Fly Fishing the Atlantic Salmon of the Miramichi River is a recently published book, edited by Squirrel Tail Vickers, which introduces the reader to modern methods of Atlantic salmon angling. Fly rods, reels, waders, flies are carefully explored and suggestions offered. But it is more than a how to do book. The people of the Miramichi Valley are introduced to you and the uniqueness of each salmon outfitter is captured. A stunning picture of the angling tradition comes into view as you are carried along through the spring, summer, and fall salmon seasons. The 110 page book is available at the offices of the Miramichi Salmon Association, miramichisalmon.ca.
Vickers Atlantic Salmon Journal

A Fish for All Seasons
By Squirrel Tail Vickers

In 1925 John Cosseboom captured much of what draws the salmon angler back to the river year after year. I found his poem "Old Time Salmon Fishing" in Joseph D. Bates, Jr.'s book, "Atlantic Salmon Flies and Fishing."

"... Did you ever see a wave behind your fly And know it for a fish of monstrous size, And when that wave exploded two feet high, Feel your great rod bend near double to the rise?

Did you ever have a guide yell in your face When your salmon surged across the heavy pool And dragged your rod down level with your waist, "Keep your tip up, or you'll lose him, you dumb fool!"

Did you ever race along the slippery shore With your rod held high and bended to the fray, While down across the rushing pool he tore And jumped two hundred feet and more away? Did you ever feel your rod and line go slack, And cry, "He's gone!" in disappointed pain, And when you found he'd only started back, Did you madly reel the strain on him again?

Did you ever back up slowly on the beach And draw him gently toward the waiting guide, Then have him stop and stay just out of reach, And chug those scary chugs from side to side?..."

There is no doubt that once baptized by the Atlantic salmon, the angler's quest will be eternal. There is no escape from the memory of a bowed rod, taut line, and singing reel. The seasons of the angler and the king of fish become one.

As the soaring praise of Christmas preacher and tenor fall silent on the distant, snowy slopes, it's time for the old lad to create and dream about the silver monsters he will meet on the next trip north. A glow engulfs the wizened bespeckled fly-tyer hovering over a barren, blackened hook. The glacial walls of winter may conceal his slumbering adversary, but not his preparation for their next battle. New hooks, hackle, tinsels, yarns, floss, hair, feathers, threads, and cement are arrayed in the small well-heated study that holds only dusty tomes. As the snow recedes, he fills his fly boxes, loads his reels with sinking lines, and stuffs his warmest clothes into duffel bags.

Long before the crocus and daffodil dress the barren ground, the shivering, snow-covered fisherman slowly retrieves a streamer or buck tail. As long as there is open water, he will crouch in the canoe about forty feet from the riverbank. It's always a beautiful day to fish!

As the waters warm and slowly recede in early June, he slowly pushes aside the swarm of black flies and mosquitoes and emerges from the tall grass into the holding pool. Not a bright salmon has broken the surface since last fall, but he beckons them back from the sea, cast after cast.

The leaves now claim their glory as the river's water chills and darkens. The splash of the heavy-bellied silverside announces his return home. In thigh-deep water, the layered angler loads his rod and fires his old favorite at his elusive prize. His cast lengthens and quickens as the days shorten. This is trophy time, time when big fish are in the pools. It's time to make memories, memories that will calm the winter winds and light the winter nights.