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.

Beaver Believer - Part 2

The long awaited sequel to Beaver Believer Part 1, and the epic mediocre final chapter to my first Beaverhead River trip.

 

Gettin' Down in Brown Town.

Day 2.5 started right where day 1.5 left off.  Early.  Melo-Shelo, the early riser he is, got us (well me) up early for some pre-breakfast nymphing by the dam.  A size 20 flashback PT was the winner of the morning.  Hooking a fish on that size of bug is one thing, landing it is a whole different proposition.  We hooked, fought, and mostly lost a slew of good fish.  I tell ya, when your whole world is a big, big fish, and then that fish is gone, it's one heck of a surreal feeling.  It seems like you go through all the stages of grief in about 15 seconds.  And you know what?  Norman Maclean was right, you do remember that fish forever.  When I think about it I can still vividly remember the incredible fish from my childhood.  My first steelhead, my first bull trout over 24 inches, my first Deschutes Redside Rainbow on a Salmonfly.  It's like it just happened.  I can recall these moments better than I can what I ate yesterday, or what shirt I was wearing.  Fishing for me is an elevated state of being, your whole consciousness is trained on one single goal, one single task.  Convincing a fish to eat.  I haven't found any other activity yet in life that demands as much singular attention, focus and dedication.        

 

I'm Seeing Stars........ And Some Random People.

Wow, I really went off on a tangent on that last paragraph.  Okay, back to the recap.  You know It's really hard to take a picture when you are alone!  Does anyone else have this problem?     

The Awkward Solo Picture Attempt

Adam, feeling the love.

Okay, back to the recap, really.  After a solid breakfast of bacon, bacon, eggs, and more bacon, the crew began to part ways.  I took to venturing off on a solo mission to find one last good fish.  The day went pretty much like this.  Landing a bunch of average trout and getting rocked by a bunch of above average fish.

Miracles happen though.  Once in a while.  A few of my friends had decided to float that day and had passed me about a half hour earlier in their raft while I was wade fishing.  I continued fishing downstream and happened to bump into them as they were anchored up working a great looking run.  I had my flies dragging in the current, in a 6 inch riffle, as I walked towards them and as I went to cast to avoid hanging on the bottom, I hooked something solid.  The solid object quickly turned and started smoking downstream, I played it off like I had planned the whole thing.  Not really...  We landed the fish directly in front of their raft, my best fish of the day.  Total dumb luck.  Glad they had a net.   

My Fish of the Trip.  No Skill Included.

At that point, I figured I had burned up any and all fish Karma I had up until that point built up.  I reeled in, packed it up, and hit the road for home.  No use trying to top that series of events.

Beaverhead River, I'll be back.  You can bet on that. 


Rollin' Home.

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

Dry Days are Here - Happy Spring!

Yes they are.  It's a busy week so here's a haphazardly slapped together collection of  fish pictures from the past few days.  All of these fish ate the dry. 

Long story short.  The dry fly fishing at times has been good, and for brief moments, very good. 

The trout are looking up, birds are returning, tulips are emerging, and the grass is getting greener everyday.

Happy first day of spring.  Hope you get to spend it on the water, unlike me.

Cutthroat Spots



Love that gill plate



Midge eater

All Smiles

And another

Peace out bobbers strike indicators.  It was nice knowing you.

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.       

Fast Times on the Mo' Part 1

Day 1

4:30 AM:  Wake up.  Eat a healthy breakfast of chocolate chip cookies, coffee, and an assortment of leftovers.  Depart to Missoula soon after.

6:30ish AM:  Stumble into the rendezvous point (Town Pump) and meet up with some False Casters with Flat Tires featuring "Thunder Cat" Caleb.  This occurs after cramming into a truck full of an assortment of fellow crazies diehard trout bums.  This includes Alec, Chris, and new friends Kelsey and Garrett.  We all depart for the wide Missouri.

10:00 AM:  Arrive in Craig.  Skies are clear, spirits are high.  After an obligatory stop to Headhunters Fly Shop, the boats are soon in the water.  

11:00 AM:  We perfect the art of trolling long enough for a brown to gobble up  Gratton's streamer.  Pictures ensued.  We do not attempt to troll streamers any longer.

11:15AM - ?:  Fish tend to eat such things as Firebead ________, Pink Such and Such's, Tungsten This and That's, and just about anything with "Scud" in the name throughout the day.  Trout are caught.  Lies are told.  The wind says hello from time to time, but hey it's central Montana in February after all.

12:00 PM:  It's all smiles.  Alec skillfully lands this quality specimen and Kelsey is soon into her first Missouri river trout.  As Walt Whitman once noted, "It ain't nothin' but a chicken wing on a string."  No actually, I don't think he said that.

1:00 PM:  Garrett tags an Alaskan look-a-like rainbow.  Love those spots.  As per usual, Chris continues to put plenty of finned creatures into the net with regularity.

3:00ish PM:  Stop at a desert island to warm up and chat with the False Casters Stanley, Zach, and Caleb.  Discussion turns to that of triple-overhand-double-hauling-reversal-crossover-spey-casts, CuttyBrownBows, and Purple Mountain's Majesty Drakes or PMMD's as known to you educated fly flingers out there.   

4:00 PM:  I tie into a fine Oncorhynchus mykiss which makes my day.  I'm fortunate that Garrett had the good sense to grab a camera.  He also brought the boat and drove.  What a guy!

5:30PM:  Pull into Craig, 3 boats and 8 anglers and friends.  We are treated to a beautiful Big Sky sunset and no wind.  The perfect end to a days work.  Or is it? 

Indeed the night is young and after all we are in the "City that Never Sleeps," aka "Montana's own Disney Land," aka Craig, Montana.  What happens next?  All I know is that fishing trips are sure better with a bunch of friends.

As the great Paul Harvey would say.  Stay tuned for the "Rest of the Story."  And in this case he actually did say that.
 

Been Fishin' Lately?

Yes I have in fact. 

However it's been a whirlwind couple of weeks.  Between breaking a finger, wrecking my car, and a host of other things which I will not trouble you all with, I managed to squeeze in some fishing.

How's is been?  Darn good if you ask me.  The unseasonably warm February temps have the trout on the feed.  It's a great time to be in Western Montucky.  Everyday the sun gets a little higher, warmer, and the days get longer.  Even saw a pair of red wing blackbirds yesterday.  They must know something's up.

Yeah, about this time every year it becomes palpable that winter's days are numbered.  I'm okay with that.

How to sum up the last two weeks of fishing?  Stripped streamers and were rewarded.  Threw nymphs and were rewarded.  Saw a bunch of new water.  Dusted off the raft.  Fished a lot with Alec of the blog Where The Water Leads.  Managed to cast left handed.  Brown trout acting unusually careless.  Missed most of the Superbowl but didn't care.  Caught fish, a lot of fish, and respectable ones to.

So below is the random assortment of fish pictures I'm calling a post, using the spare 15 minutes I have had this weekend.

Alec with a solid brown



Perfection

Fishy Friend, and Guide Phil.  Hooked Up under Clear Blue Skies.

Pay dirt.  Phil's Dragon.

Strippin' and Trippin'.

Madame Brown.

Peace Out Girl Scout.

Alec with a Chunky Monkey.

Coda