-poaching laws, the emphasis on catch-and-release fishing, and the way in which the Miramichi is now valued by those who make their living from it, he said, “The river is a resource and I’m some glad we see it that way now.”

Liz Fleming is a Niagara-based freelance writer. Her trip was subsidized by Tourism New Brunswick.

JUST THE FACTS

ARRIVING The closest airport is Fredericton, a drive of less than 90 minutes.

DOING To fish the Miramichi River, you’ll need a guide, a fishing license and a place to stay. O’Donnell’s Cottages (odonnellscottages.com) is a great choice, as is The Ledges Inn (ledgesinn.com). The first is family and budget friendly, while the second takes a more luxurious approach to the blast-and-cast (hunting and fishing) package, but both are warm and welcoming. When you book your accommodations, your license and guide requirements will be handled for you, and rental equipment is available.