The Rules And Regulations Of Competitive Fishing
Bob Jones takes a tongue in cheek look at competitive fly fishing.
By Bob Jones, Fly Fishing Canada "P.R. Geezer."
"So, tell me all about these fly-fishing derbies that you've been shilling," Doc Huxley said.
"They aren't derbies," I growled. "They are fly-fishing 'competitions' -- based on the Olympic ideal of fair sport and honesty, assuming that you have any idea of what either one is."
Doc snorted derisively into his beer mug. "A derby's a derby, Jonesy, and they're all in it for the big bucks."
"Wrong! There aren't any cash prizes, only gold, silver and bronze medals, and a memorial trophy to the top rod. Besides -- if I recall correctly, you're the guy who always wants to bet on the first, most and biggest fish."
"Don't remind me," he said morosely, "I never win."
"You get your losses back in free beer and flies, so quit whining. The only money that changes hands at these events is what the competitors shell out to take part. They have to pay their own travel and accommodation expenses, and there's a $250 fee to enter. And one guy was from Newfoundland at the Campbell River effort, and another from New York City."
"Who gets the entry fee loot?"
"Fly Fishing Canada. It goes toward paying for the medals and administration costs, and anything left over goes into their national conservation fund."
Doc pointed accusingly at his empty mug, so I retrieved another pale ale from the fridge. As I placed it in front of him I continued, "The basic rules and regulations governing the events remain the same from year to year, things like the rod length permitted -- nothing over 12 feet; no shooting-head lines; no external sinking or floating devices attached to the leader or line; all flies tied on single, barbless hooks -- that sort of stuff. Then the local regulations have to be factored in -- which mostly concerns the species they can fish for, or some tackle restrictions. Like they could only use one fly at Campbell River, but some provinces allow two or three."
"All this for the simple joy of going fly fishing?" said Doc, shaking his head ruefully. "I don't think so, mate -- not for this kid. But tell me, after paying all of this money and jumping through all of these hoops just to go fishing, how do they decide who gets the medals?"
"By keeping score. It's a team effort -- five members to a team -- but it's all based on individual performance. When a fish is caught, it's led into a partially-submerged tray held by a 'controller', who then measures it and enters its length on a score sheet. Each legal-sized fish counts for points, and each centimetre of its length counts for points. Pretty simple, really -- even you would be able to fathom it."
"Sounds to me like the home-town team has the advantage...."
"Hah! That's yet to happen. When they held the Worlds in Kamloops back in '93, the Canadian team was away down the list. The Brits won. The same up in Campbell River last year, assuming that you can remember back that far. The gold medal team was from the Lower Mainland, the silver from Ottawa, and the bronze from the Northwest Territories."
"Yeah, I remember, but only vaguely. Let's face it, I'm simply not a fan of derb... ah, competitive fishing -- it doesn't turn my crank."
"Yeah, you keep telling me that, so let's change the subject. Tell me all about this offer to row me on the Tyee Pool this summer."
Doc perked right up, for he was now in familiar territory. "Okay, the season usually runs from July 10th until September 15th -- subject to modifications by DFO if any problems crop up. The first thing we'll do is get you registered. That'll cost you ten bucks, or you can join as an active member for twenty bucks. If you get a tyee you'll have to pay the extra ten bucks to register it, anyway, so be a big spender and get the active membership."
"So I pays my money -- then what?"
"It's pretty cut-and-dried. To qualify as a tyee, a Chinook must weigh a minimum of thirty pounds, and it must be caught on specific tackle from a rowed boat, inside Discovery Passage between Seymour Narrows and Cape Mudge."
I already knew most of this, but admit that I was suitably impressed by the way he rattled it off. "My, you've obviously got this memorized. So tell me more about the tackle."
"The rod can be of any standard material, but must be between six and nine feet long. A knuckle-buster reel -- single-action, direct-drive only -- and line with a breaking strength of twenty pounds or less. They have an official tester at the Tyee Club. The lure can be a plug, spoon, spinner or fly, and must have only one single, barbless hook. No lures with buzzers, clickers or electronic attractors, and no jigs, drift-jigs or fresh bait."
He paused and his brow furrowed.
"Aww... did you forget something?" I asked solicitously.
"Leader!" he barked. "If you use a leader it can't be over six feet long. I never use 'em, but I knew there was one other thing...."
Doc swallowed a healthy glug of ale and wiped the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand. "We can use a small outboard to run out to the pool, but from then on its Armstrong." He flexed his arms to make his point.
He then went into a long tirade about how important it is for the angler to pay close attention to the rower's every order, for the rower, he assured me, is the most important person in the boat. The angler is little more than a mobile rod holder until such time that a salmon is hooked. Then, according to the Tyee Club rules, an angler must fight a hooked fish on his or her own, with no physical assistance from the rower or anyone else in the boat. Doc then mentioned that there were a couple of "howevers" to this regulation -- loopholes that allowed assistance if a sliding sinker jammed on the line and refused to budge, or if the angler's line got tangled with another's or got caught on the outboard.
"Other than that," he concluded, "absolutely no assistance until it's time to net or gaff the fish." He actually made face and winced when he said "gaff", so I assumed that they were probably frowned upon.
"And then what?"
"Why, it's off to clubhouse to have it weighed, you fool. The sooner the better so it doesn't lose weight."
"Yeah, like those three-pound trout you got that only weighed a pound-and-half by the time they were weighed."
Doc shook his head and announced sorrowfully, "Dehydration is a terrible thing." He slid his mug toward me.
I pointed out that he was driving, so he settled for relieving me of two dozen beach flies and begrudgingly took his leave. I wandered back into my office and Googled "Tyee Club of BC", then went to their web site: www.tyeeclub.org. This is an excellent site, but I quickly discovered that Doc had merely scratched the surface with regard to the rules and regulations. There are about a half dozen pages of them. They cover everything, however, and leave nothing to guess about. Besides the Fly Fishing Canada competition rules book runs about 14 pages.
I guess when Doc eventually phones me to go rowing on the Tyee Pool with him, I'll take him up on it. But I've given up on trying to interest him in competitive fly fishing. You know -- it's simply too structured, too organized, too many rules and regulations to follow...