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These are the Chronicles of Famous Surf Writer Ben Marcus and his trip into the Wilds of the Alaskan Frontier.
Latest Update:
October 27, 2000

21:39 BC TIME ROOM 508, BULKLEY VALLEY HOTEL, NEW HAZLETON, BRITISH COLUMBIA, CANADA

Timing? Earlier today-through the miracle of Internet communications- Stephen "Steve" Hawk suggested I go out to the Queen Charlotte Islands and start my South by Northwest surf exploration of the Pacific Northwest: a swell.com exclusive. Strangely, there is a show on the Queen Charlotte Islands on the Outdoor Life Network right now. They are picking mushrooms out in the forest, which is something I got interested in while driving up through the Cassiar a month ago, or whenever that was.

The Queen Charlottes look interesting. The ferry from Prince Rupert is only about $150 Canadian, and the ferries leave Sundays, Mondays and Thursdays. I don't think I'll be catching the Sunday or Monday ferry, because the Queen Charlotte Islands are about to get raped by a massive low pressure system that is filling most of the Gulf of Alaska.

Check it out. Hawk sent me a link. Holy shit:

http://virga.sfsu.edu/gif/sathts_pac_snd_00.gif

I guess that explains why the weather was cold and gloomy here today, but it's kind of a novelty to be actually getting hit by one of those big spinners I've seen on weather maps all my life. It would be interesting to be around the coast right now, but I'm going to stay inland.

Today I stayed in the hotel room all day and worked. I called all the Usual Suspects in Santa Cruz and wrote the Local Knowledge column for swell, focusing on all the shark sightings and paranoia after the attack at Mavericks. I guess I should have talked more about the big swell being produced by the giant low pressure, but I'm a little out of touch. Maybe I can fix it tomorrow.

I barely left the hotel room today and didn't bother with fishing, because the weather is bad and, if anything, the rivers are higher today than they were yesterday.

Yesterday I spent driving all around this area, checking out the Bulkley River and the Kispiox River and the Skeena River. This is steelhead central, one of the best steelhead areas in the world. The Skeena is a big river that flows into the sea at Prince Rupert, and there is a huge steelhead run that comes up and branches off into the Bulkley and the Kispiox.

Two nights ago, Brent (Not Brett) Taylor, the Steelhead Fiend, drew me a map of some good runs on the Bulkley River. His map showed a bridge and the Telkwa RV park and two outlet pipes he called "The Griffin Water." He gave me pointers on where to fish and how to cast and wished me luck. He took off and drove up to the Kispiox. He's a Steelhead Fiend, that chap.

I wasn't exactly sure where the Griffin Water was on the Bulkley River. I thought it might be in New Hazleton, but it turned out to be way down the road apiece, past Smithers, in Telkwa.

I found it after a late start, much driving and several wrong turns. There were some bridges in Telkwa, but not the right ones.

I was on the right side of the river but thought I was on the wrong side. I asked for directions at the bakery and an RV park, and finally got it sussed, although the RV park lady said that the river was high from the snow and rain, and all the fishermen had left a few days before.

I drove the van down a sketchy, muddy road through a construction site, and found myself near the Griffin water, although I never saw the two pipes.

It was obvious the river was running too high, but it was clear enough to give it a try.

I fished by myself and got nothing. That fly-rod of mine doesn't get enough projection to fish a big river like the Bulkley. I may have to go buy one of those industrial-strength, two-fisted rigs like Brent had on the Meziadin (mez-e-ah-din).

I flailed the river for awhile but it was no good and no fun. Gloomy day, mucky water, not such a great location.

I gave up when three other guys arrived. They were all from Sweden and they were a little pissed. They had flown into Prince George then up to Smithers, ready to kill fish. Unfortunately, KLM lost all their fishing gear: 17 fly rods and who knows how much else? They had borrowed some gear and one of the guys-a guy who would be called Big Swede in a novel-had one of those two-fisted rigs.


The Swedes watching the other guys.

The Swedes flailed the same water I had, while I talked to all three of them. I told them about Norway and surfing and they said they lived on the same latitude as Bodo, but on the Gulf of Bothnia. The fact that they had flown all the way from Sweden suggested that I was in the right place. But maybe not at the wrong time.

The day before, Big Swede and his buddies had stopped along the Skeena, and Big Swede caught a big steelhead, five centimeters short of a meter. A nice fish.

The Swedes all fished and then gave up, and they were replaced by four other guys. Not sure where they were from, but they were being guided by a guy who sure knew how to cast. I chatted with the Swedes about all kinds of things: Norway, oil money, the Kursk and how the Russians seem to turn everything they touch into shit. We watched the new four until they were about to give up. One of them hooked what he thought was a small rainbow, but it was a whitefish.

A little later, he hooked something substantial. It put up a good fight and it was silver like a steelhead. Cheers became groans when he pulled in some kind of evil, devil sucker fish, bottom fish, hooked in the ass.


Well equipped guy with ass-hooked Devil sucker fish.

I hate those evil, devil sucker fish. That cast a pall over the afternoon, so everyone gathered around and compared their gear. These guys had all the latest gizmos, which is three-fourths of the reason that people fly-fish anyway. There was probably over $5,000 worth of gear among those seven guys, maybe more. One of the Swedes had machined his own fly reel out of titanium, and he was rightfully proud of it.

That all broke up, and those guys helped push the van up the hill, because my cheechako tires aren't any good on mud, either.

I gave up on the Bulkley River and drove back through Smithers, thinking it was time to buy some waders. Smithers is a nice, prosperous little town. Like Sequim, but bigger and more prosperous.

I drove around and around and ended up at Oscar's Sporting Goods, where I bought a pair of neoprene waders and some more steelhead flies. I got waders! I got waders!

On the way back I passed a pretty gnarly stretch of rapids on the Bulkley, and I had to wonder how so many steelhead made it up this obstacle. Those fish are strong. Brent told me that steelhead in the Snake River have made a 1200 mile swim up the Columbia River to get there. Imagine catching all that energy just a few minutes or miles or days out of the ocean. That is why steelhead are the prize. They are strong, and they have every reason to live.


Those Rapids on the Bulkley.

Then I drove back to New Hazleton, hoping to bump into Brent the Steelhead Fiend. The night before he'd said he was going to the Kispiox, so I drove that way, out of Hazleton. I bought some Okanagan Valley apples from a produce truck and then drove into the Kispiox Valley. I gave a ride to yet another Indian and he clued me in on where to go.

The Kispiox is another beautiful river, big and fast with lots of bends and sandbars. I didn't know where I was going and didn't have a map. I gave up after about 10 miles and a decent look around, and drove back to New Hazleton.

I watched the World Series at the New Town Pub, but Brent didn't show. So I went back to Room 508 and watched the Yankees clinch it.

That was last night. I watched TV thinking about the day and plotting where I would go first thing in the morning. It started raining around 21:00, and now I know why. The mother of all low pressures is heading at us, the eye of it at about the same latitude as where I am now.

So, no return trip to the Bulkley or the Kispiox or the Skeena today. It was a cold, gloomy day, and Im just going to have to wait for this weather to blow over.

Right now I'm watching TV and IM'ing with the guy who does Sacklunch. He just read my poorly-written outline for Deus ex Machina, and he thinks it has potential.

Just went out for a big night in New Hazleton. I bought some coffee and a pepperoni stick at the Chevron station. The juke box at the New Town Pub is pumping out country and western into the street, but I had to get back to the room and get an extra key because I locked myself out.

So, who knows what will happen tomorrow? There's a big storm heading this way, but the weather here is calm right now. Might fish the Kispiox tomorrow if the weather isn't too stinky. I might head for Prince Rupert. I might finally finish that Jeff Clark interview for swell.com. I might sleep all day.

I'll know when I wake up. I go where the Four Winds take me.

 


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PHOTOS
October 1, 2000
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September 27, 2000


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