Chasing Pisces in Nova Scotia: An Angling Odyssey

By Joe Fitzgerald

Join Joe Fitzgerald on a quest to discover all the sportfish of Nova Scotia. From the beloved Brook Trout to the behemoth Bluefin Tuna, meet an incredible array of species, get helpful tips, and discover the true reason for angling.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 31, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483505121

Book preview

Sabatini

THE THRILL OF THE CHASE

It happened on a fresh, early June morning many years ago. I was six years old. My father and my uncle were seasoned fly fishermen and took annual trips to the rural Nova Scotian town of Guysborough to fish for salmon in the aptly named Salmon River.

I had begged to go. My father had finally relented and that late spring day I proudly hiked down to the river’s edge with them, my lungs washed with cool sweet air.

I watched them put on their chest waders, run line through their fly rods, and tie on their flies. Then my father led me over to a small feeder stream running into river. It could not have been more than three feet deep and widened to a small pool just before joining the river.

I had a cheap telescopic fishing rod with a push button spincasting reel. My father clipped a tiny silver lure on to the end of my line and showed me how to cast, flipping the lure into the pool. I got the hang of it and was left to fish the shallow stream while the two men waded into the river.

Alone at the edge of the pool, I cast over and over, becoming more adept and reaching a heightened state of awareness. Rustles in the woods became visible squirrels and birds, eddies in the river assumed repeated patterns, and I began tracking the clouds drifting in the sky.

I was reeling in my lure, watching my father and uncle in the distance, when the tip of my fishing rod twitched. I snapped my head onto the water and felt another tug on the line. I kept reeling, wide-eyed, electricity surging through my body as though it were traveling up the line.

My lure neared the water’s edge in the mouth of a small fish.

The fish bucked and splashed in desperation. I pulled it up in triumph only to have it fall off the hook at my feet. Horrified, I dropped to my knees, trying to corral it with my hands. The fish flopped its way into the water and remained motionless in front of me.

It was a little brook trout, and it was spectacular. Red spots with blue halos freckled its silver sides, while yellow worm-like patterns marked its blue-green back. I was enraptured, and slowly reached for the quivering jewel.

But as my hand neared, the trout regained itself and darted away, leaving me kneeling on the pebbles with no witness, heartbroken. Ever since that day, I have been chasing Pisces.

Nova Scotia is almost completely surrounded by water. Rivers and streams course through the province’s mountains, valleys, and forests. These fresh water arteries feed thousands of lakes and ponds that dot the land, eventually making their way through estuaries that empty into the sea. Beneath the swells, riffles, and glass-surfaced waters, dwell a myriad of fish.

From our beloved brook trout and Atlantic salmon to established newcomers like smallmouth bass and chain pickerel, Nova Scotia’s waters teem with fish. Smelt, shad, gaspereau, and striped bass rush in from the sea each year. Eels, catfish and sturgeon prowl lake bottoms and riverbeds. Rainbow and brown trout cruise estuaries like dual citizens, moving freely between fresh and salt water. In the surrounding ocean, huge schools of mackerel, pollock, and squid patrol the coastline, flounder and cod negotiate the seafloor, and bluefin tuna and sharks plumb the depths.

While living overseas in an arid land, I found myself dreaming of days spent fishing in Nova Scotia. I remember the anticipation of what lay beneath the water, the thrill of a strike, and the satisfaction of a good fight. But most of all, I remembered being outdoors, away from everyday worries, wrapped in quiet contemplation.

I resolved that on my return I would devote a single season to immerse myself in as many possible ways to the sensations of angling. To explore Nova Scotia and its waters, seeking out fish I knew well and those unfamiliar. Using methods tried and true, as well as techniques unique to region or time of year.

There are many paths to a single destination, and in that season I hoped to travel more than a few on a timeless journey that has been embarked upon for generations. A journey to discover the magic of angling that transcends age, class, race, or gender. I hoped that in the process I would also discover something about myself.

Herbert Hoover once said,

Next to prayer, fishing is the most personal relationship of man.

For the angler, Nova Scotia offers countless opportunities to establish that relationship. An incredible array of species, venues, and choice of techniques to foster the quest for adventure, escape, and serenity that angling brings.

The perfect place for Chasing Pisces.

HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL

Salvelinus fontinalis

It was a glorious spring morning, warm and sunny with little wind. I was a little disoriented, because usually opening day of fishing season is a mix of clouds, wind, rain, snow, or any other force of nature that encourages you to seek shelter.

My friend Brian and I decided to try a small brook on the coast near Pennant. Its pools beckoned with the promise of early season speckled trout. More commonly known as brook trout or brookies, the speckled trout is the undisputed belle of the ball in Nova Scotia. It is distributed throughout the province in lakes, streams, and estuaries, and it is, quite frankly, the most beautifully patterned and coloured fish you are likely to see up close. Spring is the best time to catch speckled trout, as they become extremely finicky and adverse to warmer water temperatures in the summer.

Despite the lack of flies or foliage, the forest was littered with deadwood, remnants of Hurricane Juan, which tore through the province in 2003. After a tough twenty-minute hike, we came to a clearing where the stream widened into a large pond. At the upper end, the stream came into the pond fast, mini rapids plowing over rocks and emptying into the slower, deeper water. The rocks were the perfect vantage point from which to cast. Any fish should be waiting near the entry point for food to be washed down.

Our choice of weapons were small Mepps spinners, Super Duper lures, jig heads with Berkley Microbaits, and trusty old worms used on ultra-light spinning gear. I felt a tingle of excitement while tying a knot, glancing furtively at the stream while my winter-fattened fingers clumsily manipulated the line. Brian was ready first, and decided to go with nature’s classic.

"You want to pass