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    Sunday, May 12, 2013
    Ontario! We Are Coming Back to you but Only for One Day!
    Don’t miss out on either our casting or tying classes this June!

    Our Co-Ed Learn to Fly-Cast Workshops are designed to introduce and teach the pure fundamentals of fly-casting.

    From the first-timer, to the seasoned angler looking to rid themselves of bad habits, all skill levels are welcome.
    Most of our courses are dry-land (free from distraction) classes that take no more than 4 hours to complete, while many of our workshops are designed as weekend getaways that last several days.

    Co-Ed Learn to Fly Cast Workshop (& Break Habits)

    Mount Albert, Ontario

    Location- The Franklin Club, Ontario
    Workshop Dates- June 1st, 2013 (Sat), 2:00pm-6:00pm
    Instructor- April Vokey (CCI)

    Availability- 8 students


    $99.99 CDN (plus HST) per person
    Looking to improve your tying skills or learn popular steelhead flies!? Directly before this class, we have a tying class perfect for you!  From 9:00am to 1:00pm we will be having one of our famed tying classes that will help you with popular steelhead patterns and tube fly basics!  Only $99.99 and we supply all of the materials.  Email info@flygal.ca to book or receive more info!

    *Includes 4 hours of instruction and gear upon request. 
    **Classes are not determined by weather and will not be canceled as a result of less than desirable conditions.

    Course Information

    Our fly-casting workshops are a dry-land clinic, including both a theory and a hands-on session.
    This course teaches the mechanics of why and how fly-casting operates, allowing students to develop their own style and work towards the common goal of successfully casting an efficient loop.
    Students are encouraged to bring their own equipment so as to become familiar with their set-up, however we will provide equipment upon request.
    For instructional purposes we will be using a 9 foot, 5 weight rod with a 5 weight floating line.
    To reserve your space click here or call 1.888.359.4259

    Posted by April Vokey on May 12, 2013
    Monday, May 6, 2013
    Norway 2013
    Join April Vokey and the Norweigian Flyfishers Club for a one-week workshop on over 10 kilometers of private Gaula River beats.
    From June 9th – 16th 2013, a limited number of guests will have the opportunity to fish with and learn from one of British Columbia’’s most internationally renowned fishing guides. April’’s expertise in Spey casting and fly tying for wild steelhead and salmon is coupled with a passion for environmental conservation.
    Using the exclusive fly-waters of the Norwegian Flyfishers Club, April will bring her expertise in tackle and high, cold water fishing techniques to Norway for the first time. Skagit and Scandinavian lines and their casting techniques will be the main topic of the week.
    Presentations will be related mostly to spring conditions and tactics and all guests will benefit from April’s individual consultations and tutorials throughout the week on the river.
    The course will include:
    • Introduction and orientation of the course by April
    • Techniques to be used during spring fishing for big salmon
    • Casting demonstrations and individual casting tutorials
    • Fish and work with all participants as a group and individually
    • Presentation on swinging flies
    • Fly tying
    Depending on the weather and water conditions during the week, the course’’s agenda will be tailored accordingly in order to get the most of out this unique opportunity.
    Price: $4,350 USD
    Includes: Accommodations, course, half-board (supplies to prepare your own breakfasts, and main meals prepared and served at the the lodge on the riverbank)
    Please contact us for more details at info@flygal.ca or by calling 1.888.359.4259
    Posted by April Vokey on May 6, 2013
    Tuesday, April 23, 2013
    Learn to Fly Cast Workshops

    Still some room available in our Learn to Fly Cast Workshops next weekend with Certified Casting Instructor April Vokey (Saturday, April  27th and Sunday, April 28th)!

    From the first-timer, to the seasoned angler looking to rid themselves of bad habits, all skill levels are welcome.

    Our fly-casting workshops are a dry-land clinic, including both a theory and a hands-on session.

    This course teaches the mechanics of why and how fly-casting operates, allowing students to develop their own style and work towards the common goal of successfully casting an efficient loop.

    Co-Ed Learn to Fly Cast Workshop
    Location: Chilliwack, BC
    Workshop Dates: April 27th, 2013 (Sat), 12:00pm-4:00pm
    Instructor: April Vokey (CCI)
    Availability: 8 students

    Women’s Learn to Fly Cast Workshop
    Location: Chilliwack, BC
    Workshop Dates: April 28th, 2013 (Sun), 12:00pm-4:00pm
    Instructor: April Vokey (CCI)
    Availability: 8 students

    $99.00 CDN (plus GST) per person
    *Includes 4 hours of instruction and gear upon request.
    **Classes are not determined by weather and will not be canceled as a result of less than desirable conditions.

    Please visit our Workshops tab for more details, www.flygal.ca/workshops

    Email catherine@flygal.ca for more information or to book!

    Hope to see some of you there!

    Catherine Laflamme

    Posted by April Vokey on April 23, 2013
    Wednesday, January 16, 2013
    Where Did You Come From Ms. Vokey?
    Once upon a time…
    There was a young woman who graced poise and class.
    Beautiful, adventurous, wild and determined, she fled a difficult past, riding the days away atop a small mare named June.
    From child to teenager June mentored this young woman, teaching her independence, strength, ambition and solidarity.
    Together, the two of them would roam endless fields and forests, seeking refuge from the world and excitement in the wind slapping at their faces.
    I am proud to introduce you to my mother.
    Mom never was one to take the word “no” lightly.
    A free-spirit by heart but a professional in the office, she was an anomaly in her own right and fierce in every sense of the word.

    Disinterested by the attention her appearance received, she worked tirelessly with determination to win the respect of her male counter-parts (regardless of whether or not they were willing to give it up with ease).
    The motto of “you don’t have to like me but you will respect me” was a common theme through her career and as a young girl I remember sitting quietly through the open tears, dried cheeks, ambitious healing and, consequently, raised pay cheques.
    Mom was tough, she rocked the work-force and her quick witted intelligence paired with her no nonsense approach quickly took her to some of the lead roles in the 9 to 5 world.
    She finished her degree while working a full-time job, raising two young children, leading a group of girl scouts and making sure the house was healthy in every aspect.
    My mother was/is the toughest woman I know and for that I will forever be thankful.
    Enter Dad.
    Oh, where to start…?
    My father had twelve years on my mom.  
    Sensitive, intelligent, independent and opinionated, Dad had left his home in Newfoundland at the age of seventeen to hop freight trains across the country, living on a dime along the way until eventually settling in Vancouver.

    He was a hippy and while he cringes a little when I describe him as such, his bellbottoms, hair and constant attachment to a guitar give him away before I even utter the “H” word.
    A luthier (guitar builder) to this day, I have never witnessed a single day in my 30 years without the man strumming, building or admiring a guitar.
    The two of them met as room-mates in the small confinements of a Vancouver apartment.

    Mom would do her hair and makeup before heading out on a date and Dad would sit with her as she primped and placed.  Truly the best of friends, they would laugh, philosophize and daydream over a bathroom counter of lipstick and mascara.

    It was on an evening of some poor fools’ misfortune that a scheduled date stood up my mother, leaving her to stew at the wasted energy on her beauty efforts and time.  Dad, the tricky man that he is, offered to stand in and take her out for a coffee.
    It’s been almost 40 years now and the two of them are still together; more in love than ever.

    They each had their passions, Dad had his guitars and a small airplane, Mom had her horses, and both had the outdoors.
    They shared each others interests and dabbled in new areas of adventure.
    Delighting in the finer things in life, they stayed away from the preconceived pressures of large homes and fancy cars, focusing on the pleasure of the outdoors instead.
    Mom always stayed true to her feminine roots, never ceasing to blow my Dad’s mind as she explored the world alongside him, welcoming the stain of dirt and grit in true lady form.
    It wasn’t until I recently opened a dusty photo album titled “1970’s” that I realized where this strange passion of mine found its roots.
    Here she is fishing in the 70’s during their honeymoon.  Yes, those are platforms and very short shorts.  I love you Mom… you were badass.

    Oh, they were fun… troublesome, but fun.
    The best of friends, together they owned the world and shared the same morals.  Good people, honest people, both willing to fight for what’s right and both in agreeance that they would never be birthing any children.

    It was a conversation that neither of them had expected to have when they decided that they had a lot to offer a child.

    After many discussions and shuffling of schedules, it was in 1982 that they conceived a small baby during a rushed lunch break (sorry Mom).
    Eight and a half months pregnant, my Mom stayed true to her earthy nature as her and dad maintained outdoor pursuits and good times.  Here she is on the Chilliwack River at eight and a half months pregnant and ready to deliver a small baby girl in just two short weeks:

    Soon after, I was born…
    Responsibility forced them to consider their priorities and Dad soon sold his beloved plane; my Mom in turn decreasing her time at the stable.
    Dad took a factory job in Richmond, dreading the shift work with every ounce of his body, consequently making me vow that I would never fall into a life of misery so often associated with “the man”.
    I stayed true to my word that I would follow my heart and swore that I would choose happiness over money in a pursuit that I was passionate about.

    Perhaps it was inevitable that their families would be concerned at the parenting choices of my folks.
    Determined to ensure that I was never sheltered and certain that I would be as independent as each of them, they were more relaxed than most parents during my upbringing.

    While some critiqued their methodology, they stood beside their decision that a few bumps and bruises would better me as a person.

    They set out to make me strong and they most certainly succeeded.
    We lived in a humble home…

    Drove inexpensive vehicles….
    And were rockstar rich with outings & adventures.
    I was a barn baby from before I was born…accompanying Mom at the stables and entertaining the horses from my days in the womb into my early teens.
    It is my belief that Mom wanted me to be an equestrian but she never forced me to continue with the sport as I outgrew it.
    Dad, on the other hand, had plans for me.
    Tricks, jokes and pranks were always par for the course with my father.  Never failing to seek humour in this crazy world, he would thrive in the hilarity of watching me adapt.

    Whether it be giving me a ladle to eat soup, or watching me trap myself in the corner of my cradle only to leave me on my own to figure a way out, he was never short on entertainment.  To this day, he still delights in such comedy.
    I grew up loving to laugh and spend time with them both.
    A confessed “Daddy’s girl”, I couldn’t get enough time with him.  He was/is a damn good father and my best friend in every sense of the word.
    They allowed me a lot of time on my own and delighted in watching what interested me.  Bugs and the pet worm who lived under the back door mat kept me entertained and days spent indoors were rare.

    Horses, guitars, comedy and bugs…yet it was the fishing and the rivers that made the strongest impact in my early days.
    Dad, an occasional bait angler would take me to the lake and together we would troll worms in hopes of encountering an unfortunate rainbow trout.

    Setting up camp in our large backyard, we would play wilderness adventure where Dad would pretend that we were lost in the deep woods, trying to survive through the cold so we could appreciate the next morning.
    Mom made sure she kept her little girl looking exactly like that: a little girl.  I was a mini version of her but with dirty nails, grey knees, fraying dress and silky ribbon in my hair.
    It wasn’t long before we were expecting another member in our family and Mom was pregnant with the best thing that ever happened to this world: my sister.

    It was love at first sight when I saw her…dark and gorgeous, Dana stole all of our hearts.

    Our entourage hit the beaches and the waterways of the coast as we turned over rocks, sighted for fish in clear streams and shrieked as crabs clung to our tiny fingers.
    Camping was always a large part of our family outings and the summer months had us road-tripping to the woods.  Packing a crib for little sis and enough lifejackets to float an arc, there was nothing that could get in the way of my parent’s passions.

    Dana was often attached with a rope to ensure that the river couldn’t steal her and I roamed the bank looking for life.

    (Here Dana and Dad fish the Chilliwack in hopes for a taker… I absolutely love the rope).

    She was precious.
    Mom was a girl scout leader and she affectionately allowed me to put her through nine long years of scouts.  Eventually when I completed the final year of the program (in my teens) I followed her steps as a leader trying to help the younger girls to also earn their badges.
    I will forever swear that by my participation in this group I maintained a passion and education for the outdoors.
    Never without entertainment, I would make nets out of nylons and hangers where I would proceed to fish/dipnet for just about any species I could conjure up.
    By the age of 8 I had my own bike and a copious amount of outdoor freedom.
    A large frog pond in the woods a few miles away captivated me and I often dredged through it in my rubber boots.  
    I recall a day where I peddled to the pond, determined to fill my glass jar with enough frogs & tadpoles to start my own sanctuary. 
    My collection activities done, I headed home but uneven asphalt on the ride back flung my canning jar to the cement and I cried as I frantically scraped the drying, squashed bodies from the road before burying each of them in a very serious ceremony under the large conifer in the front yard.
    It had been my first feeling of loss and it sickens me to this day when I think of the dread that filled my excited heart.
    Frogs, salamanders, minnows, trout… ponds, rivers, lakes and puddles all were worthy of my attention. This is another staple that holds true to this day.

    The fish were always a bonus in my younger days. At the age of 12 I had accumulated a worthy allowance and it just so happened that a nearby mall nested a small tackle shop next to it.
    An eighth grader with shallow friends, I received funny looks when I chose to spend my money on glass jars of yellow marshmallow PowerBait and anise-scented salmon eggs.
    Dad had given me a small brown tackle box and it was my mission to fill it for a day when I could drive myself to the river to continue my solo pursuits for elusive fish.
    Soon, old enough to drive and equipped with my first car (a 1983 blue Buick Skylark), I was hitting the river on a near daily basis.
    By 21 I had purchased a home in Chilliwack where I was close to my beloved river…and by 23 I was guiding for a local outfit.
    I started my business 6 years ago in tribute to the misery of my father’s dreaded job at the factory.  
    Readily risking the acceptance of all things deemed normal by society, I gladly made an exchange of the aforementioned for the satisfaction of following my heart.
    It is a path that I have chosen to blaze for myself; a zoning permit that my parents put in my hands as a newborn.  This business stands for so much more than just days on the water or fishing memorabilia… this business is what I dreamt of as a little girl; one that I have been training for since my first comprehension of societal expectations; one that I am delighted that so many of you have chosen to share with me.
    I would like to take this moment to announce that from this point I will be moving any blog posts about opinion and personal tributes to a venue that is more specific to uncensored vocalization.  I will continue to keep the Fly Gal blog active for more business related articles but am excited to speak more openly on a page solely built for the purpose of writing from my heart.  Details and new link to come.
    Thank you for your business and for your readership… Words cannot express just how much wind you have gifted these wings of mine and I am so incredibly glad that I jumped.

    April Vokey
    Posted by April Vokey on January 16, 2013
    Tuesday, January 1, 2013
    Late Nights…
    I love late nights.
    Emails slow, television airs tosh.O, the world around me sleeps and I let down my guard as I delight in a long awaited release of sarcasm, humor, truth and other trivial fruitions that I’m not so sure the general public would be overly impressed to learn about me.  
    I laugh with my mouth open, disregard chocolate stuck in my teeth and model my sweat pants like they’re sexy in rhythm to the music of the late night “want-ad” commercials.
    Colby cocks an eyebrow and looks at me in disdain – naturally I mock him in the husky voice chanting the 1-800 number and laugh at the ridiculousness of it all…
    Yup, I love late nights.
    In this wonderful world of fishing, I am often brought abroad where I find that while my fishery of choice may change with the seasons, my level of professionalism may not.  
    Surrounded by classes often full of testosterone, jokesters, presumptions and innuendo, I turn a blind eye to the off colour comedy and ignore the open faced text messages of “is she at least somewhat intelligent?” (true story) and reference to how perhaps I’m better suited for either the kitchen or a playboy magazine.
    Pretending to have the capacity of a G-rated Bob Saget routine, I shy away from response while my brain silently plays a Roast in the words of Lisa Lampanelli and I remember why my humor needs to stay confined to the after-hour sweat pant charade and the company of like minded friends.
    Playing coy to the intricacies of such thoughts, I admittedly censor myself here on my business blog but will confess aloud, however, that I am not bound alone by such strict mental confinements.
    For it is a similarity in all professions; one that I witness every day on the river.
    It is the doctor thankful to crack a joke without offending a patient, a saleswoman mocking her male-dominated office, a priest stumbling over rocks and landing on the sharp edge of profanity, the housewife who comes clean about who she really is…  They are the people who so often control their mannerisms only to engage in freedom and unbiased pleasure as they pour their facades into the non-discriminatory currents of the washing tides of the river.
    I guide them, mentor them, accompany them, befriend them, and of course, mind my manners while doing so.
    There was a time once where such mindful restrictions were not so necessary.
    Before the plethora of cell phone cameras and wireless internet on river streams, gossiping forums and dirt-digging social rejects… before the assumption of ‘mi business es su business’, life for many of us seemed a little more relaxed.
    It was in the dark of a late night recently that it occurred to me that my safe place was and had always been a large river in my beautiful home province of British Columbia.
    Large enough to lose sight of others anglers, hard enough for only the serious to pursue, wide enough to not have to engage in small talk and close-knit enough to know where, if ever needed, help could be found… this river was a no-guiding zone, free from competitive trash-talking and slanderous outbursts.
    I could curse like a sailor if I lost a big one, pick my nose if I so desired and sing my heart out as I swung through the immense runs.  
    The next morning my bags were packed and it was off to the sub-zero terrain of the interior and the reminiscing of more candid days.

    The roads were quiet after the holidays and the snow lined the path to freedom along the slushy highways.
    Immediately tension lowered in my body and we rolled into the small town in time for a whiskey and a convenient dinner of prime rib.
    Good friends and my sister had been plagued with the same thoughts as I and there were a few of us congregated at the dinner table that evening.
    Not having to bite my tongue or follow cautious guidelines, a few of us headed to the bar for a evening game of (very painful and unskilled) pool.

    Dripping icicles gave away the rising temperatures and a sunny morning awoke me from my holiday hibernation to allow for Ben and I to get an afternoon start on the river.  

    The long sleep was much needed and I struggled internally with contemplation about my lack of motivation to awake for an early morning pursuit of over-wintered summer steel.   
    I sat in the warm Tacoma, the sun reflecting on its gold flecked paint giving the very real impression that the temperature had actually risen above freezing. 

    Why had I lost all desire to fish eight to ten hour stints during the subzero days?  
    I used to live for this… 
    Was I losing my passion?  
    This once epitomized who I was…
    Did this mean I was losing me?
    I stared blankly at Ben as I confessed my lack of guilt at our late morning start and a very possible deliberate stall over piping hot coffee and glorious cot stretching.
    His light laugh lifted my frown and together we analyzed the situation… yep, it would appear that I had indeed graduated to the right of selectivity and unless I was targeting hot summer steelhead, tailing permit or a brand new species, I was content with half days on the water.
    The way I saw it, I was either getting old or spoiled… neither of which excited me much.
    Ben laughed at my confused face and shut the engine off as a gentle “get the hell out”.
    He smiled warmly to ensure me that my growth was perfectly normal, succeeding in concreting a huge smile on my face before handing me my rod from the back of the cab.
    Stumbling down to the river, our cheeks flushed with excitement and frost.  Four hours was better than no hours and we were going to make the most out of it.

    Our hands desperately pieced our weapons of choice together.

    Unimpressed by how early the sun began its set, I begged Ben for one more cast until the clear current eventually dimmed into an oozing black tar.  
    With no vision, no fish and a vanished sun, we admitted defeat and shook hands that the following day we would put in a full effort as our last day of steelheading in 2012.

    The next morning came fast.
    Having flipped over the face of the digital thermometer the night before, I had committed to spending more than a few hours on the river (regardless of what Mother Nature threw my way).

    With Buff high and mittens dry I slid down the trail to one of my favourite runs.

    The dogs played and I rocked the spool of my reel back and forth to try and slow its freezing process.  
    It was bloody cold outside… my hands took notice, losing feeling and tormenting my finger nails much like I would imagine the cool steel of a hitting hammer would.
    My gloves, wet with ice chips (courtesy of stripped running line) were soon discarded and a cursing Ben showed up behind me with a block of ice that once was his reel. 
    Turning to him, I pointed my iced guides up and together we laughed at our misery.
    Step – cast – step – cast, turned to, ten steps – cast as best as you can – ten steps – pray that a fish doesn’t take while playing disc jockey on your reel.
    Two whiney dogs, a flushed man, and hands that quit on me without asking pretty much had us racing to the truck where I would proceed to complain like the woman I swore I would never be as wretched pain shot through my poorly circulated hands, making sure to hurt them as much as possible before allowing the poor little purple guys to indulge in any relief.
    All was silent as we loaded into the truck and a -3 reading on the gauge secured the discomfort that crept through our toes.
    The insulting thoughts of how much of a wimp I was slowly subsided as fishing had always been less enjoyable for me in anything below -1; that hadn’t changed.  
    I shook my head in disgust at the difference a mere 2 degrees made but accepted it for what it was.
    I had only given myself two days of fishing, both of which may have equaled the effort that I once put into a full day during my younger more ‘hard-core’ days… with the exception of trout, there had been no seen fish.
    Apart from an embarrassing game of pool, there had been minimal socializing on my part, this new wireless iPhone fascination pretty much guaranteeing that steelheading in the small no cell-service town would never be the same again (we once used to talk about our days at the pub… now it’s just a bunch of bent heads absorbed in the app of the day).  
    I had changed, the scene I once loved so much had changed, the fishery had changed (albeit just slightly), the world had changed and to be quite frank, from where I stand none of these changes are deserving of any warm or fuzzy feelings.
    So why the hell did I feel so satisfied?
    It was on the way out of town that I saw through the dark and the obvious occurred to me…  
    In the end it had been the river herself who brought me back to her year after year.
    It was not the steelhead, nor the social hour in the bar.  It was not the abundance of pride that I felt after a productive day of fishing or the satisfaction of having worked hard for success.
    It was none of the enamouring qualities that for so long I immersed myself in while believing that they were the answer… at the end of the day it was all so much more simple than that.
    It was her, my river, my friend… a relationship that could pick up where we had left off and reconnect as though no time had passed at all.
    We had grown up together and she never minded my faults, my humour, my passion, my pride or my truth.  
    She didn’t care about what I looked like or where else I had been.  She couldn’t care less about my professionalism and while she certainly picked on me on occasion, she had also always been the one to pick me up whenever I would fall.

    I had run to her after breakups and heartaches, losses and gains & she had fed my heart with the love that I needed most at the time.  Authentic and pure, our visits (both short and long) were a sincere cleansing of my built-up and putrefying tongue-bitten frustrations.  
    Similar to the comfort of my beloved late nights, together we laugh at my idiocy (open mouthed and chocolate stained), break the noise of the refreshing silence, let loose like the world could end tomorrow and delight in the privacy of our silly moments.  Colby, though a new addition to our camaraderie, still cocks an eyebrow as I playfully model my waders between swings and naturally I sing a poor rendition of Beyonce before laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of it all…
    Happy 2013 everyone,
    See you on the river.
    Posted by April Vokey on January 1, 2013
    Monday, December 31, 2012
    Going to Norway! Meet Me There?

    We are excited to announce that we have teamed with the Norwegian Flyfishers Club to offer a one week workshop on over 10 kilometers of their private Gaula River beats, in the second week of the June 2013 season.

    Depending on the weather and the water conditions during the week, the course’s agenda will be tailored accordingly in order to get the most of out this unique opportunity…

    Spaces are limited and if you are interested in joining us at the Norwegian Flyfishers Club, contact info@nfc-online.com or info@flygal.ca for information and reservations.


       Talks and presentation on subjects related to spring conditions and tactics

       Best gear and techniques for spring fishing 

       Casting demonstrations

       Fly tying for salmon flies 

       Daily private tutorials with April

       Opportunity to fish for the big spring salmon in all of our privates beats on the river, which add to more than 10km of water

       Accommodation in one of our country houses, which are shared with other fishermen and are self catering, or in a local hotel which includes breakfast

    The participants to the course will arrive on Sunday the 9th of June, preferably in the early afternoon, and move into their chosen accommodation.

    At 6 pm of the 9th of June there will be a general meeting with all the participants to the course where April will present the schedule for the week.

    Fishing starts at 8pm on the 9th and ends at 12 noon on Sunday the 16th of June.

    Prices for one rod in a country house accommodation includes: 

    • Fishing with April Vokey course 
    • Fishing within our rotation which covers over 10 km of the river Gaula
    • Accommodation in one of our country houses – shared with other fishermen and self catering 
    • Gear disinfection
    • Norwegian State fishing license
    • 3 river grill meals with all the participants in the course


    NOK 32.272 = $ 5,600

    Single room surcharge: NOK 1.855 for the week = $ 320


    Not included in these prices is the cost of the hire car, which we’ll happy to arrange for you. This cost can be shared with another participant to the course if preferred.

    Posted by April Vokey on December 31, 2012
    Thursday, December 27, 2012
    Take it to the Top…
    ‘Twas the month before Christmas and all through the house
    Not a dry fly was rigged up, not even a mouse…
    The rods were all strung by the chimney with care 
    In hopes that the steelheaders would soon all be there.
    The fishers were nestled all snug in their layers 
    While visions of steelhead tempted the players.
    With foolery and naysay I reached for the wakers 
    Whilst some anglers told me there would be no takers.
    With frosted, cold fingers and shivering casts
    I threw a long line with a large D-loop blast.

    When out of the water there arose such a clatter 
    I froze in dead fear as the calm current shattered.
    The line screamed in anger as the large hen took flight 
    And I reeled like a maniac as she fought with her might.
    Her tail spread my fingers and I gripped her girth tight
    Leaving teeth marks, frothing water and a girl in delight.
    I smiled at the chaos, shaky arms a reminder
    For I had just experienced my first subzero riser.

    Merry Christmas and thank you cold weather steelhead for having some sympathy on a fool.
    See you again soon.

    The next day a beauty wet fly fish reminds us all why we are so madly in love with these fish.
    Posted by April Vokey on December 27, 2012
    Thursday, December 20, 2012
    2013 Winter Steelhead Trips Still Have Openings!

    Hello and happy holidays everyone!
    Here is an update on what I still have open (personally) for guide trips…

    February, 2013 – 1, 2, 3, 4
    March, 2013 – 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 11, 12, 13, 14, 24, 27-31
    April, 2013 – contact for dates

    Rates are : $399.00 for one angler or $499.00 for two ($249.00 each) and include a hot lunch, all transportation and a darn good time!

    We take pride in the relationships that we develop with our guests and hope to be able to share a day with you.
    Need a place to stay?  Great!  Come and stay with us!  Until May, I live in and operate the Fraser River’s Edge in Chilliwack, making it easy for our guests to get to and from the river before and after their day on the water.

    This is the time of year when we start to fill up for the 2013 winter steelhead season.

    Don’t see dates here that work for you?  Don’t fret!  Our company has several other guides who are thrilled to help you hook into your first steelhead!

    Please email us at info@flygal.ca for details.
    See you soon!
    April V.

    Posted by April Vokey on December 20, 2012
    Monday, December 17, 2012
    What’s in a Day?

    Previously in Tackle Trade World.

    Posted by April Vokey on December 17, 2012
    Wednesday, December 5, 2012
    Flies for Fins is Back at it Again!
    We’re live!!  We’re live!!

    While we are still adding items and waiting on promised donations, the cart is indeed up and running with some great prices!
    We have committed to raising $20,000.00 this time round for the Skeena Watershed Conservation Coalition  and know that with your help, we can do this!

    Please visit the Flies for Fins site at http://www.flies4fins.com and find more info on our current cause here http://www.flies4fins.com/about

    Thank you for your patience as we expand our items and thank you again for your support!
    This is our third project at Flies for Fins and with the success of this next round, we will have successfully raised $46,000.00 towards BC based projects.  100% of funding goes towards the Skeena Watershed Conservation Coalition and our fight against Shell’s fracking…. thank you for helping us reach our goal.

    Share the word!!!  🙂


    Posted by April Vokey on December 5, 2012
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