The Art of Fly Fishing in Mont-Tremblant
Fly Fishing Mont Tremblant
Fly Fishing Instructor, Martin photo by Jade Broadus
“There’s an art to fly fishing and you could spend your whole life traveling the world to different spots trying to perfect that art.” My fly fishing instructor, Martin, with Natur Aventur, tells me as we’re pulling up the dry suits and putting on our waterproof boots.
“Fishing is an universal language, so no matter where you go and what language you speak, you can instantly make friends through fishing,” he says with a smile. He went on to tell me stories of his traveling days around Japan, not speaking the same language as the locals but easily able to connect through fishing. How, even after traveling the world, he ended back in Mont Tremblant with his wife and kids.
Martin was a sweet man, passionate about fishing and teaching equally. He loved Tremblant and the lakes and rivers that he could fish in. He wanted to make sure I wasn’t just going to learn how to fly fish but that I would leave able to actually catch a fish, too.
Before we went out on the river, we practiced on dry land. We swung our line out and back, out and back, all the while being studied by Martin. He wanted to make sure you had the timing right and the angle of your wrist in just the perfect spot.
As we waded into the water, I was nervous. Not just about the fishing, but the strength of the river. The current was fast and super cold. Martin didn’t leave my side. Helping me get a solid footing in the river so I wouldn’t fall in. His helpfulness and positive training helped me feel more comfortable on the river.
Having attempted fly-fishing one other time unsuccessfully, I was doubtful that this experience would be any more fruitful. There was something about the swing of my wrist that I just couldn’t master. The quick flick and back, flick and back was something that, no matter how quickly I flicked, I couldn’t trick the fish into thinking my fake bug was actually a bug.
Martin taught me that it isn’t just about tricking the fish- that it has a lot to do with the water speed and where your fly lands on top of the water. Apparently I was casting my fly all wrong. I was letting it get too wet and so, it wasn’t dragging in the water like a real live fly. It was sinking and flies don’t sink.
After making a few simple adjustments, it seemed much easier and not too long after I had my first bite.
The tug of the line was strong and caught me totally off guard. “Ah, there’s a fish on this line!” I screamed. Martin, laughing, as to say, well- duh, told me to hold on and reel her in. Slowly I cranked the reel, but the fish wasn’t giving up without a fight. It was hard, moving slower and slower with each twist. After a minute and not really making any ground, Martin said that the fishing line must have gotten wrapped around a rock or something because the fish wouldn’t be that forceful. Too bad, just when I thought I had a fish, I had to cut my line.
All wasn’t lost though. I felt the excitement of my first catch pulse through my body and I wanted to feel that over and over again.
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