Vancouver
I had just finished school and decided it was time to move on from my retail job all at the same time. I sometimes look back on both of these ending as a rather unfortunate state of affairs and generally regard them as poor decision making on my part. However the past has past and will remain in that state and I must always remember that remembered time is vastly different from actual time. Hence the common action of looking at the past with rose coloured glasses. It was luck, coincidence, and a touch of planning that resulted in Erin getting back from her two month trek across Central America and as luck would have its she didn’t start her new job for another few weeks. She has always been the type to plan ahead that way, I on the other hand had no real plan for employment, again… kind of regard that as a poor decision on my part. We decided that this was about the best chance we were going to get to go on a trip together for a very long time so it was settled and done. We would drive my recently acquired truck, full of gear, to the west coast and enjoy ourselves.
We set out early in the morning and thoroughly enjoyed our scenic drive. We spent the first night in Banff. I had awoke to find that when I had done an oil change on my truck before the trip I hadn’t quite tightened my drain plug on enough. As beautiful of a town as Banff is, it is amazingly difficult to find a wrench in that town. We eventually found a hardware store and I climbed under and snugged things up so we could resume our trip. Along the way we made a brief stop at the Revelstoke Railway Museum, which I highly recommend.
Sweet rig at the train museum
We arrived in Vancouver, this had been my first time visiting, and my ever so handy GPS device led us to our hotel via Hastings road, the poorest postal code in the country. Sadly in reflection of my character I was nervous that our hotel was in the area, in hind sight I worry that being afraid of the down trodden makes me a part of the problem. Luckily for my nervous and poor character, our hotel was a touch outside of the area. We promptly checked in and I did my best to park in the unfortunately congested city, I was then showed where the hotels rear parking lot was. We promptly checked into our wildly inexpensive hotel, did our best to ignore the smell and went to bed. I should clarify that the hotel wasn’t that bad, it was just a budget hotel, with a kitchenette, that smelled kind of like someone else’s cooking.
The next day we opted to take the local transportation rather than have me attempt to drive. Our travels found us at a place that I was excited to see and had only hear rumor of for many years: The Museum of Anthropology. It was everything I ever thought it would be. We then took in the city for a few more days including a delightful visit to an old friend of ours who had recently taken a job promotion which required him to relocate to a rather suave apartment in downtown Vancouver, I got the impression it wasn’t exactly against his will that he moved there.
Museum of anthropology
Outdoor exhibit
I’m not much for the city but it sure is pretty
It was during the next day that Erin began to notice the big city life was starting to take its toll on me. I firmly believe that people should not be crowded in as close as they tend to be in cities and I find it makes me a bit edgy and claustrophobic. Erin, light of my life that she is, came up with an award winning idea, we should make use of the “just in case” camping gear crammed into the vehicle. So we pulled up stakes and caught a ferry to Nanaimo on Vancouver Island.
We spent our first night, on the island, in a very quaint house that had been converted into hostel it was homey and cozy my only complaint would be that the bed was barely a twin size and creaked at an unreasonable volume every time I would move and calling me a fidgety sleeper is certainly an understatement.
After checking in we set off to make our travel plans. We began where many adventures begin, at the local sporting goods store. It was actually the local branch of the store I had just ceased to be an employee of. Naturally I enquired if my employee discount was still valid, it was not. I then proceeded to pick the brain of the local fishing counter gents as I had recently purchased a fly rod and was itching to try it out. One of them jumped at the chance to help us and immediately named off several useful flies by name, as well as a few useful lures for the small spin caster rod I was going to buy for Erin. To his expert knowledge I replied with a blank stare, I had never heard of these hooks before. Bless him and his patience he walked me around the store showing me what I needed, Erin and I then asked about good local camping spots and it was decided we should go to Cowichan River to camp.
After another long night of me attempting not to move and create a bed creek that sounded like cats fighting over a coyote call, we set off to our campsite. Again the drive was wonderful and scenic and naturally I got a little lost trying to find it. We eventually found it and set up our tent. We then set off to the edge of the river and began casting our new gear. My casting skill was certainly… lacking. After standing in the icy water and not catching much I considered the possibility the spot was not the best for fishing.
Me doing an impression of a fly fisherman
It was then agreed that we should drive off to the nearby lake to try out our recently purchased inflatable kayak. Again I managed to get us frustratingly lost but Erin with her perseverance and patience, the kind required to date a man like me, got us to location. We unloaded all the fishing gear that was on top of the rolled up kayak and began attempting to build and inflate it. It is worth mentioning that it did not come with instructions and those things are surprisingly complex. After a lot of time confused we noticed a few rather large cuts along the side that prevented inflation, I presume a packing error in the plant. So with sadness in our hearts we packed it back into the truck and drove to the camp site for dinner, liquor, and roasted marshmallows. Which are pretty much all anyone needs at the end of a difficult day.
Erin making a gourmet dinner
After dinner I excused myself to the washroom on the other side of the camp site. On the way back I sparked up a conversation with two of the campground’s staff members who were cleaning up debris on another campsite. I have a habit of talking to strangers, but don’t worry, I developed this habit as an adult. As with most of my conversations it eventually led around to my love of fishing and eventually me asking them if they had any suggestions for where I should fish. They told me of a great spot within 50 yards of where I had been fishing before. The catch is that those 50 yards were composed of a rather cold, deep, and fast running river. Lucky for me they gave me directions to the spot that involved a bridge.
Late that night I awoke from a dead sleep and shot up in my sleeping bag to ask Erin if she had put her fishing rod back in the truck after we had failed to construct the kayak. We then promptly searched the truck and found it was not there. I could picture it in my head clearly. We…ok I… had left it leaning gently against a short wooden post at the lake, I blame our grief over the premature death of our kayak for our forgetful behavior.
The next morning we drove to the lake to retrieve our lost fishing rod, of course it was nowhere to be found. Some lucky individual had just found themselves a beautiful fishing rod with less than half a dozen casts on it, my only hopes are that they needed it and made good use of it.
We then drove to the trailhead of our fishing spot. I packed the essentials in my big orange backpack: camera, fly rod, fly reel, flies, chest waders, snacks, water, and beer… Erin also made sure I brought sunscreen. We then set off on our voyage through the pines. It was a beautiful mossy path filled with thick trunked trees.
Big downed tree on the trail
We found the fishing spot, a little gravel island with rushing water on one side and a nearly stagnant, deep, crystal clear pool on the other. We walked atop mossy logs and muddy ledges to get around to a fallen tree that led us to the island our own little piece of paradise. Erin promptly lied down a towel and relaxed in the sun while I did my best to cast my fly rod. It wasn’t pretty but the hook was landing away from me and some days that is all it takes to feel good. Erin took a brief break from relaxing to put on my oversized waders and try her hand at fly fishing. Her first casts were certainly better than my first casts, but in the end she decided to just lay back and soak up some sun. Most of the morning went on like this occasionally interrupted by a sip of beer, or our staring at a nearby family of otters.
My best angle
Erin showing me how its done
Family of otters
No fish were caught until later in the day when I opted to remove the waiters and stand on the far side of the 20 meter island away from Erin. She was fast asleep camera in her hands when I watched my fly sink into a deep pocket of water and my rod bounced excitedly at the tip. I began pulling in line and almost died of laughter when I pulled out a fish the size of my index finger. I called to my companion to come get a picture, but between the water flowing and her snoring I doubted she could hear me. I began walking towards her barefoot on the gravel. I quickly realized that at that pace both, the fish and I would expire before I got to her. So I released my miniature catch without ever having photo evidence of it. I resumed casting optimistically in the same location and sure enough my rod bounced with excitement again and I pulled out an absolute monster this one was nearly the size of my middle finger. In my laughing shame I carefully placed the fish in the water and slowly walked back to Erin with the awkward hilarious mosey that only walking barefoot on gravel can provide. I told my recently awakened partner all about the pair of monster fish I had caught. We then decided that we best start heading back to camp and start to prepare for the long drive home the next day. The drive home was just as wonderful and scenic but that being said I still opted to let Erin drive while I slept. It was a wonderful trip and I would do it again any day but it was certainly nice to be home.
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Fishing On a Whim
This past summer Erin and I had gone on a camping trip to the Pembina River with some friends. As some of you may or may not know the big draw with the Pembina River is that you can rent tubes and lazily float down it. This was our plan, one of our friends had been kind enough to bring her camper so we could all just sleep in there. We parked at a campsite at the top of a hill which was pretty far from the river, in fact all weekend the weather had been so poor we had only looked at the river… from a distance… during a break from the rain. It was a rainy weekend that was only salvaged by good food and good company, honestly with my grumpy disposition I didn’t play much of a hand in either.
We planned on tubing down the river on the last day if the weather was good. It was not, so we decided to pack it in and head home early. Erin and I had driven ourselves there and at the turn to come onto highway 16, Erin was driving I dared her to drive us to Jasper for a day of hiking. She called me on it and we drove towards the mountains and then changed our minds as we remembered we had none of our hiking gear… So sadly we headed toward the city. On the way the weather broke and it was starting to get nice out, then we saw the sign for Wabamun Lake and decided to try out Erin’s new fishing gear and her new inflatable Kayak. I’m the old school kind of guy that just doesn’t trust anything inflatable, so it took a bit of convincing on Erin’s part.
We pumped up the boat, threw it in the water and set off on its maiden voyage, fishing gear in hand. I gotta say, that little inflatable kayak impressed me, I didn’t expect it to be able to support two people, in fact I vaguely recall telling Erin I thought it was a silly purchase. It not only held both of us with fishing gear it felt more stable than my old fiberglass canoe, I made the mistake of saying this when Erin could hear me, naturally her victory was rubbed in… Also in classic Erin fashion she out-fished me nearly to the point of embarrassment. It was madness just pike after pike. I do take some comfort in knowing that it was with a rod and hook that I had selected and purchased for her, but it did still hurt the ol pride a bit.
Check out the video here on my youtube channel
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YouTube Channel!
Hey, I know I usually do a nice long story on Thursdays but today I was busy… Busy starting a YouTube Channel for the few videos I have and for all the videos to come! Come check out my channel HERE and the latest video HERE don’t forget to like, share, subscribe, and comment.
For those of you who have been reading along to my previous posts you will see the truck from “Unnamed Lakes” mountains from “One Does Not Simply Walk Into Tongariro” scenery from “Fiji Time” and even a bit of “Crypt Lake“. This video as well as a few others I will post, are from a time when the idea of a blog or a YouTube channel were just a day dream that I didn’t take seriously. On this new channel I have also put up the old video I posted called “Pike On The Fly“.
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Tyson Attempts Fly Tying
Anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that asking me if I have any hobbies can turn into an all day conversation. I undoubtedly have dabbled in way more hobbies than any sane human being should, that being said, spreading myself that thin doesn’t lend itself to mastering any of them. I hope that fly tying will be the exception, to me it seems a useful skill and almost a form of relaxation and meditation… at least I assume it would be relaxing once its no longer frustrating.
Since I finished university I have been paying back my student loans steadily, diligently… and unfortunately. As encouragement I am rewarding myself at certain increments. The most recent was treating myself to a fly tying kit to help pass some of the down time at work. For approx $100 I bought a box of life long addiction, also known as a starter kit. It contains: all the basic equipment, a tying manual, a fly fishing tips book and some tying materials.
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| Everything I need to get started |
I first read both books cover to cover and then made a plan to tie my first fly. As suggested by the book I opted to try tying a nymph.
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| Well I tried and that’s what counts! |
It wasn’t pretty and it definitely did not look like the picture, but I was informed that when it comes to flies, especially nymphs, fish are pretty comfortable with flies that are a little rough around the edges. I was relieved to learn this. I then tried again.
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| Looks a little better if I do say so myself |
Tying my first flies I realized my kit was not quite complete. I had nothing to use to apply the necessary glue to the heads of the flies.
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| Points for creativity and ingenuity? |
Having “mastered” that nymph pattern it was time to move on to the woolly bugger.
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| It looks sick and/or hungry |
I tried again a few times until I realized I was using the wrong materials. Two shortcomings of this kit are that none of the materials are labelled so sometimes it comes to some internet searching and a best guess, secondly the materials are all in rather strange colours so it makes for some interesting patterns.
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| Maybe it will work on a nice pike |
Once I had gotten my material sorted out my woolly buggers started to look a little bit better. I posted some photos to instagram and someone asked if I could make them into earrings for them. So at the very least they’re pretty right? Well I am yet to let being bad at something stop me from doing it, so I’ll keep working on it and anything especially good or bad I’ll put up on my Instagram. I still can’t seem to figure out dry flies…
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| Everything I have tied so far |
This week I got an Instagram account going, come check it out for more pictures more frequently. Just look for “TysonGoesOutside”
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Pike On The Fly
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Unnamed Lakes
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| I tried everything I could think of: yelling, swearing, spitting, hitting it… |
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| Monster of the deep (Approx 3 inches in length) |
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| I am unreasonably proud of this fish |
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Waterton
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| I Always Snap A Photo of The Map In Case It Gets Wrecked Or Lost |
to offer as well as afforded the opportunity to see something new, two baby grouse, and yes they are as cute as you imagine they would be. We arrived at our site, set up camp, and hung our food out of bear reach. It was at this time that I had noticed a family with a rather large tent set up in the communal eating area that also acted as the only access to the nearby lake. I guess even in the woods there’s a chance of running into a family of “those” kind people. I grabbed my fishing gear and headed off toward their “campsite” I was not about to let their intrusive behavior ruin my attempts at fly fishing. A few steps from my tent I looked up and saw a mule deer doe staring at me, less than 15 feet away. It was an amazing sight and feeling to be so close to such an amazing animal, of course I would never be able to get this close to a deer during hunting season. In this instance armed with only a fly rod I felt a little nervous in the knowledge that this deer could easily make me the doe, if you know what I mean. I did my best to keep my composure and take a quick video on my
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| “No hunting in the park, pbbbt!” |
camera before it moved on into the trees. I walked passed an older couple camped near us and mentioned that there was a deer nearby and just generally extended a hello, what can I say? I’m just a friendly guy. The older gentleman immediately spotted my fly fishing gear. It’s hard not to spot a nine foot pole I guess (there’s a joke in there somewhere). We naturally struck up a conversation on the topic in which I mentioned that I was very new to the sport, to which he replied that he was a bit of an old pro and asked to see my flies. He began telling me the names and history of the various flies in my box, I do not know if he was telling me the truth or making it up but it sounded impressive and I couldn’t remember it anyway. He then explained that at this time of evening the fish will come up to eat insects off of the surface. After our lengthy conversation he introduced himself as Van, and then proceeded to point out that there was a beach far away down the shoreline that seemed to have a drop of a few feet out and suggested I try there. I was in no position to doubt or disagree, so Erin and I
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| Monster of the deep/ Sasquatch quality photo |
headed down to the beach.
It was a chilly evening but I still felt it was necessary to wade out, tender parts deep, into the glacial water. Shockingly Erin declined the offer to join me in the water and chose to remain on the shore as a spectator. I quickly learned that, despite not practicing, my fly casting had not much improved. That being said I was still able to land my fly just far enough out for fish to take it. There was a small ripple where my fly was followed by a sudden, short and rapid wriggling of my rod back and forth with an abrupt downward pull. It was a strange fighting sensation I had never felt from a fish before. As I stripped the line the trout flailed and skidded across the surface. He was a monster, the biggest brook trout I had ever caught nearly five inches across… ok so the bar is set rather low when it comes to my fly fishing adventures but on the plus side that just means I get excited easier. This amazing catch was followed by nearly ten more and all it cost me was two flies lost to a log on my back cast, good thing my girlfriend wasn’t there to see me screw up… wait… dang. However all in all I would say it was a great evening of fishing and certainly good practice for my casting skills and running into someone like Van proved to be extremely helpful and may have saved the trip as I would have been a pretty unhappy camper had I not caught anything. That evening my sleep was hindered by the fact that I was soaked to the bone in ice cold water from the waist down.
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| This photo captures why I was willing to stand waist deep in glacier water |
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| Just Before Climbing To The Ridge |
above the tree line over Avion Ridge with an elevation of just over 2400M. I myself am not a fan of heights and today was no exception. We gained elevation slowly through thin scattered trees and eventually broke above the tree line onto a narrow goat path which comprised of smooth hard rocks with loose shale overtop, I was nervous to say the least. Erin opted to take the longer higher path across the top of the ridge while I tried to stick to the lower looking path. Unfortunately shortly after separating, the path I was on got narrower and higher. I’m not sure entirely what happened next but I recall breathing rapidly and shakily taking a drink from my metal water bottle and forcing myself to keep walking. Eventually I made my way to where my path met with Erin’s. She walked causally along in front of my while I sweated and crawled on all fours along the path behind her, I’m sure it was a sight to see.
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| Just “relaxing” on the hillside |
We eventually made it to the end of the ridge and found that we now had to descend a bit of a boulder covered cliff. We eventually meandered our way down to the lake at which point, and it pains me to say this… I was too tired to fish. Instead we opted to have a bit of a nap on a boulder… ever been so tired you slept on a rock? I have. After our nap we headed downhill to make a full loop back to twin lakes. Once we go to the bottom of the largest hill, we realized we had forgotten my sweater at the top. “Someone” had used it as a pillow and forgot to grab it when we left. We had decided that we had traveled too far and were starting to run too low on water to turn back uphill to go get it. I asked a couple passing us on the trail if they could grab it and leave it at the information center in town. Sadly I never did see that shirt again. I hope it has a new home and is doing well. We made the long walk back to camp, if I recall it was about a 12km round trip, and I was relieved to see that the invasive family had left. I assume they moved on to annoy another campsite, they were however kind enough to leave a tangled mess of fishing line on the shore by where they camped. By the time we had arrived back at camp we were nearly out of water so I began boiling water and pouring it into our water bottles, this chore has convinced me to stop being cheap and just buy a water filter for hiking. I then wandered back to my fishing spot for a bit, the ice cold water felt good on my sore feet and knees. Again Erin declined to join me in the glacial pond, women are so strange. I fished and caught more reasonably sized, to me, trout. I fished until I felt the early stages of hypothermia kick in, at which point I came to shore zipped my wet shorts into half wet pants and immediately regretted not going back for my sweater. Erin and I boiled water and added it to dehydrated beef stir fry, which as best I can recall was about the longest 15 minutes of my life. The food was delicious and we headed back to the tent to try and warm up, at about this time the beef stir fry started to upset my fragile stomach, our tent was now cold and rather foul smelling. Somehow we survived the night without Erin kicking me out of the tent for health and safety reasons.
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| Bonus wallpaper picture courtesy of Miss Erin |
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Fiji Time
In fact we were the only guests at the aged hotel and to my knowledge that was the last we really saw of the staff. Believe me when I tell you very few things feel as creepy and haunted as being seemingly the only people at an island hotel. Luckily we brought our own food with us for just such an instance. On our way to the room I noticed a large amount of what my prairie eyes recognized as gopher holes. I immediately realized how unrealistic it was that there would be gophers on a secluded Fijian island. The next morning after an evening of tourists vs. a rather large cockroach, I found myself awake before Erin. I stood quietly looking out the window in amazement, there were dozens of ghostly white crabs coming out of the holes in the ground, and they were skittish. As soon as I would make the slightest noise they were gone. We then went about walking and exploring the island, mainly to look for other people or signs of life. We made our way to the other hotel and found there was a group of about five Germans and that’s about it. We then got down to the reason we came there, the guide book had told us of great scuba diving and only one scuba guide named Papoo. We gave him a call and he agreed to meet us the next day at 8 am at our hotels dock, we promptly spent the rest of the day basking in the warm sun and further exploring the nearly deserted island.
Papoo arrived the promptly at 8:47am the next morning. He arrived in an aged white boat with a sporty red stripe down the side. Papoo was a large man not as tall as me but certainly tall for a Fijian and appeared quite well fed compared to the other locals I had seen so far, he had a broad friendly smile boasting bright white teeth and long frizzy hair in a bit of a natural afro, and he certainly was talkative, loud, and friendly. I liked him immediately. He was accompanied by his wife and young son. The plan was simple, he was going to teach me to scuba dive briefly and give Erin a refresher course at the same time as it had been a while since her scuba certification. He took us to a nice sloped beach with a short stone retaining wall holding back lush green grass, atop this grass were various huts clearly modern and a bit of a hotel gimmick which is often seen in this part of the world. The resort in front of us had been shut down for a few years according to Papoo. He explained the basic in and outs of scuba and had us suited up and swimming in no time. We swam for maybe 15 or 20 minutes but it was amazing to see such a colourful array of fish around the seaweed and across the clean sand.
We were then give snacks, the food around Fiji I found was not particularly good but, this was amazing and just what I needed; digestive cookies and a cool chocolate flavored drink, it reminded me almost of a chocolate version of iced tea, it was far better tasting that what you are imagining right now trust me, and it was just what I needed at the time. He drove us slowly back towards our resort while we discussed to possibility of a longer deeper dive the following day. It was during this time that I noticed a large classic red and white Rapala in the cup holder of his boat, Papoo just went up another notch in my book. I asked him if the fishing was good and if he would be willing to take us out. He naturally jumped at the idea, as did I. He offered us a reasonably priced package deal for a dive and an afternoon of fishing for the following day. We accepted and he dropped us off at our dock and said he would be back at eight am the following day to take us out for our adventure. Much like a child on Christmas Eve, I did not sleep much that night.
The next morning Papoo arrived at 8:25am and our day began. He drove the boat to the edge of the reef where his son jumped out and after some searching tethered the boat to a hook sunk in the reef. I didn’t see much for landmarks or GPS on the boat so I’m not really sure how he found that spot. We then got suited up and he explained that I would fall backwards off the side of the boat and he and Erin would meet me in the water. I really didn’t want to go first but I wasn’t about to look like a sissy in front of him or Erin so I rolled in what can only be described as poor form and waited for what felt like a long time. Naturally in my youth I had seen the film JAWS far too many times and was not super comfortable with swimming in the ocean but I did my best to remain calm. Eventually Erin and Papoo were in the water too. He signaled and we began our descent along the edge of the reef. I don’t know how far down we went but it felt like it took a long time. This moment marks one of the most terrifying and surreal moments of my life, the three of us were spaced far enough apart that I couldn’t see them, as I did not have my glasses on. As I slowly descended, there was a solid cliff wall behind me and it stretched as far as I could see in every direction, including up. Ahead of me was the open ocean, a seemingly endless abyss of empty blue space it’s hard to put into words but I felt trapped in a sense that I could go as far as I want in any direction and not go anywhere almost like purgatory. Eventually we reached a nice sandy bottom I never thought I would be relieved to be at the bottom of an ocean but it happened. We then swam through an opening in the reef and found ourselves in a beautiful oasis of sea life comprised of plants and fish of the most beautiful colours. We made our way around the reef in what I hope and assume was a route planned by Papoo that led us through some long, dark, and what I found to be frightening caves that you would have a hard time fitting a modern television through. Along the way Papoo would point out fish and make gestures to us to ensure we were ok and not running out of air, I kept a very close eye on my air pressure gauge. As all was well with our gear we gave him the thumbs up. Papoo replied with a slow broad clapping of his hands with his fingers wide apart, then interlocked his fingers and rested them on his stomach and gracefully swam powered by his feet, even with a respirator on him I could see his smirk, this was a man who was completely content at that moment in his life. In a path my mind could not grasp we eventually made our way back to the boat with what I consider to be the experience of a lifetime behind us in the reef. Now it was time to do what I wanted. Our guide pulled out two stout rods with sizable crank bait lures on them. We began trolling along the edge of the reef making full use of all 85hp the engine had. It seemed to me that we were going pretty fast for catching fish but I have never fished salt water before. Sure enough within minutes of setting out I had a fish on the line. The heavy rod bent ever so slightly and I could feel the fight on the other end of the line I reeled and reeled the fight felt like a large and angry northern pike, a species with which I am very familiar. I eventually brought in a long, thin, sleek and silver fish with long narrow crooked teeth that resembled tooth picks. The guide then informed me of the obvious, this was a small barracuda, I was ecstatic. We then began trolling again and Erin was now on deck for the next catch, we trolled for what felt like an eternity. The whole way Papoo was laughing and yelling something along the lines of “COME ON! WE NEED A TUNA!” eventually we hooked something and I felt the boat slow down. The engines were shut off, Erin was handed the rod and we were going live! That poor girl could barely spin the reel, it was the strangest sight to me, and she’s not a weak woman by any means. After a few minutes of giving it all she had, Papoo started to help… and then eventually took over… and then handed the rod to me. I sat on the side of the boat and propped by feet against the back and started reeling. I would lean back as hard as I could and quickly reel in the slack as I leaned forward, this is to this day hands down the hardest fight I have ever gotten from a fish, for a few minutes I was sure I hooked the reef or was about to pull the drain plug out of the pacific ocean. Eventually I saw a small fin break the surface of the ocean. I was relieved to see that I was pulling in a fish and not an old sunken boat. I eventually brought the fish to the boat and Papoo was kind enough to lift it in for me. I saw on the end of my line a large tall-bodied fish with a hook stuck in its side. Both the shape of the fish and the foul hooking contributed to the difficulty in pulling in the fish. Papoo was kind enough to explain as I am very unfamiliar with the fish of the area, and based on how many types I had seen scuba diving, I question if anyone could know even half of them. I was told it was a silver trevally.
Posted in Fishing, Travel and tagged adventure, backpacking, Fiji, Fishing, Scuba diving, travelwith 2 comments.
Welcome
Hey! My name is Tyson Sommerville. I’ve created this blog to share my love of the outdoors. I will be posting hunting, fishing, hiking, and travel photos, stories, and some videos for you all to enjoy. Please feel free to comment with suggestions and questions and if you enjoy it share it with your friends, otherwise it’ll just be my mom who follows my blog… Hi Mom!
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