Perfection.

Some French writer once said that it is achieved not when there is nothing more that can be added, but when there is nothing left to take away.

More often than not I tend to subscribe to the notion that less is often more. Beauty is often easier to encounter in the simple than it is the complex.

Stam, AP, and I reduced our worlds (if only temporarily) to small once again, and spent eight days swinging flies to steelhead on British Columbia’s Dean river.

Does perfection exist? If it does in the steelhead form, certainly that fish swims in the Dean. I had a hard time trying to figure how to come at this “report” if you will. I couldn’t decide where or on what to focus, what element or aspect left the biggest impression. The company was of course excellent, good as a guy could hope for on this type of mission. The setting was spectacular, among the most scenic in which I have wet a line. The adventure component was there, albeit not on the scale that perhaps we have become accustomed to. After time spent in reflection, and not to sell my partners and friends short, but what moved me most on this trip, was the fish.

Not having spent much time rubbing elbows with the fly fishing elite, I didn’t know if the many descriptions used to tell the Dean’s steelheads tale were mere lore or indeed fact. “It is like the fish take your fly while swimming full speed down stream.” “They rev up 20 yards away and accelerate through your fly.” “They will take all of your fly line faster than you can watch it go.” “The Dean is the best steelhead fishing river on the planet.”

Were these sayings based at least partly in truth, or were they just time twisted tales made better by telling after retelling round the campfire. We all hoped time would tell us more about the former than the latter.

With all of the hype surrounding this river and these fish, it was admittedly hard to keep expectations in check. “The numbers can be mind blowing” doesn’t lead one easily to a high level of self-satisfaction after two long days without an honest tug. I think it is fairly safe to say that although our hopes certainly soared high, the newness of the place and our collective lack of experience with the technique at hand (swinging flies for steelhead) kept our expectations fairly well in check. By the trips end, these expectations, even hopes were most certainly exceeded.

The trip planning was fairly easy, too easy in fact. Work the plan, check things off the lists, pack the bags, and off we go. Shortly after getting to the river, my lack of research and casual approach to the strategy aspect of the trip would throw us a few curve balls, but hey, what is an adventure without a few surprises right? AP and Stam picked me up in Vancouver and we rambled along for a day or so to the jumping off point.

(I'll break this into a few pieces over a day or three. AP and Stam will no doubt have much to contribute both in words and photos. Jump in any time fellers.)




Nothing like a couple of 60lb bags and a rod tube or three to keep a guy honest at the airport. Timmy Ho Ho's is a welcome sight for a weary traveler.







On the road






The wheels haven't fallen off yet, there is still time.








Traffic was hell







How do you get 1180lbs of crap into a helicopter that holds 1100? You don't, leave some behind.







If you look close, you can see poop eating grins. These guys acted like they don't ride in helicopters for a living








Phase one complete. We are on the river.







Adios Richard and access to the real world, most of it anyway.







stay tuned, you might get to see a fish photo, or two.