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TIM`S BLOG
Just some of the thoughts that went through my mind when the boys at AEG Media aka (The Trout Bums Diaries) invited me along for the first month of their Mongolian adventure, but not being to smart and loving a great adventure I’m packed (over packed) and headed to the airport in 13 minutes. I’ll do my best to keep the blog updated along the way, but the satellite communications could be an issue, but check in every once in a while to see whether the boys have left me alive or not. They even sent me a video camera over. Luckily I have no idea what to do with it….. We may have some podcast rolling, so I’ll try and keep everyone updated. “The Adventure Continues!” Photographer
To read the AEG blog about Tim's and the "troutbums" adventure, click HERE
All hail The King 120707
I looked down river to see Kim Nakamura hooked up (again!) and moved towards my camera. He shouted back at me to keep fishing, as it felt like a small one. Almost on cue the fish exploded down river and just never stopped. Hence the “Big Pull” Swinging flies for King Salmon is always entertaining, but swinging flies within a few miles of the saltwater is nothing less then life changing for some. Forty pounders are hooked daily on the The crew of Alaska West www.alaskawest.com were our hosts and there isn’t a better run operation to be found.
03.Nov.2006
SEASONAL CHANGE
Photos for this last submission by: Dave Watts
 The drought is over, and so is my season.Well if a picture truly does tell a thousand words, then I need not explain anything else, but as always I will ramble on a bit more.
With the Skeena and all the tributaries at 25 years lows, there was a lot of talk about the lack of snow in the mountains and the need for rain. It had a drastic effect on the fishing from the standpoint of where the fish would be found, as the rivers all changed considerably with the lower water. We found fish in areas where we had never even fished before and most of the traditional runs were non-producers. It forced anglers to really think about the water and where the steelhead would be holding in the new conditions.
Over time we adjusted and had extremely good fishing throughout the season, but the low water was always a topic of discussion. Well as you can see it all came crashing down in the form of snow and lots of it. Tents, trucks, campers and anything else that was not packed up and moved became stuck in place. I heard one angler had to dig a path to the road by hand and it took him over two days on none stop work.
I think it is safe to say that my steelhead season has came to an end and its time to retreat to the tying vise and wood stove. My last day of fishing is permanently burnt in my memory with Kim Nakamura and me hooking 21 steelhead in roughly 7 hours of fishing. It is as close to a perfect ending you can get and one I will never forget.
Thanks for taking the time to stop in and I hope you enjoyed reliving some of my adventures with me and a few of my great friends.
On hold for now, but soon the “Adventure will continue”
Tim
29.Oct.2006
GOOD VERSUS EVIL - PART II
 Kim Nakamura and I slide the boat to anchor and stepped to the rocky shoreline. It was a bit spooky to be honest. The Skeena itself is nothing less then daunting from Steelheaders prospective, and the day was ugly. It was just above freezing, and the fog was hugging the valley floor. The light rain was occasionally mixed with some hail, and the sun was no where to be seen, in fact it looked like nightfall was starting at 10:00am that morning. To make matters worse we had no clue where to begin, as this particular run stretched for hundreds of yards and in both directions. I had another cup of coffee (my usual delay) and Kim headed for the top. He was a tiny speck on the horizon when he stopped and waded in. I looked down from the boat and decided I would step out here and start fishing. I was wondering how many steps to take between casts, 3? 4? 5? 25?, when I glanced back to see Kim’s tiny rod bending. Or at least I thought it was. Then the fish jumped and I was sure he had hooked a fish. I glanced at the camera bag, then back at Kim. Too far, I thought… More coffee perhaps? There was another giant leap on the horizon, then another and another. Shit, this was an amazing fish it appeared and I was still sitting and watching. The fish jumped further out and then further out again. I heard the faint scream of his reel and could not take it anymore. I ran…..
25.Oct.2006
GOOD VERSUS EVIL
 Kim Nakamura put my camera bag on the rocky shoreline and stepped into the water just in time to help me land a beautiful Steelhead of about 14 pounds. He had a smile at least as big as mine, and I could tell it was sincere. Kim took a few photos and slapped me on the back a few times, and then headed back to the top of the run. I shouted after him to jump in right where I ended and I would head up to the top. He would not hear of it and told me to catch another one. Now lets review; Kim and I were on the main-stem Skeena and I for one felt like we were looking for the proverbial “Needle in a haystack”, and somehow I seemed to stumble into the bucket and now Kim was walking away after running 200 yards down the rocky banks to photograph my prized Steelhead. When I hooked my second fish within 10 minutes I almost felt guilty, almost…… Kim came running back down with the same sincere smile and offered up some high fives and assisted me with more photos and then headed off for the top of the run once again. I was a bit confused on what to do at this point and offered my place once again, but he was already hiking back and telling me to catch another one. Should I wade back out and keep fishing? What if I hook another one? What if Kim catches nothing and I get FIVE? Shit… Most of my fishing partners other then Sonya, are pretty much assholes like me, and having landed a nice fish I would have normally been drug from the river and deposited in the boat for a timeout. But not Kim, he seemed happy to let me continue my streak.
Well it worked itself out quickly enough with Kim hooking a nice fish in the head. It was a long way for me to walk and the rocks were slippery. Then I had to help land and photograph his fish. I sure hope he appreciates me taking time out of my precious fishing time to help him out!
22.10.06
Fish Eleven!
Second guessing yourself comes early in one of these types of droughts and I had long starting evaluating every single aspect of my fish hooking approach. I have done it so many times previously that I had almost forgot the specifics of what I do exactly and there lies the rub. I became so conscious of what I thought I needed to do to successfully land a Steelhead, that I became very proficient at screwing it up. In fact it became worse before it became better and towards the height of my fish-loosing madness, I lost them earlier in the fight and sometimes only got a few good head shakes out of them. One particular morning Gordon looked over his shoulder and was telling me how a fish had followed his fly the whole swing, but would not commit to the fly. At just that second, while he was swung 2/3rds away from his fly, the Steelhead returned and damn near tore the fly rod from his hands. Obviously he landed that fish or it wouldn’t have added another pound of salt to my already gapping wound. Tony Harris, Gordon and I were sitting in the boat toasting “Fish Elevin”, when Gordon told me I was going to break the streak with a huge fish and that would be that. I just smiled and thought to myself, “Shut the fuck up!” and then asked for another beer and quickly downed it. Later that afternoon my fly ended its swing fixed to a rock or a log. It just simply stopped swinging and I set the hook. Nothing…… It didn’t move an inch. I was considering just breaking it off, when the log began to move at a slow speed,,,,,, up river! “Fish on!!! Gordon took all the credit for this fish, but I could not have cared less, after all he did call it and the streak was ended and the fish was indeed HUGE!!! I am currently on landed fish number four in a row, and hope the demons have moved on to some other unsuspecting lunatic.
17.10.06
British Invation
The leaves were turning hard now and the colors exploding across the valley floor. Gordon was spending most of his time turning his head in all directions. I think he was taking in all the beauty BC has to offer, but at the same time he was on the look out for Grizzly bears. Not that I would have even suggested he could be jumped upon at any second and carried off like a giant Scottish Meat Pie, as I would never do such a thing to one of my unsuspecting great friends, or would I? Our first day found us traveling down river only to find several boats in the area I had planned to fish. So after an hour or so we made the trip back to where we basically started and proceeded to have a great day, hooking over 10 steelhead between the two of us. The fishing was amazing and all my cautions to Gordon about getting Skunked, Zeroed, Blanked or Bageled was all for not. In fact he was thinking that Steelhead fishing was easy, and the following 3 days did little to change his mind. I lost track of how many fish we hooked those first 4 days, but we were averaging at least 10 hooked fish a day. My words had lost all effect on Gordon and it took a day of NO FISH to bring both of us back to earth. We did land a big buck Steelhead that had terrible net marks on most of his body. It was a harsh reminder that we aren’t the only hunters on the banks of the river, and there aren’t too many Steelhead that survive the gill nets once they enter their web.
13.Oct.2006
Idaho Joe Roope
 Idaho Joe Roope was sitting at the tying vise and the flies were dropping; well, they were dropping like flies. In an hour’s time there was a pile of flies lying beside the vise and I am still amazed at the quality and quantity of his work. It was almost too bad that I know him as well as I do, as the perfectly tied flies would soon be tossed into his pocket, or plastic bag, or perhaps all stuck through the bill of his hat and that would be the last time they would be beautiful works of art. Nope, as soon as his work was done, they quickly become the means to the end and today the end result we wanted was wild Steelhead.Idaho Joe rolled his chair back, removed his hat and grinned like a kid in a candy store. “Let’s go fishing!” he whispered, I had to remind him it was 6:30am and wouldn’t even be light for another hour and then the boat would not be thawed for an hour after that. So he sat back down, opened his third Red Bull for the morning and went back to work.
Idaho was about half way through “Big Fish” run, and as the name told the story, he was working the run a few feet at a time. “Fish On!”……. By the time I had got my line back on the reel and made it to shore, Idaho was already around the corner. I could see his fly line was long since gone and backing was still tearing from the reel. The fish found a spot it was comfortable in and decided to slug it out right their. I looked at the rod bending and knew that either the fish was going to move, or the rod was going to explode. The fish finally did move; it went further out…... Shit!
I think we both expected to see a 25 to 30 pound buck Steelhead slide to the shore. But it wasn’t, this was a simply an ass kicking 17 pound wild Skeena Steelhead buck, that had the heart of a lion. Though he didn’t readily admit it, Idaho Joe had just had his ass kicked hard. I could not even begin to tell you how many fish he has landed in his lifetime, but I have little doubt that Idaho Joe Roope will ever forget that morning in the valley.
7.Oct. 2006 Sonya kicks ass...again!
On days when I get 2 and Sonya gets 2, I say WE got 4 today. On days when I get 3 and she gets 1, I say WE got 4 today. But what do you say on days when your wife got 4 and you got ZERO? I sure as hell can’t say WE got 4 can I! So I sit here tonight with a couple of Scotches under my belt and a plate full of humble pie in front of me. It sits between the keyboard and the monitor, so when my male ego raises its ugly head I can take another bite and carry on. Most people tell me how lucky I am to have a wife who loves to travel and fish, and to them I say, “Just wait until my wife kicks your ass all over the river and then tell me just how cool it is!”
05.Oct.2006
Native fishermen - fishing steelhead the traditional way
 Huge leaps, but not enough height or speed. Another jump, another failure, and another and another and yet another. It’s too high and too much water, they will never make it over the falls. Yet just as I had convinced myself that there was little hope a beautiful steelhead made a giant jump and disappeared somewhere near the top of the rapids. “Did it make it?” Members of the First Nation were hard at work. With large dip nets in hand they worked with amazing effectiveness, with one member extending the net deep into a small back-eddie and sweeping the area and quickly raising the net. Most times he had at least one steelhead in the net, and often three. He transferred the captured steelhead to a waiting net handler that hastily moved them to a holding tank, where 2 other members worked. Information about the steelhead was quickly recorded and then the fish was tagged and released above the falls to continue their journey. I wondered if this short cut around the falls was worth it? It looked like there were at least thirty failed attempts before they somehow navigated the falls, and I suspected the whole netting experience would not have been their choice, but the information collected is vital to the survival of these wild fish and they were all release unharmed.
The falls were busy for the few hours that we were there and I felt comfortable that at least this years steelhead run had survived all the commercial netting at the mouth of the Skeena. Of course the early steelhead were becoming harder and harder to find, as the commercial Sockeye netters have taken their toll on the unsuspecting steelhead navigating along side the targeted fish. Unfortunately the gill nets don’t discriminate and kill any fish that happens into there tangled web.
04.OCT.2006
Skeena river - Steelhead fishin`
 I had lost track of my fly, although I new it was still swinging through the riffle just below me. The glare was intense and I could not follow my dry fly with any regular basis. “Was that swirl?” I just could not make it out and I felt nothing as my fly continued on its path. Sonya was down stream of me and was changing her fly, so I decided to do the same. I tied on a black October Caddis and backed up a couple of steps to began working the riffle once again. This time there was no mistaking the swirl on the fly, as it was followed by a monstrous jump and then a heart stopping run that never slowed down, not even for a second! Obviously I’ll never know just how big that fish was, but I can tell that I will never forget those few seconds. I had little time to reflect my ass kicking, as Sonya soon shouted, “Fish On!” and I was soon running down river with camera bag in hand.
Skating dry flies for steelhead is what fly fishing dreams are made of, and the Skeena River fish are perhaps the most willing steelhead on the planet. But the weather is quickly turning and the water temperatures are dropping daily, so we will soon be swinging wet flies as more and more fish begin to make their way up the river systems.
28.SEPT 2006
THE TRAINING OF BRITISH
As she neared the shore the others charged her at full speed and more or less tackled her from all sides. It appeared to be a fight to the death from my view point and I stared in amazement as the fish was torn to pieces within seconds and was soon gone. She sat back with what I can only imagine was great pride, as her spring cubs finished off the remaining salmon. The mother Grizzly seemed amazingly patient with her cubs and somehow knew that this training was going to be vital if they were going to survive in the wild. She was going to care for the three of them for at least another year and a half, and they all needed to quickly learn how to fish effectively or it would negatively effective the family as a group. She sat back and tested the wind for what seemed like a full minute. There was a huge boar Grizzly in the area that had already killed a cub of another mother Grizzly, and she knew all to well with the out come if they ran into him. Satisfied that there was no immediate danger she went back to work with her training. She nosed the cubs into the river and sat near by as they chased anything that was near by including a flock of cinnamon teal. Every once in a while a cub would accidentally step on a swimming salmon and jump straight up with shear bewilderment as to what had happened. They somehow hadn’t connected the river and the swimming salmon and always seemed startled by the flapping tails that occasionally sprayed water in their faces. Across the river another family had entered the water. The mother and her three yearling cubs were busy fishing in with effectiveness that is only learned through countless weeks of training. These year and a half old cubs were well on their way to adulthood, and each was already a master angler. She too often sat back and tested the air for any type of danger. Even though Grizzlies have killed humans, they do not set out to hunt people down and attack on sight. It’s more of being in the wrong place and the absolutely wrong time that leads to bad bear encounters. As I was standing less then 100 feet from her and the cubs I often talked to her and waved my hat every once in a while. I wanted her to know I was in the water with her and that I was no threat to her cubs. She seemed satisfied with our arrangement, occasionally looking my direction and testing the air to make sure it was still me and not some new threat that had approached. I can honestly say I have never felt more alive then the few hours I was privileged to spend with these magnificent families and I have undying respect for these animals and their struggles to survive. I want to add that wading with Grizzly bears isn’t something I am recommending, and a good understanding of your surroundings is critical if you choose to spend time with them.
10.SEPT 2006
“The Adventure Continues”
Even though I had plenty more gear to pack, I could not help opening the box and laying its contents on floor for better inspection. There was 3 different Bronson Reels that my Grandfather had help manufacture at a company that has long since faded from existence. I was amazed with the functionality of these simple designs and was sure they would still perform perfectly. I grabbed a tangled mess of old wooded plugs and took the time to untangle and lay them out for better inspection. They all showed some wear and the odd tooth mark from battles both won and lost. There were small boxes of flies among trays and some were amazingly well tied. I had thoughts of putting a couple of them in one of my current fly boxes and giving it a ride for old time’s sake. But the contents of this particular tackle box would never see the light of day again, as it is irreplaceable to me. I eventually replaced everything and got back to the task at hand. As I sit here now, I have something less then 24 hours to finish my list before my wife, Sonya and I head back up to British Columbia’s, beautiful Bulkley Valley. You see it’s the time of year that the mighty So tomorrow morning, long before day light we will begin our new six week adventure in to some of the most beautiful and inspiring country on the planet. It’s a long way from the bass ponds of my youth, but luckily I haven’t lost the excitement or the passion, which was solidly instilled by my Grandfather some forty years ago. So as you see the “Adventure truly does continue!” Tim Pask
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Should I go? I’m old, they are not. I love beds, warm showers, structure, good food, cold beer and dependable vehicles – They love dirt, BO, Top Ramen, warm beer and virtually anything else that may be considered life threatening. 
If you are a double handed rod enthusiast then there isn’t much that compares to the “Big Pull.” One second your fly is swinging its way through the bucket and the next second it simply stops. What follows next is something less tranquil and often involves broken fly lines, broken flies, broken leaders, broken rods, broken hearts and lots of “Did you see that?”, “Holly Shit!”, “Un-fucking believable!”, “That’s impossible!” and the simple non-response which comes after losing “Another one!”
Join Scanout Photographer Tim Pask as he explores the untouched waters on 
Eleven!!
Gordon Sim and I stood in the house looking out at the river. Man, it looked cold and the boat was covered in frost. I glanced over at Gordon and suggested we make another pot of coffee and let the sun creep up a bit higher.
Sonya was working her way down the run with the focus and efficiency of a machine, it’s no wonder she kicks my ass as often as not.
All four of the fishermen made their way to the river quietly entering the water.
I was packing some gear last night and ran across an old tackle box that had belonged to my Grandfather.