Almost 10 years ago, when I was still just a young gaffer, I remember hearing about the Grand River for the first time.  Folks at our local fly shop would share stories of beautiful waters, legendary hatches and spectacular browns over a glass of wine on tying night.  Ever since those days I've had an urge to visit the Grand River and witness these things firsthand.  However, as with many other things, for one reason or another I never made it out to the Grand until this May.

Good friend, and long time colleague Paul Langford accompanied me on this week long excursion.  Weeks before our arrival we researched the best camping grounds, flies, locations and techniques which were required for these monster browns.  As time flew by, our departure date inched closer and closer.  Although I have caught a number of resident browns over the 20" mark on local Eastern Ontario creeks, I've always done so on large streamers at night; not exactly your traditional trout fishing method to say the least.  I was excited about having the opportunity to cast dries, wets and nymphs into a river famous for it's resident fish over 20 inches, even though I've never done it before.  Armed with little more than a couple of 5wt rods and our polarized glasses we headed for the Grand on May 15th.

Day 1

We arrived at the Elora Gorge Conservation Area at a comfortable 5:00pm.  Finally, a week away with nothing but great scenery and fishing to make us forget about work.  Upon registering we still had not seen the first glimpse of the river.  After driving a short distance from the gate towards our campsite, the treeline broke and the majestic river was in open view.  We paused for a second to take in the awe-inspiring sight.  Humbling rock cliffs, rising over 80 feet, lined the river on each side  as far as the eye could see.  The river was fast flowing with a few calm, deep pools visible from the road.  Our campsite was on the very edge on one of the highest cliffs in the park.  Truly awesome; although it didn't allow for easy access to the river.

We started to lose light as the last bit of camping equipment was setup.  Realizing that cooking in the dark over a fire wasn't ideal, we decided to forgo fishing for the evening and concentrate on cooking and making sure everything was setup for morning.

Day 2:

It was easy to get up at 6:00am.  Between the anticipation of fishing and the freezing temperature overnight both of us could hardly sleep.  By about 6:20am we were waterside, rods in hand, looking at the river trying to figure out where to go first.  After a few minutes of deliberation, we decided to try upstream of the low level bridge, heading deep into the gorge.

It wasn't long before Paul and I realized just how much water we had to cover.  My past experience with trout rivers and creeks has been limited by the amount of public water that's available.  This wasn't the case on the Grand.  Dozens and dozens of miles of river are available to the public in various sections.  Even more water than a pair of fly fishermen could cover in an entire week!  As there were no visible bugs in the air other than very few midges, woolly buggers got the vote as the first fly we'd try.  After all, when all else fails try a woolly bugger, right? 

By 10:30am, we'd covered more than a country mile of fast flowing water, with the odd deep pool in-between with no success.  Somewhat hungry, we decided to make one last push upstream to see what's around the corner before going back to camp for lunch.  As we made our way through a steep, muddy path at the bottom of the gorge we could hear the roar of the river getting louder and louder. The first glimpse of the river through the treed path revealed the source of the noise.  A giant, 90 foot waterfall poured over the Western cliff straight into the river.  Better yet, at the base of the waterfall was a textbook plunge pool, perfect for swinging a woolly bugger.  After only a few drifts, Paul was into the first fish of the trip.  A vibrant colored, pan sized brown thrashed around the net as Paul

Day 3

Even before my eyes cracked open for the first time I realized that it was much warmer than the day before.  The sun was out, the breeze was light and the fish?  Well we didn't know.  None the less we headed upstream again, covering the same water as the previous day, hoping that the warmer weather would wake up the big lads.

After a few hours of throwing woolly buggers, big streamers, and just about every kind of nymph I had, we were only able to fool a handful of first year fish, and a plethora of horned chub; which had a very distinct "pink" coloration to them.  The fishing was average at best, comparable to small Eastern Ontario creeks that I was used to fishing, where big fish seemed almost non existent.  Out minds were racing.  What were we doing wrong?  Did we venture in the wrong direction?  Were our flies out to lunch compared to the norm on the Grand?  Even though it was only the second day, we clouded our thoughts with doubt.  Just as I was about to pack in my woolly bugger, my rod doubled over and the reel started screaming.  I had finally hooked a large fish, still unidentified.  After about a 5 minute battle the fish finally became visible.  Unfortunately it wasn't the monster brown I was expecting, but rather a respectable pike.

A trip to the local fly shop seemed like a great idea.  After all, when in unfamiliar territory who better to ask than the locals.  Our fears that we had spent 2 days fishing the wrong section of the river were confirmed after speaking with the shop owner.  The local expert kindly explained that the water was still too cold in the upper stretches of the river.  The fish were not keying in on anything in particular, but were rather slow and sluggish, explaining the lack of action over the past few days.  Aside from suggesting lower stretches of the river, such as below the low level bridge or Wilson's Flats, he also mentioned the weather forecast was looking great over the next few days, which would help us out.  That was all we needed to hear.  We packed up our gear and headed back to camp, ready to explore new water the next day.

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Written By: Nick Pujic, © May, 2004
Photographs By:  © 2004 Nick Pujic, Paul Langford
Absolutely no replication of content (written and/or visual) is allowed without written consent from the author or photographer.  Thank you!