HIKING HEAVEN? ABRAHAM LAKES
Amidst the chaos of Covid lockdowns, my wife and I decided, last minute, that we needed a break. Travel bans had caused our local national parks, Jasper and Banff, to fill. We opted instead to make use of some crown land and alpine lakes near Abraham Lake just south west of Edmonton. West of Rocky Mountain House, this area, colloquially referred to as Abraham Lakes, was also quite busy but we figured the further we hiked in, the less crowded it would get.
LANDSLIDE LAKE
We did our best to get organized and after a few pitstops my wife, my dog, and myself were at the trail head at 7:30 pm. Luckily, we were on vacation and weren’t beholden to a clock. We hiked in until about 930, set up camp, and had dinner beside a small fire. In the morning we would hike the rest of the way to our destination, Landslide Lake.
DAY TWO
On the second day the trail was mostly treed with a few steep inclines, some bridges, and a few great vantage points with mountain views. Just before the lake the trail skirted a huge boulder field, likely the lake’s namesake. The lake itself was a real beauty, larger than I expected. We set up camp, Erin relaxed with Jasper, our dog, and I assembled my fly rod.
NERVOUS ANTICIPATION
I was really dragging my heels for fear of failure. It had been years since I last fly fished. I was in that terrible mindset of “If I don’t try, I can’t fail.” I think Erin could tell and spurred me along. I headed for a bay we spotted on the way in, which had a nice boulder sticking out that looked like a good place to fish from.
Unsure of what to use, I opted to try a dry fly that imitates a mosquito. I got up on my rock and surveyed. It appeared it was the right time and place as the fish were rising. I made a few shaky false casts and my line piled up in front of me, ugh. A few more casting attempts later and things were looking a little closer to a proper cast. Finally, I managed a proper presentation.
“As I stripped line in, I saw a flash and cut through the water, I yelled to Erin ‘wait, I think I may have actually caught something here.’”
A small blue-green fish approached and inspected my fly. Then commitment, biting and diving, as I pulled up and set the hook.
I kept on the tension and brought the small fish in. As I pulled the line up out of the water, the fish wiggled and wriggled… and was gone… with my hook! I guess my knot tying wasn’t up to snuff. Luckily, my fly box, much like my fishing spot, was well stocked with mosquitos. I tied a fresh one on and went back to it. I quickly landed three more small cutthroat trout, my first ever.
Eventually one of my wild back-casts caught a small shrub behind me. I went and started untangling my hook from the branches. A minute into it, I broke out laughing as I realized I was untangling a Parachute Adams some other fisherman left behind. I got it, some line, and my own hook out of the tree, and resumed. We took a break to have dinner, afterward I went back alone but didn’t have any luck.
LAKE OF THE FALLS
Day Three saw us headed to Lake of the Falls. The hike down from Landslide Lake wasn’t bad, but the hike up to Lake of the Falls was an absolute slog. After what felt like a week of uphill, we were rewarded with a nice flat walk along an oxbow stream. As we got up to the lake itself, we passed a little bay. This one was shallow and clear, and we could actually see fish in it, suspended motionless, with the occasional gentle rise and grab of a bug. We found a campsite along the shore that looked like a good fishing spot and staked our claim.
PERSONAL BEST
I assembled my fly rod and Erin went for a glacial swim; the water so cold I could barely dip my feet in. I had other priorities anyway. No fish were rising, but I recalled one of my first fly fishing experiences advice from an experienced angler. He told me the bigger fish tend to eat bigger bugs sinking down. I tied on a Woolly Bugger and hoped for the best.
I tried a few casts with no takers. I asked Erin if she wanted to try, since she had never fly fished before. A quick learner, within minutes she landed the first fish of the day. With a satisfied smile, she handed me the rod and said, “try to catch up.”
Luckily, I managed to land a nice little trout or two. Then while fishing a drop-off, I connected again, this time with something bigger fish. As I stripped line in, I saw a flash and shadow in the water.
I yelled to Erin that I may have actually caught something here. A minute of angling later, I had landed a very respectable cutthroat, the largest trout I had ever caught. We got a few pictures and released it. Tragically, around dinnertime, my Woolly Bugger snagged on something underwater and broke off. I was tempted to go in after it, it was the only one I had packed. I opted instead to replace it with a bloodworm. I cast the line out a few times but only connected on one more fish.
BULL TROUT
The next morning, while Erin made her coffee, I snuck ahead and wiggled my way through the trees, rod in hand, to the little bay we had seen the day before. With the bloodworm on the end of my fly line I gave it the old college try. A few casts and fewer nibbles later, I had one on the line, a real scrapper. It appeared to be a brook trout, a personal best one too. I snapped a photo and sent it on its way.
I didn’t bring my net, so I was grabbing the fish wet hands and getting them back into the water as fast as possible. Unfortunately, in my haste, I made a mistake, it was actually a rare bull trout, something Reddit pointed out to me. Had I the presence of mind, or the time, I could have easily checked the dorsal fin (a lack of black dots on its dorsal fin is an indication that it’s a bull trout).
PACK OUT
Shortly after my catch, Erin arrived, and we headed out since we had a long hike ahead of us. It turned out that this terrible uphill slog, although worth it for the fishing, is quite dangerous to go down with a dog tied to your pack.
Jasper is a runner, so we keep him leashed. While descending a steep hill, he sometimes pulls, causing me to slide, which scares him, causing him to pull harder. Overall, though, he did very well. At the end of the hike, all three of us were hot, tired, and thirsty. Erin opted to cool off in Abraham Lake. I only got my feet wet, but I dipped Jasper in against his will.
We stopped in Rocky Mountain House for pizza and Jasper slept like a log the entire drive home. The next day at work my feet hurt, but I was too busy showing off my fishing pictures to even think about that!