We have all had that moment.
The bite either stopped or never happened in the first place or maybe the conditions are turning from mediocre to downright awful or your fishing luck seems to have just run out for the day, so you turn your back to the water and begin to chalk it up to it being just one of those trips and that’s when it happens. There’s that little voice from deep in the back of your fishing-oblongata that whispers, “Turn around, turn - make just one more cast, just one more.” And just like we have all had that same moment, we all know that sometimes, that little whisper of a voice is just so right.
Such a moment occurred on a gray morning in August.
For the better part of the summer we had been saddled with a rather nasty red tide in the back section of New York’s Raritan Bay. The water was rusty, we had to contend with heavy headwinds most days, the baitfish (particularly peanut bunker) were nowhere to be found, and as a result the fishing was awful. That meant that a staple summer fly fishing target, bluefish, were also nowhere to be found. They may not be GT’s or bonefish, but I assure you when a 10-pound bluefish crushes a top-water fly you will understand why we miss them. But after two months of bad conditions, this day had some promise.
The wind that was holding the red tide in place most of the summer had shifted for a few days. The tides were just right to make a nice sandbar accessible and it was forecast to be warm and overcast. At least these were all the factors that could be determined from my study.
Once on the beach, things were a bit different. The rust-red water was clearing, but was nowhere near clear. What had been predicted to be an overcast day was turning into a misty-about-to-be-rainy day. The only thing that held true was the tide. The bar was still accessible and wet-wading in the mugginess of August seemed somewhat appealing. So I stepped into the bathtub hot bay and, with more than a few pounds of doubt weighing me down, trudged out to the sandbar. From the start, the bay seemed all too happy to affirm my feelings.
A dozen casts each of the standard progression of Raritan Bay saltwater flies - Bob’s Banger, Hollow Fleye, and Clouser - yielded little more than some seaweed, half a small oyster shell, and what might have been a hit or could have been just a crab that reached up out of aggravation.
The mist was modulating into a steadier rain, the water was only marginally clearer now than before, and there were no signs of fish anywhere. If the bluefish were patrolling, the bait would be frantic and even if they didn’t rush up to the surface, they would confuse the water just enough for you to see where the blues might be.
Sprawling before me was a dark mirror speckled with the finest drops of rain. A dozen or so more casts, this time working the progression backwards - Clouser, Hollow, Banger - was just as productive as the first. I turned off the bar, my thoughts already heading to the tying bench to prepare for the fall striper run, when I heard it.
Somewhere in the back of my head, somewhere far back indeed, came the whisper. “One more.” I paused to listen and to make sure it wasn’t saying, “Nevermore.” As I hesitated, I looked down and caught a glimpse of silver and olive, then another, then another. Glinting over the bar, barely visible in the stained water was a big school of spearing. “One more.” There it was again and I had to concur.
With Bangers, Hollows, and Clousers having failed to make anything happen and with evidence of spearing, I pulled my fly box and searched for a prototype I had been toying with on the bench a few days earlier. Originally intended for the sandeel run in the fall, this little experiment had yet to see water, but given what I had just witnessed and with nothing else to lose, I tied it on and let it roll out in the rain. It hit softly and caused a visible ripple allowing me to track it back as I stripped with stops and starts, stops and...It wasn’t a hit, it wasn’t even a take per se, it was just a light tick, then another heavier one, then weight, and then a dive. I strip-set hard not knowing what I had, but just thankful I had a fish on. I lifted the rod and it bent deep. I retrieved as quickly as I could only to have what I collected in my stripping basket peel out as the fish pulled but without a head-shake or run to the right or left, just a long, strong, dive and pull for deeper water.
With that, a single word - FLUKE - telegraphed up the line into my nerves and then as my 9 weight groaned - another registered in thumps and dives - DOORMAT. I was amazed that even hip deep in the water, I had started to sweat all over.
The fight was nothing more than a tug of war.
With bluefish, they will try and draw a circle around you as they struggle. One friend once described watching me try and land a big blue on the fly as watching a very poorly made stopwatch try to time a race.
Stripers will run parallel for a bit then in and maybe out again. This was none of that. This was a pull out, a hurried reel back in, another pull out, and so on for a minute or two at least. When a huge mottled brown back showed itself for the first time, all the hair on my arms stood up. It was a true beast. I finally brought him in close enough to leader him and, despite the fight he was still fairly green, and he used his big flat tail to shower me in sand, but I did not care. This was the biggest fluke I had seen in some years, the biggest I had ever seen on the fly, and the first fly caught fluke I ever had in Raritan Bay. My Boga scale clocked him in at just under 5.5 pounds and I didn’t want to waste more time by measuring him, but he was certainly a keeper. I released him and he scuttled over the bar and was gone. “One more.” Who was I to argue?
Three more casts landed three more fluke of slightly lesser size, but bringing equal joy. Each time it was the same.
A long rolling cast with a soft landing followed by a slight pause to let the fly fall. Then a steady moderately paced strip with the occasional pause. It was always on that pause when the first tick would occur. A click of teeth on metal. Then the second tick and the weight of a flat fish trying to undulate its way free of the hook. They would run for the deeper water too, but with less umph than the first one. Each successive one came to hand a little faster. “One more.” The final four fish hit so close that it was tough to even stripset, let alone fight them. I would make long casts and work the fly back in the same manner as before, except this time the hits would come a leader’s length away. Then I said out loud, “One more.” That little voice replied, “Pushing your luck.”
Subsequent trips to the same sandbar yielded additional fluke on the same fly and some very useful information.
The water, with the help of a stiff north wind for a few days, cleared to near aquarium-level visibility which allowed me to partake in one of my favorite parts of fishing - just standing and observing. In breaks between casting and sometimes catching, I was able to watch huge schools of spearing darting in and out of the cove behind my sandbar. They would, as a school, maintain a uniform depth and swim tight save for two or three fish. These fish would break right or left and rise and fall slowly. It all came into focus. I had made a very passable imitation of a spearing separated from the school. One that would tilt or tip up or down as it was stripped. It turned out to be a fly that fluke, and as the water cooled, stripers, seemed to be unable to resist.
What I would eventually nick-name “The Tip of the Spearing” fly is a modified clouser pattern using a monofilament thread, a size 2 90 degree jig hook, bead-chain, olive saltwater-style bucktail, white Flymen Fishing faux bucktail, pearl flat-braid, silver saltwater Flashabou, and a Flymen Fishing FishMask.
Monofilament is key to this pattern as it allows you to wrap over other elements without obscuring them and does not add weight to the fly.
The beadchain and the jig hook pair up nicely to give the fly a steady fall rate through the water on the pause and a slow straight rise on the strip.
I do not use dumbbell eyes on this pattern as I noticed that they fall too fast no matter how small the dumbbell.
By wrapping flat-braid around the hook shank and adding Flashabou to the sides, the spearing’s lateral line is pronounced giving the fly just enough flash in just the right place to make it visible in murky water, but not too flashy in clearer water. I have found that faux bucktail from Flymen Fishing works best for the underbelly for several reasons.
The faux hair has more shine than natural bucktail, it collects easier under wraps, and allows you to conserve your natural bucktail for patterns that require more movement. Olive long-haired bucktail is used for the back and paired, sometimes, with black and silver flash for the illusion of scales.
Unlike a clouser, several soft wraps are made behind the beadchain to bring the bucktail down and streamline the body a bit more. Soft wraps behind the beadchain are vital. You want the olive bucktail close, but not flat. It may take some practice to find just the right tension.
Once the body is complete you may choose to finish it off with a mask or leave the beadchain bare.
I have masked all of my versions, but a friend did have some success with an unmasked one. While the original prototype used UV resin to build the head around the beadchain, I did find Flymen FishMasks (size 5 or 6) were far more durable. I also opt to use WTP flat silver eyes as they present the closest representation of a spearing’s wide eye more so than other 3d eyes.
This pattern is easy to tie, highly adaptable (there’s a bull redfish in the Chesapeake somewhere with a tan, copper, white version in his maw after a poor tippet choice was made), and effective in a variety of situations for a variety of fish.
I have tied, but have yet to test, white curly-tailed version for crappie and perch in freshwater as well. With other color choices, it would work for speckled trout (pink), bonefish (silver), and most definitely snook (red/brown). As an imitator, I believe it is more than a reasonable facsimile. As a fly, once learned, the pattern takes minutes to tie and with minimal materials. It is also easily scalable. I have tied and fished this pattern on jig hooks up to 3/0, but prefer the #2 Mustad for its size and weight. It is fairly slim fly and, as such, is not affected by the wind as other saltwater patterns. With one tied on, I almost always hear that little voice whispering, “One more.”
Spearing Fly
Hook: Mustad REF 32833NP-BN
Thread: Uni-Mono 4m
Body: Veevus MF 20 / 4m silver
Eyes: Dumbell / WTP 3/16” Flat Silver Eyes
Tail: Saltwater Flashabou #1605
Throat: Olive Bucktail
FishMask: Flymen Fishing FS-FM-06
1 Secure a #2 jig hook in your vise and wrap down the hook shank to the bend with monofilament thread (Uni-Mono 4m). Cut a hook-shank length piece of flat braid (Veevus MF 20 / 4m silver) and tie it in at the bend. Work the thread to about 1/8 of an inch from the eye. Make touching wraps of the flat braid up to and then pass the thread. Secure the flat braid leaving a small tag of braid free.
2 Clip off and secure a bead chain dumbbell to the hook 1/8 of an inch from the eye. Then wrap the flat braid back over the dumbbell and secure. Head cement or CA glue will help at this stage but is not a requirement.
3 Rotate the hook, clip a hook-shank’s length of faux bucktail and align so that the tips are roughly half an inch from the bend of the hook and tie in by wrapping back to the hook bend and forward again to in front of the bead chain.
4 Rotate the hook back, clip and align the flashabou (Saltwater Flashabou #1605) with the sides of the hook. Wrap thread back to secure the flash and return the thread to in front of the bead chain.
5 Clip and align olive bucktail (avoid the hollow low hairs and use hair from the middle to avoid spinning) with the white underbelly faux bucktail and tie in making several wraps to the hook eye and back to the bead chain until the nose is clean. Take soft wraps over the olive bucktail behind the bead chain to bring the olive bucktail down a bit and then wrap forward, whip finish, and cut the thread.
6 Fit the FishMask (Flymen Fishing FS-FM-06) over the eye and the beadchain. This may take more than a little effort and using a bodkin to manipulate the mask may be required, but they do fit. Apply a small amount of head cement or CA glue to secure the mask.
7 Add eyes (WTP 3/16” Flat Silver Eyes) and secure with glue or UV resin.
- written by Robert S. Nelson
]]>
It’s a long way from Clarkston, Washington USA to Northeast Margaree, Nova Scotia Canada. Nonetheless, Bill Jollymore and his wife, Lori, have driven the 34 hundred miles for many years to angle the famous Margaree river for the king of sport fish—the Atlantic salmon.
On their trip in 2017, they carried with them a precious cargo destined for its final home. The cargo—over two hundred Harry Lemire tied-in-hand classic Atlantic salmon flies.
The fortuitous new home—the Margaree Salmon Museum.
Harry Lemire was born in Rhode Island in 1932 and, at age four, was introduced to fly fishing by his brother Raymond. In the beginning, he used his brother’s hand-me-down flies that were near the end of their usefulness. When Harry asked for good ones, he was told he would need to start tying his own.
Fortunately, he knew a gentleman who tied professionally and at age eight became his young student. Initially, his flies didn’t look like much, but they caught fish. Back then, effectiveness trumped beauty in Harry’s young mind. These early experiences were the impetus for what would become a lifelong avocation for Harry.
At age eighteen, Harry joined the United States air force where there was little time for either fishing or fly tying. But, it seems, there was time for participation in extra-circular activities from which Harry benefited tremendously. It was there he met Marlene, the young woman from Washington State who eventually became his wife. For most, life changes after marriage; it was no different for Harry and Marlene.
While visiting Marlene’s parents on a month-long vacation, Harry was introduced to West-coast salmon and steelhead fishing by his father-in-law. He was impressed, not only with the size and abundance of steelhead and salmon but also with the landscape and plethora of fishing locations in Western Washington State. All of this made Harry think about where he wanted to live for the rest of his life. After sharing his thoughts with Marlene, they made the decision to move West and Harry went to work for the Boeing Corporation in Seattle.
Harry had found his nirvana. He spent the early years in his adopted homeland fly-fishing its many rivers before moving on to fish Canadian rivers with the Thompson in British Columbia becoming his favorite steelhead river.
A traditionalist, when it came to fly fishing, he resented some of the modern methods used in the sport particularly the use of bobbers, also known as strike indicators.
He felt it made fishing too easy. His angling preference for steelhead and salmon was dry flies. Not only because they caught fish but now their beauty thrilled him equally, especially if the fly-line was attached to one of his many bamboo rods built for him by his friend Peter McVey.
His inexhaustible enthusiasm for the sport led Harry to fashion not only wonderful flies but, according to his long-time-friend Bill Jollymore, he was also the originator of interchangeable fly-line heads. An invention that has had significant impact on fly fishing worldwide.
Harry Lemire
An inveterate researcher, Harry’s interest in tying classic Atlantic salmon flies peaked when he saw, Meagan Boyd’s salmon flies. For Christmas in 1990, Marlene gave him a copy of “How to Dress Salmon Flies” by T.E Pryce-Tannett.
He admired how Tannett explained the making of classics and, because of his penchant for tradition, Harry was fascinated that the flies were tied-in-hand—long before the use of vises. Always the consummate student, Harry studied Tannett’s book till the pages were time worn and eventually went on to become world renowned for his own tied-in-hand Atlantic salmon classics.
During the course of his long-life Harry visited Eastern Canada where he angled for Atlantic salmon on the Miramachi and Restigouche rivers in New Brunswick, and the Margaree in Nova Scotia. While in Margaree, he and Marlene visited the incomparable Margaree Salmon Museum and, like all who walk though this unique little place, they were astonished by the cornucopia of angling artifacts it contained.
Marlene was particularly impressed but neither she nor Harry would have ever predicted that sometime in the future a collection of Harry’s best tied-in-hand Atlantic salmon classics would rest in this setting.
Unfortunately, time ran out far too soon on Harry and he joined the angling gods in 2012. Following his death, his entire fly collection went to the Northwest Atlantic Salmon Fly Guild under the care of Dr. Rockwell Hammond Jr.
Dr. Hammond wanted to find a permanent home for this priceless collection and initiated discussions with Marlene and some of Harry’s friends, including the Jollymores. Some thought the collection should stay on the West coast but—where?
In the end, Marlene, who was familiar with and impressed by the Margaree Salmon Museum, decided it would be the final resting place for Harry’s admirable art. She found solace with her decision since Meagan Boyd, Harry’s idol, was also represented there.
The fifty-five-year-old historical edifice know as the Margaree Salmon Museum is housed in a former schoolhouse beside the world-famous Cabot Trail on Nova Scotia’s Cape Breton Island. Inside is perhaps the largest collection of angling artifacts found anywhere.
Flies, lines, reels, rods, pictures, stories and more. It’s all there, well displayed, and documented for posterity. The Lemire collection sits in its own striking display case designed, pro bono, by noted USA architect, Allen Moore of Massachusetts, and fabricated by neighbourhood craftsman, Brian Peters, from locally sourced wood. All expenditures associated with the fabrication, were borne by the Jollymores. It’s an impressive exhibit and since its placement visitor traffic has increased.
Established and still operated under the guidance of volunteers, this tiny meeting place is undergoing significant change in the administrative, structural, and informational categories.
Its longest serving curator has retired and two colleagues have accepted that role. The original board members are emeritus and a new one is embarking on a progressive agenda. An agenda that will address space limitations that have, for some time, prevented it from expanding its horizon. The goal is to include artifacts from the entire Margaree river watershed and beyond. In addition to angling, their aspiration is to make the museum the information and education hub for all angling and nature activities whether local, national or international. A robust venture, but they are a hard-working group who are actively reaching out to all who can help make the museum even better. It will happen.
So, if you’re travelling on Cape Breton Island in Nova Scotia, Canada stop by the Margaree Salmon Museum and say hello. You’ll decide to come back before you leave.
Bill Jollymore, BC angling historian and fixture of NW angling, died suddenly on May 15th, 2020. Bill will be missed by many.
- written by PJ Wall
]]>...by the likes of sporting, commercial, and subsistence-oriented fishers.
There’s a broad assumption that released fish, especially those that swim away under power, will survive another day. Despite well-crafted intentions, catch-and-release can often result in fish being returned to the water injured. The byproducts of angling (e.g., hooking) and other stressors can compound and cause fish to succumb after release.
Good news, current studies are revealing more effective techniques to aid in fish recovery and fly fishers will find these skills easy to incorporate into their routine. The ability to rapidly assess and recoup a fish after landing will pay dividends now and for generations of fish stocks (and anglers) to come.
While catch-and-release has become widely popular in the U.S., continued practice begs the question: how do we know when fish have been adequately revived? How resilient are fish after release, especially in heavily fished waters?
A biologist usually points to increments of stress as the answer: changes in both physiological and behavioral states in a fish. Developing an understanding means measuring normal versus impaired states in terms of heart rate, respiration, hormones in the bloodstream, feeding intervals, and predator evasion for instance. So far, findings indicate that stress levels vary across families and even species of fish; there is no “one size fits all” criteria.
When Nemo (metaphor for a healthy fish) is subjected to a short-term aka acute stress, like a microbe attack, he has a biofeedback response that leads to recovery. In the case of a pesky microorganism, Nemo’s stress level rises and then falls as his immune system overcomes the invader.
Extreme stress such as capture (Nemo is played out on 7x tippet) or compound stress (Nemo is caught, held too long out of water, AND Bruce the Shark is waiting for him after release) may overload a fish entirely. Now Nemo’s stress level skyrockets and he becomes susceptible to a multitude of internal and external negative effects that can lead to delayed mortality. A fish may die relatively soon (in hours) or later (in weeks) as a result. The release period is the gray area where anglers can help fish the most: handle fish efficiently after landing and maximize their recovery process to reduce the long-term effects of compound stress.
Practices as a Prizefighter Bout
The first hooking mortality study (by Mr. F. Westerman in 1932) disclosed the surprisingly deadly effects of catch-and-release on angled fish. Since then, nearly 300 catch-and-release mortality studies of over 50 fish taxa, including marine fishes, have been published with some particularly relevant data written in the last five years.
After decades of research, what do we know? Current techniques for minimizing fish injury and stress are often referred to as “best practices” for catch-and-release fishermen. Many best practices you may already know; some will likely be new. Pitched through the lens of a so-called “angler’s prizefighting bout”, here are the high points.
(species strategy)
Brawler or mauler? Chances are you’re already acquainted with some of the traits of your finned challenger. Survival of a released fish is improved by knowing (up-front) the competitive class of the species and being prepared. Whether the tippet-busting headshakes of a taimen or the drag-sizzling runs of a bonefish, use rods and reels that are classed at or above the fighting abilities of the species. Prolonged fighting is one of the top extreme stresses on fish, especially for larger fish that are prone to go the distance with high intensity and to the point of exhaustion.
Use the heaviest tippet possible, especially for contenders that run to structure, inhabit areas with lots of protective cover, or have a toothy grin. A large net or a lip-gripper (for strong, bony-mouthed fish only) will help keep fish in the water when landing. If hooking larger, non-target species is probable, be prepared to tighten the drag and point your rod at the fish to break the line (not the equipment) and stop a lengthy roughhouse before it starts.
For salmonids, when summer water temperatures become too warm (above 19 degrees Celsius/66 degrees Fahrenheit), grab a beverage and go to the neutral corner. Studies show water temperature stress fatalities escalate exponentially above this number; below, they are virtually non-existent.
(hooking and landing)
No need for sucker punches; know that hooking-related injuries to fish are the number one cause of angler-related mortalities. De-barbing your flies will also reduce the unhooking time. Avoid additional trauma to deeply hooked fish (i.e., the esophagus) by cutting the line rather than trying to extract a fly. Research demonstrates that barbless flies can be expelled many times faster, both in the mouth and lower in the gut. Whether barbless or barbed, cutting the line and reducing handling will significantly increase the odds of fish survival.
A hooking-related study by Patrick Gargan and others in 2015 showed that Atlantic salmon survival to spawning redds was 55% for lure caught fish and 98% for fly caught fish that were angled. Hook-related injuries can take all forms and often come with a combination punch. For instance, mouth tissue injuries can appear relatively minor, causing a short-term loss of suction during feeding, and have major effects like seasonal weight or growth loss. So be assertive; don’t pull your punch when setting the hook. Artificial flies tend to not only limit tissue damage when set in a timely fashion but are usually planted superficially in the outer jaw.
Anticipate fish runs and use the butt of your rod (incorporate a c-shape bend) to tire burst swimming fish. Apply side pressure while playing fish in the opposite direction of their movement. Don’t let the fish rest. Pliers and similar instruments that allow swift hook removal with little mouth damage can be especially helpful; keep them handy on your person. Landing nets or fish cradles with knotless, rubberized materials are the way to go to minimize epithelial slime damage. Boat surfaces should be smooth.
(handling environment)
Removing fish from the water is always harmful. When lifted from water, the negative effects of air exposure affect breathing abilities immediately. In a nutshell, the gill lamellae collapse and gas exchange ceases, the fish starts an oxygen debt cycle, and lactic acid and carbon dioxide levels soar countering recovery. Heart rate slows until the fish is returned to the water where it suddenly spikes like a triple cc injection of intravenous adrenaline.
The longer the period out of water, the longer the cardiac recovery takes. Keep fish in the water while removing the hook. If desired, take up to 5 seconds for a good picture; fish that show water still dripping from their sides are significantly more likely to survive post-photo. Keep the fish in the water between shots. By 10 seconds, most fish are experiencing compound stress levels and delayed mortality can become the champion of this match. Always use clean, wet hands and/or gloves dedicated to handling.
Once the Towel has been Thrown (reflex impairment tests and fish release)
After going rounds, most fish need rehabilitation time. In 2005, Michael Davis published an article on welfare checks that both biologists and anglers can use to scrutinize fish condition and responsiveness. Called reflex (impairment) tests, they are primary indicators of fish health and recovery levels that anyone can perform. They are based upon fish response to a suite of peripheral stimuli.
looking down on the fish, watch for the regular opening/closing of the gills. Ventilation by moving a fish forward and aft or in a figure eight pattern in the water has been largely dismissed in research as having no benefit. Hold the fish stationary. Strong, recurrent gill tempo means the fish is coming around.
cradle fish underwater by the center of the body and by the tail. Gently flex the body as if swimming. Or you can perform a periodic vertical lift in the water column. A fish will demonstrate an increased muscular response (you’ll feel it in hand) to these movements as it revives.
lean the fish left or right and test its righting ability. Also check for eye movement as the fish should track and move its eye with the change in position. This test and body flexing (above) can be used simultaneously for fish that have been landed quickly. Fish that do not respond need more time breathing and recuperating blood oxygen levels (per test #1) so let them rest.
loosen and tighten a tail hold at the end of the revival process. A tail pump indicates readiness. You may decide to ignore this response if just starting the test series as the fish is still in flight not recovery mode.
In many situations, a recovering fish will have a rest phase that includes taking refuge (e.g., loafing at the bottom of a deep pool or under structure) or even a few feet from the release site in the open water. If nearby, take 5 as your fish revives and let them go through this recovery phase hands free and without interruption.
We’re not on the ropes, catch-and-release fishing has positively impacted both angler catch rates and sustainable fish populations. Angler knowledge of fish recovery practices is a vital component of our future. Rare or protected stocks, like many of the pacific coast salmonids, may be the first to see species-specific best practices for stress recoveries.
- Article Written by Jim Woollett
]]>(Gibsonia, Pa.) — Frontiers International Travel is excited to offer a unique trout fishing holiday in Spain’s Eastern Pyrenees hosted by legendary guides Barry and Cathy Beck.
This gorgeous and unspoiled alpine region is home to countless rivers, lakes and streams surrounded by the medieval charms of the Pyrenees Mountains. There is a wide variety of angling opportunities in this area, including casting to rising rainbow trout in high mountain lakes, wild brook trout in pristine spring creeks and native browns (including the Mediterranean zebra trout) in the lower reaches and tailwaters.
Guests will fish some of the same waters Ernest Hemingway writes about in The Sun Also Rises. Combining the variety of available waters and relative lack of fishing pressure makes this is a fly fishing purist’s dream.
The trip is scheduled for September 27-October 5, 2019 or October 4-11, 2020. Rates start at $7,700 Double.
For more information, visit https://www.frontierstravel.
“The glacial mountain lakes and spring-fed creeks of the Spanish Pyrenees are one of the sport’s best-kept secrets,” said Frontiers President Mike Fitzgerald. “This is a perfect trip for couples blending first-rate fly fishing with Old World charm. Fully-guided excursions into the region are available daily, and evenings will be spent in luxury accommodations with delicious Mediterranean cuisine.”
Aren Lodge serves as the main base of operations in the eastern Pyrenees and is close to the fishing locations in Aragon, Catalonia and the country of Andorra. The Lodge features comfortable guest rooms, a welcoming lounge, dining room and complete spa facility.
Anglers will enjoy six full days fishing for trout. This trip is also ideal for the non-fishing companion with fully-guided excursions into the region available daily.
Photos can be downloaded here.
About Frontiers International Travel: Founded in 1969, Frontiers caters to discerning travelers and specializes in the finest worldwide fly fishing and shooting destinations, photographic safaris, as well as customized Elegant Journeys. The combined staff of 50+ travel experts in our Gibsonia, Pennsylvania headquarters and the United Kingdom branch office is considered the source for sound, unbiased advice in outdoor and luxury travel realms based on our well-seasoned, firsthand perspective.
About Barry and Cathy Beck: Longtime Frontiers trip hosts and photographers, the Becks travel far and wide to follow their love for fly fishing and nature photography. Based in Pennsylvania, Barry and Cathy write books, host fly fishing departures, lead African photo safaris, and operate a stock photography business. The Becks are well-known in the fishing, photography, and travel industries, and possess a stellar reputation for their skill, knowledge, and expertise born out of a 20 year career. Their most recent books include Cathy Beck’s Fly Fishing Handbook, now in its third edition; Fly Waters Near and Far, a coffee table book of photographs, and a soon-to-be-released book on Alaska.
]]>