Homecoming – PECAN/PUMPKIN PIE

Homecoming

Touching down in Montreal, it seemed as though we had just left. The European whirlwind was now a memory and while being thankful that we could make it happen, we were a little bummed out. Moving from country to country diving into the local culture and (of course) food was truly a wonderful experience that we both wish could continue indefinitely. Unfortunately, reality is a bitch and the time to start making money instead of spending money had arrived.

James Hill

Before settling into a routine again we had a few more stops to make. First was Ottawa, to check in with our families and share stories of our journey. It was great to see everyone and catch up on life at their end. We were even lucky enough to take in a ukulele concert by our friend James Hill and his partner Anne Davison promoting their new CD, Man With a Love Song at Les Brasseurs du Temps in Hull.

Thanksgiving

Just a few short days later we were back in the air heading west to Vancouver. Our storage locker (filled with all our belongings) is in Vancouver, as well as many friends, so we figured it would be the right place to restart or continue from. Lucky for us our good friend Carol had a spare room for us to use so we could get ourselves together.

Thanksgiving is one of my favourite times of year because it means we get to roast up a big turkey. This year we went out to Vancouver Island to cook up a storm with more family and squeeze out a little fishing.

Fishing gear

A quick visit to the locker to collect some warm clothing and grab my fishing gear and we were on our way again. Jackie and Gerry have an awesome house on the island and best of all it’s only a stone’s throw away from some of the best fly-fishing this great country has to offer. Fishing, fly-fishing specifically, has been a lifelong passion of mine and whenever I can I like to wet a line.

Coho, Chinook and Chum

This time of year the salmon start to run, huge schools of Coho, Chinook and, Chum invade the island’s rivers. Cutthroat trout make their way up the river too, dining on all the stray salmon eggs from the ensuing spawn. If you are a fisherman (or woman) this is enough for you to wet your waders in anticipation of hooking up with one of these wild heavyweights.

Englishman river

Full of enthusiasm, I hit the Englishman river the next day. An afternoon of casting practice, not catching fish, was in order for me and I was fine with that.

Little Qualicum

The following day I was sure my determination would pay off and I headed to a new river, the Little Qualicum. Settling in, I hooked a couple of small trout but the passing salmon still proved elusive. Returning to home base I was teased for not bringing home dinner by my wine lubricated sisters-in-law but I was still very happy with my day out knee deep in paradise.

Turkey Day

All was in order and the cooking was due to commence after coffee. I was in charge of the bird and its stuffing. Nat took on two killer dessert recipes and some yummy Brussels sprouts. Marcel put together some lovely roasted yams with cinnamon and chili.

Morning of fishing

Before we got down to business though Marcel and I decided to slip back to the Englishman river to see if we could add salmon to the menu. A brief morning of fishing provided only a couple of strikes but no fish. Blowing it off, we headed back to do some cooking but, in the back of my head, I was feeling like maybe I should sell my gear and take up scrapbooking.

Deboning the turkey

Working in Jackie’s beautifully huge kitchen made things easy as I got to work, deboning the turkey.  I have done this a number of times in the past where I completely remove the bones from the turkey while keeping the legs and outside intact. Then I stuff and reform the bird, tying it up securely for the roasting pan. The result is a turkey that can be carved like a ham.

Roasting turkey

A few hours later, with the house perfumed with the scent of roasting turkey and warmed by the glow of a crackling fireplace, it was time to eat. A last minute decision to go buffet style was a good one, letting everyone make his or her own perfect plate.

Double-decker

Everything was as good as it smelled and we capped off the meal with Nat’s double-decker pumpkin and pecan pie (pumpkin on the bottom and pecan on top) and an awesome German apple cake. What a feast!

Dinghy Dock Pub

The next day things got off to a quiet and slow start. The women decided to meet up with Marcel and Gerry at the Dinghy Dock Pub on Protection Island. The sisters would take the ferry over and the men would suit up and kayak there. I, however, decided to pursue the salmon, although somewhat apprehensive due to my inability to catch one so far.

Roll out some casts

Arriving at the river I did not even bother to put on my waders, instead choosing to roll out some casts with my feet dry on shore. An hour, and a dozen fly changes, later I had a couple of good strikes but still no fish so I decided to take a break. At that moment an older gentleman appeared on the opposite side of the river. He asked if he could take a few casts and I replied “be my guest!” within one or two casts my jaw dropped as he set the hook on a fish and then lost it. A slight readjustment and another cast and he had another strike and then another fish on. This time he played the fish, walking down the river until he was around the corner and out of sight.

Stared blankly at the river

I felt as though I had been kicked in the stomach and stared blankly at the river as I mentally wrote the for sale ad for my fishing rod. Just as I was getting ready to cast, a voice from behind me barked, “son!” I turned around and it was the guy who had just schooled me on salmon fishing minutes ago. “This is the pattern I am using,” he said, handing me a couple of flies. “They seem to like the blue…and shorten your leader,” he added. “You have to get your fly in the zone and with that long leader you’re not getting in there!” “Ok, I will,” I said, “no more than three feet, even eight inches for an egg pattern”.  I told him I really appreciated his advice and the flies as I started to re-tie my line.  

A guide for many years

It turns out he was a guide for many years and still an awesome fly tier. We shook hands as he left, for me to fish the pool alone. Two casts in, thinking I was into a fish, I set the hook but instead snagged and lost the fly. Tying on a blue streamer that I had tied myself I started over. Four casts later, wham, a nice salmon took the fly and gave me a great battle until it threw the hook after four or five minutes of fighting. Stoked on the advice of the anonymous sage fishing guide, I checked my knots and leader and rolled out another cast. As I continued to cast I replayed the previous fish in my head and before I knew what hit me I had another fish on.  

A Chinook

This time, a Chinook, which was confirmed by the spectators on the bridge, oohing and aahing, as it leapt four or five times. This fish was big and fought for a good ten minutes before I brought him into shallow water. Just as another angler knelt down to tail the fish for me it gave a violent headshake and snapped the line. In an explosion of water, it took off to the pool with my fly; nobody was too disappointed though because of the great show it put on.

Final fisherman

To finish up the day, a fisherman hooked up with a couple of fish and then landed one and I got to play one more fish to the shore where it snapped my 15-pound leader. The final fisherman arrived just before dark, a seal who had swum up the river at high tide, swooped through the school of at least a hundred fish gathered in the pool. The fishing was great for everyone.

The next day

The next day I was raring to head back and repeat the previous action with Marcel as my witness. Returning to the pool the vibe was different, the fish had moved on and the pool looked empty. It did not take long before pulling the chute in favour of looking closer to the saltwater for the fish.

A duffel bag of mushrooms

Access turned out to be blocked where we ended up but on our way back to the car we were rewarded, not in fish but in mushrooms. A duffel bag’s worth of pale yellow chanterelle mushrooms to be more specific, an estimated 5 or 6 lbs. The day could not go wrong from there, fish or not, and that’s how it went, not!

The hatchery

No more fish were in-store for me this round but we all made a trip up to the hatchery later that day and got to see the thousands of fish working their way through the fish ladder, truly incredible.

Mulligatawny

That night we enjoyed a warm bowl of mulligatawny soup made with the leftover turkey, stuffing and fresh turkey stock.  A large bowl of chanterelles, sautéed in butter with garlic, was passed along with some fresh bread and a couple of bottles of wine. No salmon for dinner but this may have been even better. The island had lots to give thanks for this year and we were all glad to be there.