Three years ago I received a call from a friend who detailed a special place in Northwest Canada. A floating barge hidden in a cove just off the Pacific coast called the Nootka Wilderness Lodge. Every year a group of friends assemble at this location for four nights and five days of chasing species like salmon, halibut, and lingcod. It’s not particularly about the fishing as it is the yearly gathering to catch up over a common hobby, in a remote destination, with amazing food and accommodations.
Nootka Wilderness Lodge nestled 40 minutes outside of Campbell River
But lets be honest, the fishing is absolutely incredible. Unfortunately, like the rest of the world the last two COVID years have been tough. Restricting access to the lodge’s business and out of country travelers ability to visit. Luckily, the worst seems to be behind us and “normal” life resumes. This year, the crew reunited for its triumphant return to the Pacific waters.
One of the 5 plane rides to our destination.
Ever since I managed to hook a king salmon with an 8wt in the Milwaukee River I have been itching to chase chinook again. After some internet recon on the local waters there in addition to help from the lodge, I was able to come up with a game plan to specifically target coho salmon. Here’s the scoop, while most of the other anglers are chasing chinook by trolling large flashers with trailing spoon lures at 60-100 feet deep I was told coho salmon have been known to make their way to the surface chasing bait fish. The plan consisted of throwing an 8wt with Orvis Depthcharge 300 grain sinking line, a 20lb floro leader, and a de-barbed buck tail fly (thanks to the Phoenix Orvis fishing manager Jakob for helping tie a few) about 20-30 feet into the prop wash of the boat’s motor.Here’s the problem, somehow my 7wt made its way into the Clearwater 8wt rod holder so that’s what we ran.
Amazing views off the boat watching Bald Eagles fish on their own.
Long shot, right? Well if you’re anything like me, you would rather spend eight hours on the water throwing streamers off the back of the boat all day than sitting and wait for tackle in a rod holder to wiggle. Some laughed, some questioned, including my fishing partner on the boat who worried I would just get in the way citing “there’s no way you will catch anything, you aren’t deep enough”. I won’t lie, after about 40 minutes even I worried in my execution. I started changing the length of the presentation, slowly stripping line, quickly stripping line, and then the line snapped tight. “Fish on!” – I hear the boat caption behind me start to laugh and “unbelievable” murmured in dismay spoken by my boat buddy. The Hydros reel drag immediately began to sing as the fish went for the first of many runs out and deep. The fish finally tired and appeared within eyeshot only to hear the caption exclaim “holy cow, that’s a king!” as he netted the fish. Shortly after, we were able to hook into a couple of cohos before the Pacific weather stepped in.
Sometimes, proving people wrong is such an accomplishment.
After chatting with the lodge about wanting to do some more fly fishing, I was able to convince on of the fishing managers to arrange for a three person plane to pick us up and deliver us to a remote lake only accessible by water taxi. It was a recon mission since neither of us had ever been there but heard there were cutthroat trout cruising around. We packed the plane with Yeti panga bags, a few cold All Hands, inflatable stand up paddle boards, and the trusty Garmin In-Reach just for good measure. This was reinforced because as soon as we threw our bags off the plane into the white sand of the lake’s beach we noticed it was littered in bear, wolf, and deer tracks. After inflating the paddle boards we quickly moved towards the less windy side of the lake noticing a shawl smack in the middle of the lake.
Gear dropped! Someone’s exited to hit the water… and away from these bear/wolf tracks.
Unfortunately, the water was extremely comfortable and not as cold as expected leading us to believe the streamers we packed likely wouldn’t be effective unless deep. In true fashion, neither of us packed strike indicators. Somehow one of our bags held a wine cork. I was able to gnaw off a side of the cork (tougher than you would expect with only your teeth) to rig up a make shift strike indicator enabling me to throw a blood leach and midge approximately 30 feet deep. Luckily, we were able to get into a handful of fish before the wind kicked up turning our stand up paddle boards into sailboats. We get spoiled with our Fishcats and flippers in days like these. That said, I still wouldn’t have traded anything to have had the opportunity to enjoy that experience.
Our first fishing spot of the day.
A few years back, I decided to make a conscience effort to start saying yes to opportunities like these. Obviously, it’s a tremendous help to get invited for the opportunity to go to places like these but it is more experience driven than location. Really helping to find yourself by embracing experiences in situations that most others would excuse as “too busy” or “don’t have time”. It could be as easy as exploring new waters near where you live or just spending a night in a tent somewhere you have never been. Putting yourself in uncomfortable (not to be confused with unsafe – minute the bear/wolf tracks above) situations often are remembered more fondly than finishing the next bingeworthy series on your tv streaming service.
Our Nootka Wilderness Crew
Chuck Coolidge lives in Phoenix, Arizona, and travels a lot to feed his fly-fishing passion.
