I used to hunt birds during the months of September and October in Alberta's Parkland areas. I started this habit after I moved to Alberta in 1979, with my best friend Ron Anderson. How we survived these trips is the subject matter of other stories, but Ron was transferred to Ontario and I started hunting with my negotiating adversary from work, Gary Wolfe. He too was transferred. I had one more hunting partner left. My fly-fishing mentor Bob Cormier. This also ended as he took on a project to illustrate a book on Mayflies. He would collect his specimens during our summer fishing trips, and start his preliminary sketches in September.
I was either going to have to find new friends to hunt with, or go it alone. There were other factors that came into play when I decided to quit. The amount of time I spent fly fishing started to skyrocket, while the amount of time I spent at home developing lasting marital memories started to decline. It was also around this time that we were expecting our first child, so I knew that something had to give, and it wasn't going to be the fishing.
Up to this point, my fishing season naturally ended when my hunting season started. This wasn't the case anymore. The river fly fishing opportunities around Edmonton in the fall were mostly limited to chucking streamers for Browns. This is not my style, and I found myself feeling pangs of regret when it came time to pack away the rod and gear for the season. I thought that if I could have one more really good day, the memories themselves would carry me through the long winter months.
I found that opportunity to have regretless closure of my fly fishing season in the form of the Little Smoky River. Carl Hunt, Regional Fisheries Biologist from Edson gave a presentation to the Edmonton Trout Fishing Club one winter night about Arctic Grayling fishing in Alberta. I had already been exposed to them in the Wildhay River, but this experience had only left me wondering if there was anywhere in Alberta where a stable population of decent size (36 cm +) Grayling still existed. Then Carl talked about the Little Smoky's unique fishery. Well now, that got my attention. I even moved closer
At this time I started to make a new friend. His name was Gary Schaupmeyer. I had known him as a fellow Trout Club member for some time, but until that winter when our paths crossed at an ice-fishing course, we hadn't really fished together. Gary taught me that I didn't need to treat each fly fishing outing as a personal race against the clock. He taught me how to be comfortable with the whole experience and relax and enjoy it. I also learned that Gary had fished the Little Smoky previously, more importantly he knew where to go. The only thing left to do was coordinate our social schedules.
On the morning of October 7th 1994, we piled our gear into Gary's van (a little later than anticipated), and headed Northwest to fish the river for the weekend. The drive to Fox Creek was a long one, but we were rested up and our eagerness to fish the river prompted plenty of conversation along the way. After a leisurely stop for breakfast, we made the last leg of our journey down to Grizzly Junction.
Little Smoky Bull. Copyright © 2001 Frank Wood
Little Smoky River. Copyright © 2001 Frank Wood
The Muncher is a favorite of Ian James for carp, smallies, more. 
Thoughts of a Chicken Rancher. Doc tells it like it is.