Big Intervale Blue

BIRTH OF THE BIG INTERVALE BLUE

Autumn represents a circus of colors in Nova Scotia's Cape Breton highlands.

This is where the Margaree River meanders through deep mountain gorges and flat farmlands on its way to the Atlantic Ocean. Deep crimson, glowing gold, blazing orange and vivid yellow leaves, loosened by the strong gusts of September, fall into the waiting fingers of brooks, eventually washing into the main stream and tumbling through the rapids and pools.

It is during late September and early October that a run of fresh Atlantic salmon enters the clear waters of the Margaree. These are primarily larger, multi sea-winter fish which wend their way through the icy stream up toward headwaters to spawn.

Along the path they will face the dreams and aspirations of many hundreds of fly fishermen, for this is the last opportunity in the year for many to wet a line and meet the challenge of angling for the Atlantic salmon. I was certainly no exception.

It is to the credit of both the river and the people of the Margaree Valley that tourists from many parts of Canada and the United States travel so far each year to experience this pleasure, and the rich colors of autumn only add to the esthetic enjoyment of the entire adventure.

But the falling leaves of autumn also create a problem not seen during the summer months, when streams run clear and true. With so much debris in the water, it means hooking a leaf on two-thirds of your retrieves, and it means the salmon have a lot of stuff coming at them from which to pick out a fly...adding to the difficulty of an already tough sport.

I was fishing the Margaree with six other anglers, who between them had about half a century of fly fishing for salmon and trout under their belts, and all were experienced fly tyers.

While we lived in different provinces, we had fished together off and on for years and enjoyed each other's company, and annually attempted to gather at Cape Breton as a group to renew our friendships and to try for those lively late-run Atlantic salmon.

In October of 1987 we found ourselves at the Big Intervale Salmon Camp, spreading our gear and settling in for a week of salmon angling. It had been a wet fall, and water was top-high when we arrived. Strong autumn storms had battered the highlands the previous week, and fishing had been poor, but we were optimistic. If the rain held up, then the river would drop and we could have some excellent angling during our stay.

It was almost a tradition in our group that the fly tying gear would break out during the first few days and we would create a new pattern to try for the week. It happened the second day on this trip, and some of the patterns brought good-natured jibes from the rest of us.

There was the gaudy "Blowfly" which Rick Penney had used successfully in 1986, a truly unique fly with a body of dyed green Ostrich herl topped by a wing of silver-green flyflash tinsel. It resembled a lure as it swam through the water, but it had caught fish.

Another of our group, Dave Framm, had devised a wet fly he called the "Hi Tech" which he proudly stated had been tied entirely with synthetic materials, until someone kindly pointed out that the collared hackle was from a rooster!

George Taylor was one of our best anglers, and was modifying a Mickey Finn streamer by adding a bright red butt, Jungle Cock cheeks at the wing, and a collared grizzly hackle behind the head.

Two others - Scott Cook and Terry Ashby - decided to try the more traditional flies in their tins, while Dan Creasor felt his General Practitioner was all the medicine he needed.

One of the lodge owners, Bill Davidson, had left a small pile of tackle on the table, and I probed through it. A package of synthetic Polar Bear and a spool of brilliant Royal blue floss caught my eye, and out they came.

I had been experimenting with white-winged salmon flies in Newfoundland with some success during the previous two years, especially on small, clear rivers similar in size to the Margaree. I also liked the thought of floating some cool colors through the pools to offset the predominance of hot colors of leaves which permeated the waters. Perhaps the salmon would be able to pick it out a little better, I reasoned.

The fly was quite regal in appearance with its gold tag, Golden Pheasant topping tail, and gold ribs over the deep, Royal blue body. I tied it on a No.1 Partridge salmon hook and gave the body three wraps of floss to provide plenty of bulk.

The Polar Bear wing came next, followed by a collared blue saddle hackle swept back to veil the body, and the head of black lacquer finished it off. I flattened the barb with pliers and vowed to give it a good workout the next day.

As luck would have it the weather held a little, with brisk winds under clear blue skies and the warmth of Indian summer greeting our bleary eyes late the following morning. We worked our way down river to a place called Laird's Pool, normally a deep hole between two gravel bars, but now a rush of heavy eddies and strong currents from the high water conditions.

Terry swept through the pool first without success as Rick and I sat on the bank enjoying the sun's warmth. Eventually I fell in behind Terry, tied on the new fly, and began long casts to the far bank as I worked against the pull of icy water against my legs.

I had been out there about ten minutes when the line tightened suddenly and a heavy weight lunged against my 9-foot graphite rod. The battle was brief, and in minutes I had hand-tailed and released a shiny bright 12-pound hen salmon heavy with weight from her sea diet. The fly had worked well for its christening!

It was perhaps an hour later that I had my second sweep behind both Terry and Rick. Fish were holding in the pool, surfacing every now and then, but were reluctant to take either of their offerings.

I decided to fish from the opposite bank above the head of the pool, and in minutes had brought up solid in my second fish of the day. This heavier salmon made a great head-shaking surge and snapped the leader at a wind knot, stealing my fly in the bargain. Score...two sweeps, two fish, one lost fly ...not bad for a trial run!

Back at the camp that night I hunkered by the vise in the light of the propane lamp, tying up several more of my Royal blue flies on size four and six hooks to cope with the receding water levels. I distributed a sample to each of the rest of the group and asked that they give them a try during the week.

Results were more than encouraging. Of the 19 fish caught and released by our group of seven that week, the blue fly accounted for 11.

I used it almost exclusively and took two more salmon, raised countless fish on pools literally crawling with other anglers, hooked and lost a couple, and as a result had one of my most memorable and satisfying fishing trips on the Margaree or indeed any other river.

There was only to name it, and since I had used one of the lodge owner's materials in the construction what could be more appropriate than the "Big Intervale Blue"?

I was curious...how would the fly perform on rivers of Newfoundland, on such streams as the Torrent, Harry's, Portland Creek, River of Ponds, the Upper Humber, and others where white-winged flies have been successful for me?

As experience has proven, it performed well. To be truthful, the pattern has brought the same results on Atlantic salmon in just about every river of the Maritimes as it had on the autumn waters of the Margaree.

But make no mistake, there was no science involved. It was simply fate. If that combination of material hadn't been lying in Bill Davidson's pile of tackle that day, the Big Intervale Blue may never have been invented.

BIG INTERVALE BLUE

Tag: Oval gold tinsel, about five turns

Tail: Upturned Golden Pheasant topping

Body: Brilliant Royal Blue floss

Ribs: Oval gold tinsel

Wing: White Polar bear or other straight white hair

Hackle: Pale blue saddle hackle tied back to veil body

Head: Black lacquer

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