Adrienne’s Blog

Chasing Their Dreams

Have I ever mentioned that one of the biggest reasons why I love working in the fly fishing industry is that I get to meet the most incredible people? People who are motivated, talented and passionate, and incredibly inspirational. In the past several months I’ve had the pleasure of creating new relationships with a number of anglers who are pursuing their dreams in this crazy world, and I’d love to introduce a couple of them to you.

Click here to continue reading and read about these amazing people!

Camrea Ready

I don’t often set out on a fishing day with a particular photo in mind that I would like to take. Usually I find things to be much more organic than that – the right light, angle and action tend to just jump out at me, and then I go for the shot. One thing that makes all the difference is keeping my camera in my waders so that when those moments occur I can be ready to take the shot in seconds. Risky? Yes. If I fall in, my camera is most certain to get soaked, but if I keep it locked away in a waterproof bag or pelican case, I can guarentee you I would barely use it. So I take the risk, and it has paid off, time and again. Here are a few shots of my favourite “moments” in the past little while.

Ms. V

It’s been almost four years since my last post dedicated to the lovely April Vokey. Since that time, she and I have come a long way, in both our friendship and our personal lives. I’ve known Ape for almost nine years (ahhh! that makes me feel old), and never did it occur to me when I saw her first come through the door of Michael & Young how important she would become in my life. Assertive, with her long blond hair and hot pink high heels, she baffled me on our first introduction.


At that time I knew hardly any women that fly fished, and none that were younger than I was, and definitely none that looked like April. Talented, passionate, and beautiful, Ape is one of the most important people in my life today. We have had our issues, but with time and effort on both our parts, we were able to get past the unnecessary drama and create a friendship that is incredibly special and unbreakable. Ape has been a rock during my worst moments, and I know that if I’m in need I can call her and she will be there for me, no matter what.


With just a little over seven hours in 2012 left, and after a year of change that went by way too fast, I find myself overwhelmed with nostalgia. Cliche, maybe, but there’s a reason that the end of a year is a time of reflection. Like a birthday, its a definitive end to something, a passage of time that can be remembered concretely. How many times do we say, “back in 2000″, for example, or “when I was 25″. Time is such an intangible thing, and measuring by the year gives us a way to define our short and precious time here as humans.

Growing up I could never have imagined myself becoming an angler. When I was little I wanted to be a veterinarian. My parents had met in the small town of Port Hardy on northern Vancouver Island. They were hippies, in the vegetarian, nature and animal loving way, not the dope smoking, free love sense. They found a piece of property they loved on Malcolm Island, just outside of the tiny village of Sointula, which means “Place of Harmony” in Finnish, and at the time the primary industry was actually commericial fishing. My sister and I were both born at home and raised vegetarian. Our 13 acres of land lay across the street from the ocean, with views of Vancouver Island. Mom and dad built us an amazing playground in the backyard, with a playhouse, giant sandbox, swingset and climbing/slide tower. We had a creek flowing through the property that we would dam up in rainstorms and sail boats down. The forest provided ample space to build forts and climb trees, and we regularily had bonfires and barbeques on the beach, while chasing crabs and catching bullheads.

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Published August 13, 2012 | By Steelhead Girls

The irony of having the Steelhead Girls website launch and then leaving the next week to a place without anadromous fish is not lost on me. I love my steelhead. They will forever be my favourite fish. But as an angler the desire to explore and have new experiences draws me to new places. So here I am in Calgary, on the other side of the Rockies where salmon and steelhead cannot reach. Several people have asked why on earth I would leave sea run fish, chrome and huge, for single handers and trout. For starters, I could never leave those silver beauties forever. A couple months away from them will only whet my appetite for swinging flies. When I come home I will be longing to fish the Fraser and Harrison for Chinook and Coho, dreaming of northern BC steelhead and praying that the Thompson is open.

But for now, it is all about trout. Browns, bulls, cutthroat, rainbows, and hopefully even some brookies; perhaps even a few pike. Single handers, multiple fly rigs, drift boats, mountain streams, thunder storms and sunshine. Experience is experience, any way you look at it. A big section of the Bow River is classified as a Blue Ribbon trout stream, and is arguably one of the best trout rivers in North America. Fishing can be crazy insane, or tougher than you can imagine. The better you are at reading water, figuring out the hatch, spotting rising and feeding fish, casting with distance and accuracy, the more successful you’ll be. I’m looking forward to spotting and stalking fish in gin clear mountain streams, and trying to make that perfect cast to that monster brown rising for tiny caddis on the Bow. I can’t help but feel that these couple months will make me a much, much better angler, not just for trout, but for everything.

There is so much about fishing here that I haven’t really had the opportunity to do – streamer fishing out of the boat, for instance. Casting a sink tip line with two huge streamer patterns on a single hand, trying to land them an inch or two from the bank at a downstream angle from the boat, then stripping the flies back almost as fast as possible is a huge rush, especially when you get that explosion as a fish grabs the fly just after it hits the water. When you can see that gorgeous brown following, chasing, maybe eating or turning away at the last second, it’s interactive, visual and exciting, not to mention a heck of a lot of work. Fishing big foam stone flies or hopper patterns from the boat, while not as much work, can be just as exciting as you watch a fish slide out from underneath a cut bank, eat the fly off the surface and sink back down. And then there are sipping fish. Looking for snouts requires patience. Sometimes the fish are eating so softly you barely see a dimple. Other times you see nose, back and tail. Sometimes they feed in a rhythm, steadily rising in one spot or one line, while other times the rises are sporadic, inconsistent. Then it’s a matter of knowing what it is they are eating, and presenting the fly in the right place and the right time.

And casting? Well, your casting can’t help but improve. In BC we can only fish one fly. Here we can fish up to three. And let me tell you, it takes some getting used to. And it is all about being accurate. Often if your streamer or hopper isn’t two inches from the bank you won’t move fish. Two feet, one foot, even 8 inches from the bank can be too far. And if your fly splashes as it lands or you over cast to a rising fish chances are that fish will be put down for good.

Even if it isn’t the type of fishing you always do, or even the fish you love the most, every new experience will only give you valuable skills that help you on your future adventures. So for now call me a trout bum, because pretty soon I’m going to be an even better steelhead bum than before.