Fly-Fishing in Portugal

Yes. That bridge does look like the Golden Gate,

But this one is in Lisbon, Portugal across the Tagus River

May 30, 2014 When the Romans first arrived in Lisbon, Portugal, they noted that the Tagus River seemed composed of two-thirds water and one-third fish. Fast forward to 2014, and one could say the Romans saw the river on a really good day. In any case, I didn't do any fishing in Lisbon. In fact when we arrived last Saturday, every resident of Madrid, Spain, had decided to join us. That's because the Champions football (soccer) final was set for Saturday night and both teams were from Madrid. Other than the World Cup, this is probably the biggest match of the year in all of Europe.

We didn't know this when we planned the trip, so it seemed to us that we had arrived in the middle of some kind of urban panic drill combined with the Super Bowl and a Madonna concert, all played out in the streets packed by screaming fans. Real Madrid, the favorite, won in overtime. Dottie and I made it back to our hotel without being trampled, and Lisbon returned to normal Sunday morning. If all goes as planned, I will be fishing in a few days with Nuno Breda, one of Portugal's top fly fishers and guides. Nuno, who is a founder of the first Portuguese Fly Fishing Association, is taking me on the Douro River where we will be fishing for barbel, which looks like a cross between a catfish and a carp. Nuno is also the creator of Portugalflyfishing. com, the fly-fishing site on which you can find more information about fly fishing on the Iberian Peninsula. Born in Spain at the pinnacle of the Urbiao mountain range, the Douro is said to be the most stunning river on the Iberian Peninsula. In Portugal, it runs between fertile terraces and forests until Porto, where it meets the Atlantic. Depending on what part of the river they fish, anglers can go after trout, barbel or even lamprey, although I'm puzzled how one fishes for an eel that feeds more like a vampire than a normal fish. Nuno assures me that barbel readily take a fly and even gave me a list of flies to bring with me. In doing some research, I also found out that some guys fish for barbel with blackberries when they are in season, and with raisins when there are no fresh berries to be had. The portion of the Douro River that we will be fishing is right in the middle of Portugal's wine country, which means that if the fishing isn't what I hope it will be, we can pull our boat up to a local winery and drown our sorrows. Dottie and I began our trip in Lisbon as part of a hiking group of 12, organized by Sonoman Karen Collins. Our group includes several other Sonomans, as well as a few friends of Sonomans from the Bay Area. Karen operates Go Places and sets up these treks in interesting places all over Europe. She is the one responsible for taking us to Crete two years ago, where the scenery was breathtaking and the hikes were so challenging that I was left with little breath to take. She assures us that the Portugal treks are milder. I know that we walk through some vineyards and past wineries, so it can't be all that tough. I didn't fish in Lisbon, where the most popular fish is bacalada, salted cod, which is imported to Portugal from the North Atlantic. I did see one guy fishing off a pier. He didn't catch anything. Part II – The Douro River The Douro River runs wide and deep, east to west from the mountains of Spain to the Atlantic at the city of Porto, which is several hours drive north of Lisbon. Our group of intrepid Sonomans, led by Karen Collins and irrepressible guide, Nuno Santos, floated from Barca d’Alva near the Spanish border on the lovely little river boat, Señora De Viega (for movie buffs the señora could well have been Zorro’s grand mother). Several large river cruise boats passed us heading upstream. We debarked at the city of Pocinho, where we caught the train to a virtually abandoned train station of Ferraro, then we quickly bailed out, and Georges Manuel Martes Mota, our trusty van driver, picked us up for a five-minute drive nearly straight up the steep north side of the Douro Valley to the stunning wine estate of Quinta Nova, a working winery and charming boutique hotel, with a breathtaking view of the river. The most well-kept secret of Quinta Nova is Chef Josa Pinto. How a guy this good is still in the virtual boondocks is hard to understand, but clearly the owners of the estate know they have a chef who could hold his own in any Michelin starred restaurant, and they’ve made sure he has remained. I am not a food critic, nor is Dottie, but both of us agree that we had the best meals we’ve had in years, anywhere, at Quinta Nova. The 2009 vintage port we had after dinner was simply the best ever as well. If you are in Portugal, put this delightful estate on your itinerary                                           Nuno Breda was a great guide on the Duoro River, Portugal Everything about Quinta Nova was exceptional, including the accommodations and dining. Most exceptional of all was that the next day, while the group was trekking up and down the terraced vineyards, I went fishing on the Douro with Nuno Breda, a software engineer and a founder of the Portuguese Fly Fishing Association, and local resident and expert angler, Jose Gueddes. They picked me up at the dock immediately below the villa (1,000 feet below), and we spent a half day or more casting beetle imitations to fat, strong shouldered barbels lurking close to partially submerged, 500-year-old rock walls at the river’s edge. Barbels are members of the carp family and are good fighters, especially during the first five minutes. Nuno and Jose were both excellent fly fishers, and great fishing buddies. They spoke good English. We had ham and cheese sandwiches for lunch, accompanied by an excellent white Port, plus several Super Bock beers. It was a great day on the water with two very nice guys.                                          One of several fat barbels I caught fishing the Duoro Tomorrow I try another stream higher up in the mountains. It is said there are trout there. Part III – Fishing in Roman ruins Romans were great builders of roads.  The freeways of their day, several centuries before Christ, were wide enough for several soldiers walking abreast, wagons, and a couple of horses. They didn’t build these roads out of asphalt. The Romans were into natural.  They used real rocks – big, heavy, hard and durable boulders with at least one relatively flat side. That’s why our group of intrepid Sonomans found ourselves trekking through the boondocks of Portugal on rocky roads that sometimes included old arched stone bridges and roadside ruins of ancient rock walls and huts that witnessed the passing of legions led by Roman generals even older than Maximus Decimus Meridius (aka Russell Crowe). One of the Roman roads we hiked along near the Spanish border close to the town of Barca de Alva was known as Calcada do Diabo, The Devil’s Path.  When I first saw the name on our itinerary prepared by our trusty leader, Karen Collins, it occurred to me that there is sometimes something in a name.  But Karen assured us that none of the treks were very hard and she rated the difficulty as medium or below. Karen’s version of medium difficulty is in an entirely different universe than Dottie’s or mine.  Halfway to perdition on the devil’s path, I wondered, “What the hell were we thinking?” But Karen is a good friend, and the group with whom we trekked along included other good Sonoma friends like Tom and Katherine Culligan, Jack and Kathleen Carter, Peter and Maggie Haywood, Toby and Diane Taylor, Jim Lamb, and some Bay Area friends, including Tom and Bonnie Herman and Donna Robbins. We were guided on these treks by the very personable and capable Nuno Santos, whose company specializes in hiking and biking treks across Portugal. Nuno and our friends are all delightful traveling companions and infinitely tolerant with those of us (probably just Dottie and me) who are less than enthusiastic about plodding up and down mountains on slippery paths and old Roman-laid rocks. It didn’t help that Dottie’s bad knee, in spite of determined rehabbing and exercise for months before the trip, chose a steep downslope on the first of many days of scheduled hikes to let her know it would rather be in a rocker than on the rocks. That said we managed to do some of the hikes. One of them held the possibility of catching trout in the Bestanca River, a beautiful little stream that tumbled down a lush, green mountain gorge that led to the Douro River near Porto Antigo. We were dropped off high on the steep mountainside above the old port were an ancient stone Roman road led a mile or so down to the Bestanca.  The stones, although weathered and worn, provided solid footing as we passed through the once-cultivated but now overgrown green canopy that kept us in deep shade for virtually the entire hike.  Along the way, we saw vine-covered ancient rock remnants of what were probably the dwellings of those who lived here before Christ. At the bottom of the canyon, where the road met the river, an ancient rock arched bridge, built at least 100 years before the birth of Christ, still provided safe passage over the waters. The freestone stream looked very trouty to me, and I had packed along my lightweight tenkara fly road for just such a purpose.  The scattered stone ruin of a water mill provide our group with a flat spot on which to have lunch, and then I chose to remain there to fish, while the rest of our group continued up the other side of the canyon and down and around back to our waiting van. Dottie stayed to keep me company. I’d like to say I caught some nice trout in that beautiful river, but I didn’t. In fact I didn’t even see a minnow, led along a catchable trout. Nevertheless it was a lovely setting and a nice break from trudging on Roman rocks just for sake of whatever.  Tell me again why we did that? Dottie and I walked back up the road and met the group back at our starting point. So ended my fly-fishing experiences in Portugal.  Of course there is always Bacalau (salt cod) to fall back on. God knows Portugal seems to have plenty of it. Part IV – 1001 ways to cook cod In my previous three columns on Portugal, there’s been mention of cod, bacalau in Portuguese. They are everywhere in Portugal except in the water.  You will not find a single cod in the rivers, bays or even the oceans off Portugal’s shores, which is why I was unable to fly-fish for the most popular seafood in the country. I’m not sure one can even catch a cod on a fly, but that doesn’t mean there was a lack of opportunity to taste this national dish. It is served at every meal – fried, sautéed, baked, boiled, roasted, shredded and layered like lasagna. It was said that there are 1,001 ways to prepare it.  I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a cod ice cream. The reason why there are so many cod and cod recipes in Portugal apparently goes back centuries when England was overrun with cod and wanted more wine and Portugal was drowning in wine but lacking in seafood. The two countries set up a thriving trade – English cod for wine, Portuguese wine for cod.  There was just one problem – lack of refrigeration. The only way the cod would survive the long voyage from England to Portugal was if it was dried and salted.  The only way wine wouldn’t sour on its way to England, was if the fermentation process was stopped by fortification (adding alcoholic spirits).  So the Portuguese got salty, dried fish carcasses and the Brits got port wine. Any question about who got the better end of that deal? But the Portuguese never gave up trying to make cod palatable. We were served cod at virtually every inn and hotel in which we stayed.  It was on the menu in every restaurant and sold at every grocery store. They have come to love it as a national delicacy   I respect their dedication, but after many days of trying, I concluded I much preferred almost any dish rather than another serving of cod. That said, Dottie and I liked Portugal very much and especially the many gracious, friendly and gregarious Portuguese we met during our trip. We most enjoyed the city of Porto, which is north of the capital city of Lisbon. Smaller than the capital, Porto felt more intimate and relaxed and had the charm that the larger Lisbon lacked. One more thing, you must enjoy at least one Fado performance while you visit. Think – Portuguese sing the blues.  These all-acoustical performances include two guitarists (one playing a Portuguese guitar, which sounds a lot like a mandolin), and one singer, dressed in black mourning clothes.  The vocalist stands very still, almost rigid, and sings of lost love and the sadness of a broken heart.  The melodies are hauntingly beautiful and the quality of the voices and the accompaniment are remarkable.  We were totally captivated. The next stop on our journey was Barcelona, Spain.  I’ll touch on that next week. Part V – If Gaudi was a fly-fisher If the late architect Antoni Gaudi had been a fly-fisherman there is no doubt that our rods, reels and flies would have a different look than they do today.  This passed through my consciousness several times while Dottie and I walked through the examples of his awe-inspiring work in Barcelona earlier this month. Before I saw his creations in person, I assumed that his work was marked by unnecessary and extravagant ornamentation. I was wrong. An observer of nature, with a particular fascination for the sea, he attempted to use nature’s own designs and patterns in both their engineering and atmosphere. I cannot possible describe what I saw when I visited the home, apartment and great Sagrada Familia Cathedral that we visited.  Words on paper simply cannot do it. That Gaudi was a one-of-a-kind architect and genius there is no doubt, but what impressed me most was how well and practically his breath-taking designs functioned.  The buildings were not just monuments to his vision, but meant to be used and enjoyed. So after walking through my third Gaudi building, I tried to imagine a Gaudi-designed fly.  It would probably not be on a hook, but some kind of imitation of a wild burr that would catch in a fish’s teeth. It would look very much like a real bug and capture the natural light of the rippling water.  Because all of his work is beyond imagination until you see it, so was my Gaudi fly.  If he hadn’t died in 1926, his flies might have been offered by Orvis. If you go to Barcelona, allow at least two or three days to see Gaudi’s work.  There was no fishing (except in the ocean) nearby, and most of the seafood restaurants relied on sardines, squid, octopus, and cod (of course) to fill out their menus.  I did not break out my fly rod, but we did enjoy the food and ambiance of that lovely city.

Dreaming of Sonoma trout

Every time I see our local creeks flow with fresh, clear water on the days following a rainstorm, it recalls a recurring dream I’ve had for decades.
In that dream, it’s the middle of a nice spring day and I’m fly-fishing along a shaded section of Sonoma Creek, somewhere south of the Ig Vella Bridge that connects West Napa Street to Riverside Drive.
The trees are so high and large that their branches shade almost all of the water that still is flowing from pool to pool, riffle to riffle, even though most of the seasonal storms are long gone.
I cast my fly upstream into the tailout of a large pool and a beautiful rainbow rises to engulf it.  The fish is bright, colorful and full of fight.  After several minutes I bring him close. Without lifting him out of the water, I shake the fly loose and he swims back to his spot in the pool.
I stroll along the creek bed, wading through riffles when I have to, catching and releasing more trout.  None of them are very big, perhaps 9 to 12 inches.  But they are all healthy and will, when next fall’s rains come, swim downstream to the bay and then the Pacific, spend a year or two eating, growing and becoming ever so much stronger.
Then, when their biological clock tells them its time, they return as steelhead (sea-run rainbow trout) to their home stream to spawn and carry on their species.
I’m not kidding. I really have that dream, or variations of it, several times a year, usually in the spring.
It is partly a memory of the days when I was a boy and did in fact catch rainbow trout in Sonoma Creek, Nathanson Creek and other creeks that are in our Valley’s watershed.
I remember that there was more water flowing later into the summer that there has been in recent decades.  There was enough, at least, in shaded, spring-fed pools for trout to survive the long hot summer and continue their unique, anadromous cycle of life.
As I was walking my Lab, Annie, this week, I saw quiet a bit of water flowing in Nathanson Creek and wondered if there was any way to keep it flowing that way into our drier months. How marvelous that would be.
If price were no object, a guy could buy up a large portion of the headwaters area, get permission to put in some holding dams, and work with the Fish and Wildlife Service on ways to provide summer holding pools in as many valley canyon creeks as possible.  There are still trout in those streams at some times of the year, not as many as there used to be, but some.
Unfortunately most of our creeks will stop flowing in another month or two, and by July, the creek beds will be dry.  The trout, if they went downstream before the water was too low, might make it to the sea.  Most will not.
It is the hard part of waking up from my dream.

I never knew I needed it

Casting demos are big part of the show

(This column was previously published in the Sonoma Index-Tribune.  It has been edited and updated for this republishing in my blog)
By Bill Lynch


I spent part of last Sunday (Feb. 23) at the Fly Fishing Show (flyfishingshow.com) in Pleasanton wandering from booth to booth, outfitter to outfitter, talking fly fishing.
I found stuff there that I didn’t know I needed. For example, the Tenkara USA company was showing off its latest rod versions of a two-centuries old Japanese fishing method – tenkara, which translated means “from heaven.”
Tenkara USA (tenkarausa.com) was founded in 2009 by Daniel Galhardo, of San Francisco, who became enamored with tenkara fly-fishing while visiting Japan in 2008. He brought his discovery and enthusiasm back to his home town and Tenkara USA was born.  Daniel has converted many diehard flyfishers to the tenkara method, including some well-known fishing writers and outdoor equipment celebreties like Yvon Chouinard, the founder of Patagonia.
Daniel sent me a link to a very nice video clip on the sport. You can find it at http://www.tenkarausa.com/aboutusa.php.
A tenkara rod is nothing more than a long pole with a piece of line tied to its tip and a leader and fly on the other end. There is no reel. You fish with it by simply flipping the fly into the water.
Today’s telescoping tenkara rods are incredibly lightweight and compact. They collapse, one section inside the other down to a back-packable 20-inch cylinder. When fully extended, the rods run from about 11 to 14 feet. They are very slender, with a significant whip action.
You can carry the line, leader and a few flies in your shirt pocket and that’s all you need.
The prices for a complete rod-line-package runs from around $100 up. Orvis has a Tenkara USA rod, line, leader and fly set for $215.
I need another fly rod like I need another hole in my head, but I want one.
There are always new products or new versions of old ones at the show.
Chota Outdoor Gear company (chotaoutdoorgear.com) out of Belvidere, Tenn., displayed a super, light-weight, adjustable stocking-foot “Hippie” that is perfect when you are drift fishing and don’t need to wade deep, but want to keep your feet dry. They work in three different positions – knee height, above the knee and hip high. They seal tightly in the knee high position so water won’t get in even if you wade too deep.
I couldn’t resist, bought a pair for $125.
And speaking of waders. there was a guy at the show selling the EK Outdoors Stay Clean Boot Puller and Storage Shelf (staycleanbootpuller.com). This product, priced at about $19.95, is something you can stand on to put your waders and boots on, has slots to help you get them off, and can be mounted on the wall to hang your waders for drying out.
Fishing resorts, outfitters and guide services were plentiful at the show and I checked out several, including a slide show and presentation by Cecilia Kleinkauf, owner of Women’s Flyfishing Alaska (womensflyfishing.net). Cecilia leads about a dozen different Alaska fly-fishing adventures every year designed to appeal to women, but spouses are allowed to join in some of them.
I thought this might be something I could persuade Dottie to try (and let me tag along). It sounded very interesting until Cecilia mentioned how many grizzly bears they see on the trips. All she carries for protection is a can of bear spray. I had this visual of me standing knee deep in an Alaskan river with a grizzly peering down on me and Cecilia bravely stepping in with little more than a can of bug spray to ward off the growling monster. Yet, nobody on her trips has ever been attacked by a bear, so how about it Dottie?
An American horse veterinarian turned lodge owner/operator was touting his Puma Fishing resort (pumafishing.com) in Chilean Patagonia. To tease anglers into considering it, he showed a photo of himself holding a 35-pound rainbow trout caught on a fly in his waters, which include some rivers and a large lake.
Closer to Sonoma, Morrison’s Rogue River Lodge (morrisonslodge.com), a show regular, has been on my list because of its fall “half-pounder” steelhead fishing combined with stays at their historic lodge in southern Oregon. Maybe this fall we’ll make it.
The Fly Fishing Show is the ultimate place to create your bucket list for years to come. I’ve run out of space already and barely scratched the surface.