Catching Fish on Our Terms

I was casually checking the Headhunter Fly Shop blog the other day a few months back, mulling through one of Scumliner's recent articles "News Flash.  Not All Anglers Want to be Dry Fly Anglers." that got me thinking about this topic in earnest.  Clicking the link will take you to the article.  After that you can come back here, or not.  It's up to you.  You just might get swallowed by the Headhunters website after all.

Do You Like Sneaky Stuff?

Back?  What does catching fish on our terms mean?  Simply, catching fish how and when we want to.  In my humble opinion there's a prevailing sense in our sport that dry fishing is the ultimate, high art way to catch trout.  Many folks would agree with that statement but it's when you start dissing on the other disciplines I think there's a problem there.  True, personally I would rather catch fish on dries or streamers than on nymphs but that's just me.  There's nothing wrong with indicator nymphing or anything else for that matter.  It's my opinion that fly fishing is fly fishing, plain and simple, and as long as you're not San Juan shuffling, chumming, or snagging fish I could care less which method you prefer to use.    

Throwing the Big Bugs?

This brings up an interview I recently heard on an Ask About Fly Fishing Internet Radio podcast with steelhead guru Dec Hogan.  He was discussing why in the heck we choose to swing for steelhead when we could nymph them up a lot better.  Or for that matter, why not just chuck bait and catch every fish in the river?  I guess the answer lies in the fact that many anglers reach a point where it's not important how many or how many big fish we catch.  It's that we want to catch those fish the way we want to, on OUR TERMS.  We just want to do what makes up happiest.

The Big Nasty Stuff?

Thinking back to steelhead again.  Why swing?  There's a lot of reasons out there to justify it.  Purists might argue that a floating line and wet fly combination is the only method fitting of such an amazing creature.  Plain and simply though, it comes from a mindset that you're going to catch that fish the way you want to catch it.  Most hardcore steelheaders that only swing, I believe, would agree with the notion that when you catch a fish it's because you deserved it, you worked hard for it, you earned it.  For some, that one fish and the consequential feeling of achievement and satisfaction it brings, means more than anything, more than twenty gear or nymph caught fish.  I get it.

The Junk?

After many years involved in this sport, I've come to the conclusion that there's almost no wrong way to fly fish.  This craft of ours accommodates every style, every method, every age, and (almost) every personality type.  The fact of the matter is that you should do whatever brings you joy.  If fishing a double nymph rig under an indicator brings you joy, then do that.  If ripping six inch long streamers on a sink tip brings you joy, then do that.  If throwing a size 24 trico spinner on a 3 weight with a 20ft. leader brings you joy, then do that too.  Fly fishing should bring you joy, whatever that may look like.  There's no better way, no worse way.  There may be the more technical and challenging way (think dry or die and/or streamer junkie guy) but it's not better.  Hey, but if it makes (dry or die and/or streamer junkie guy) happy then that's what he should do, plain and simple.

Do What Makes You Happy.  Get out and Fish.

There's a hatch, a run, a technique, a fish, a spot in the world for everyone and everything.  So go do what makes you happy.  Catch those fish on your terms, how you want to.

And if you really just like to catch a lot of fish, use bait learn every discipline, technique, method, fly, and rigging combination you can, and figure out when and where to use it.  Oh, and swing soft hackles occasionally, you just might catch every fish in the river.

Feel free to leave comments and tell me how I'm totally wrong about all this. 

2013 - A Year in Pictures

2013 was a mighty fine year.  My wife and I bought a house, adopted a dog, I fulfilled the dream of becoming a fly fishing guide, and of course had some wonderful days on the water with friends and caught some beautiful fish. 

Here's looking to 2014 and another great year.  Below is my best an attempt at an end of year post.  I didn't feel like writing much so here is my year in pictures.



Spent many days exploring my home river.  The Bitterroot.

Did not let a broken finger keep me down.

Experienced some great hatches

Had some amazing days on the Mo' with friends

Floated the one and only Smith River.

Had a few stellar days of carp fishing.

Experienced many amazing Montana summer days.

Caught my first Steelhead on a fly.

Got to experience the incredible scenery and fishing in Hell's Canyon.

Looking forward to what 2014 has to offer.

When the Working Day is Done

There are days that you are thankful you live where you live.  When it's February, below zero, blowing snow, and the sky is a perpetual shade of gray, I might question why I moved to Montana, maybe (not really).  But when spring rolls around, I couldn't be more thankful that I get to call Big Sky Country home. 

The advent of daylight savings time is a big yearly event, and means one thing.  After work fishing. 
 
Around here, the time change happens to coincide with one of our best periods of dry fly fishing, lucky us.  Until high water arrives, I try to set aside a few evenings a week for post work fishing.  A typical schedule of events looks kind of like this:

3:30 - Run out of the office
3:40 - Arrive at the river
3:50 - Wadered up
4:10 - Hooked up

Leopard Bow

It's cool living in a place where you can go from work to holding a trout in your hand in less than 40 minutes.  Believe me, I've timed it, still trying to get it under a half hour.  Maybe if I showed up to work in my waders.  Not sure my employer would like that though.

Busy Beaver

During this month and a half magic period, when the rivers are low and clear and the trout are looking up, I never leave home without a dry fly rod rigged and shoved into the back car.  I call it the quick response unit.  After all, you never know when you're going to have a free hour or two.  



Skwala - It's what's for dinner

Spring is an awesome time for wade fishing.  For one the weather is usually rather pleasant, you're almost always alone, there's no mosquitos, and everyday brings with it another sign of spring. 

The Real Deal

I love fishing weird water this time of year, the water the hoards of boats don't fish.  I spend a lot of time stalking strange side channels, or just walking a lot and watching the spring storms roll over the Bitterroots.   



"Squall-a" Season

Alone

Today I fished alone.  By choice. 

It felt good to be out on the river with just my thoughts and a fly rod.  Don't get me wrong, I love my fishing buddies, who doesn't?  Even so, I find that every so often I have to fish alone.  Not sure why, it just feels good to be away from humanity for a while, especially during those weeks when it seems like you are constantly surrounded by people. 

I'm a bit of an introvert so I enjoy being alone for large chunks of time.  Fishing by nature, is a great hobby for me as I often like to spend inordinate amounts of time totally alone.  To me there's no greater joy than being completely removed from society, fishing a small stream somewhere in the mountains, throwing dry flies to enthusiastic trout.  I can do this all day, and often do so.  In fact, if it weren't for the need to eat and sleep, and the peculiar truth that the sun always disappears everyday.  I'm not sure I would ever stop fishing.  Maybe when I ran out of flies, maybe. 

Fly fishing is one of the only activities that I can think of that captures my complete attention, thought and emotion.  When fishing I sometimes seem to lose all conscious thought.  Call it meditation, or whatever you want, I just know it happens.  Whether it be stalking a big picky riser during a trico hatch.  Throwing a streamer to a slot where you know the cast, the retrieve, everything has to be perfect.  Fishing hoppers on a small stream in the spot you know that big brown lives, and you know you will only get one shot at him.  Or dissecting pocket water on a mountain stream, where your casts have to fit into a space the size of a coffee cup.  I get lost in those moments, completely charged, alert, focused, free from thought, alive. 

It's those "spots of time" that I and I think most fishermen seek.  It's everything that leads up to the eat.  It's the stalk, the cast, the drift, the head coming up, the mouth opening... 

When you fish alone you really get to work a riffle, run, or pod of fish exactly how you want to.  You have to trust your judgment, pick your own flies, figure out things on your own.  Nobody's there to help.  Fishing alone brings it's own rewards and challenges.  It's rewarding when you finally figure out what those fish are eating, or discover a new "secret" spot.  Challenging when you catch a nice fish and try to take a picture.

 
When you fish alone, you see a lot more than when you're with other people.  You just do.  Today I noticed a Great Blue Heron rookery, a stonefly hatching on a streamside log, deer crossing the river, the sounds of blackbirds, and caught sight of a woodpecker going to work on a snag.  Fishing alone, I'm just that much more aware of my surroundings, my environment and how truly alive it all really is. 

A day of fishing alone brings with it a feeling of rejuvenation.  It's hard not to feel good after a few hours on the water.  I've never come back mad after fishing.  Tired maybe, a little sunburned, dehydrated yes, but never mad.  If you get mad while fly fishing you need a to pick a new hobby, sorry, you just do.  Why do you think I stopped golfing?

   

March is Here

Time to inflate the raft, or dust off the drift boat. 

The first day of March to many here in western Montana is the unofficial start to the new fishing season.  The State seems to think so as well, because fishing licenses expire annually on the last day of February.  On the first day of March, I and a multitude of other avid anglers, shuffled on down to the nearest sporting goods store and bought a new fishing license.

A 'Bow's Adipose

For a large number of fly fisher folks now is the time to string up the rod that's been hibernating since the start of hunting season, dig out the waders that are shoved into a dark recess of a forgotten closet, and try to piece together the rest of the gear scattered throughout the house.  I'm just guessing at this, maybe most folks are more organized than I am.  I'm also one of the wackos that never stop fishing in the first place.

Jordan with a solid 'bow from this weekend.

You know March just feels different psychologically.  It's not a month that necessarily conjures up images of frozen tundra, epic blizzards, sub-zero temps and the like.  However in Montana, these events are still very real probabilities on any given day this month.  But even so, March brings about a certain form of optimism, hey spring is right around the corner right? 

Big Blue at the helm of The Gray Whale, shootin' the chutes. 

 

You begin to notice the subtle signs that winter is on it's way out.  You catch sight a few hardy red-wing blackbirds in the cattails.  There are several unconfirmed reports of robin sightings throughout town.  The morning drive to work brings with it a glimpse of newborn calves.  And before too long, some lovesick and lonely male flicker will start banging on your stovepipe everyday at 6am (really looking forward to this!). 

A trout in the hand is worth two in the bush.

Spring however, regardless as to what the calendar says, for me never really begins until I see my first sandhill crane.  I can distinctly remember my first crane sightings of each year I have lived in Montana.  The best was a couple years ago, when, standing hip deep in the river, a mated pair suddenly stormed overhead like prehistoric pterodactyls and landed on the far side of the river.  As if to say, we're back, did you miss us?       

Holla' if you like the Skwala.

Last week we were the only boat on the water.  This week there's suddenly a dozen trailers at the put in and discussion of dry flies and dreams of Skwalas to come.  It won't be too awfully long before the real action begins and with it the annual circus that is Skwala season on the Bitterroot. 

Here's to March.  Glad you decided to show up.       

Lazy Sunday

A brief and more than likely grammatically terrible description of the day.
 
Got up late.  Made some breakfast.  Glanced at Moldy Chum.  Slammed a pint of coffee.  Tied some flies.  Read a few fellow blogger posts.  Took a gander at some fish pics circulating the inter-web. 
 
Went fishing. 
 

 By dumb luck, happened to run into a few friends on the river.  Tied on a streamer.  Made some casts.  Stuck a cut-bow.  Took some pictures.


Laughed a lot.  Watched some birds.  Frozen fingers.  Should have worn another coat.  It isn't 37 degrees today.  They said it was supposed to be 37 degrees today.  Waders leak, I really start to notice.  The dog's definitely having the most fun.   

Livin' the Life.

Switch to nymphs.  Slip on the shelf ice.  Nobody sees me, I'm temporarily safe from humiliation.  Catch a small brown.  My buddy catches a bigger one.  Take more pictures.


The camouflaged wonder with a mighty fine "feesh".  

Release said brown.  Take more pictures.

Sit and shoot the breeze for a while.  Watch some more birds.  Watch some deer.  Make a few more half-hearted casts.  Lose my rig on a tree branch.  Call it a day.  Walk back to the car.  Happy to be alive.  Watch the snow showers roll over the mountains.  Soak in a few minutes of sunshine.    

Watch the sun go down over the Bitterroots.  Go home.  Make Chili.  Eat Chili.  Perfect day. 

The End.

Sometimes You Just Have To Go Fishing

It's been a long week.  A lot of chores that need to be done.  Homework.  Family stuff.  Job.  Lack of sleep.  Stress.  Car broke down.  Do you know the feeling?  We all do.  Best solution? 

Go fishing of course.


Nice Cheeks

Now I'm not implying that the problems will be better when you get home, in fact, going fishing usually makes things worse.  You end up with less time to get your work done, the house is still a mess when you get home, the laundry is in a pile on the floor, the dishes are stacked up on the counter, and you are still broke or even more so.  

But when I find myself out of synch, Lord give me my fly rod and a river.  When I'm on the water all the less important stuff falls away and only what really matters remains.  At the end of a few hours on the water I feel like I can focus, come back to reality, think straight.     

Evening on the 'Root, aka Therapy Session

The best therapists that I know happen to be my 4 weight and a trout stream.  What I get while fly fishing is something that I rarely get doing anything else, clarity.  The river can be a great teacher, if you take the time to listen.  One thing that I get reminded of every time I'm knee deep in the water is that life is better lived at the speed of a trout stream.

Particularly that of a river like my home water, the Bitterroot.  This stream for the most part is easy going, meandering through the valley, in no hurry to leave, to get somewhere else.  It seems to be happy where it is, takes it's time getting to the next bend, hole, or riffle, and never takes the straight and easy route.  Sure, it has it's share of log-jams , a few blemishes (rip-rap banks), and some dead water.  But what person doesn't have a few of those things?

Like life, a river just keeps rolling along.  It's been flowing long before I was here, and it will keep on flowing long after I am gone.        

Big Spots

 So whenever the junk in life piles up, my fly rod will be at the ready.  Sometimes you can't always solve the problems in life right away.

Sometimes you just have to go fishing.

No Day Like Today