April Steelhead on the Lower Skeena

The ultimate spring steelheading adventure on one of the most pristine fisheries in the world.

Join C.F. Burkheimer us as we head north to Terrace, British Columbia in pursuit of sea-lice bright steelhead. We’ll spend a week fishing the lower Skeena tributaries and the remote coastal streams of Northern British Columbia. This is spring steelheading at it’s finest.

These are remote and densely forested rivers with picture perfect runs and huge steelhead. Walter Faetz and his staff at the Spey Lodge have spent years learning the nuances of this fishery and we don’t want to let their hard work go unappreciated! Join us at this spring for world class steelheading and exceptional lodging on the beautiful lower Skeena.

Dates: April 21st-April 29th, 2012

Airfare from Vancouver, BC to Terrace, BC included

Contact Kerry Burkheimer for more information: cfb@cfbflyrods.com / 360-835-1420

Burkheimer Pro-Staff Winter Steelhead School

Our February 11th Winter Steelhead Class still has spots available!

Call the shop for more information, or email Nate Koenigsknecht at natek@cfbflyrods.com.

We look forward to fishing with you!

So it was no surprise when Kerry and Chris and I were chatting one Friday afternoon and the conversation turned to winter steelhead. Chris had found a new run; walking speed, 4-6 deep, with chunky boulders strewn throughout. You know, perfect steelhead water.

“10′ of T-11 and a lightly weighted bunny leech.” I said, “Broadside it in front of the nuggets and hang on!”

But Chris wanted a challenge, he wanted to do it with a dry line and an unweighted fly.

Kerry gave him the primer: Fish close, cast upstream and stack-stack-stack mend for the slack to sink the fly. Lower your rod slowly and bring the wet under tension, swimming it up and away from the rocks.

“It’s not a high numbers proposition.” Kerry warned, “It’s as difficult as steelheading gets.”

Monday came and we compared notes after the weekend fishing trips. Rob had taken a couple of hatchery fish swinging weighted leeches at his secret river, I had hooked and lost a pair on a type VI and GP’s on the coast. Chris waited politely until we were done, smiled, and pulled out his phone to show us a picture.

He had pulled it off on his first try ever. Dry line winter steelhead with an unweighted fly and a C.F. Burkheimer 7100-4. Chris had floated into the run, identified the holding lies and worked them methodically with a 2/0 Winters Hope. As he neared the tailout, after dozens of casts, his fly was just barely under tension and starting to swim when he watched the line jump. He lifted, felt the weight, and came tight to a beautiful wild hen. It doesn’t get any better than that, and it couldn’t have happened to a better guy.

Chris Corbett is the C.F. Burkheimer production manager and one of the finest rod builders anywhere. He takes care of business from 9 until 5, and takes steps in a steelhead run from 5 until dark.

A Steelheader Farms Another One

John Larison

Every serious angler among us knows the blunt force trauma that is losing a good fish.  And if you’ve swung flies a few seasons, you know the dizziness following the loss of two extraordinary chargers in a row.  Only a few of us, though, have felt the profound lightness of rod and mind as a third big fish comes unpinned.  But to lose four—to watch four chrome panels waver off downriver and dissolve in a tail stroke—now that could only happen to a man with moons and planets and whole galaxies aligned against him, a man depleted of karmic reserve.

I am that man.

And though years have passed and lessons have been learned, and maybe even some sins atoned, I can not shed this image: the plasmic shimmer of that fourth fish as he contorted at eye-level.  Nor can I forget the clarity of view in the minutes thereafter, standing on a waist-high boulder, the rod straight and cruel above me, a nest of fly line at my feet.  Rock-bottom for anglers, as for alcoholics maybe, offers a surprisingly keen view.

That buck came to me on a shorts-sleeve afternoon in September on a river best fished with an 8134; you know the type, boulder-targeting waist-deep runs with seventy to eighty foot casts.  On this particular river, otherwise standup-guys might be seen casting from their drift boats.

Picture me: Alone and standing on the oarsmen’s seat, shielding my vision so I might just make out the lateral line of a mint fish as it slips into the tailout from the violent cascade downstream.  I’m sending absent-minded loops into the glare.  Waiting.

I’d been here before, a few hundred times, just as the evening sun left the tree tops, so I knew that a squadron of fish was in the whitewater and that at any moment this tailout would come alive with active fish.  What I didn’t know was that one of these fish would nearly sink my boat before it broke my mind.

The first exceptional fish I lost had come a year before, on a little-known (yeah right) river called the Deschutes.  He took at the head of a pool already at full steam, one of those grabs I’ll remember on my death bed, when a non-angler would be thinking I should have done more in life.  The fly line was gone before my brain even registered the grab, the backing going fast enough that I panicked and tried to tame the reel, earning a cracked fingernail for my trouble.

The second and third fish came that winter, on the same day, from the same run, one bright and airborne, the other double-striped and rolling.  Both off after I’d already considered them beat.

Of course there were fish between these pigs, average specimens in terms of size and fight but each of them remarkable because they were steelhead and I had battered my body, mind, and career to touch them.  In fact, ten minutes after losing the fourth, the best fish of all, as if by some sick cosmic joke, I landed my smallest ocean run steelhead ever: a thirteen inch chromer.

But in angling, as in love, it is the surprises we remember. And that fourth fish, as he slid up from the whitewater, was a surprise from the first glance.

First of all, he was wide where the others were narrow, thick as a chinook was my first thought.  And so maybe he was a chinook, but he was holding in the depression before a small boulder, a lie only twenty-five inches deep maybe, not the usual preference of a springer.  And besides, I reminded myself, this was September, and the springers were dark, and this fish was aglow with pelagic enthusiasm, bending and nipping and chasing away curious trout.  I needed to touch him.

The first cast was the best cast because my hands weren’t shaking.  The fly was my most trusted wet at the time, and yet the fish didn’t flinch.  But nor did he seize up.  So I sent the fly three more times before flipping it high, catching it, and biting it off myself.

Like any sensible angler, I went smaller and darker.  But to no avail.

So I got innovative, and hitched on a waker.

Then a chugger.

And still the fish nipped and strutted and held fast, his white mouth flashing as he tested drifting particles.

What I did next, I wouldn’t admit in mixed company.  I dug to the bottom of my bag and found that ancient and largely forlorn box of trout flies, included in the bag only because I suffer from a neurosis that requires I bring every fly on every trip.  I opened the box’s lid and unceremoniously selected a Pheasant Tail, and a flashback beadhead no less, size twelve.  Then dead-drifted it (no indicator, I’m not a heathen—well, less often now than before.)  But that big buck wanted none of it.

If I’d been a smoking man, I would have lit a cig in the fish’s honor.  Another big steelhead smarter than me.  May you reach the redds, friend.

But I’m not a smoking man, so I knotted on the biggest, blackest, most articulated thing I had in the boat, a fly one friend refers to as John’s Rope.  It hit the water with a definitive Slap—and that big buck was already on his way.

He was airborne beside me before I felt the take, a stamp of chrome against the green bank.  In my memory, I was looking up to him, though that memory might have more to do with admiration than with reality, the same form of altered remembrance that makes our best friends seem taller and our nemeses seem hunched.

And then I felt him in full force, a force that grew in magnitude until it reached the supernatural—he had turned and was evacuating the run.  I was mid-river and he was in the next run, but I couldn’t lose four in a row.  Such a streak was impossible.  The rivergods owed me this one.

That’s when my anchor began to drag; the fish was pulling that hard.

And the lip of the rapid inched closer.

Or rather, what was inching closer was the downed tree that separated me from the rapid.  A down tree that had already flipped a boat this year.

So my choices were simple, though their simplicity made their selection no easier.  Let out some line on the anchor and hope that it found better purchase before I became personally acquainted with the log, or pull the anchor and try to run this rapid while still holding the rod and the absurdly large fish pinned to it.

In that moment it was Keanu Reeves I remembered, which isn’t something I’m proud of.  Keanu Reeves in that stupid Buddha movie he did in the nineties, “Take the middle path.”  (For the record, I didn’t rent this flick; a ladyfriend did.  Give me a little credit.)

Well, the middle path screwed me.  Just for the record.

I freed the drag on my reel, bit down on the rod’s cork until my teeth met graphite, pulled the anchor, and used every fiber of oaring muscle to back away from that log, and quarter the boat all the way to the shore—where I dropped the anchor, let the boat slam down into the rapid until the anchor caught and the boat was wedged tight to the rocky bank.

Now I had him, or so I thought, running down the shore and reeling up the backing and finally the neon line and then tightening down the drag.  I will tail you.

And for almost three minutes, three glorious minutes, it seemed I might just, him running back upstream against the flow, then turning and rocketing to the tailout, only to meet me near shore, thirty-six inches if he was an inch, and maybe I should have reached for him then, but I didn’t—and then he was charging back into the center of the rapid.

What happened next, I’ll never know for sure, though I have some suspicions.  The line came tight, suddenly and abnormally tight, and then it wasn’t the animate flex of a fish I felt but the firm resonance of current parting over fly line.  I leapt onto a rock to change the angle, and felt the resonance increase to a hum.  And then felt nothing.

Sometimes nothing is the heaviest thing of all.

A rock or log severed the line, maybe.  That’s my best guess.

Keanu would have cried in that moment, then gotten laid.  I did neither.  I just stood there.  Overcome.

Overcome first with the loss.  With the unfairness.  Then with the dark humor of it.

Then the unfairness again.

And finally, though this revelation took some time, I was overcome by the gift of that fourth fish.

The certainty of uncertainty—the promise of surprise—now, that’s the best gift of all.

And the reason I fish steelhead.

John Larison is a superb  angler, dedicated river steward, talented guide, and the author of three books on steelheading, including Northwest of Normal and its widely acclaimed sequel Holding Lies.  The Oregonian has praised him, saying,  ”Larison is Norman Maclean two generations along.”  We’re honored to feature his writing on our site and blessed to call him our friend. John can be reached at info@johnlarisonsteelheading.com , and his blog can be found at http://www.flyfisherman.com/blogs/spey-today/

Sacramento, California. January 19-22

Kerry Burkheimer, Nate Koenigsknecht, Whitney Gould and Brian Styskal will be at the International Sportsmans Expo in Sacramento on January 19 through the 22nd. We’ll have a huge selection of new rods with us, including the new Species Specific Saltwater rods, the Deep Action Load Trout rods, and the 5 Piece Spey rods.

• Handle, ogle and cast the very newest Burkheimer models.
• Talk with the man himself, Kerry Burkheimer, about rod design and casting.
• Chat with renowned salmon and steelhead guide and champion caster, Whitney Gould.
• Talk rods, lines and casting with steelhead guide and Burkheimer field tester, Nate Koenigsknecht
• Chat with Brian Styskal, one of the finest casting instructors and steelhead guides in the world.

We look forward to seeing you there!

International Sportsmans Expo – Sacramento

January 19th-22nd

Cal Expo, State Fairgrounds
1600 Exposition Blvd.
Sacramento, CA 95815

Follow this link for more information:  http://www.sportsexpos.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=viewlocation&locationnumber=1

As the Washougal River rises with the winter rains we find ourselves at the end of another exciting year. Late December storms have forced us off the river, but the high water has given us time to reflect on 2011′s achievements–achievements made possible by your continued support for CF Burkheimer, and our shared passion for the sport of fly fishing. Every year has its triumphs but we feel 2011 has been especially good to everyone associated with our company and our rods.

Some highlights from 2011 include:

• The development of a new line of species specific Saltwater rods.
• The development of a new line of 5 piece two-handed rods.
• Record sales for our 8134-4, 7134-4, 5115-4, 590-4DAL and 695-4DAL
• The success of the CF Burkheimer Casting and Fishing Schools
• The success of C F Burkheimer hosted trips

Next year will be as exciting as the last:

• 2012 starts out with the Winter Steelhead Schools on the Clackamas organized by head CF Burkheimer Guide Nate Koenigsknecht. Dates; Jan 14^th, Jan 28^th, Feb. 10th
• With spring comes an opportunity to fish for spring run steelhead and salmon in British Columbia with C.F. Burkheimer Instructional Pros Brian Styskal and Nate Koenigsknecht. Dates to be announced.
• In the fall, Brian Styskal and Kerry Burkheimer will host a summer-run steelhead fishing clinic at the Bear Claw lodge in British Columbia. Dates to be anounced
• We’re also pleased and excited to announce the development of several new Single and Two-Handers for the coming year. We’ll be introducing these rods in stages over the next several months. Stay in touch with us, these are going to be great sticks!

We always love to chat with the people out there fishing our rods. Call or email us anytime with any questions you have about rods, classes, trips, lines, etc. Make sure to stay tuned to our blog at: http://cfbflyrods.com/category/blog/ to get the latest news on all things CF Burkheimer.

We hope this letter finds you well as the sun sets on 2011. Best wishes for the upcoming year, we look forward to your phone calls and emails, and look forward to seeing you on the river. May your waters run clear and be filled with big fish.

Most sincerely,

Kerry and Marianne Burkheimer

&

The CF Burkheimer Crew

Join CF Burkheimer Pro Staff instructors Brian Styskal, Nate Koenigsknecht, Cullen Whisenhunt and Whitney Gould for an intensive day of winter steelhead fishing and  instruction on the Clackamas river. This is the chance to ask all of your questions regarding winter steelhead with the opportunity to work through those questions on the water.

Float the Clackamas with one other angler and your instructor, putting you in actual fishing situations and demonstrating the best approaches to each piece of water.

–Improve your casting with weighted flies and sink-tips.

–Refine your presentation skills with the two handed rod.

–Learn to recognize fish holding water and the appropriate approach to that water.

–Join an open discussion on equipment and flies for pursuing these fish.

This is a unique opportunity to learn about winter steelhead angling from experienced instructors and fisherman, on the water and in the elements. Coffee, snacks and a hot lunch will be provided. Nate and Brian will have a large selection of CF Burkheimer rods and matching lines.

• Date:  Saturday, January 14th;  Saturday, January 28th;  and Saturday, February 11th, 2012
• Time: 8:00am – 5:00pm
• Location: Clackamas River
• Cost: $225/angler
• What you’ll need: Waders, wading boots, a rain jacket, warm layers,  sunglasses, and an Oregon Fishing License

To register contact Nate Koenigsknecht: 360-835-1420  or  natek@cfbflyrods.com

Winter 2008- With Spey-O-Rama just around the corner, I needed a competition rod. A rod that could carry and lift a 1000 grain shooting head, and one that is capable of making a 40 degree change of direction without folding. The rod was to bend and load deep on the change of direction and be able to launch a 75 foot shooting head 170 plus feet. I needed a rod that could do this without collapsing and could recover quickly.

In 2008 the majority of the competitors were using 15 foot 11wt rods, and me a 10151-4, which by all intents and purposes is a damn good fishing rod, not a tournament casting machine. I was able to hold my own but I was definitely under gunned, an 11/12 wt was in order.  Kerry quickly agreed, and we decided the 11151-4 would be a good candidate as a base taper for a comp rod.

The blank was rolled shortly thereafter and we had an 11151 prototype to take to the pond and try out. I immediately noticed that the 11151 had a lot more power to access than the old 10151, I was getting an extra 10 to 15ft on my casts with the new rod and was pretty excited about the new blank. So off I went to redesign my comp line so it would better load the new blank, adding a few more feet to the back to get the grains up. With the newly tweaked comp line I headed out to the pond for a little practice session. I think I took maybe six casts before hearing a loud crack on the seventh cast. I now had a five piece comp rod, the third section had exploded half way down with the massive amount of grains I was asking it to move.

Back to the shop I went to review things with Kerry and discuss the broken section. After that meeting we both decided that the stock 11151-4 was not going to be enough for a comp rod. So Kerry did what he does best, he went into design mode. Right there in his office on a plain piece of notebook paper he drew up the redesigned 11151-4, each rod section from the tip to the third was redesigned. The tip diameter was bigger, the 2nd section was reinforced, the third section was reinforced and we decided to leave the butt section alone because I liked the way it felt under maximum load.

A few days later I was off to the pond with prototype number two, excited to see how the new rod sections would work together.

It took me one cast to feel the difference in the new rod. Several casts later I was deep into the casting groove and hitting distances I had not been able to reach prior. The new rod sections were working beautifully together, no flat spots from the reinforcements, the recovery was good, this thing was a frickin cannon! For the first time I had myself a true competition 15’1″ 11/12 wt rod. With the new sections I had to add a bit more to the back of the line to get the grain wt correct. At the same time we were designing the new rod I was having to learn to cast a longer comp head. Each time we reinforced a part it made the rod stronger so I would have to add weight to my comp head to get the rod to load properly. Not wanting to go over .097 diameter in the main belly of the line I had to make the line longer, it was now at 74 feet.

I remember telling Kerry that “This is the one, its perfect, I can grow into this rod”. He always gives me that look that say’s, “Are you sure about this? Can we make it better?” He’s usually right.

Now in the spring of 2011, I am extremely happy with the way the rod is performing. A couple months ago we redesigned the butt section and got it to bend a little more while still retaining the power. This last little adjustment with the butt section I think was key, I can now use every inch of the rod. I incorporated a new split grip design to the butt section using high density EVA combined with cork and now I feel like I am getting more out of the lower end of the rod than before. You can almost take a short breath before driving out the forward cast, it’s relaxing and easy to time which equates to more consistency for the caster. For me the line speed has actually increased with the new butt section design. A caster has to generate huge amounts of line speed to make casts in the 170ft to 185ft range with a 15ft rod. This rod is definitely up to the task when balanced with the correct line.. I think we can go even further, I think 190ft plus is possible.

Working on this rod over the course of the last two seasons has been a learning experience for me. I find myself extremely lucky to have one of the best rod designers in the world willing to take on this project. We are definitely pushing the limits of rod design, and I think we can take what we have learned from the Terminator taper and incorporate those things into other rods. The same taper concept would make for some amazing fishing rods in the 15ft to 18ft range.

The 2011 SOR world championships are fast approaching and it looks to be an exciting event. I think this year will be the hardest competition to date at the ponds in San Francisco. The skill level of the casters is three times what it was just a few years ago. Back then 150′ was a winning cast and now a 145′ average might not even get you into the final!

After writing that I just realized that I better get out for some practice.

I am looking at the Burkheimer team to do well this year, Whitney is casting better than I have ever seen her cast and hitting distances that would place her firmly in the men’s top 10. Our newest addition to the team, Greg Bencivenga, is going to blow everyone away with the improvements he has made. Greg is scary good and is one of the most technically perfect two handed casters I have ever seen. Me, well there’s a lot of luck involved in this comp as well as technique. Hopefully the wind gods will be in my favor this year, conditions can get ugly quickly out there. Right now things are looking good and its time to go out and have some fun.

Every year I bemoan the fact I have to start getting ready for Spey-O-Rama, my mind is more on winter steelhead at the time. I know what’s in store for the next four months and I know that for the first month of practice I will feel pain! Yes, that’s right, pain! Sore muscles from casting a 15′ 11wt rod with a thousand grain line for up to six hours at a time. After that first month things smooth out and I am a little less grumpy. My casting partners appreciate this fact.

Every year I compete I learn more and more, I improve on old techniques by making minor adjustments which translates into a few more feet on the cast. It might be something as simple as foot placement or changing the angle of lift at the start of the cast. Trying new things and learning from the results is what makes this so fun. My main goal in the beginning is to improve on what I did the year before, if I accomplish that task then I am successful in my mind. It’s a fun game, and I love it!

-Brian Styskal
Portland, OR
April, 2011

Kerry and Brian have been holding long meetings deep in the heart of CF Burkheimer world headquarters. Their goal: To design the best competition two-hander the planet has ever seen. Design, test, redesign, test, redesign, test… It’s been a long road, but they’ve finally nailed down a winning blank.

Brian will fill you in soon with a full report on the process and the build. In the meantime, here’s a teaser clip of Brian test casting prototype #78. Bystanders who witnessed this bomb measured it out at approximately 346 feet. No confirmation on that number from official Spey-o-Rama judges, but we can tell you that it went a heckuva long way.