I needn’t have worried. Fishing the first run together, he seemed changed, still friendly but much more intense. It seemed like extra intensity stared out through narrowed eyes, his casting stroke precisely repeated over and over again. He fished hard, missing no water, no opportunity. His personality takes on the hard aura of a Belgian cyclist. It seems like I am with a different person, so much so that half way through the trip I tell him I am re-branding his business and will forever refer to him as Jimmy Kane.
We fish for days, this years run being very low, with few touches and in desperation made an overland trip to the Babine river. We skate across 130 kilometers of dirt road to arrive at a narrow bit of river access.
The Babine seems to me to be alive in a way that I’ve never encountered in any other steelhead river. There is bear scat everywhere. The river bottom moves underfoot, weeds tangling around boots that slip on fish carcasses. Freshwater mussels pile on top of each other like gravel. The actual mass of living things surrounding me is both overwhelming and magical at the same time.
It is at the point where, at about 10:30 when I hook and land my first steelhead on my new rod, I realize the bamboo rod is alive. The living quality of everything around me is transmitted through the living matter that makes up my rod. Bamboo is alive.
I know, you’re getting that look again. Like I said before, I can’t explain it, I can only tell you what I feel.