Photography by Rick Griffiths, Pat Pendergast, Rex Messing, And Sam Breault
December 09, 2025
By Patrick J. Pendergast
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This article was originally titled “Coastal Gaspé” in Fly Fisherman's 2025 Destinations special publication.
As the aged De Havilland Q400 took off from Montréal toward the small community of Bathurst, New Brunswick, I felt gobsmacked at the endless sea of verdant forests below, the scattered lakes reflecting the clouds above, and the serpentine rivers—some as clear as glass, others the color of coffee—winding their way to the endless horizon.
We were bound north for Québec’s Gaspé Peninsula, to chase striped bass on the salt flats, as well as Atlantic salmon and the sea-run brook trout known to the Québécois as truites de mer or “salters.”
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Dedicated Atlantic salmon anglers have journeyed to the Gaspé Peninsula for decades, to try their luck on fabled rivers such as the Grand Cascapédia, the Petite Cascapédia, the Restigouche, and the Bonaventure. But there’s a new kid in town—striped bass—and they’re gaining a loyal following among fly anglers, guides, and outfitters.
This trip had been three years in the making, and I couldn’t have been more excited that the opportunity had finally arrived. Three different species of magnificent fresh- and saltwater gamefish in the same week. I must admit I was first stoked about sight fishing for striped bass on hearing about them blitzing and tailing in skinny water. But just as exciting was fishing a couple of the most famous Atlantic salmon fisheries in North America. And throw in the chance to hook a sea-run brookie. Welcome to the Gaspé.
Return of the Stripers Photography by Rick Griffiths, Pat Pendergast, Rex Messing, And Sam Breault Striped bass are native to Eastern Canada, with a historic range including the Bay of Fundy, the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and the immense St. Lawrence River and its estuary. Until the late 1960s, the St. Lawrence was still home to sustainable populations of stripers, but they were intensively pursued by both commercial and sport-fishing interests. At the same time, channel dredging to maintain shipping lanes, and other environmental challenges, degraded striped bass habitat.
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At the end of the 20th century, St. Lawrence River striped bass nearly disappeared altogether. But in 2001, the scientific community decided they could successfully reintroduce bass to the St. Lawrence. Officials initiated a comprehensive plan that included breeding stripers in Québec hatcheries using eggs and milt from broodstock striped bass captured from the Miramichi River in New Brunswick.
Things weren’t much better on the Gaspé. By the mid-1990s Fisheries and Oceans Canada estimated that there were fewer than 5,000 spawning adult stripers left in the southern Gulf of St. Lawrence. Habitat deterioration played little role in stock decline: Major issues included fisheries mismanagement. Striped bass were legally harvested as bycatch, creating a perverse incentive to target them even though the commercial fishery was shut down. Major poaching rings targeted stripers during the fall and spring aggregations. It was a veritable death sentence for stripers and led the Canadian government to close commercial fishing in 1996. In 2000, all recreational fishing was closed, and all indigenous subsistence, social, and ceremonial fishing for First Nations tribes was suspended. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and the aggressive conservation efforts included:
Increasing enforcement patrols. Closing the striped bass spawning grounds on the Northwest Miramichi River to anglers between May 1 and June 30 each year. Training harvesters to effectively handle and release striped bass caught as bycatch. Conducting scientific studies to better understand the Southern Gulf of St. Lawrence (SGSL) striped bass population and its distribution. Photography by Rick Griffiths, Pat Pendergast, Rex Messing, And Sam Breault These conservation measures had a dramatic positive impact on striper populations, and once again, sustainable numbers of spawning stripers allowed the Canadian government to reopen fishing in 2011. All the waters of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, including Chaleur Bay, now have strengthening numbers of stripers returning to their natal spawning waters on the Gaspé.
But all this is not without controversy. Some Atlantic salmon anglers claim that the rebound of native stripers is impacting migrating salmon smolts—but that’s a whole different story, for another time. Keep in mind that striped bass are indigenous to Eastern Canada and have cohabitated with Atlantic salmon for millennia. Instead of pointing a finger at another indigenous, anadromous species, follow the science. More than likely reduced runs of Atlantic salmon are a result of habitat degradation, and purposely or accidentally harvested stocks in the ocean, so commonly identified with other salmon fisheries around the world.
Out here on the West Coast—from British Columbia to Mexico—our striped bass are not native, but anglers vigorously pursue them with both fly and conventional tackle. The story goes that in 1879, 132 small stripers were shipped by rail from New Jersey and released in the Martinez River in Northern California, where they flourished. Considered an exotic species, the anadromous striped bass are piscivorous predators that eat a wide variety of aquatic creatures and subsequently wreak havoc on native Pacific salmon and steelhead smolts migrating down the Sacramento River to the Pacific Ocean. There is a strong contingent of California sport anglers who are pro-stripers, and just as many or more who are against them—the debate over their presence is fiercely argued.
Photography by Rick Griffiths, Pat Pendergast, Rex Messing, And Sam Breault As kids growing up in NorCal looking for anything to catch, my siblings and I regularly booked a couple party boat days each summer on The Bass Tub II with Captain Cliff based out of Pier 39 in San Francisco. And each summer break we made almost weekly trips to San Luis Reservoir to fish bait, troll, or jig for landlocked bass. Stripers were among our favorite targets—grabby, hard fighting, beautiful, and occasionally tasty on the barbecue grill.
Fast forward 30+ years, and I had been searching for a proper striped bass program in the Lower 48 to add to the travel program at The Fly Shop. All I could find in the East were independent guides—but we needed a full-service program with lodging, guiding, meals, the works.
Kyle Schaefer, proprietor of Soul Fly Lodge in the Bahamas, made the connection for me. I met Kyle, his lovely wife Kitri, and their adorable little boy Micah a few years ago while visiting Soul Fly Lodge, and learned that Kyle cut his guiding teeth fishing for stripers in Maine. I asked him if he knew of any East Coast lodge programs (similar in style and quality to Soul Fly) that target stripers. He said he would look into it, but made no promises.
We kept in touch and over the next couple of years, Kyle leaked out some cryptic bits of information about something in Canada he was checking out with some friends, but was not ready to commit until he knew it was 100 percent legit.
I completely understood his cautious approach—you put your reputation on the line with each and every recommendation you make. Kyle wanted to get it right. So did I.
I had just about written off the idea when out of the blue, in the fall of 2024, Kyle said he’d found “it” and introduced me to Gaspé Coastal.
The Cradle of Canada Photography by Rick Griffiths, Pat Pendergast, Rex Messing, and Sam Breault Kyle introduced me to his friend Andrew Murphy and Andrew’s new bride Sarah Nellis. Sarah was born and raised in Cascapédia-Saint-Jules and started fly fishing at age 16. She studied tourism at university in Montréal and is a member of the Women’s Canadian National Fly Fishing Team. Andrew was born in Bromont in southern Québec, and started fly fishing as a teenager. He guided in Labrador for brookies and landlocked salmon, then traveled the world fishing in Chile, the Florida Keys, British Columbia, and the Bahamas.
Andrew and Sarah are local hardcore fly-fishing guides and outfitters, and they put in hundreds of days annually on the shallow flats of Chaleur Bay, guiding for Atlantic salmon in the gin-clear rivers that terminate in the Bay, and bushwhacking backcountry rivers for sea-run brook trout. Gaspé Coastal is a multi-species fishery, and Andrew and Sarah have their fingers on the pulse.
Gaspé Coastal is located in the heart of Cascapédia-Saint-Jules, Québec, some of the most spectacular landscapes I have ever laid eyes on. The name Gaspé comes from the Mi’kmaq word Gespeg, which means “land’s end.” It’s a fitting name for a peninsula that’s just under 12,000 square miles in area, with Québec’s highest peak, the 4,160-foot Mount Jacques-Cartier. It’s a land steeped in maritime history, an amalgamation of French Canadian, Anglo-Saxon, and First Nations cultures drawn to the bounty of the sea, with pristine waterways, mountains, sea cliffs, islands, and plentiful flora and fauna and open space.
The Gaspé Peninsula juts northeastward into the Gulf of St. Lawrence, bordered to the south by the St. Lawrence River, extending from the Matapedia Valley in Québec, and separated from New Brunswick by Chaleur Bay and the Restigouche River to the south. It’s 50 miles due south of Anticosti Island and farther north and east, 250 miles, from Newfoundland.
Photography by Rick Griffiths, Pat Pendergast, Rex Messing, and Sam Breault It’s a land where the mountains meet the sea, with 22 different salmon rivers, four national parks, and thriving populations of black bears, moose, lynx, pine martens, bobcats, porcupines, groundhogs, beavers, red foxes, snowshoe hares, and white-tailed deer. At least seven species of whales frequent the Gulf of St. Lawrence, including the granddaddy of them all, the blue whale.
The Gaspé’s Grand Cascapédia River and other productive waterways have made the peninsula a renowned destination for Atlantic salmon anglers for more than 150 years.
Multi-Species Fishery Photography by Rick Griffiths, Pat Pendergast, Rex Messing, and Sam Breault Although I could have easily spent a couple weeks exploring the peninsula, hiking, sightseeing, boating, whale watching, and eating the abundant fresh seafood (including lobsters) that the Gaspé is famous for, we were here to fish.
The keys to any multi-species fishery are: 1) be open minded, 2) be ready to pivot on a moment’s notice, 3) trust your guide’s instincts, and 4) bring the proper gear. A day with full sun and a great tide cycle creates excellent conditions for sight fishing to unpressured striped bass on the flats. Fresh rain, clouds, and favorable water flows may have you turning to salmon or brookies. Each week is going to be different, and anglers willing to take advantage of the best-performing fishery will get the most out of their trips.
The fishing days vary depending on your trip timing, weather, tides, and preferred species. Expect eight+ hours on the water. Mornings could start as early at 4:30 A.M. when you’re pursuing Atlantic salmon or sea-run brook trout. Drive times to the fisheries vary from 10 minutes to one hour.
Stripers Photography by Rick Griffiths, Pat Pendergast, Rex Messing, and Sam Breault Despite my love of swinging flies with a double hander for anadromous fish or hunting trout in cool, clear waters, the mere thought of pursuing striped bass in shallow, clear, salt water from a poled skiff or on foot was what really fired me up. I love the hunt.
We left the lodge at the civilized hour of 8 A.M., trailering a beautiful 18-foot Biscayne Boatworks flats skiff fully decked out with a proper poling platform, 50-horse outboard, and carbon fiber push pole, for the short drive to the beach.
We launched the skiff and sped to a large shallow bay, 2 to 4 feet in depth, dotted with patches of eel grass. After less than five minutes on the casting deck AP, our guide, started spotting schools of feeding striped bass. They showed up on the flats as dark pods and as they dipped down to feed, they flashed bright silver in the sun. My first cast was on target, and immediately I was into a nice striper of about 24 inches that instantly started taking out line, trying to stay with his companions.
For hours my partner and I took turns targeting these marauding schools of stripers that had only one thing in mind . . . eating. And they were happy to eat our flies. We were in fish all morning, silly, almost nonstop fishing, but I loved it. Here I was sight fishing from a flats skiff in skinny water, with conifers and a church steeple in the distance. We weren’t in Belize or the Bahamas, we were in northern Québec. It was mind-boggling.
Dozens of fish later, AP wanted to look for larger fish, so we motored over to a rocky bluff and a set of islands with seabird rookeries, blind casting sinking lines in deep water. We landed a few fish, nothing big, and were anxious to explore an island surrounded by flats. We headed in that direction, eating lunch on the way. Unfortunately, a strong offshore wind picked up as soon as we got started, and AP thought it best that we head back to the launch site before it got super rough on the crossing.
Striped bass in Chaleur Bay are opportunistic feeders, eating baitfish, squid, shrimp, sand eels, baby lobsters, sand worms, and just about anything that swims and fits in their mouths. They range in size from 18 to 36 inches, with larger specimens an everyday occurrence. With this in mind, I opted to fish an 8-foot, 4-inch 8-weight Scott Sector, for easy handling in a skiff. I matched it to a Nautilus NV-G and a Scientific Anglers Magnitude Smooth Bonefish Plus Clear Tip. A 9-foot Scientific Anglers Absolute Fluorocarbon leader tapered down to 16-pound-test casting a size 2 olive and white, heavily dressed Clouser Minnow or a dark brown Mantis Shrimp pattern rounded out my rig.
Atlantic Salmon Photography by Rick Griffiths, Pat Pendergast, Rex Messing, and Sam Breault Pursuing Atlantic salmon with a fly rod on one of the Gaspé rivers is a classic fly-fishing endeavor. The guides navigate expertly in 24- to 26-foot cedar canoes when water levels allow, switching to 20-foot ABS canoes later in the season. They always use traditional spruce poles for maneuvering.
I asked my guide Alex why they poled canoes rather than using a drift boat or raft, and he explained that the canoes are more stealthy and allow them controlled floats with little noise while they scan the water for holding salmon. If they see them, fly fishers wade and swing unweighted, single barbless flies with floating lines and either double- or single-handed rods.
River beats are assigned to outfitters for the day though a lottery system, and anglers are expected to rotate through in a gentlemanly fashion, assuring everyone gets an opportunity to cover the water. Each angler is allowed to release only two salmon a day.
This is proper salmon fishing, and thanks to these strict conservation measures, it can be very rewarding.
As luck would have it, I was one of two anglers out of 100 to get drawn for a great beat on the Petite Cascapédia with Alex. We trailered the canoe to a remote put-in, loaded our kit, and were soon floating downriver silently and methodically, Alex looking for fresh Atlantic salmon. We fished some gorgeous water, spotting quite a few grilse (salmon that have spent one year at sea), and a few adult salmon. I was dead-drifting a heavily dressed Bomber and got three eats by grilse, but failed to land one. Ugh! It was a lovely day, we saw only a couple anglers and a family of canoers. Alex was a perfect complement, extremely focused, hardworking, good-humored, a historian on the Montréal Canadiens hockey team, and at peace with the challenges of salmon fishing.
For salmon fishing, I ended up fishing a Scott Swing (double hander) 7-weight, 13-foot, 8-inch rod matched with a Farlex reel and a 480-grain Airflo Scandi Compact Head. I fished a 10-foot floating leader with a classic salmon fly by Alex, an accomplished and locally revered fly tier.
Salters Photography by Rick Griffiths, Pat Pendergast, Rex Messing, and Sam Breault I didn’t even know that native sea-run brook trout existed, however they are a major draw for locals and traveling anglers in Québec. This fishing is often a backcountry affair incorporating trekking into the forest, walking and wading, or fishing from a canoe casting streamers on floating lines.
I ended up catching two salters in the 15- to 18-inch class while swinging for salmon. Both were absolutely chrome-bright, fresh from the sea, although you could still see the faint mottling on their sides and distinctive white-edged fins. They were absolutely gorgeous fish, a new species for me. I could easily see a day devoted to stalking these salters, as much for the fishing as for hiking in the forests that border the rivers.
Gaspé Coastal Photography by Rick Griffiths, Pat Pendergast, Rex Messing, and Sam Breault Gaspé Coastal’s lodging offers a tasteful blend of old and new. The main lodge, called Nadeau House, is a classic two-story 19th century Québec home perched above the Grand Cascapédia and surrounded by green lawns accented by lush flower beds brimming with colorful petunias, begonias, and yellow cannas. Lupines in the surrounding pastures add to the rainbow of colors—everything seems to grow here.
An ample screened-in porch is the gathering place for drinks and delicious appetizers harvested from the sea. The open bar is well stocked, and Sarah makes the best Caesars—Canada’s version of the Bloody Mary. After a day on the water guests feast on spoon-size fresh raw oysters, smoked mussels, locally sourced tuna sashimi, hearty fresh-baked bread, and flatbread garnished with locally grown produce while sharing stories of their adventures.
Dinner is usually announced at 6:30 P.M. by Benjamin, a mountain of a man and a very talented chef from Montréal. Ben’s creative dishes, fashioned in the large chef’s kitchen, are inspired by the sea and feature locally sourced meats and vegetables. Without a doubt Ben prepares some of the best “lodge food” I have ever had the pleasure to enjoy. At the massive dining table guests are treated to such dishes as lobster, seafood pasta, baked halibut, smoked chicken, and roasted pork, accompanied by fresh green salads and homemade milk buns, all tastefully paired with local and imported wines, making for a wonderful and casual dining experience.
Desserts, taken on the porch or in the parlor, include cannoli, tiramisu, and blueberry cheesecake. Across the lawn from the lodge and built on raised decks are the guest cabins. Each angler has his own private room with a shared full bath with double sinks and walk-in shower with rainforest shower head. Modern, spacious rooms have queen- or king-size beds and screened windows for ventilation. Off the deck is a very generous wader room with benches along the walls, hooks for hanging waders, and a Yeti cooler loaded with iced drinks. Each guest has a personal Yeti Go-box for storing gear in or to take out for the day.
Home Bound & Reflections Photography by Rick Griffiths, Pat Pendergast, Rex Messing, and Sam Breault As the cradle-rocking movement of our train subtly quieted as we pulled into the Montréal Central Station, I couldn’t help but reminisce on what an absolutely astonishing and eye-opening week my cohorts and I experienced. The Gaspé Peninsula is so beautiful, washed in jewel tones of intense green, vibrant blue skies, gold beaches and purple lupines, a literal Garden of Eden.
Gaspesians are lovely people with deep connections to land and water and in true Canadian fashion, friendly, hospitable, respectful of the resources, and fiercely independent. I feel honored to call them my friends. Although Atlantic salmon fisheries face problems, I get the distinct feeling that the Gaspesians are up to the challenge and through cooperative, self-regulated conservation measures will get it back on track, as loving parents do. And what about those sea-run brook trout?
To my mind, the heroes of the Gaspé are the striped bass, the indigenous, anadromous gamefish that often get a bad rap and 20 years ago came close to extinction. Through determined and strong conservation efforts they were brought back, and should stand as a symbol of hope for people trying to conserve Atlantic salmon, which are facing their own difficult times.
History does not have to repeat itself, and the Gaspé striped bass fishery is flourishing, providing opportunities for anglers as well as jobs for locals. Truly, after 30 plus years of traveling the world with a fly rod in hand, those days sight-hunting striped bass on the flats ranks as an all-time favorite, a truly unique experience. I can’t thank Andrew and Sarah enough for allowing me the privilege to sample their world and experience this incredible fishery right in their backyard. Well done, and thank you.
Recommended Gear Photography by Rick Griffiths, Pat Pendergast, Rex Messing, and Sam Breault With multiple species in fresh and salt water, your travel kit will be complex. Loaner gear is available at the lodge.
Book your Destination To get to Gaspé Coastal, we flew to Montréal. Most anglers fly directly from Montréal’s St. Hubert Airport to Bonaventure via Pascan Aviation. The drive from Bonaventure to the lodge is a short 45 minutes. We decided to take one of the daily flights between Montréal and Bathurst, New Brunswick with Air Canada. Gaspé Coastal will pick you up there for the gorgeous 90-minute drive to the lodge.
You can also drive from Montréal 540 miles (870 km) via Autoroute 20E. From Portland, Maine it’s 605 miles (975 km) via I-95 N. If you prefer a cool, pastoral, nostalgic train journey, hop aboard the VIA Rail Canada train from Montréal overnight to Campbellton, New Brunswick. We took the train back to Montréal, along the Gulf of St. Lawrence farm country, passing dozens of small hamlets.
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Pat Pendergast is director of international travel at The Fly Shop in Redding, California. He’s always searching the globe for great fly-fishing destinations.
